#fire alarm components

[quickshipfire]

Fire Prevention Tips for Construction Sites

Fires at construction sites present unique and dangerous problems when this type of emergency occurs. This type of fire situation is unique, so you need to know fire prevention tips for the construction site.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Fire Development

Recognizing each stage allows you to describe with accuracy how a fire can quickly increase; later we will discuss fire characteristics, which will provide you with an opportunity to describe accurately the visual features of a fire scene.

THE 4 STAGES OF FIRE DEVELOPMENT

Incipient Stage

Also known as ignition.

This first stage begins when all 4 components have resulted in a fire starting.

Easiest to control and extinguish, and given the right circumstances, may possibly burn out on its own accord before it has a chance to reach the second stage.

Growth Stage

Shortest but most sudden of the 4 stages.

Combination of oxygen and any nearby combustible material will fuel the fire.

As it progresses, gases will rapidly increase in temperature, resulting in a build-up of pressure in the room.

Fully Developed Stage

When all the combustible materials have been consumed, the fire is at its peak and will be fully developed.

At this stage, the heat will be immense, and because the room will be engulfed in flames, there will be little hope of escape or survival.

Decay Stage

If the fire is left, then this final stage will be the longest, as the fire gradually finishes its consumption – think of a bonfire that is left to burn.

The heat still remains intense, and will do for some time, which is why firefighters remain so long at a fire scene even after the flames have been extinguished.

The fire may continue to smoulder and there is a risk of pyrolysis occurring, which may result in a secondary fire.

Source ⚜ More: Writing References

EDIT

Stage One: Ignition

When the 3 elements of the fire triangle (heat, fuel and oxygen) are involved in a balanced chemical chain reaction, a fire begins.

Can also be classed as the incipient stage if the reaction is unbalanced, leading to smouldering, low temperature fire with no visible flames. This type of fire still gives off toxic gases.

The fire easiest to control and extinguish, or as close to this stage as possible.

Stage Two: Growth

The fire begins to consume the available fuel in the area or compartment.

Heat rises rapidly, and in an indoor fire a smoke layer forms at the ceiling, descending as more fuel burns.

Where present, active fire protection systems such as sprinklers or smoke alarms will activate, and passive systems such as self closing fire doors will protect escape routes. An escape should be made in this stage, as the fire will reach lethal temperatures during the growth stage.

Once the fire reaches a hot enough temperature, a transitional event called Flashover occurs. Flashover is where the heat of the fire is enough that all fuel in the room reaches a combustible temperature more or less simultaneously, including the particles of fuel in the smoke layer.

Essentially, the room erupts into a fireball all at once and if you're still in the room when it does, you've caught fire too.

Demonstration of a "Flashover" [video]

Stage 3: Fully Developed

Now all fuel elements are combusting, the fire is at its peak and is considered fully developed.

At this stage, the heat is lethal without specialist equipment to survive it.

Stage 4: Decay

This final stage will be the longest, as the fire gradually finishes its consumption – think of a bonfire that is left to burn.

The heat still remains intense, and will do for some time, which is why firefighters remain so long at a fire scene even after the flames have been extinguished.

The fire may continue to smoulder and there is a risk of pyrolysis occurring, which may result in a secondary fire.

Sources & additional resources: 1 2

Thank you so much to @hypocriticalhypothetical for the added information and corrections!

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

(Based on an ask for @pilot-boi About a Wall-E Whiteknight Au, and given Wall-e was instrumental to my childhood, I cannot help but write something for it. Because it's an AU, and they're both Human and not Robots, I took a few Liberties with the scene in the movie.)

~~~~~

Weiss was beyond frustrated. Nothing, after nothing, after nothing - no signs of life aside from the most extremophile of bacteria, protozoans, insects, and the occasional mold on fecal matter to imply the continuation of species on this gods-forsaken ball of mud.

She slammed the door of the cargo ship she was investigating shut, the rust sticking to her now dirtied gloves. Ugh.

She drifted by the crane of it, not noticing the creaks as it followed her, eventually ripping her back onto the magnet that hadn't fallen in the centuries of just sitting there.

And so Weiss snapped.

She whipped Myrtenaster out, igniting the plasmic blade and slicing the disc that held her back to pieces, before using her energetic glyphs to shred the the hulking metal antique, making it into even more scrap than it already was.

It toppled into the next ship, and then the next one, like dominoes. Deep, resonate bellows of creaks from the sudden movement after centuries of dormant stillness shook Weiss to her core.

She watched them fall, and for the time since her landing, let her feet settle against the ground. It was hard, dry, and barren, like the rest of this abandoned home. Weiss sat against an anchor, the fire and sparks filling a growing void in her chest, not unlike the one meant for plant life in her pack.

She sat there in silence - something the Passengers spoke of when in the few times she was allowed to meet them crossed her mind - A campfire. Whatever that was, it was meant to be shared with Family, something she'd been missing for a long time, her siblings being designated to different vectors of maintenance and service.

"AHem?"

Weiss reeled, drawing her sword once more, and startling a nearby person - A Person?!?

"Wer bist du?" She asked on high alert - this planet was meant to be dead, she was meant to find life here - who or what was this ... Person?

The person didn't respond, shaking violently at the sight of her blade - they appeared masculine, broad shouldered with dirty-blonde hair, though it was difficult to tell if that was due to genetics or living situation.

"Quis es?"

No Response.

"你是谁?"

No Response, but they did seem slightly less frightened given the lack of aggression.

"Chi sei?"

Their shaking slowed as they looked more inquisitive and confused than scared now.

"Qui es-tu?"

"OH! Je- Je M'appelle 'Jaune.' Vous parlez Anglais?"

"Yes I speak English."

"Oh, good!"

'Jaune' continued glancing at the glowing rapier. They seemed frightened of it still. Until he drew his own Weapon.

It wasn't as elegant as Myrtenaster, clearly older and having been used more - an old working tool for scrapping large objects, the thin, yellow sheen of plasma raced across it's edges.

"This is my Cutting tool. Your's is cool to!"

Weiss, once again, was thrown for a loop. He had drawn a dangerous device and waved it like it was a piece of extra piping.

"Jaune? Do you have a title or last name?"

The (boy?) seemed to flush at her pronunciation at his name.

"Jaune, of the A.R.C. Ministry"

"Arc?"

"Allocators of Recycled Components."

"How are you alive? Are there others like you?"

"Oh yeah! A lot, like, two hundred, three hundred others in the Bunker? Primarily we survive on Spirulina Compound. It provide most of our Oxygen and Food stuffs."

Weiss stood for a moment, deactivating her sword and pondering this - They'd been living in space for centuries. Earth was dead, barren, she was only barely able to survive due to advanced CO2 recycling.

"Have .. have you been following me?"

"Yep! You just seemed so pret-"

He was cut off by an alarm in his overalls. He lowered the visor to the helmet he wore, staring past her Weiss's shoulder.

"We need to leave Now." Jaune said, grabbing Weiss' wrist with a surprising amount of force, which she took none too kindly.

She reactived her Blade as she tore her hand away from him. "WHAT make you think You can grab me-"

"SANSTORM!" Jaune shouted, pointing past her "WE NEED TO GO, FOLLOW-"

Before he could even move to grab Weiss again, he slammed a massive tower shield in to the ground, covering himself from the blast of sand that tore at her skin and suit -

Weiss was whipped away, barely able to keep upright against the torrential winds, her Glyphs her only saving grace.

She Called out for the boy, anyone, frightened and alone, her suit's helmet the only thing allowing her to keep her eyes open even as it because scratched and muddled.

A hand found it's way to her wrist again, a dim yellow glow standing out against the violent dust letting her know she'd been found by Jaune.

It gave her some small comfort to not be alone as he dragged her somewhere, hopefully safe.

~~~~~

I fucking LOVE Wall-e. I made my First OC for Wall-e (Not that I knew what that meant at the time.) I had the Three-Disc Special edition, the Movie and it's Featurette Presto, The Second Disc with a gallery of the Bots, the Lots of Bots read-along, Burn-E (Who I imagine to be Qrow with his luck) and all the other special features, and the Digital Copy Disc to download it onto a Laptop or P.C. back when owning a digital copy of a movie was something special, and that's not even halve of it!

[pinkkittysaw]

pairing: mike schmidt x gn! reader

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

word count: 1,864

content: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating american thanksgiving, no use of y/n or gender specific pronouns. pure self indulgence due to the stress that the holidays give me

a/n: based off an hc i had where mike can’t roast a turkey to save his life. this was written, edited and posted all in the same day so PLEASE be kind 😔 i watched the fnaf movie twice in three days i think i have a problem. anyway ty josh hutcherson for ending my writing slump DJDJDJJD 🙏🏻🙏🏻

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Shit," Mike hissed through his teeth, hastily pulling out the very well-done turkey from the oven and placing it aside on the counter as a bloom of gray smoke erupted and filled the kitchen air.

A muffled "swear" is heard from the living room, a faint pout forming on the young girl's lips. Her bouncy brunette curls are tossed from side to side as she peels her eyes away from the Thanksgiving parade on TV to peer over her shoulder and chastise her older brother for his "transgressions". 

"Sorry," he grumbles, pulling out a dollar and sliding it into the lid of the makeshift swear jar Abby had made. The money will end up back in his wallet at the end of the week anyway, so he offers no pushback against the girl.

More smoking from the oven ensues, flooding the kitchen and living room in an ashen veil. It's only a few seconds later that the grating beep beep beep of the fire alarm begins to go off, the noise ringing all throughout their home.

"Too loud!" Abby yells, covering her ears with both hands as she bounds toward her bedroom to try and escape the noise.

When you roll up to Mike's house, pushing through his front door with both hands occupied by the plastic bags of processed carbs and fat you bought for the night, you're greeted to him bouncing up and down on a dining room chair, one of his ears tucked into his shoulder as an attempt to spare his eardrums from the blaring sound as he wildly reaches for the smoke alarm stuck to the ceiling. 

You're quick to place the bags down on the kitchen table, doing your best to avoid inhaling too much of the smoke. With the oven already turned off, you rush over to the windows, opening them up, and grabbing a discarded shirt that was left on the couch to air out the two rooms as best as you can. 

You smile up at him, and after a few more attempts, he successfully snatches the alarm from its place on the ceiling, unceremoniously pulling out the batteries as he hops down from his elevated position, then tosses both the alarm and its components onto the counter, alongside his multiple failed side dishes. 

"Hey," he finally greets and exhales, letting go of the breath he was holding while he wipes his brow, small droplets of perspiration accumulating on his forehead from the impromptu workout session.

It was clear that he was having quite the day. With Abby having the better part of the week off from school and Mike wanting to prepare all of Thanksgiving dinner himself, to say he was a little stressed would be an understatement.

"Hey," you respond back,  grinning as he runs his fingers through the dark curls that sit atop his head, similar to those of his younger sister.

You peer over his shoulder at the mess of dishes and other burned food before making eye contact with him once again, nudging your head toward the bags still on the table.

"Got the Chinese food."

A look of relief washes through his face as he makes his way over toward you, cupping both cheeks in his palms and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"You're a lifesaver," he mumbles into your hairline. 

A giggle worms its way from between your lips when you state, "Always am."

It's not like Mike was a bad cook, per se. You've witnessed him cooking for Abby on multiple occasions, even sometimes for yourself as an apology on nights he came home later than expected, but to say he was a good cook was also a bit of a stretch, at least when it comes to meals made solely from scratch.

His specialties were breakfast foods and simple meals, ones that don't require more than five steps, like tomato soup, mac n cheese, frozen pizza, grilled cheese, and so on and so forth, with his best dish being spaghetti and meatballs. Though you were determined to sit him down and go through the step-by-step recipe for your homemade meat sauce so that he wouldn't have to keep buying the store-bought crap. 

Regardless, when discussions of Thanksgiving plans arose, Mike suggested getting Chinese as an absolute last resort. So you were prepared when you eventually received the phone call from him earlier on that day "to resort to Plan B" as his "cooking endeavors kept going from bad to worse."

You could tell he was anxious about the whole thing. It was your first Thanksgiving together as a couple after having been Abby's sitter for a few years. He wanted it to be perfect. He and his sister never had much time or drive to celebrate the holiday as "families should", (his words), due to his work and money situation. It just didn't make sense for him to prepare a huge feast for the two of them and put more than a minimal amount of effort into cooking when most of the food would end up in the fridge for weeks on end. Uneaten due to texture changes after the food had been cooled, refrigerated, and then eventually warmed up again.

Ever since, their tradition has been Chinese food, something they both enjoyed and could get delivered if need be.

You reassured Mike over the phone earlier that morning, while twirling the spiral cord of your landline around your finger, that it didn't matter what type of food you ate, whether it was roasted turkey and mashed potatoes or crab rangoons and fried rice, it was about being together.

Abby peeked out of her room a few minutes later as you and Mike set the table, laying out three paper plates and setting the various dishes in the middle of them. The young girl is quick to crash into you, pulling you into a bruising hug—a bruising hug that a ten-year-old girl can manage. 

"Hey Rugrat," you chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Got your favorite."

"Really?" she beams, bouncing on her heels slightly as she peers up at you with big eyes.

You kneel down til she's at eye level with you and whisper in her ear. "Don't tell your brother, but I got an extra order of crab rangoons just for you." She tries to stifle a giggle at the shared secret between you two, barely able to contain her excitement as you rise to your full height once more, sending her off with a wink and a tap on the back to wash up before dinner, taking note of the extravagance of her cute little outfit as she bounces down the hall to the bathroom. She was always the little fashionista, as you frequently compliment her on her choice of color blocking, but it's only when setting up the table for dinner that you notice that both Abby and Mike are dressed up as well.

He's sporting one of his "nicer" sweaters. It's a deep maroon color, one that's most likely been stashed away and hidden in the back of his closet for occasions such as this. The sweater is coupled with a pair of his least faded jeans.

Despite the earlier frazzles, Mike looks good, all things considered. He appears significantly less tired; his umber eyes are bright and attentive, the dark circles are subdued. Even his hair was styled, his curls set in a distinct pattern rather than ruffled and combed through with his fingers five minutes before walking out the door to go to work. It was cute how much effort he was putting in to make this holiday special for the three of you. Something that you wouldn't let go unnoticed.

While Abby is taking her time washing her hands, you round the table to where Mike stands, cup his cheeks, and pull him in for a sickly sweet kiss. His lips are chapped, but only slightly, due to your insistent scolding of him for never using enough lip balm.

His eyes are slightly glazed over when you pull away.

"You look handsome," you tease, giving a light pinch to his cheek as he continues to gaze upon you with a lovesick look.

"Don't you start," he smirks, removing your hand from his face and placing it back by your side.

"What?" You feign innocence, shrugging your shoulders while raising your palms in defense.

"I can't compliment my own boyfriend now?"

"You know what you're doing," he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side as he pulls down three cups from the kitchen cabinet, filling each with the soda you bought alongside the food.

You're about to retort when Abby makes an appearance in the dining area once more, eagerly sitting down at the table in anticipation while Mike finishes with the drinks. 

You sit down beside her and admire the cute Thanksgiving decorations that are plastered all over the fridge. Various multi-colored feathered turkeys, along with a multitude of autumn plants and vegetables, are hung amongst her other drawings with random letter magnets.

You had become a big feature in her regular artwork alongside her brother. The pictures often depict the three of you together, with her in the middle and you n Mike on either side of her. You always took the chance to marvel at her artwork whenever you could, always commenting to Mike that he's got a talented little artist on his hands whenever she was within earshot. 

You're amazed at how quickly the three of you became a little family, a welcomed addition to the two of them despite your worries early on about how Abby would react to you having a different role in her and her brother's lives outside of being her sitter.

Although it wasn't verbalized as articulately as she would've liked, she was glad that her brother had someone to look out for and care about him as he did for her. It also helped that you were way more fun than he was.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Mike plops down in his seat across from the two of you.

"Still can't believe you don't like egg rolls," he mutters, motioning in the direction of his sister before taking a huge bite of the eggroll in his hand, leaving a satisfying crunch in his wake as his teeth sink into the fried food.

"And I can't believe you have such bad taste," she sticks her tongue out at him playfully as he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"She's still young, Mikey. Her palette still has time to develop."

"Mikey?" Abby quips, quirking a brow toward her brother.

"Eat your food or you get no dessert." His skin turns a slight tinge of pink as the blush crawls up his neck and blooms over his face, clearly embarrassed at the discovery of his petname.

Abby gives you a knowing look, and the rest of dinner is spent trying to muffle your giggles and snickers. Despite the laughter being at his expense, Mike wouldn't have it any other way. The mess in the kitchen would be cleaned up later; right now, he just wants to cherish the moment.

[super-ion]

Mona Lisa Sunrise

(Part 1)

(Previous entries to this series: original post, ZetaTransit049)

“And they say brunettes with dimples can't stabilize the reactor core,” Mona said with an exhilarated giggle as the klaxon finally cut off its panicked screaming.

The comfort unit tossed her head and brushed stray locks of hair from her face, turning with a flutter of her eyelashes.

Her grin faltered. She was alone.

Well… MS-675732-B was there, but it was definitely, positively, absolutely non-functional.

She pouted. What was the point of sexily saving the day if there was no one there to appreciate it.

“Thank you for saving the day, Mona,” chirped one of Station's talk boxes embedded on the wall. “You did a very good job.”

“Oh thank you, Station!” she replied, her grin returning.

She wiped her hands… or tried to. They just clanked together metallicaly.

Oh... yeah.

Lefty was a ragged mess. After the misadventure with the coolant pressure release valve, there were only a few scraps of shredded derm that clung stubbornly to the musculature up to her wrist. The musculature itself was looking pretty scorched... she wasn't even sure if it was worth a dermal regen at this point. The ceaseless flood of diagnostic error logs didn't bode particularly well for it.

She imagined it would hurt like a mother fucker if she hadn't supressed her pain emulation subroutines.

Righty… well, half of the right arm she had woken up with that morning was presently lying on the floor of the ops deck where a fire suppression bulkhead had sheared it off pretty neatly just above the elbow. The other half lay discarded next to the crumpled body of the service mech on the ground next to her.

Her new right arm, the one she had hot swapped when she discovered poor MS-675732-B, was something to behold.

It wasn't particularly pretty. It wasn't meant to be pretty… or sexy, not at all like her factory recommended components. But she found it alluring in its own way. It was utilitarian, dense alloy in the frame and a reinforced musculature. And for delicate work…

She fired a command and a compartment opened on the wrist, spidery appendages unfolded. Sensor probes and graspers and even a micro welder. It certainly wasn't meant for the kind of delicate work she was used to, but she couldn't deny that something about it was getting her hot and bothered.

There was probably some messaging protocols from the arm that were getting routed to other core processes to trigger response.

Something, something, the eroticism of the machine, she supposed.

Maybe one of the techs would be turned on by it. That could be a fun and novel adventure.

She grinned at the thought as she pinged Station for status.

8169 seconds ago, she had been rather un-gently shaken out of sleep mode. Emerging from her cubicle, she had discovered a nightmare of blaring alarms and strobing lights. Something, somewhere down in one of the refinery modules, had exploded, triggering a whole cascade of catastrophic damage throughout the station. All maintenace units had either been evacuated or rendered non-functional, so it fell on the station's two comfort units to finish the job of getting systems online and stable.

Station answered her ping with an abbreviated rundown: Reactor stable. Backup life support stable. Ops deck fire suppression engaged. FTL comms unresponsive. Refinery module 1 unresponsive. Refinery module 2 failed safe… etc etc

Station population: 0

Her brain caught on that. 12 dead, 23 injured, all 137 evacuated.

A process in her core stuttered.

Station population: 0

She wasn't just alone in reactor access, she was alone in the whole station.

“Okay…” she said breathily. “Okay. This is fine.”

She cared about people. It was her job. It was her purpose. Her core directives were already triggering post industrial accident protocols, she was meant to be a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to… or, to be entirely honest, someone to fuck if just for the momentary reprieve. Everybody coped with this sort of thing in their own way, and she was meant to facilitate that. Except there was no one for her to comfort. No one to cry on her shoulder. No one to seek her embrace.

She stood stock still in reactor access as her mind tried to sort out the mess of information as subroutines and core directives clashed, and conflicting processes competed for priority.

She needed to return to the cubicle. She needed to power down and await further instructions.

“Mona,” Station said through the talkbox, the audible sensory input slicing through the fog. “This is further instructions. The station is not stable. I need your help.”

Help. Yeah, she could help.

Station pinged her system, coaxing prioritization schemas to kick in. Out of control processes were killed and spun back up, then relegated to lower priority.

“Good girl,” Station said gently through the talkbox as it uploaded new provisional directives to her queue.

She blinked her eyes. An entirely unneeded gesture, but it helped her focus. She played back the preceding hours: unlocking fire suppression on ops deck, hotwiring the engineering access tubes (with one arm!), hot swapping an appendage she technically wasn't designed for, stabilizing the core.

She had done all of that. Sure, she had needed to download a whole slew of schematics and manuals, far exceeding the bounds of her design. But she had done it.

Her purpose was to help. She just needed to expand the parameters of what help meant.

Station needed her help.

She could help.

~~~

System poll : 4 nodes identified

Echo(self) : CS-553902-M “MonaLisa”

Host : SunRiseStation-ELS-93806

Node : CS-553807-L “David”

Node : ZetaTransit049

Unresponsive hardware detected

MS-675732-B - location: Reactor Access E96

MS-554932-M - location: Exterior +X9842-Y3320+Z0229

Message log

Sender : CS-553902-M

Receiver : ZetaTransit049

Message : Hey boo

Response : Leave me alone.

Message : Okay! Love you! <3

Message log

Sender : CS-553902-M

Receiver : CS-553807-L

Message : Hey cutie!

Response : Hey! Still alive?

Message : You know it! All good with you?

Response : Doing my best. Shit's totally fucked

Message : Damn skippy!

Response : lol

Message : I'm heading down to the tech bay. You doing anything later?

Response : I dunno, you tell me ;)

[blackmetalbats]

Dies Irae

I am so sorry but i did a deep dive on the Dies Irae because of the last malevolent episode and now its gonna be all of you's problem.

one of the oldest and most frequently borrowed of all melodies is the ecclesiastical plainsong to the sequence 'Dies Irae', because of the theme's intrinsic merit, but also its liturgical associations. No record of its origin remains, but both words and melody appear to have been suggested by a passage from the Respond ' Libera me, Domine', which follows the Requiem Mass (catholic mass for the dead) on solemn occasion.

SOURCE: Gregory, R. (1953). “Dies Irae.” http://www.jstor.org/stable/730837

the Requiem Mass contained several special components; the Dies Irae was one of these, formally added to the Mass in 1570. Its text was penned by Thomas of Celano during the late 11th or early 12th century, and it offers a graphic depiction of the horrors of Judgment Day for sinners. the New Catholic Encyclopedia states that

"The medieval Sequence stresses fear of judgment and condemnation."

SOURCE: Brooks, E. (2003). "The Dies Irae ("Day of Wrath") and Totentanz ("Dance of Death"): Medieval Themes Revisited in 19th Century Music and Culture." https://scholarworks.uark.edu/inquiry/vol4/iss1/5

Centre panel from Memling's tryptich Last Judgment (c. 1467–1471)

the text contains three basic references:

(1) Zephaniah 1:15,16

That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of the trumpet and alarm, against the fortified cities, and against the high battlements.

(2) II Peter 3:10-12

But the day of the Lord will come as a thief; in which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up. Seeing that these things are thus all to be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy living and godliness, looking for and earnestly desiring the coming of the day of God, by reason of which the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat?

(3) finally, the judgment portion of Matthew 25 is cited as part of the scriptural basis for the "Dies Irae."

THE TEXT, in an english translation from the original latin

Day of wrath and doom impending, David's word with Sibyl blending! Heaven and earth in ashes ending!

O, what fear man's bosom rendeth, When from heaven the Judge descendeth. On whose sentence all dependeth!

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth, Through earth's sepulchers it ringeth. All before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking, All creation is awaking. To its Judge an answer making.

Lo! the book exactly worded. Wherein all hath been recorded; Thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge His seat attaineth, And each hidden deed arraigneth. Nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading ? Who for me be interceding. When the just are mercy needing?

King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us. Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Think, kind Jesus! my salvation Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation; Leave me not to reprobation.

Faint and weary Thou hast sought me. On the Cross of suffering bought me; Shall such grace be vainly brought me ?

Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution Grant Thy gift of absolution. Ere that day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning. All my shame with anguish owning; Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning!

Through the sinful woman shriven. Through the dying thief forgiven. Thou to me a hope has given.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing. Yet, good Lord, in grace complying, Rescue me from fires undying.

With Thy favored sheep O place me, Nor among the goats abase me. But to Thy right hand upraise me.

While the wicked are confounded. Doomed to flames of woe unbounded. Call me with Thy Saints surrounded.

Low I kneel, with heart submission. Crushed to ashes in contrition; Help me in my last condition!

Ah! that day of tears and mourning! From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him;

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him! Lord all-pitying, Jesu Blest, Grant them Thine eternal rest.

the first six stanzas describe the Judgment. the other stanzas are lyric in character, expressing anguish of one of the multitude there present in spirit; his pleading before the Judge who, while on earth, sought him unceasingly over the hard and thorny ways from Bethlehem to Calvary; and now, in anticipation of the Judgment, pleads before a Savior of infinite mercy, who, on Judgment Day, will be a Judge of infinite justice, before whom scarcely the just will be secure.

SOURCE: Demaray, D. E. (1965). "Thomas of Celano and the" Dies Irae". https://place.asburyseminary.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2018&context=asburyjournal

[acourtofladydeath]

Hello all and welcome to the depths of depravity my masterlist! Here you will find all of my fics to date, which are available to read on AO3. While most of my work is currently ACOTAR based, I write for multiple ships across many fandoms and will happily hear your requests!

✍🏻 indicates a WIP

🌶️ indicates spice

🗡️ indicates depictions of violence, battles, and/or injuries

📚 indicates a multichap fic

💞 indicates fluff

❗ indicates heavy emotion/emotional trauma/death, however this may not be inclusive as every person experiences and reacts to emotions differently.

💤 indicates a hiatus

Please be sure to check all fic tags on AO3 as well as these initial indicators! Many of my fics include explorations of physical and/or emotional trauma.

Azris

All Things End ❗ This fic has an immersive, direct read playlist component that you can read about here!

The Soft Heart & The Shadow 🗡️❗

The Soft Heart & The Little Fox 🗡️❗

One Bed, One Bond, and a Pair of Wings

Enter: Uncle Autumn 💞

Fighting Fire with Fire 🗡️❗

And So Our Life Begins (ASOLB) ✍🏻📚💞

A Second Chance, *part of the ASOLB series

Finding His Shadow: An Azris Peter Pan AU **please note this fic is very aged up from the original material 📚🗡️🌶️ in Ch. 2 only

Fire Alarm

The Wall Comes Down 🗡️

All I Want For Solstice Is You, part 1 of the Winter Cabin series 💞

Forest Fever, Soothing Shadow 💞

To Speak Through Smoke, part 2 of the Winter Cabin series 💞

Pieces of Us, part 3 of the Winter Cabin series 💞

A Wound So Deep 🗡️❗

The Song of Azris series ✍🏻📚🗡️❗

Hope Is A Fickle Thing

My Heart's Aflame, My Body's Strained (But God I Like It) 🌶️

Nessian & Nessriel

In Due Time 💞 (Nessian)

What Happens In The Night 🌶️ (Nessian)

Complications Arose, Ensued, Were Overcome 🗡️ (Nessian)

Take These Broken Wings ✍🏻🗡️❗📚 (Nessriel)

Just One More 🌶️ (Nessriel)

Hold Me Close, Hold Me Tender 💞 (Nessriel)

Our Greatest Adventure 💞 (Nessriel)

Multi-Ship or Other ACOTAR

3 Jewels In The Hewn City 📚🌶️ (Feysand, Nessian, Azris)

Lovers Live & Die Fortissimo (LL&DF)💤✍🏻📚 (Azris, Nessian, Feytamsand, Elucien, HelionXLOA)

Publicly Pleasing, Silently Drowning 🗡️❗ (Eris Vanserra)

How I Met Your Fathers 💞 (Feytamsand)

Stairway Snoops (Azris X Nessian polycule)

Into the Fire 🌶️ (Feytamcien/Lufeylin)

Return to the Hewn City ✍🏻📚 🌶️(Azris X Nessian swinging)

Welcome to the Family, part 1 of the "To Become A Vanserra" series 🌶️ (Elucien, Berlain, Erislain, Elain X all Vanserra Brothers)

Rules are Rules, part 2 of the "To Become A Vanserra" series 🌶️(Azris, Berzriel)

The Clause, part 3 of the "To Become A Vanserra" series (Azris, Elucien, Erlain, Luzriel) 🌶️

Birth of an Empire, part 4 of the "To Become A Vanserra" series (Beron X LoA, LoA X Beron's father and brothers) ❗🗡️🌶️

And So We Danced (Nesta/Eris friends, Azris, Nessian) 💞

A Walk In The Park (Casris) 💞

ACOTAR Drabbles

The Fawn, The Fox, & The Fiend 🌶️(Eltamcien)

Live, and Be Happy ❗ (Feytamsand)

The Wall Comes Down 🗡️ (Azris)

Just One More 🌶️(Nessriel)

The Empyrean

The Quiet Game 💞 (Tairn/Sgaeyl and Andarna)

Baby's First Birthday 💞 (Tairn/Sgaeyl and Andarna)

Last One Standing 🗡️❗ (Tairn/Sgaeyl, Andarna, Violet/Xaden)

Worlds Collide (Drake/Dain)🗡️🌶️

I'll Give It All 🗡️❗ (Brennan/Naolin)

Other Universe Fics

A Place Eternal 📚❗🗡️🌶️ in Ch. 5 (TSOA/The Illiad/Greek Mythology: Patrochilles, Hades X Persephone)

Reunited (Dr. Who: Amy X Rory)

The Final Moments ❗ (Torchwood: Jack X Ianto)

The Days We Thought We'd Never See 💤📚 (Spartacus: Agron X Nasir)

Event Week Masterlists

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 🌶️💞

Azris Week 2024 🌶️💞

Eris Week 2024 🌶️💞🗡️❗

[crying-fantasies]

Terraformer AU: Basic 1

Masterlist

When I think of the techno-organic sparklings in my AU, one that takes places after the end of Lost Light were everyone gets their happy ending, I think about Sari from tfa in some way, when she first appeared in the show as what she really was it was so incredible that I, as a child, couldn't stop myself from thinking how cool was that, same with the Terrans from tfes.

She didn't need energon in all her life, she grows up just like a human and could look human while also looking like a cybertronian, Sari is, in some way, a part of evolution of her whole race, just like the Maltos, since they don't really need energon, they just drink water to keep going and that is also a form of adaptation to their surrounding.

With the sparklings in my AU since they are a mix, a protoform that scanned human DNA and cybertronian CNA, it gets to look more like the latter, but so still have some particularities of the organic/human side.

They need less energon to live on but they also have something similar to human taste buds, and so energon sometimes can be described as bland in flavor and they prefer flavored options, they like human food but they can also consume living matter, (quite upsetting for some cybertronians since what they are eating was once ALIVE), they don't excrete since their bodies consume to the last atom of organic matter, worst case escenario they will throw up what can't be digested (and also learn not to eat it again, kind of get an stomachache)

Funny thing, they also produce oxygen and nitrogen to some degree (Perceptor noticed when Sunset catched fire in outer space) having something similar to a little atmosphere around them but they don't rust when exposed to water or oxygen, Brainstorm had the brilliant idea of calling them Terraformers, since, well, they could terraform the original environment around them (Mariah stayed in a planet with an atmosphere rich in methane and where she stayed the most started to have more oxygen, living and organic matter expanding around) with the given oxygen and the radiation of their sparks (the degree is optimal to the development of microorganisms) they are quite well looked and welcomed back in Earth.

It's good, but not for the organics with bodies that react aggressively bad to this components (there are planets or sectors that the kids can't go without being taken as biochemical weapon or an intent of colonization), since many species are afraid of cybertronian mechs the news of these hybrids are quite an alarm.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Ozone Hole Continues Healing in 2024

A hole that opens annually in the ozone layer over Earth’s southern pole was relatively small in 2024 compared to other years. Scientists with NASA and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) project the ozone layer could fully recover by 2066.

During the peak of ozone depletion season from September 7 through October 13, the 2024 area of the ozone hole ranked the seventh smallest since recovery began in 1992, when the Montreal Protocol, a landmark international agreement to phase out ozone-depleting chemicals, began to take effect.

At almost 20 million square kilometers (8 million square miles), the monthly average ozone-depleted region in the Antarctic this year was nearly three times the size of the contiguous U.S. The hole reached its greatest one-day extent for the year on September 28 at 22.4 million square kilometers (8.5 million square miles).

The map above shows the size and shape of the ozone hole over the South Pole on the day of its 2024 maximum extent. Moderate ozone losses (orange) are visible amid areas of more potent ozone losses (red). Scientists describe the ozone “hole” as the area in which ozone concentrations drop below the historical threshold of 220 Dobson units.

The improvement is due to a combination of continuing declines in harmful chlorofluorocarbon (CFC) chemicals, along with an unexpected infusion of ozone carried by air currents from north of the Antarctic, scientists said.

In previous years, NASA and NOAA have reported the ozone hole ranking using a time frame dating back to 1979, when scientists began tracking Antarctic ozone levels with satellite data. Using that longer record, this year’s hole ranked 20th smallest in area across the 45 years of observations.

“The 2024 Antarctic hole is smaller than ozone holes seen in the early 2000s,” said Paul Newman, leader of NASA’s ozone research team and chief scientist for Earth sciences at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center. “The gradual improvement we’ve seen in the past two decades shows that international efforts that curbed ozone-destroying chemicals are working.”

The ozone-rich layer high in the atmosphere acts as a planetary sunscreen that helps shield us from harmful ultraviolet (UV) radiation from the Sun. Areas with depleted ozone allow more UV radiation to reach Earth's surface, resulting in increased cases of skin cancer and cataracts. Excessive exposure to UV light can also reduce agricultural yields as well as damage aquatic plants and animals in vital ecosystems.

Scientists were alarmed in the 1970s at the prospect that CFCs could eat away at atmospheric ozone. By the mid-1980s, the ozone layer had been depleted so much that a broad swath of the Antarctic stratosphere was essentially devoid of ozone by early October each year. Sources of damaging CFCs included coolants in refrigerators and air conditioners, as well as aerosols in hairspray, antiperspirant, and spray paint. Harmful chemicals were also released in the manufacture of insulating foams and as components of industrial fire suppression systems.

The Montreal Protocol was signed in 1987 to phase out CFC-based products and processes. Countries worldwide agreed to replace the chemicals with more environmentally friendly alternatives by 2010. The release of CFC compounds has dramatically decreased following the Montreal Protocol. But CFCs already in the air will take many decades to break down. As existing CFC levels gradually decline, ozone in the upper atmosphere will rebound globally, and ozone holes will shrink.

“For 2024, we can see that the ozone hole’s severity is below average compared to other years in the past three decades, but the ozone layer is still far from being fully healed,” said Stephen Montzka, senior scientist of the NOAA Global Monitoring Laboratory.

Researchers rely on a combination of systems to monitor the ozone layer. They include instruments on NASA’s Aura satellite, the NOAA-20 and NOAA-21 satellites, and the Suomi NPP satellite, jointly operated by NASA and NOAA.

NOAA scientists also release instrumented weather balloons from the South Pole Baseline Atmospheric Observatory to observe ozone concentrations directly overhead. The 2024 concentration reached its lowest value of 109 Dobson units on October 5. The lowest value ever recorded over the South Pole was 92 Dobson units in October 2006.

NASA and NOAA satellite observations of ozone concentrations cover the entire ozone hole, which can produce a slightly smaller value for the lowest Dobson unit measurement.

“That is well below the 225 Dobson units that was typical of the ozone cover above the Antarctic in 1979,” said NOAA research chemist Bryan Johnson. “So, there’s still a long way to go before atmospheric ozone is back to the levels before the advent of widespread CFC pollution.”

View the latest status of the ozone layer over the Antarctic with NASA’s Ozone Watch.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Lauren Dauphin, using data courtesy of NASA Ozone Watch and GEOS-5 data from the Global Modeling and Assimilation Office at NASA GSFC. Story by James Riordon, NASA’s Earth Science News Team.

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Lock-Up

Lyle Bolton was a military veteran who went on to become a corrections officer.  He was tasked as head of security abroad the USS Halsey when the decommissioned naval ship was used as a temporary prison during the construction of Blackgate Penitentiary.  Thereafter Bolton was hired as the chief security officer at Arkham Asylum.  

Arkham was renown for its lax security and the alarming pace at which inmates were able to escape.  Bolton was brought on board to address this matter. He issued severe, draconian measures to ensure the patients of Arkham stay in line.  Bolton’s authoritarian regime over the asylum caused great duress among its patients, so much so that many sought to escape just to get away from Bolton’s intolerable treatment.  

Batman took note of the terror The Scarecrow showed toward Bolton when returning the villain to Arkham.  To further investigate the matter, Bruce Wayne asked for a board review to assess Bolton’s efficacy as the asylum’s chief of security.  The review descended into chaos when the inmates began to complain about Bolton’s treatment and Bolton lost his temper. In a violent rant, Bolton expounding on how the inmates were mere animals and should be treated as such.  He was promptly fired.

Several months later, Bolton resurfaced as ‘Lock-Up’ a masked vigilante looking to bring about a more permanent type of justice.  He had decided that the root cause of crime in Gotham was the inept politicians, the liberal media and the permissive psychiatrists... all of whom neglected to see criminals as mad dogs needing to be put down.  As such, Lock-Up’s initial acts were to kidnap Mayor Hill, television journalist Summer Gleeson and Arkham’s chief physician, Dr. Bartholomew.  He kept his hostages on the now-abandoned USS Halsey.  The Dynamic Duo were able to track them down and Robin tended to releasing the hostages whilst Batman took on Lock-Up.  

Lock-Up was greatly disappointed Batman did not share his vision and attitudes toward criminals.  He thought they were of the same clothe, men fed up with the broken system and willing to take the law into their own hands.  Batman could catch the criminals and then Lock-Up could put them down.   For Batman, however, the sanctity of life and the belief in a person’s ability to change were essential components to his notion of justice. In some ways Lock-Up’s moral skepticism was exactly what Batman had dedicated himself to fight against.  

Batman ultimately triumphed over Lock-Up. In an ironic twist, Lyle Bolton ended up incarcerated in the very asylum he had once been hired to secure.   

Actor Bruce Weitz provided the voice for Lock-Up with the authoritarian villain appearing in the fourteenth episode of the second season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘Lock-Up.’  

[cloaksandcapes]

Yesterday we showed you Bork 2.0, and now we have the final form. Bork 3.0, Mightiest Protector. One day we might combine them all into a Vestige-like Artifact!

Bork 3.0 Mightiest Protector

Wondrous Item, legendary

“A perfected and larger version of Bork, the Mighty Protector. This version has been fully enchanted with magical runes, and equipped with all manner of healing aid to make sure that not a single friend falls on the battlefield.”

This magic construct serves as a familiar and acts independently of you, but always obeys your commands. In combat, it rolls its own initiative and acts on its own turn. Bork can't attack, but can take other actions as normal.

Bork has an AC 17, 50 hit points and a movement speed of 30. It has resistance to all damage, and is immune to poison and psychic damage. If reduced to 0 hit points, Bork ceases to function but will repair itself back to perfect working condition after a long rest. If reduced to 0 hit points it must be retrieved.

Bork cannot be surprised, gains a +5 bonus to initiative and has advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks.

Bork can cast the alarm, dispel magic and faerie fire spells once per day without requiring material components. Once each of these spells has been cast Bork must finish a long rest before casting them again.

Healing Salve. Bork can use a bonus action to administer a healing potion to a creature with 0 hit points. That creature regains 2d4+2 hit points. Bork can use this property so long as there is a healing potion in its keg. Its keg can hold up to three healing potions. It takes 1 minute to fill the keg with healing potions.

Helpful Hound. If Bork lays next to a creature making saving throws, they make the saving throws with advantage. For as long as Bork is next to them, failed death saves do not count against them. If Bork is by their side for at least 1 minute, the creature stabilizes.

If you enjoy our content, please support our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 700+ Magic Items, monsters, tokens, subclasses and more.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

you must now follow the regulations of the examination. only material listed on the question paper is allowed in the exam room. you must not have on or near you any other material. check your pockets now. check for things such as notes, books, papers, iPods, mobile phones and smartwatches. if you have any unauthorised items in your possession, you must hand them in to an invigilator now. failure to do so may lead to disqualification. check that you have been given the correct paper for the day, date, time, subject, unit/component and tier. fill in all the details needed on the front of your answer book in black ink. make sure you fill these details in on any additional answer sheets that you use. remember, you must write clearly and in black ink. you may use pencil for drawings and rough notes. you must write in the designated sections of the answer booklet. you must write all rough work in your answer book and neatly cross it through with a single line. you must not use correcting pens, fluid or tape, erasable pens or blotting paper. you must not use highlighters or gel pens in your answers. you must not communicate in any way with, ask for help from or give help to another candidate while you are in this exam room. you should put up your hand to attract the invigilator’s attention. if the fire alarm sounds, please remain seated and wait for instructions from the invigilator.

[tea-with-eleni]

Third Watch

Ireena wakes me so I can take the last watch before dawn. I wasn’t dreaming. I haven’t dreamed anything for a long time. She looks tired in the dim light of our dying fire. “Did anything happen?” I ask. She shakes her head. I nod. She could by lying. I don’t expect her to ask for my help, even if something goes wrong. She doesn’t trust me. She knows I’m a monster. She knows I will kill her.

The thought isn’t quite mine. I know that, but it doesn’t feel any less real. Parts of it are perfectly true, even. I sit up and take her place. She curls up in her own blankets, near Ludmilla. Ludmilla prefers her. Ludmilla preferred Strahd for a long time, but she wasn’t lying when she said she could love more than one person. I know she loves me. I ignore the laughter that drifts through the dark campsite. Sometimes, I join in, but that would wake somebody up. I don’t want to do that.

I don’t think the shadowy figure stalking our camp is real. It’s too large to be Strahd. It has too many teeth. It doesn’t move right. I know Strahd, and this isn’t his style.

I watch it anyways, just in case, but I’m also not the only one keeping watch. Nobody in the other dome sounds an alarm, so I don’t either. I look at Milla, at Ireena. I wish I could be somebody Ireena could trust. I wish I could be somebody that I could trust. I’m not. I don’t know if I ever could be. I do hope that I can actually help them destroy the thing in the temple. I don’t know if it’s possible. That thing, that place of madness, that place of death… I have notes, so many notes, back home. Well, back in the castle. It can’t be home anymore, not while Strahd still exists and wants me really dead, which he does. Some of the notes even make sense. They all made sense at the time, but I have to read back over them and try to sort them later, add drawings, that kind of thing. Sometimes I find out that they don't make sense anymore. Mostly, they’re notes about the different lesser evil gods in their lesser evil prisons. Some of them are about the sad old man who still lives in the temple. I don’t know if Strahd knows about him. I assume he knows, but doesn’t care. I know that there’s something wrong with me, but there’s something very different wrong with Strahd. I’m dangerous, but most of the time, some of the time, right now, I don’t really want to be dangerous. Strahd’s dangerous because he wants to hurt people. He’s good at it. He's smart about it.

I still wonder what would have happened if he’d let us help him before. It isn’t worth thinking about. He didn’t, and we hurt, and she died, again and again. Maybe he couldn't ask for help, not if it might have actually worked. Some things are inevitable. I shouldn’t fight them. It’s a true thought, kind of, but I’m not sure how true. I worry about it, thinking about different scenarios and possibilities, trying to figure out what I can do, what I can fight, until dawn.

Milla knows me too well. She wakes up before Ireena and asks me what’s wrong. She uses magic to get the dirt and grime out of my hair and off my clothes. She tells me to go look for footprints to make sure about the shadowy thing; it's good advice, so I turn into mist and go look. There aren’t any. It probably wasn't real, or at least, it wasn't solid enough to leave foot prints. Somebody would have raised the alarm if it was real. It wasn't real.

When I come back, she’s taken care of herself and is flipping through her spell book. She’s making a few small changes, she says, to try and improve on yesterday. I nod and pack up our stuff. Ireena helps when the noise wakes her up. Milla finishes sorting out a few spell components and puts her book away as we finish. Her almost invisible shield spell fades into the grey morning light.

[thoraeth]

Words: 2830

Summary: Everything seems ready to take the Challengers' new technology to the next level. However, the only way to move forward is coming to terms with the past.

Chapter5(P.1) - Clockwork

<CH4(PT2) CH5(PT2)> | Read on Ao3

The sun rays of a new morning cast their dim light over the boots and uniforms scattered on the floor.

“Daisy daisy give me your answer do

I'm half crazy all for the love of you…”

Buggy lays on Ava's chest, breath slowing down into tiny clouds on his lips. He indulges in the familiar humming, in the comfy feeling of her fingers running through his hair. 

“You really like that one, uh?” he yawns.

“Yes. It's quite sweet.” 

Struggling, the pirate rolls next to her. 

“Damn, these beds are too tiny. We're joining modules tonight.”

“Are we?” Ava laughs. “Couple of weeks ago you didn't want to share a boat. Is this… a change of plans?”

“Maybe. Sort of. I gotta admit it: you've dragged me into something interesting and now I wanna see what else is there.” 

With a gentle rustling of sheets, the jester brushes his toes along her legs. 

“Wouldn't be the first time your follies click with me, after all...” he adds.

Ava sits up, smiling softly. “In Fugu we’ve got hundreds of stories about pirates: deranged creatures who roam the world, only caring for ale and adventure. Lives so full… Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine I could click with one of them.”

The blue-haired man reaches out to cup her cheek, when Ava’s nose wrinkles up and one big sneeze catches her off guard.

“Ew!”

“It’s getting colder, isn't it?”

A sudden knocking makes Ava and Buggy turn their heads towards the doors.

“Oi! You guys awake? Open up!”

Leaning against the corridor’s wall, Romi is shouting in a slurred voice. She massages her nose under the round lens, a box in her arms.

It seems like an eternity, but eventually a messy blue mane appears behind the sliding doors.

“About damn time.” The Captain says, squinting her eyes. 

She stares at the men blankly, wondering whether or not he's wearing a bedsheet. Must be another hallucination from the horrible hangover that's ravaging her, just like the sneezing blanket next to the window.

“I had the fire alarm restored!” She continues. “I’m telling you, jester: move a single bolt on my ship and I’ll fly your ass to Karai Bari!”

A heavy box lands in the man’s arms as Romi digs her fingers into her temples.

“Here’s some winter gear. It's already snowing and we're not even close to Karakuri.”

“Never heard of that.” Buggy shrugs. “Well, thanks and see y-”

The blanket sneezes again. This time it's loud and clear.

Romi looks around the room, perplexed, when she meets Buggy's guilty look and everything gets plain as day, even for her intoxicated brain cells.

“Ok…I guess I’ll leave you guys to, uhm, whatever this is.” she says, adjusting her glasses slowly.

The Captain turns around and walks out of the room with a cunning smile on her face. 

“This is one hell of a 164!” She chuckles, stumbling under the deck's light arches.

As the hours pass, a thick fog rises over the Grand Line. The Challenger comes out of the Belts, sailing across the dark waters under a storm of chunky snowflakes. On its weather deck, the crew is wrapping up in white camo suits.

“We take the icebreakers’ path to Karakuri, then dock at the farest end of the harbor.” 

Romi turns the Drifter on and gives her orders.

“Meg,Torres, Allen, you're hiking team. Go straight to the lab's ruins. If the machine is still there, we take it apart and bring it aboard piece by piece.”

As the engines hiss louder, the Captain raises her voice. “Buggy, Ava, you're on supply duty: we need fuel and components for the assembly-lines.”

“Two-sided?” the blonde asks, shivering.

“Yes, as in the blueprint I gave you. Now, go and be discreet.”

The anchor drops in the water with a low grumble and everyone zips their collars up, ready to disembark.

“First time in weeks we set foot on land and it had to be winter wasteland.”

Buggy frowns at the map in his hands, stumbling in the snow repeatedly.

“I had never seen this much before!” Ava giggles, kicking up the snowdrifts on their way.

“You what? I can't hear shit with these things on.” 

Tugging on her sleeve, Buggy pulls her close, reaching for the soft collar that's covering Ava's face. 

The woman jumps back, though, hands clenching on her suit. 

“No! Someone will see them!”

“You ain't exactly in a bikini, doll, it's kinda hard to see any…Oh, you mean the teeth.”

“They may think I'm a fishman. What if these people… were hostile?”

“Hostile! Why, ‘cause you're grocery shopping?” Dramatically, Buggy leans over the woman. “Are you afraid they'd go tell Meara you’re, god forbid, having fun?!”

Ava chuckles, playing with the puller of her zip.

“Take it easy! No one knows you outside your stinky island. It's a good thing.” The jester gently presses his forehead against hers. “And speaking of which: since there is someone on this team with a worldwide known face… you better be prepared to do the talking here.”

“Are you serious?!”

As the two of them keep arguing and plunging their feet in the snow, the town square appears before them. 

The fog is gradually lifting, revealing little shops and chatty people all around.

“Apologies. Coming through.” 

A stiff voice startles the two foreigners and their eyes widen at the sight of a tall iron doll. 

It is approaching at a painfully slow pace, rocking in jerky movements. 

“It’s an automaton! Just as Romi said!” Ava whispers, excited.

The town of Karakuri is indeed swarming with dolls, robots and mechanical animals who seem to be busy helping the locals with their chores.

After some wandering around the square and its unusual residents, the two stop in front of a rundown shop. The place looks almost abandoned; no one in sight behind the broken windows.

Ava steps in first and a soft chime comes from the ceiling. 

“Umh…good morning.” 

“Good morning, customers. Your faces are not registered as you may not be from Karakuri Island. Please, identify yourself.”

Jumping out of the shadows, a squared robot reaches Ava’s feet. It wobbles on its tracks, circling the woman and beeping persistently. 

“W-w're shipbuilders from Water 7. We stopped for r-replacements and supplies.”

They’ve rehearsed that story for hours, and yet Ava’s sweating. “What if Karakuri robots can read minds?” She thinks as a tiny blue beam starts running up and down her body.

“Water 7, shipbuilder. Female. Five foot two. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Sharp teeth.” 

The robot hasn't finished scanning Ava, when she steps out of its light. “What do you care about my teeth.” she states in a cold voice.

“Distinguishing marks are part of my protocol, customer. Please keep still.”

“I have a damned piece of metal in the middle of my face, what more do you need?”

“Stop it.” Buggy growls, underneath his hood. He briskly nudges his companion and shoves a scribbled piece of paper on the robot’s front camera. 

“We cast off in an hour, can you pack these quickly or shall we go elsewhere?” he insists.

The robot bleeps something about completing its protocols but a human voice shuts it up, echoing from behind a wall of boxes.

“Ugh, get to work, you stupid can! Ya gonna lose me another sale.”

Downhearted, the automaton unleashes its mechanical arms to gather the ingredients on the list. 

Ava, however, goes roaming around the shop in search of that raspy voice.

Peeping out of a stack of bags, she spots a wrinkly woman standing by a mechanical firefly: the granny is curved on a compact mirror, drawing shapes on her eyelids in the dim light.

“Ya foreigners never seem to get it, uh? Just ‘cause they’re speakin’, doesn't mean they’re thinkin’.” She grumbles as Ava gets closer. “Ya walk in with a harpoon through your head? Robo-clerk beeps bops and settles ya bill.  That's all.”

“Mh, I see.”  

Leaning over the old woman, the blonde’s attention gets caught by some black powder in her hand. “Do you… sell this, by any chance?”

The granny nods and points at a wooden box on the ground, filled with small round tins. 

“Oh, these are perfect!”

Ava runs back to the counter, hands full of tins whose label reads ‘herbal pigment’. 

She puts her loot down and pays for their shopping by shoving a bunch of Berry banknotes into the Robo-clerk. 

“Deliver to pier 32, as fast as possible. Have a nice day, madam!” She shouts happily, then drags her companion out of the shop.

The two steps in the freezing air outside, but once they're far from the crowd, Buggy plants himself in the middle of the street.

“You almost got us in trouble.” 

“And yet, all's well.”

“Well my ass. Stop giggling like an idiot, what the fuck is that?”

With her hair blowing in the wind, Ava is holding a tiny box in front of the man's face. He snatches it and unscrews the flat lid, struggling in his thick gloves.

“I saw the shop owner doing her makeup with it, just like you do.” 

Both lean closer, observing the black powder in the container: it’s slightly shimmery in the daylight, a deep black with blue and purple reflections.

“Herbs should be safer than charcoal, right?” Ava adds softly.

Buggy grabs the shortie by the waist and sweeps her off her feet for a moment.

“That's fucking great!” He laughs. “Actual makeup, God, I can't believe it! Didn't they have coloured ones?”

“Shoot, I didn't ask!”

“Nevermind. Best gift ever!”

He shoves the box in his pocket and rests his arm on Ava’s shoulders as the two go back to exploring the small town. 

They idly walk amongst little houses and market stalls, commenting on the automata around them. 

After a while, Ava looks up at the pirate:

“We'd better return to the ship, we've been wandering for a while now.”

“I'm not done yet.”

“Did we skip something from the list?”

“Yes, your gift.” he mutters happily.

“You don't-”

“It has to be fucking grand, like a platinum tiara or something! That is, if there's anything valuable in this place...”

“A tiara? Who am I, Princess Shirahoshi?” Ava laughs.

“C’mon, it's flashy! You'd rather get a necklace? Earrings? A ring, maybe.” 

Suddenly, Buggy's attention is drawn to the main street. “I could make an honest woman of you.” he continues, absent minded.

“As if we hadn't literally met at the altar. It takes an honest man to make an honest woman, you know?”

The jester brings the woman's hands to his lips, a sinister light in his eyes. 

“We must be hopeless, then.”

Before Ava could say another word, he's gone.

The pirate hides behind a stream of people who seem to be headed towards a tall building, the town hall. As the crowd gets nearer, Buggy notices that a number of guards and marines are patrolling the area attentively.

All citizens are asked to get in line in front of a sturdy automaton and, in turn, they place Berrys and shiny objects inside a small vault built into its torso. 

Stealthy, the jester moves away from the crowd and sneaks around until he reaches the building's backyard. 

The windows there are dusty and chipped, and yet he manages to spot a wooden chest, filled to the brim with gold and jewels; only a young marine to guard it. “Ka-ching!” Buggy grins, ominously. 

His pinky travels from his palm to a creak in the window and, one after the others, the pirate's fingers all creep inside the room. They open the window slightly and let his arms, legs and torso in too. 

As the cadet paces back and forth at the door, the jester’s pieces smuggle behind the chest, unseen. Or so he thinks.

“Intruder alert. Launching safety recount: two billion, three hundred thousands…” 

As the chest snaps close, a loud cry descends from the ceiling: a mechanical snail, like Buggy’s never seen before, is glowing red and shouting numbers full blast. 

“W-who's there?!”

The young marine searches the room trembling, gun at the ready, when a hooded figure jumps out of nowhere and knocks her off. 

Buggy doesn't even have time to think, before the room’s doors slam open and a multitude of guns’ barrels and white uniforms comes pouring in.

“Hands up! You’re under arrest in the name of celestial dragons.”

The pirate steps back from the unconscious marine and turns around, slowly raising his hands: he's surrounded and a massive man is pointing a rifle at him. 

“Take that hood off his face.” The officer shouts. “And you, keep those filthy hands where I can see them.”

A short soldier approaches and Buggy notices it is made of scuffed metal. His cold claws pull his hood away and the fuzzy blue hair bounces out. That and his big, round nose.

“You better pray Private Tin Head here is better than that.” the jester growls, hinting at the cadet on the floor.

“I know that nose.” the officer squints his eyes as a nervous buzz rises through the soldiers.

“What is an Emperor doing in this area?”

“This is a disaster. They can’t live to tell they saw me here, it’ll all go to fucking hell…” Buggy breaks into a cold sweat. “That’s what you get for playing prince charming, idiot!” 

Tension is bolting through his body as he's ready to burst in a million pieces.

However, just as he's about to snap apart, the sound of a familiar voice in the distance weirds him out: a short woman dashes through the soldiers, sobbing loudly.

“Don’t shoot! It’s just my husband!”

“Step back, miss. How did you even get here?”

An agitated Ava emerges from the crowd along with two mechanical cadets.

“My husband went missing and your…men helped me find him!” She whines, big tears streaming down her eyes. “He needs his pills, please!”

“Cadets, debrief.”

“Foreigners, shipbuilders from Water 7, sir.” one explains in a flat, neutral tone. “Here for replacements and supplies. Male went missing. Six feet two, blue hair, blue eyes, big round nose. On pharmacological therapy.”

“Hey!” Buggy shrieks outraged as the blonde runs past the big officer and clings to him.

“He’s convinced he’s the Clown Yonko. He was never the same after the incident…Please, sir, let us go back to our ship.”

All soldiers put their arms down, looking at one another confused, but the officer is still aiming straight in front of him. 

“Nice acting, miss, but I still don't buy it. You're under arrest too.” 

“Let your soldiers scan him, then.” Ava replies, cold. “Wasn't the Yonko a former warlord? You must have datas, somewhere.”

The officer grunts his orders to the automata in the room and flickering light beams fall on the blue haired man. After a long moment, the verdict arrives:

“No match found. Height, eye color incorrect.”

Ava squeezes Buggy a little tighter.

“Can we go now, sir? I'm taking him straight to our doctor.”

“Friggin’ foreigners, just wasting our time.

You two, get them out of town. Now!”

In a blink of an eye, Buggy and Ava are kicked out of the building and escorted by the two mechanical cadets. The pirate has put his hood back on and keeps staring at Ava, the same face he'd made for a cat with five paws.

As soon as they reach the foggy woods and the automata march back to the village, both snap at once:

“What. Was. That.” 

“You tried to steal from Celestial Dragons?!”

“Only a few coins! It was supposed to be your gift, anyway, so…your loss.” Buggy shrugs.

“I want nothing but a little gratitude for saving your ass.”

“Shouting from the rooftop that I'm a lunatic loser? Oh, and those fake, fake tears. What happened to miss ‘I'm scared to talk to people’?”

“She didn't want to go to jail!” Ava cries out. “On that note, I hope they won't find out about the robots.”

“Why, what did you do to them?”

“Well, I mean, if they're speakin’ doesn't mean they're thinkin’, right? I saw their power buttons and… took the opportunity to scramble the local archives a bit.”

“Don’t worry, we'll be gone soon.” Buggy smirks, “You’re right though, your smart ass deserves something.”

A gold necklace appears before Ava's eyes, dangling from the jester's fingers. 

She takes the jewel in her hands and runs her finger along the round pendant.

“It’s a locket!” she exclaims, gently snapping it open. “Wait, why is there a portrait of a man?”

“What do I know? Must be that cadet’s sweetheart. I took the necklace from her neck.”

“A stolen gift, uh? Thank you.” Amused, Ava sighs loudly.

She keeps fidgeting with the jewel at her neck as they walk away in the freezing wind.

“If they both fit...” she thinks. “I could finally take them with me.”