#identifying hazards

[safeday]

Examples of border initiatives.

Singapore: Dengue control programme

Australia: Skin cancer prevention programme

"Climate change and safety and health at work." World Day for Safety and Health at Work 2024, April 28th.

[fanciedfacts]

Just one drop and you're history "The Deadly Death Cap Mushroom"

[spampai]

No context

[ilseofskadi]

TODAYS COWORKER BULLSHIT IS A TWO IN ONE SPECIAL

first:

there's this one kid who is super oral, like anything and everything goes in her mouth. like. we've caught her licking the floor. several times.

it became a huge problem when we found her putting tiny beads in her mouth during nap time and we had to move her spot

so jane did what jane does best and shoved herself into the situation and got her a chewy necklace

and okay yeah that's not a terrible idea i will admit that. my niece had one for awhile (tho hers had other stimmy objects in it too) but she was like five or six when she had it (maybe she still has it idk i haven't seen her in awhile)

however this kid ended up putting the whole entire necklace in her mouth, and we had to take it from her because she kept putting her fingers in her mouth with it

of course jane texts me saying that it "seems to be working so far"

like yeah you did have good intentions i admit and it's not a terrible idea, but it's not working towards the problem of getting her to STOP putting things (toys, works, her fingers) in her mouth

second:

we do a little show and tell every thursday for the letter of the week. this week is the letter V. naturally a good amount of kids didn't have anything

well jane likes to have a bag of things that start with the week's letter. fine. okay. whatever. as long as it's not a distraction

WELL this week she just ended up making a confusion among the kids

she had gummy vitamins, a violet colored pencil, a vhs, a votive, and a valentines themed rubber duck

OF COURSE the kids who picked those things didn't know what they were (except the kid with the vitamins)

violet colored pencil? nope it's purple. a votive? nope it's a candle. the valentine duck? nope it's just a duck

and the vhs? she gave it to the most autistic kid in the room. this kid literally just turned four, and mostly repeats what he hears. of course he calls it a movie

what kid even knows what a votive is?? I didn't even know what a votive is!!!

the point of show and tell is so the kids can find things around them and associate them with the letter it starts with. some kids brought tot vegetables, one kid brought a valentine card, one brought a vanilla ice cream toy, another a tiny vase, one had a vice grip wrench, and my favorite was the kid who brought a funko-pop marceline the vampire queen

if we bring in things the kids don't know, they're not learning the letter or learning to associate the letter with word identification, and here jane is confusing them!! of course a kid is going to call a votive a candle!! of course a kid is going to say purple before even thinking violet!!! a duck that has hearts on it? what kid would even think of associating it with valentines!!!!

sorry this got long

thankfully mobile still has a read more option

[hsewatch]

How to Identify a Fire Hazard Around You

Identifying fire hazards is crucial for safety at home and in the workplace. The fire hazards, if not identified or dealt with promptly, may turn into a dangerous situation that may cost human lives and massive property loss. Knowing what a fire hazard looks like and how to identify it can make a big difference in preventing any such disaster. Before we continue, let us define what Fire Hazard is…

[homeinspection2024]

Why home inspection is important

Home inspections are important for several reasons:

Identifying Potential Issues: A home inspection can reveal problems that might not be immediately apparent, such as structural issues, electrical or plumbing problems, or pest infestations. Identifying these issues early can prevent costly repairs in the future. Informed Decision Making: For buyers, a home inspection provides detailed information about the property’s condition, helping them make an informed decision about the purchase. It can also be used as a negotiation tool to request repairs or price adjustments. Safety Assurance: Inspections can identify safety hazards, such as faulty wiring or mold, ensuring that the home is safe for its occupants.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.

He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.

He was poisoned.

He was sick.

He was suffering.

"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.

"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy. Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building. The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.   No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed. Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."

The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.

Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.

Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.

But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.

[lacewings-and-lavender]

I want to talk more about the location-based aspects of my practice, especially the ecological stuff, but I live in a Very Specific Place with Very Specific Features and I would doxx myself easily lmao

[lamamasjamas]

To Serve or Indulge

Summary: Your sensitivity to darkness leads you to a path of vices.

A/n: Saw a tweet that said that Sith should seduce Jedi to the dark side with lust and I thought that was so true. Canon isn’t real to me so reader is a Jedi Sentinel who specializes in being a shadow agent. 🤗

Warnings: Allusion to dubcon smut, freaky foreplay dreams, JediShadow!Reader, a slice of what’s to come… 🤫

Tah’Nuhna. Cold, peaceful, neutral. The order kept a close eye on the Tah’Nuhnans. You were lured there for a reason.

Neutrality meant they never picked sides. It also meant it was a safe haven, for light and dark alike. The darkness was pungent as you wandered the streets of the crystallized city.

The penetrating reflections of the structures shine onto you and make you wince in irritation as you were led to your temporary quarters

The same darkness you’ve tracked has kept you up at night for months. It infiltrates your dreams. It would envelope you every night, making your heart pump, your skin dew in anticipation.

A red flame would catch your eye and before you knew it a heat was upon your neck like a bolt.

You’d wake up with fear and your hands would tremble to your side instinctively. You’d forget that your blade was stored at your bedside.

A shadow can only make itself known with light. Some of your companions would question the existence of your sect. You would question their own devotion to the light.

It was a necessity to act ruthlessly in order to snuff them out. Amulets, talismans, and artifacts of the Sith were still passed and traded throughout the galaxy.

Less so after a millennia of Jedi intervention. But the danger of Sith influence was always a concern to the council.

Despite what they might discuss with others.

Oftentimes, extreme measures were taken to disrupt the spread of Sith knowledge and teachings. Some would die to keep their secrets and you weren’t one to deny them that wish.

Trained to be sensitive to darkness seemed counterintuitive. It threatened to envelope you and shroud the light at times. It was dangerous to be so close.

The exposure of temptations, of power, fear, and anger, some would say, would make you a hazard among your peers.

A spy is what they call you, with their lips pursed and eyes narrowed in slight disdain. You didn't wear the same golden robes they did; you often mimicked the attire of an old Sith.

Dark muted colors served to deter attention, but the saber at your hip was a reminder to those keen enough to look you over that you were part of the order spread over the republic to maintain peace.

A puff of condensation escapes past your lips, the market was full despite the deep chill that morning. Your robes didn't help from the cold shivers passing through your body.

But you had a feeling the discomfort was more than the frigid temperature.

The dark lured you in. Your efficiency in identifying depended on the innate attraction to it. You could feel the air shift.

You stop mid-step, a deep burning dug into your ribs, your cheeks pinched and your skin puckered. It was calling to you. The crowd around you grumbled as you blocked the middle of the path.

Your hand braced against your saber as a hooded figure roughly bumped past you. So rough your shoulders twisted you out of your stoic composition. Their fingers had skimmed right over the clip of your handle tauntingly.

You pause as they look back, revealing the face of a man with a teasing smile, his hair parted along the sides of his face messily. His eyes roamed over your form, analyzing you for a moment before pursing his lips in contemplation.

He turned and rushed away.

It was then that you realized, as he turned the corner. Your heart sunk to your stomach and your lungs stopped mid breath.

He was coated in it, plunged and dripping. But he was looking for something. He was lured by the same darkness you've been sensing the second you landed.

This was a new challenge. You had to find the Sith remnant first.

…

It should start off the same. You wake up inside the temple of Coruscant, soft footsteps litter outside your door. Low whisperings pass by. The room smells of paper, ink and linen.

It was simple, a window, a desk, and a bunk. There was enough space in your drawers to have changes of robes and civilian clothes.

Nothing unnecessary. You reach beside you disoriented, already knowing where the dream was going to lead.

The tips of your fingers barely reach the familiar metal of the handle of your saber. Your relief was cut short.

Your head pounds. In a blink of an eye the room darkens, it was raining, and your window howled as if the water burned its frames.

The tunic and loose pants that you wore plastered against the front of your body, your arm moves to block the stabbing droplets of cold rain from your face.

Then a flash of red blurs your vision, the corner of your eye catching it briefly before you wince heavily from the heat of it.

You feel it at your throat, your eyes are closed in anticipation of the threat of the blade's proximity.

You tremble and stand frozen as firm muscle snakes up your waist and torso, holding your stomach in place against a broad chest.

It has never gotten this far. You always wake up as soon as the heat creeped up your shoulder and to your neck. Another heat creeps up beside your head, it leans against your temple and rests there.

Strands of dark hair fall beside your face and you shiver. It was him.

He smells like fresh wet dirt, green cuttings and a hint of metal. You can feel the exhale of his breaths warm the top of your cheek.

The buzz of the saber taunts you, unmoving.

“Inspiring. Isn’t it?”

You open your eyes to find yourself in a cavern surrounded by stored relics and antiques. All Sith memorabilia. Your mouth is dry as you speak. You were in a daze of confusion and sleep. Even as you dread to admit it, you were struck with fear.

Your mind could barely catch up.

“What?-”

“Show me where this is,” his voice echoed throughout the stone walls, it made you squirm against his chest.

Your eyes widened, your mind was clearing, and you recognized where you stood. A select few knew where shadow agent's findings were kept.

You stiffened and he could feel you prepare yourself to disarm him. He didn’t want that.

His hold on your stomach tightened, the fabric of your tunic twisting in his grip. His temple pushes against yours and his lips skim past the shell of your ear, shushing gently.

Your heart races, something curls in your stomach as he tsks at your weak attempts at escape. You blame it on exhilaration, not…

You close your eyes tightly and shake your head with a thick swallow. He was clouding your mind somehow. All you could feel was the beat of his heart, the strength of his hand rising underneath your shirt and touching the skin of your belly.

You were surrounded by darkness, locked in and trapped like a loth cat sinking in tar. You had to resist and yet you didn't have the strength to.

He puts his weapon away, his other hand glides atop your arm until he reaches your hand, turning it upright until he could cup it in his palm.

You felt… weak. You can feel him smile against you. The same smile he had in the market.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Your ears ring, his lips graze over the soft skin of your neck.

“Let it win," he mutters as he nuzzles against your skin. Your eyes flutter and you exhale shakily.

His hips press against the small of your back. He sucks, you whimper as you shake your head pitifully. You can feel him smile, a hum making your skin erupt in tingling bumps.

He was enjoying watching you squirm weakly, so wavering, so conflicted.

His mouth continues downwards, lightly pecking over the swell of your breasts, returning to their ferocity along your collarbones.

This was only a dream, you repeated in your own thoughts. The hand creeping down your hips, the dark locks you thread your fingers in with acceptance of the pleasure he was giving you.

It had to be a dream.

Fingers slipped underneath the cotton band of your pants. His palm cupped you and flexed. The deep groan of satisfaction he gave, finding you aroused and wet, rumbled through your chest.

His head lifts, his nose bumps into yours and his eyes flicker to your lips. For a few seconds your eyes connect, he smiles playfully.

“I’ll find you.”

The bed springs creaked loudly as you sat up quickly. Your hand went up to your throat, the area feeling sore.

Your skin was tingling, alight by the visions in your dream. With a wince you stand, feeling an ache on your hips from where you were held.

The door to the quarter's restroom slid open loudly enough to make you jump. As you felt around your chest, you could feel more tender spots.

The memory of the mysterious man’s hands flash through your mind. You could almost feel the heat of his mouth, the intention of his touch again.

Shame fills you, these types of interactions were frowned upon, much less with someone so far gone into a path of chaos.

You splash water over your face, the towel feeling rough on your skin. Refreshing. You take deep breaths in, your mind was finally calming.

You almost chuckle from how absurd your night was, you finally look up above the sink.

The reflection on the mirror made your heart stop. Small splotches of raised red and purple were scattered along your neck, your collarbones and over your breasts.

Succumbing to the floor you place your hands over your mouth, trying and failing to will the image of his grin out of your head.

…

A/n update: Reblogs and comments keep authors going, por si no supieran! Please support fics and authors you want to see more of! 🫶❤️

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: Love brings its fair share of sweetness and desire. Headcanons for the companions, on the occasions that Tav charms them quite thoroughly.

Featuring: Headcanons for Tav/Reader x Halsin, Tav x Gale, Tav x Karlach and Tav x Astarion.

Contents: Romance, humour, suggestive language.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Here I am readers, with more companion romance headcanons. They just keep coming. I am cringey. I embrace it.)

Halsin

"There, more to your left. Yes, that. Careful now. The footing's slippery, this hour of morning."

Elated, you placed your prize in your small satchel. The medicinal moss Halsin had taught you to identify and harvest would work wonders in creating more potent healing draughts.

Yes, they were found in the rather treacherous upper branches of the trees in this particular forest, but the hazard was well worth the -

Your triumph morphed within seconds to a sickening lurch in the stomach region, your foot sliding precariously along the branch you were perched on. You let out a decidedly undignified yelp as you struggled to find purchase and failed.

Halsin was shouting something up at you from where he stood at the base of the tree. Fingers scrabbling for a crevice, you managed, somehow, to cast an almost bungled spell of feather fall before you tumbled down through the foliage.

The effects of the spell took hold, not quite as effective as you'd hoped, somewhat slowing your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable hard stop, only to find your shoulders and knees caught by a pair of the sturdiest arms you'd ever had the delight of reclining in.

Halsin offered you a reprimanding look.

"Didnt you hear me? I said I'd catch you."

"Ah ... well. Panic had me for a moment there."

The breadth of his chest against your side was warm, heavenly, on the verge of overwhelming. He shifted slightly, his expression turning amused when you showed no signs of wanting to get down.

"Am I to carry you back to camp then? While your delicate nerves recover?"

Amusement now foremost, you pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek, inhaling the scent of sunlight on grass, the fresh earthiness of meadowsweet in his hair.

Pulling away, you saw how the light dappled his skin in motley splendor, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the slightly rougher patches of skin from long exposure to sun and wind.

Tracing a finger over the line of his jaw, you wondered at how the weathering of time and the elements could carve, with such grace, the story of a life well-lived.

"Carry me? Why, yes, that would be most welcome. Of course, you could change to a ... larger form if you wanted to make things easier."

You could feel the quiver of laughter, and the suppression of it as he pretended to consider your proposal.

"Hmm. I take it you refer to the boar? I'm not so sure that you'd find a comfortable seat on my back."

"I clearly wasn't referring to the boar."

"Ah."

He nodded sagely.

"The bear, eh?"

"Nothing else but the bear."

"You're rather ... enamoured of the bear, I take it?"

"I could be persuaded to admit it."

"Well, today won't be the day I persuade you with any other form. Rather ... "

Before you had a chance to protest, he'd tossed you gently over his shoulder, one large hand coming to rest your behind. He patted you firmly.

"Now this is fairly easy."

"Halsin, please - "

"You don't want to be carried? You were quite eager a minute ago."

"Well, yes, in a position that leaves my dignity intact."

He turned slightly, allowing you to see his mischievous smile.

"Ah. Dignity. Quite like clothes. We can do without them at times, don't you think?"

Gale

"Is there something on my face?"

You glanced up teasingly, taking in his slightly flustered expression. Gale lowered the tome he had been 'absorbed' in, clearing his throat. Gods, you loved when he was visibly collecting himself. He didn't quite meet your gaze.

"No, not at all. But sometimes ... reading the countenance of someone dear to you is ... slightly more fascinating than academic pursuits."

Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms.

"Gale. I never thought the day would come when you - "

"Please don't."

Mouth twitching in silent mirth, you take mercy on him.

"Fine. But you know, if you do want to perform a more ... thorough reading of my countenance, you're most welcome."

He set down his book with an audible thump.

"Ah. Hmm. That's very - "

"Oh, Gods below."

Standing abruptly, you leaned across the table and hoisted him toward you by the collar. The surprised huff that escaped him blew warm across your face, before you tugged him against you, lips moving firmly over his.

It doesn't take him long to find his confidence. It never does, once things have been initiated. Soon, you're the one being pulled forward across the wooden surface, sliding slightly awkwardly into his embrace.

Breaking away long enough to register that you are now practically on top of him, you glance down at the book, teetering precariously on the edge. 

"Gale, it's going to fall off the - "

The breath is abruptly knocked from your lungs as he draws you even closer, disregarding your warning entirely. The scrape of his beard against your lips, your chin, your neck, is intoxicating.

"Gale, wait - "

He hums, voice suddenly pitched lower, and you're reminded immediately of rainy days, closeted in his tower, your body arched beneath the lowering curve of his.

In spite of this highly distracting thought, the fate of the book nags at your mind. If anything, Gale was certainly rubbing off on you.

"The book - "

"I've got it."

"Where?"

Pressing lightly on his shoulders you glance around. The book had indeed fallen ... into the grasp of a ghostly hand, its outline barely visible, shimmering faintly.

The corner of Gale's mouth curved.

"Right there. Just so you know, I've written a dissertation on all the potential uses of the mage hand. Would you like me to demonstrate the parts that didn't make it to publication?"

Karlach

For a woman who embodied all that was vibrant and good-natured in the world, Karlach was certainly skilled at playing you like the proverbial fiddle when she put her mind to it.

Sometimes, you wondered whether she'd been taking tips from Astarion, but the manner by which she applied her charm was far too spontaneous to have originated from any advice he could have provided.

After it had been established that you were together, she'd made a habit of turning your cheeks a decidedly duskier shade whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Just yesterday, you'd gone out to collect firewood and she'd insisted on accompanying you. She'd selected suitable trees, lopping off branches with practiced strokes, muscles bunching and coiling as she swung the huge weapon with breathtakingly effortless ease. It didn't help that you'd been caught staring and she'd shot you a cheery wink.

This woman would be the death of you.

Today, it was the wagon.

Halsin had roped in some of his contacts in the locality to trade with you on occasion. These were trusted allies of his, and could be given the location of your camp without much worry.

The road getting here was rough going, though, and by the time the wagon of goods had trundled in, the wheels were decidedly worse for wear. As a gesture of goodwill, your companions had volunteered to replace them, Karlach eagerly taking the lead.

At first, you'd put it down to her ever-present desire to be of as much use to others as she could. When, however, she'd shrugged off her tunic, limbered up as if about to jump into battle and shot you a tell-tale glance before she lifted the cart right off the ground so that Wyll could slip the wheel off and replace it, you knew you were done for.

Feet braced, the tendons of neck and arms standing out, Karlach lifted her lambent eyes to yours and shot you that easy, charming grin, the one that had all too often haunted your more ... impure thoughts.

Oh, she was in for it. Two could play at that game.

Approaching the cart, you casually made your rounds, before sauntering over to her. Karlach's grin had grown noticeably wider with your proximity.

Stopping right beside her, you kept your gaze on the wheel change while your fingers danced lightly up the inside of her elbow. The wagon lurched a little and Wyll cleared his throat in warning.

Appearing the very vision of innocence, you smiled up at her, your touch inching further in, curling around her bicep. Heat flared to life beneath your delicate exploration.

"You really are something, Karlach. No wonder lifting me is such a breeze for you."

The comment was fully loaded with intent. The last time Karlach had lifted you had been  against the door of a room in an inn, and the circumstances had been ... less than chaste.

Glancing up, you saw that she was no longer smiling. She was now giving you that look, the soft, kindling, fire-bright sweetness that told you all too well that you'd better seek out some private nook, and soon.

Wyll cleared his throat.

"Karlach? The wagons tilting again."

"Eh? Oh, sorry."

Her head snapped forward and you took the opportunity to raise yourself slightly higher on your toes, pressing your lips, swift and intimate, to the corner of hers.

"See you later, soldier."

And by the Gods, did you feel her gaze scorch along your back as you strode away.

Astarion

You still had no idea why you'd agreed to this. You knew how it played out, every time, and yet, here you were, being positively demolished at game night with Astarion.

Since committing himself to you fully after Cazador's defeat, the proverbial floodgates of Astarion's long-suppressed nature had been dashed open.

He hid notes containing badly composed romantic poetry all over the camp for you to find, flung himself dramatically into your lap after a hard days grind, conspired with Scratch to hide your boots, sang loud, bawdy love songs with your name inserted when he helped with the washing up and forced you to wear matching colours when you went out into the city together.

He was lovely, your rogue who'd worn a thousand faces, but now he had regained so much more of himself. And as much as you appreciated every inch of him, he was a handful.

Especially on occasions like tonight.

You scrubbed a hand through your hair in frustration, shooting him an accusatory glance over the game board where your pieces told the sad, sad story of repeated defeat.

He examined his fingernails.

You growled.

"I told you that you weren't allowed to cheat."

"Cheating? Me?"

His artfully startled expression quickly morphed to one of mischievous glee.

"All right. Maybe I am. A little."

"Astarion."

"My dove, consider it training, of a kind."

"Training?"

"I'm exceptionally skilled at sleight of hand. If you can learn to keep up with me, then it'll take a fantastic rogue to pull one over you."

He spread his hands and leaned back in his chair, infuriatingly handsome (and smug) as ever.  

"Besides, you're so pretty when you're ... frustrated. Reminds me of how you mewl when I - "

"I have never mewled. Or made any sound close to that."

"I beg to differ."

Your eyes dropped to the board, considering your next move, when something occurred to you.

Astarion had always been the one to fluster and flatter with his honeyed words in the past, none of which had been truly sincere.

Now though ...

If the kindling of his heart had showed you anything, it was that even he could be susceptible to the charms of someone he truly cared for.

You decided to put it to the test.

Drumming your fingers on the table top, you nodded slowly.

"I agree with you on one thing, at least. You are very skilled at sleight of hand."

He opened his mouth to reply, confidence in the set of his smirk, but you interrupted him.

"Similarly, I am skilled at certain things. Maybe even more so than you."

Oh, now you did have his attention. He paused and arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I won't argue with that. But ... what skills are you speaking of, exactly?"

You briefly lifted your eyes from the game board, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

"I'm a ranger by profession, a hunter through and through. Once I set my sights on a target, there's no getting away."

He was leaning forward now, intrigued.

"Hmm. I've seen that, yes."

"And even though I knew you were not all you appeared to be when we first met, I did set my sights on you."

Nonchalantly, you threw the thought out before returning to the game, offering no further elaboration. Astarion shifted in his seat slightly. You held in your smile.

Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"What do you mean by ... set your sights on me?"

You glanced up, earnestly taking him in.

"I knew you were special, I suppose. My instinct told me so. I learned your scent, as well as you knew mine. I learned your gait so that I always knew where you were, even in the dark. I noticed how you styled your hair, because it told me the kind of mood you were in that day. I studied your drinking patterns, so that I could offer you my blood before you grew truly hungry."

Astarion's eyes were widening slowly. You pretended not to notice as you continued.

"Oh yes. There were many things. Most of all, though ... "

And here you placed a hand gently under his chin, tilting his head to admire him better in the dim light of the camp lantern.

"I learned that you like your name on my tongue, in all its variations."

His voice was positively faint now.

"Variations?"

You offered him a radiant smile, one that drew on every ounce of affection you had for him.

"My sweet star. My unruly nightingale. My beautiful shadow. My bewitching blade dancer. I'll praise you in every form."

And there it was.

Maybe it was only possible due to the fact that he had fed on you a short while before, but the faintest of russet hues, delicate and fleeting, had appeared on the elegant bridge of his nose. You smiled, pressing your lips gently to the tip of it.

"Shall we say I win tonight?"

He let out a shaky breath.

"The victory is yours, my darling."

[fanciedfacts]

The deadly Death Cap Mushroom —

It takes one drop of this deadly mushroom to kill an adult. It's ordinary looking, yet very potent.

[michaela-o]

please please PLEASE can we have an Autobot version of the how to catch a human post?! Begging on my knees here lol

Im sorry this took a bit longer i had so much fun writing this ! And besides that i got distracted by some of the TF comics that can be found online ! I just read the two whole comics about Drift becoming an autobot and man alive was that cool :3🧡

I'm also currently job-hunting and studying so there was not as much time to be online or make art as much as i'd like :'(🧡

But i hope you'll enjoy this one !! ( ｡ớ ᴗờ)🧡

P.s. - I know this is a bit different from the decepticon one bc i made this one in the more First Contact universe♡

Autobot recommendation for handling/capturing fragile organics: Humans

Foreword on behalf of Autobots

Humans are delicate, skittish creatures who rely on their instincts, emotions, and have a surprising amount of unpredictability. They are small, fragile, and prone to bouts of irrational behavior when startled or cornered. Despite their size and vulnerability, they possess an extraordinary will to survive, making them both a challenge and a responsibility to handle correctly.

This guide was written for Autobots tasked with capturing, securing, or calming a human in scenarios where their cooperation is necessary but unlikely. Treat them as you would a frightened turbomouse: with patience and care.

1: Recognizing the human creature

1.1 PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Humans are organics with relatively uniform structure but remarkable fragility. Standing approximately not even quarter of the height of a minicon, they lack protective exoskeletons or natural armor. Their bodies are composed of soft tissues supported by brittle bones, making them particularly susceptible to external forces.

Their skin is their first line of defense, but it is thin and prone to tearing. Cybertronian scanners often mistake minor abrasions as critical damage—while rarely life-threatening, these injuries cause them significant distress. Be mindful of their soft exteriors.

Humans rely heavily on their sensory organs to navigate their environment. Their eyes are sensitive to bright light, and their ears to loud or unexpected noises. Both can cause disorientation, so avoid shining headlights directly at them or using amplified vocalizers during interactions.

1.2 BEHAVIORAL TRAITS

Humans exhibit a wide range of behaviors, often dictated by their emotional state. Unlike Cybertronians, who generally act with calculated logic, humans are impulsive. When frightened, their actions often defy rationality.

• Flight Response: A common reaction to danger, humans may attempt to flee without assessing their surroundings. This can lead them into greater peril, such as running toward an active battlefield or hazardous terrain. They are pretty fast for their size, but their stamina is limited. A frightened human will often collapse after prolonged exertion.

• Fight Response: Though rare, humans under stress may lash out. Their attacks, though feeble, can include throwing objects, kicking, or attempting to strike a Cybertronians. While their strength is negligible, their determination should not be underestimated.

• Freeze Response: Some humans become motionless when overwhelmed, effectively shutting down all voluntary movement. This reaction can make them difficult to rescue, as they may refuse to cooperate or acknowledge external stimuli.

2: Identifying stress signals

2.1 VOCAL CUES

Humans communicate distress through an array of strange vocalizations, often at high volume. Screaming is the most obvious indicator of fear, but rapid speech, muttering, or even complete silence can also signal distress. Listen carefully to their tone—shaky or uneven sounds often betray underlying anxiety.

2.2 PHYSICAL REACTIONS

Their bodies exhibit telltale signs of stress: trembling limbs, widened organic optics, or clenched fists. Sweating, though imperceptible to Cybertronian optics, is another key indicator. Advanced scanners can detect elevated heart rates and shallow breathing, both of which correlate with heightened fear.

2.3 ERRATIC MOVEMENTS

Humans under duress often behave unpredictably, darting in random directions or making illogical choices. For example, a human might attempt to climb unstable structures or hide in areas that provide no real protection. These behaviors stem from primal survival instincts and should not be interpreted as strategic actions.

3: Non-threatening approaches

3.1 MINIMIZING YOUR PRESENCE

Humans perceive large objects, especially moving ones, as threats. To avoid provoking unnecessary fear, always begin your approach in a non-intimidating manner. Transforming into vehicle mode is highly effective; many humans associate vehicles with utility and safety, not danger.

When in robot mode, avoid towering over them. Lowering yourself to their eye level by kneeling or sitting creates a sense of equality and reduces the perception of dominance.

3.2 VOCAL REASURRANCE

Humans respond well to calm, steady voices. Speak slowly, using simple phrases even though they will not understand Cybertronian language. Avoid Cybertronian technical jargon or complicated explanations, as humand won't even understand and will confuse or frighten them further.

If the human continues to panic, repeat your reassurances while maintaining a soft tone. Over time, they will begin to associate your voice tone with safety.

3.3 BODY LANGUAGE

Body language is as important as spoken words. Humans are highly visual creatures and will interpret your movements as cues for intent. Keep your gestures slow and deliberate. Avoid sudden movements, as these can be perceived as aggression.

Extend a hand palm-up when offering assistance, a universal gesture of peace. Keep your frame neutral—crossed arms, clenched fists, or rigid postures might be misinterpreted as hostility.

4: Techniques for securing a human

4.1 NON-CONTACT METHODS

Whenever possible, prioritize techniques that do not involve physical interaction.

• Guided Pathways: Create barriers using objects or your own body to funnel the human toward safety. This method is particularly effective in open environments where direct contact might cause them to flee in the wrong direction.

• Stasis Bubbles: Deploy low-energy containment fields to immobilize the human. These fields should be calibrated to avoid discomfort and allow full mobility once the immediate danger has passed.

4.2 DIRECT CONTACT METHODS

Important note: When physical interaction is unavoidable, use the utmost care.

• Lifting and Restraint: Cradle the human gently in both hands, supporting their head and limbs. Apply no more force than necessary to prevent them from struggling or falling.

• Transport Compartments: Many Autobots have interior compartments designed for transporting fragile cargo. Ensure these are padded, ventilated, and free of sharp edges before placing a human inside.

4.3 ENVIROMEMTAL ADJUSTMENTS

Humans are profoundly influenced by their surroundings. Dim lighting, soft sounds, and warm temperatures can help calm them during capture. Conversely, loud noises, flashing lights, or sudden temperature changes will heighten their distress.

5: Transporting the human

5.1 SAFE COMPARTMENTS

Select a secure compartment that protects the human from external hazards while allowing them to move comfortably. The space should include basic life-support features such as climate control and breathable air.

5.2 CONTINUOUS MONITORING

Scan the human regularly for signs of injury or stress. If their condition deteriorates, stop immediately and address their needs. Humans are highly vulnerable to dehydration, exhaustion, and emotional fatigue.

6: Release and recovery

6.1 GRADUAL DISENGAGMENT

When the mission is complete, release the human in a controlled manner. Begin by reducing your proximity, allowing them to acclimate to their surroundings. Avoid abrupt departures, which may leave them feeling abandoned or confused.

6.2 PROVIDING REASSURANCE

Humans value closure. Rather than explain, show your actions and reassure them of their safety. If possible, provide additional assistance, such as guiding them back to their community or offering resources for recovery.

Closing thoughts

Humans may be small and fragile, but they are resilient in their own way. By treating them with care and understanding, they will give you theirs in return.

"We honor the principles that make us Autobots." - Autobots

[rlyehtaxidermist]

December 2-3, 1984

It's been forty years since a Union Carbide chemical plant exposed five hundred thousand people to methyl isocyanate in Bhopal, India. Thousands were killed in the initial event, thousands more died from complications months or years later, and at least a hundred thousand were permanently injured.

The cause of the incident was the introduction of water to a methyl isocyanate storage tank. This caused a runaway reaction, overpressurising the tank from 14 to 280 kPa over the course of two hours, at which point the tank cracked - but even with atmospheric escape of the gas, pressure continued to increase to nearly 400 kPa - at which point the gauge could no longer give an accurate reading.

After roughly 30 tonnes of gas escaped, employees triggered the plant's alarm system - which was originally designed to alert both workers in the plant and the people in the surrounding city. Company policy mandated that they not alarm the populace about "inconsequential" leakages, so the two alarms had been decoupled by the time of the release. For nearly an hour and a half, the plant's management continued to tell authorities that everything was fine and they had no idea what had happened. Hospital staff had to guess what gas was causing the symptoms. No shelter in place order was given; the public siren remained silent for an hour and a half.

Union Carbide had identified 61 hazards at the Bhopal plant in a 1982 audit, but never followed up on the inspection. Mere months before the incident, UCC discussed the possibility of a methyl isocyanate reaction similar to what occurred in Bhopal at one of their West Virginia plants - however, the report and its predictions were never forwarded to the Bhopal plant, despite the similar design and process.

The Union Carbide Corporation asserts that the incident was caused by sabotage performed by a disgruntled worker. They claim that workers conspired with the Indian government to hide evidence of sabotage in order to blame the company, claiming that the safety systems were sufficient to prevent the incident without human intervention.

On the night of the incident, the tank's monitoring equipment had been malfunctioning for years, reduced to a single manually operated backup. Management had shut off refrigeration of the tank, keeping it at more than 15 degrees Celsius above the recommended temperature. The emergency flare and gas scrubbers had been out of order for months - and even if they had been active, they had insufficient capacity. Deluge guns - a type of pressurised water cannon intended to dissolve escaping gas - lacked enough pressure to even reach the gas cloud.

No motive for the alleged sabotage was suggested.

Warren Anderson, CEO of Union Carbide, refused to answer homicide charges by the Indian government, with the US government denying repeated requests for extradition. He died in 2014, months before the thirtieth anniversary of the disaster in Bhopal.

Union Carbide have divested their stake in their Indian subsidiary UCIL, and refuse to fund any efforts to clean up the abandoned site, insisting that the fault lied with UCIL management and the alleged saboteur. The company paid $470 million dollars to the Indian government - which worked out to a cost of 43 cents per share of the company. Union Carbide's annual earnings were $4.88 per share after the Bhopal settlement.

The 2012 Global Intelligence Files leak revealed that Union Carbide's current owner, Dow Chemical, had employed the surveillance firm Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the Bhopal disaster.

Dow responded to the email leak that they were "required to take appropriate action to protect their people and safeguard their facilities" - an attitude that seems to have been very lacking in 1984.

[vigilskeep]

Help, I'm trying to figure out how the fuck rook can get lucanis away from the crows (and caterina) post-canon!

we simply continue to keep him working with us. can’t hang out with the crows, he’s too busy, very important contracts! teia, you can handle the first talon housekeeping, right? it’s so sad how caterina’s letters keep getting lost. the crossroads postal service is hazardous like that idk

we drastic intervention illario into a decent replacement if we have to get him possessed to do it

we engineer a rom-com scenario where lucanis has to abandon it all at the last moment in order to rush after his beloved in an airport or like at a gondola dock or whatever the treviso equivalent is of that trope

we drag zevran from wherever he’s been hanging out and sic him on the rest of the crows but ask him very nicely to please spare the ones we like

we have bellara use big sad eyes while pointing out what the contents of the veilguard fridge are going to look like if he lets anybody else do the grocery shopping around here

we strategically place self-help books near the pantry disguised as romance novels

we bankrupt house dellamorte through some kind of non-violent leverage-esque scheme so there’s nothing left to run

we get davrin to casually mention that the wardens can’t truly quit and see if it triggers an instinct to prove the crows can do something the wardens can’t

we explain to him very carefully that as much as we love it when he kills people for us, there are other acts of service we would prefer day to day, to which alternate lifestyles may be more suited

we tell spite in confidence that caterina sucks and we just kind of wait and see what it does about it

we destabilise antiva’s coffee supply and force him to seek it elsewhere

we make pointed comments until something happens about how everyone needs to wear nice and identifiable rings so it will be super convenient when we inevitably get murdered for being the first talon’s nearest and dearest and something needs to get sent to him in a box

i guess if all that fails we love and support him and help him realise he deserves better and can make this choice for himself or whatever

[hiveswap]

What on earth happened here. King your emo hairdye is fading

I still think they were insane for yassifying peter quill like that bc between 2006 and 2020 he went from middle aged edgelord cyborg who looks like he hadn't showered in a week, to beach blond bearded himbo

[merakiui]

jade is absolutely getting off to the thought of drugging you up with mushrooms and then using them to fuck you

Oh, most definitely. 😌

“You’re an ash-hole,” is the first thing to tumble out of your mouth. The insult isn’t nearly as biting as you’d hoped it would be, for the slurred way in which you pronounce the expletive dulls its sharpness tenfold. It does earn you a quirk of the mouth from Jade. The exact opposite of what you wanted.

You’re sweating out of your skin, body temperature rocket-high. It almost rivals the stifling humidity of the off-campus woods, which you think might be your resting place if whatever shit Jade spiked your salad with stops your heart. Pre-hike salad, your foot!

He’s found a comfortable clearing, the lush grass more inviting than the cool breeze tickling your cheek. It feels like the wind has a dozen tiny tongues and they’re all lapping at your face. With a shiver, you smack Jade’s arm away when he offers to ease you down. The world is breathing beneath you. The tree trunk you prop yourself against has a heartbeat, and you watch the lines in the bark undulate like saltwater waves.

“As a member of the Mountain Lovers’ Club,” Jade says, lowering to his knees in front of you, his backpack now shrugged off. When you blink, he’s right in front of you next, checking to make sure you’re still lucid. Mostly. “You must be able to discern dangerous flora from the safe ones. The mushrooms mixed in with your salad have hallucinogenic properties. In small amounts, they’re fine. Quite the exciting trip, one might say. But there are some species that have hazardous effects…”

You squeeze your eyes shut again and inhale a shuddering breath. There are spiders beneath your eyelids and in your skin. It prickles. You move to slap nothing off your arm and find that, in the seconds or maybe minutes your world has been turned over, your shorts have been shucked down to your ankles. Jade’s spidery digits creep in close, parting your legs, sliding along your hole through the fabric. You’d kick him if your body wasn’t so keen on melting like candle wax. All you can do is wilt and take in big gulps of air as he presses in, fingers curling beneath your underwear, prodding inside such a private, sensitive place. You’re not sure how much time passes. You swim in and out of consciousness, occasionally snapping back to yourself like a boomerang.

When you come to, it’s with a keening cry and he hums, sounding quite pleased. You’re not sure how or when it happened, but you came around his fingers. The embarrassment doesn’t settle for long, not when your skeleton is jittering in its fleshy confines. You think you might be sick. Something is crawling up your throat. Hands? Vomit? It feels weird. Just what was in that salad? What terrible mushroom did he experiment with this time?

And that’s just it. Everything he does is experimental. Never on himself. You’d quite like that—to give him a literal taste of his own medicine and watch him crumple. What a glorious day that would be.

Like a surgeon, Jade slips a pair of latex gloves on. For a horrified moment, you wonder if he really is going to bury you out here. But instead he procures a particularly sizable mushroom from a plastic bag. It looks familiar, but right now there are a dozen names rushing through your mind and none of them can be correct. You watch with even more horror as he tears a little square package open and slides the condom over the mushroom’s stipe, all business. Perfectly clinical.

“Today, we’re going to learn to identify mushrooms and their uses.” He beams. “Starting with this one.”

“I…” Your tongue feels all wrong. Numb. Too long. And then too short. You try to pronounce your next words, but they come out in a messy splutter.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s edible.” Jade smiles angelically.

Gee, thanks for the help. That narrows it down by a lot, you think, sarcastic.

“Maybe this will jog your memory,” he adds, and when you blink the stipe is pushing against your puckered hole. His fingers are wrapped gently around the cap of the mushroom, holding it steady.

“Wha…” You attempt to crawl back from him, but the tree holds you firm. “Jade—”

“It’s a very popular ingredient in soups and risotto,” he continues, undeterred in his approach.

You dig your fingers into the ground and rip up clumps of grass. It feels wrong. Intrusive. This strange, foreign thing. You squirm weakly, but it doesn’t shake him off.

Dunno, you think, your mouth moving mutely.

“It’s part of the genus Boletus.”

Oh, you hate him something fierce. This smart-ass eel. As if you’d know the scientific name or the genus and whatever-heenus-gleenus. You’ll kill him.

Not really. Because who could kill Jade Leech? Not you.

But the feeling comes something close to death as you imagine yourself weaponizing the blazing sun in your scowl and burning a hole through him like he’s an ant under a magnifying glass. Instead, your expression falls and you give a short, sweet whine. The mushroom presses in shallowly. Jade watches with a delight that can only be described as exhilaration. His smile is preternatural.

It turns out it’s a penny bun. Boletus edulis. He tells you that halfway into working the thick mushroom in and out of you.

“I’m sure you’ll have better luck with the next one,” he assures, and then you see it. The many mushrooms packed neatly away in his backpack, each one packaged in that chilling, serial-killer-like precision only Jade Leech could have.