#organic waste management company

[recyclinghub1]

Organic Waste Recycler in Gujarat

Recycling Hub is a prominent GPCB-authorized organic waste recycler in Ahmedabad, Gujarat. We follow a 5-step organic waste management process and support local farmers by providing adequately recycled organic manure to make the soil more fertile. Contact us today.

[jonsonmoond123]

A Secure Option for CSR Managers and Local Marketing Executives We help businesses jump start their Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) Program Nowadays, many companies have a solid focus on their Corporate Social Responsibility to make sure that their contribution to the environment goes beyond the CSR manual. Many companies need to demonstrate their commitment to

[reachartwork]

"The Goon Economy: Why People Choose to Work for Supervillains"

Leslie Lester, for Psychology Today, October 2022

When asked why anyone would choose to work for supervillains, most people imagine costumed henchmen cackling maniacally while fighting Spider-Man. The reality is far more mundane - and more economically fascinating.

"It's just a job," says Former Employee X under the condition of anonymity, who worked security for a major East Coast villain organization. "Better benefits than Netsphere, better pay than private security, and yeah, higher risk, but you've got clear procedures for hero encounters. Most guys never even see a cape."

The numbers support this pragmatic view. While exact figures are difficult to obtain, conservative estimates suggest supervillain organizations employ hundreds of thousands of workers across the U.S., from direct muscle to legitimate business employees. The total economic impact likely rivals major corporations.

But why choose such high-risk employment? Dr. Sarah Chen, economist at MIT, suggests three key factors:

Economic Pressure: "In cities with active supervillain presence, these organizations often control major employment sectors - construction, shipping, waste management. Sometimes working for them isn't really a choice."

Risk vs. Reward: The average "muscle" for a villain organization makes 1.5-2 times standard security work, with comprehensive health coverage and legal protection. "When you're living paycheck to paycheck," Chen notes, "guaranteed medical care becomes very attractive."

Systemic Integration: Many workers start through legitimate businesses, becoming gradually involved in illegal activities. "It's rarely a conscious choice to 'become a minion,'" Chen explains. "It's more like finding out your company has mob ties - but you've got a mortgage and kids in school."

The psychology is equally complex. Dr. James Morrison of Harvard explains: "These organizations offer what many legitimate employers don't: clear advancement paths, protection from both heroes and rivals, and often a sense of belonging. They're filling gaps in our social safety net."

The rise of powers-based crime has only increased this trend. "Supervillain organizations have better protocols for superhuman encounters than most legitimate businesses," Morrison notes. "If you're working in a city where hero-villain battles are common, that matters."

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day eight ❆ spanking

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

a little mishap at the company christmas party has you subjected to punishment—directly from the hand of your boss. 2.9k

❆ pairing: boss!price x assistant!fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; inappropriate workplace conduct; slight dom/sub dynamic (use of "sir"); spanking (obviously); fingering

Working as the assistant to the head of one of the biggest companies in England invited stress that few could understand. Add in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, and that stress increased tenfold. Then add in a Christmas party that said corporate head expects you to both organize and attend on top of your regular holiday duties, and the stress might give you a heart attack before the week ends.

It was a miracle that the whole thing managed to go as smoothly as it did. The decorations turned out good, everyone was pleasantly surprised by the secret Santa turnout, and the food was nice. Even the most introverted interns stopped by to chat. By all measures, it was a success. Which meant your boss would happily wear the success and (hopefully) give you a nice bonus for all the hard work.

Until the celebration started to wind down and you spilled nearly half of your wine onto him. Onto his very nice and no-doubt-expensive dress shirt—a white one, at that. You could hear the notice of termination being typed up as soon as you realized who you had bumped into. 

Ever the charmer, he took it like a champ in front of the gaggle of people. Not for your own sake, you imagine; the man had to save face in front of his employees whether it was your fault or not. Still, that didn’t stop you from feeling positively mortified. Cursing yourself for even pouring a drink when you should’ve been making sure everything stayed perfect. So much for a little alcohol to alleviate the mountain of stress on your shoulders.

Everyone else seemed to forget about it rather quickly. And as the festivities died down and people started to filter out, there was no unwanted attention brought your way. But, seeing as the party was your responsibility in the first place, you knew you’d have to stay after and clean up. The few moments alone would’ve been nice…if only you truly were alone.

You couldn’t be mad at John for being a good boss. He stayed over nearly every damn day, worked later than most just to make sure things turned out right. He showed up to the office party because he cared about his employees. Surely you couldn’t damn him for that. But when he sidled past you with a quick “can I see you in my office real quick?” in your ear, you wished he were the careless type to leave early and forget that you even existed. 

You wasted as much time as possible just to avoid seeing him. Mingled with every last person who hung around until they had no excuse left to stay. You tidied up counters and swept the floor best you could. You figured maybe you could walk someone to their car and get yourself out of a reprimand that way. Alas, you realized that it wouldn’t be a good look if the assistant didn’t fulfill all of her boss’s requests. 

You stand outside the door to his office for a good minute, just staring at the wood before you. You’re fully prepared to be scolded. To be ridiculed and belittled and insulted. Not that John had ever done that before—he wasn’t the type to act that way—but you felt so worthless that you figured he might as well.  

Mustering the last of your courage and a hint of apathy, you knock on the door. When you hear his voice invite you in, you hesitate before turning the knob and slinking in. It wasn’t a conscious choice to move slow; it was like you wanted to make yourself seem small and meek as if it’d convince him to take pity on you.

There he was at his desk, pushing a paper to the side in favor of looking your way. The blotch of red wine staining his shirt was painfully obvious. You silently prayed for whatever washing machine would get overworked trying to clean it out.

“You look terrified.” John’s voice cuts through the silence and nearly startles you. You hadn’t even realized how tense your shoulders were. “Everythin’ alright?”

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “I…I dunno, sir. Is everything alright?”

“Just fine. The party was nice. Very well done.” He leans back in his chair and you cringe when more of that wine stain comes into view. It almost felt like he was taunting you with it. “Though I shouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you.”

You nod, more out of relief than agreement with his statement. Muttering a small “thank you”, you shift awkwardly on your feet. You expected a scolding, but he was pleasantly warm. There was no anger or upset in his eyes. He didn’t even seem disappointed. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question is surprising, but it’s the tone of sincere curiosity that bewilders you. Not annoyance, or inconvenience. He wanted to know what was wrong, wholeheartedly. It takes you a minute to swallow your pride and give him a half-assed shrug.

“Nothing, sir. Just…stressed, is all.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was probably the mildest way to say you were frustrated and tense and angry and just about every other feasible human emotion.

John makes a sound at that. He shifts in his chair, inching it back from his desk. “‘Course you are. You poor thing…I’ve asked a lot of you lately, haven’t I?” You didn’t know if the smart thing was to agree or deny, but you wanted to sigh with relief that he finally seemed to notice. “That's not very fair of me, huh?”

Did he want you to agree? You decide not to chance it. Instead, you stare at your feet like they’ve become the most interesting thing in the world. Anything felt better than looking him in the eye right now. 

“So, what do you do with all that stress? How d’you manage it, I mean?”

It was a miracle he thought you handled it at all. If you came off well-put together, it certainly didn’t reflect the worry that consumed your private life. “I…don’t, really. I just sort of deal with it, I suppose.”

He snorts, an amused shake of his head. “Well, that’s not very healthy, is it?” Definitely not. But he didn’t know the half of it. “Someone ought to help you manage that stress. I can’t have my assistant on edge all the time.”

Unless he planned on including therapy in your benefits, you didn’t see that working out any time soon. You give him a tight-lipped smile, awkwardly nodding along. Was this what he wanted to talk about..? Scolding you for being stressed was certainly preferable to bringing up your blunder at the party, but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable with it. 

“C’mere,” he beckons you closer with a gesture and a cock of his head. You take a few hesitant steps towards his desk, but he grumbles and gestures again. “Closer. Get over here.”

You freeze for a moment before complying. Why John could possibly want you so close was unknown to you, and your slow steps betrayed your hesitance. You stopped when you stood just before him, mere inches away from his body. It wasn’t unlike him to get close—he seemed to like crowding you—but it felt different this time. 

“Listen,” he starts, reaching out to rest a hand on your waist. “I need you at your best. Your job is very important, and I can’t accept anything less than perfect.” You don’t even notice the slight nod of your head. It was a reflexive response to agree with him, even if it meant agreeing to your own faults. His heavy palm slides down to your hip, squeezing you gently. “And if you don’t give me your best, consequences are in order.”

Your heart sinks. You expect him to dock your pay or pile on ten extra responsibilities to your work load—something that’ll make you feel even worse, no doubt. But when he looks up at you, there’s no sincerity or disappointment in his eyes. Instead, there’s something…eager. Almost like he’s excited when he starts to speak again.

“Seein’ as you’re my assistant, I think a heavy handed approach should suffice.” He squeezes your hip to further his emphasis as he leans forward. He’s so close you can feel his breath against your waist, his lips nearly brushing against you. “Somethin’ a little more personal.”

Oh.

You swallow thickly, your heart beating so hard you fear it might burst out of your chest. Too many emotions conflicted with each other—relief that he wasn’t angry, worried about the implications, excited that he’s propositioned you. It wasn’t rare that you got a little excited thinking about John. He was an attractive man, and the authority only added to the appeal.

HR be damned, you’d think yourself a fool if you never took the offer. “Whatever you think is best, sir.” You didn’t intend for your voice to sound so breathy and coy, but you didn’t fight it. You rest a hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirt tight when his hand suddenly moves to grope your ass. 

“Oh, I know what’s best for my assistant." He leans back, his hands falling away from your body in a movement that almost makes you whine at the loss. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt before patting his thigh invitingly. “She needs bent over and taught about consequences, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out in a squeak before you can stop yourself. One last look in his eyes and you were ready to give him whatever he wanted.

Taking his implication as your instruction, you bend yourself over his lap, bracing your hands on his thigh once you’re in place. You can hear your own heartbeat, pounding in your head and mingling with every thought telling you this is a bad idea. But then you hear him groan and feel a heavy palm skirt along your back and every doubtful thought is drowned by something much more desperate. 

“This is my favorite skirt of yours, you know that?” John mutters while splaying his thick fingers along your backside. Of course you knew he liked this one—he was never very subtle about it. It’s why you wore it to the party in the first place, only now you wish you’d wore something more flattering than a Christmas sweater to go with it. 

He tugs your skirt up and over your ass without ceremony, scrunching it at your waist until you’re fully exposed. He runs a hand over your soft, pliant skin, squeezing just enough to see the fat spill over his fingers. You gasp at the rough touch but make no effort to move away. If anything, you find yourself arching into the needy movements. 

Then, his hand pulls back and comes down in a sharp smack that takes your breath away. He groans again, watching your body recoil. “Yeah, this’ll do just fine.” He punctuates the thought with another spank. “We’ll see how many you can take before you learn your lesson.”

Another sharp smack of his palm makes you whine. You nod in agreement, but you don’t think he’s much concerned with your input at this point. Two more harsh spanks hit and you hiss when he runs his palm over the spot of impact. The dull sting already throbs under your flushed skin, aching more when he gropes your ass in a tight squeeze. The next spank draws a moan from your lips, the sharp impact sending an unexpected wave of pleasure directly between your legs.

John hooks a finger under the seam of your panties, pulling the fabric to expose more of your flushed skin. “You’re doin’ good, takin’ it well.”

You pause, waiting for a spank that never comes. “Thank you, sir,” you manage to stumble out.

Smack! You jerk at that, biting your lip to stifle a pathetic sound. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?” His movements are as soft as his voice, gently massaging the welt forming on your sensitive skin. “I can buy a hundred more shirts, but I can’t replace you. Certainly not when you’ve shown me how well you can take what I give you.” You whimper at the next sudden spank. “Such a good assistant for me, and I haven’t given you the break you deserve have I?”

You’re not quite sure what the right answer is, but you hesitantly shake your head. The next strike motivates you to verbalize your answer. “No, sir. I haven’t gotten a break.”

“You poor thing…” You barely notice the movement of his hand as it slides off of your battered skin. It’s not until he slides his fingers over the center of your panties that you react, gasping at the sudden (and much needed) pressure. You hadn’t even realized how wet you’d gotten, and judging by his excited groan, neither had he. “You need a break from all that stress, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Pulling the sodden fabric to the side, John exposes your wet cunt and hums in satisfaction when he sees the slick glistening on your sensitive flesh. He grabs you on either side, using his fingers to spread you apart. One hand pulls back to spank your ass a final time, and he watches you clench at the impact. Two thick fingers run up and down your slit, gathering your wet arousal, before prodding at your entrance.

He sinks in with a groan and the sudden fullness takes your breath away. You curse and arch your back, rocking your hips onto his fingers. Your nails dig into his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. He buries his fingers to the knuckle before pumping them in and out in a steady pace that makes your knees weak. 

“Christ, love, you are tense. This cunt’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me.” His fingers press deep on each thrust, curled and angled just right to make you push against his intrusion. “Is this what you needed? Someone to stuff this pussy full?”

You hum a soft “mm-hmm” and nod your head. But John isn’t satisfied with that; his free hand comes down in a sharp spank that forces a surprised yelp from your lips. “Fuck—yes, sir,” you sputter.

“Yeah, you just need a proper fuck to keep you goin’ huh?” His free hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your head back until he could see your face. “Fuck, I’ll keep you late every day, bend you over my desk and fuck you as much as you need. Is that what you want?”

Hearing him say it was one thing, but seeing those filthy words come from your boss’s mouth made you clench around his fingers. “Yes…yes, sir,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading as you look up at him. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Your head lolls forward when he releases your jaw. His hand fucks into you rougher, quick and sharp pumps that make you keen, almost like he’s too impatient to keep going slow. He bullies that sensitive spot inside you until you start to tense and quiver on his lap. His heavy palm brushes over your welted skin, kneading your ass just to hear the whimpers it draws from you. 

You hold onto his thigh, nails digging into his pants as you try to hold yourself steady. “J-John, m’gonna…fuck…” It’s near impossible to squeak out the words with the constant pressure filling your cunt. 

“I know, love. You’re gonna cum for your boss, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm—”

“Yeah, gonna soak my fuckin’ lap with it? Make another mess on me?”

It sounded filthy when he put it like that. And while getting reminded of your embarrassing blunder at the Christmas party was the last thing you wanted to think about right now, you couldn’t deny that it certainly motivated you to make another mess. Especially when he was so eager for this one.

You couldn’t even form the words to properly warn him. You were sure he could tell by the tight pull of your slick walls around his fingers that you were toppling over that edge fast. Between his encouragement and the perfect fit of his digits, he was coaxing out all of your pent-up energy. And it hit you hard.

You were a quivering, dripping mess on his lap. Gushing around his fingers, clenching tight like you were trying to suck him in deeper. Your knees were so weak you weren’t sure you could stand back up. John slid his fingers out and delivered one final spank to your flushed skin. You think he mutters a soft ‘good girl’, but you find it hard to hear him properly as you catch your breath.

Raising off of his lap, you adjust your clothes and pull your skirt back into its proper position. Your legs are weak and your ass stings with every movement. You aren’t sure whether to thank him or apologize—so you settle for neither. The silence sits heavy in the room as you trudge to the door to take your leave. You could worry about facing him next week when you were alone, in the comfort of your home, and thinking straight.

Then, you hear him call out your name as soon as your hand touches the doorknob. You turn just enough to see his figure in your peripheral. Still sat with his legs spread and his sleeves rolled up, but now with a rather obvious hand palming himself through his pants. If you had any less restraint, you might’ve walked yourself back over to him. 

“I’ll see you Monday, yeah?” You nod at the sound of his gruff voice. “Do me a favor n’ wear that skirt again, sweetheart.”

You smile, mainly to yourself. “Yes, sir.”

[williamliam32148]

Air pollution harms Vietnam as a country

Nga Trang has virtually stopped going out in the evenings and banned her children from playing outside after school as air pollution from burning garbage worsens in the evening.Born in Hanoi, 44-year-old Nga is one of the many residents of the Vietnamese capital whose daily lives have been affected by severe air pollution.

A global report released earlier said air pollution was worsening. The annual report by IQAir, an air quality technology company, found that Hanoi had one of the worst air quality capitals in the world last year. This year, the city repeatedly topped IQAir's list of the world's most polluted cities. According to IQAir, the average concentration of fine harmful air particles (PM 2.5) recorded in the city last year was almost nine times the limit recommended by the World Health Organization.

Vehicle emissions, industrial activities and poor waste management practices such as burning garbage are the main sources of pollution in Hanoi, said Angela Pratt, WHO representative in Vietnam, and urged the country to consider setting maximum acceptable levels for air pollutants.

Respiratory diseases account for 11 percent of deaths in Vietnam, with healthcare-related costs in Hanoi alone estimated at around US$81 million per year, the Environment Ministry said in a 2021 report.

The World Health Organization (WHO) said in a statement to Reuters that a conservative estimate is that about 70,000 people die each year from air pollution in the country of 100 million people. Experts have warned that the pollution will also tourism and the economy as a whole.

[panda-writes-kpop]

two's company, but three's a crowd?

a/n: happy birthday to my lovely friend across the pond @foolish-sparrow!!! hope you have the loveliest day ever because you deserve your love. also, happy pride month everyone! I have a special fic that's been rotting in my brain that I want to release for pride month, but I also want to work on requests this month, so we'll just have to see what happens :)

tw: 'madre' is used once because it's my nickname for Sparrow but the fic is gender-neutral otherwise, Paladin! Reader that reads like a self-insert character, reader gets wasted as do the love interests, hangover symptoms including nausea, this author hates love triangles so your love interests are love interests and we all live happily ever after in a poly relationship <3

related fics: gimme all your lovin' (all your hugs and kisses too!), look at me! look at me!, sorry for party rockin'!, we're never getting back together (like ever?)

summary: You wake up in a random hotel room with no idea where Yunjin or Kazuha are. Last night's memories are blurry, but with the help of those two girls, you manage to put the pieces back together of what exactly happened at that party.

♡ Masterlist ♡

On a scale from “crystal-clear” to “holy fuck how much did I drink”, you’d rate your memory of last night as a slightly blurry highlight reel of the best parts.

This, of course, couldn’t explain why you woke up in a strange hotel room with little to your name beside your phone and the clothes on your body.

Your phone. You should check that, maybe someone’s searching for you?

Not a single phone call. Were your friends not even slightly concerned about you?

A single text pops up on your phone.

Katie: Text me when you’re headed home! I’ll save some breakfast for you. <3

Well, at least the youngest Paladin cares for you. Considering that she’s sweet to anything that breathes, maybe you shouldn’t take it as too much of a compliment.

Your phone pings again.

Katie: Love you lots, mi madre! Hope you had fun with Yunjin and Kazuha last night after you left the party.

You certainly weren’t in the apartment that Yunjin and Kazuha shared with three other girls, and hell, you weren’t sure if you were in the same city that you started the night in.

Your phone has a mapping system of sorts, right? Maybe you can turn on the WiFi and get a signal to your phone.

You’re thoroughly disappointed, albeit not surprised at this point, that this hotel doesn’t have WiFi or any signal for your phone. It’s almost as if the world doesn’t want you to figure out where you’re going… 

The only tool you have is your memory at this point. It can’t hurt to go over everything, right?

~

“Yunjin, we have a guest!” Kazuha loudly announces as you knock on the door. “Can you get it? I’m busy putting on make-up.”

“Why do I always have to get the door?” Yunjin whines before opening the door. “Hey, you came over! Glad to see you here.”

Yunjin lets you in before closing the door. 

“None of the other girls are in right now. Sakura and Chaewon are having a girl’s night, and Eunchae mentioned something about a study date.” Yunjin laughs to herself. “Kids, they grow up so fast.”

“Tell me about it,” You laugh along with Yunjin, “Katie’s the one organizing the party. Luckily, since Ryujin invited everyone and their mother, I slipped an invitation in for you and Kazuha.”

“Katie won’t be mad?” 

“Not at all, since the party is a cover to get a few of her friends together with their crushes.” You roll your eyes at Katie’s schemes, which will unfortunately work because it’s Katie.

“Sounds like Katie, alright.” Yunjin lightly grabs your arm before leading you to the kitchen. “C’mon, I made some drinks for us.”

“Already? We’re not even at the party yet-” You try to protest, but Kazuha gasps when she spots the three red solo cups.

“I’m down for a couple drinks if you are.” Kazuha enters the room and slides to your left as Yunjin expectantly stares at you.

So much for your whole lecture towards Katie about avoiding peer pressure when it came to alcohol and other substances.

“As long as we get an Uber to the party, we can have a couple of drinks.” You say as the two girls happily cheer.

~

You didn’t get too drunk at their apartment, but you definitely weren’t comfortable driving. After calling a ride, nothing of note happened - except for the fact that you were squished between Yunjin and Kazuha in the backseat of the car. You were trying to hide your nervousness from the both of them, but neither of them could resist the urge to tease you a bit.

“Do we both make you nervous, or is it just one of us?” Yunjin smiles before scooting closer to you. “Come on, you can tell me~”

“Yunjin, knock it off, you’re making them nervous!” Kazuha reaches over and lightly slaps Yunjin.

Yunjin rubs her arm in pain as Kazuha’s hand returns to her, but not before lightly grazing your knee. 

When you look at Kazuha, she winks at you before softly laughing. 

You’re sure that your nerves are more apart than ever - maybe spontaneous combustion wasn’t such a bad fate, after all?

Speaking of, Kazuha enters the hotel room, causing you to sigh in relief.

“Kazuha, you have no idea how happy I am to see you-”

“-Where are we?” Kazuha looks at you in confusion. “I thought you’d know, but apparently you don’t.”

“What gave it away? The fact that I reek of booze?” You joke as she walks over and peeks out of the other side of the room. “Have you seen Yunjin?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.” Kazuha slides into the single office chair in the middle of the room as you lay on the single king bed in the room. “What happened last night?”

“I’ve got bits and pieces from last night - maybe we can compare and see what we remember?”

~

Getting to the party was eventful, but the party itself was nothing to scoff at. You had arrived a bit late, something that Katie would normally scold you for, but the party seemed to be roaring out of control. 

To your left was the kitchen, where you see a nervous Katie running around with dishes and ingredients in her hands. Dami dutifully stands to the side, occasionally holding a dish and stirring something, while watching Katie work her magic. 

You can hear King and Neon talking with a group of friends in the living room - perhaps it was time for a Boomer reunion? Yet again, you’d probably start an argument with one of the boomers, which would probably put Katie more on edge than before. 

You couldn’t chat with Mala, who was currently studying at home with Tzuyu. Katie had invited them over, but you weren’t sure that they would make an appearance tonight.

“Hey, I’m going to grab something to eat. Are you guys hungry?” Yunjin asks as the three of you head towards the kitchen.

“I could eat.” You shrug as Kazuha nods. 

“Hey, Katie-” You call out as Katie rushes past you.

“Everything you can eat is on the kitchen island. Grab a plate and feel free to eat.” Katie says before mumbling to herself, “Chili powder, lemon juice, tomatoes, avocados-”

“Is she going to be okay?” Kazuha asks as Dami hands the three of you plates, silverware, and glasses. 

“I think so, but this may be her breaking point.” Dami looks over to the counter that is stacked with half-full and empty liquor bottles. “I still haven’t told her that Ryujin and her friends have finished off most of the bottled and canned drinks.”

“Have Neon and Siyeon find the drinks. I’m too stressed to do any sort of matchmaking, so that’ll work for now.” Katie rushes back towards the sink to grab a spoon. “Oh, and I’m not ignoring you three, I promise. I’m just a little bit out of it, and I hope you can understand why.”

“At least she’s honest about it.” Yunjin mutters as Kazuha rolls her eyes.

“Be nice to the girl, she’s obviously trying her best. Thank you for the food, Katie, I appreciate your efforts.” Kazuha compliments Katie, who instantly lights up.

“Really? Thank you!” She quickly side-hugs Kazuha before continuing to organize the kitchen and mix dishes together.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles before looking over to you and Yunjin, who look ready to devour her if she doesn’t move out of the way. “We should grab some food and get to the party.”

~

“Katie’s really something, huh?” Kazuha laughs to herself for a moment. “She’s a sweetheart - no wonder everyone gets along with her.”

“Yeah, she’s something, alright.” You smile softly. “But after that, we sat down and had food until Neon and Siyeon came back with drinks.”

“I’m surprised you remember that. You and King got into a bit of a drinking competition, and well… both of you were losers in the end.” Kazuha explains.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“You couldn’t answer a basic multiplication question.”

“Okay, maybe I was that drunk. What happened next? My memory’s kind of blurry-”

“We played a few party games, in which you got mad at King and then chased him outside. He fell into SuA’s flower garden, and you claimed your victory over him. Then there was the whole Spin the Bottle incident-”

“Spin the Bottle incident?” You tilt your head at Kazuha.

“-I think Mala’s the person to talk to about that.” Kazuha scoots her chair closer to you. “Your friends all had a pretty good night when it came to romance.”

You groan as a wave of nausea hits you - damn hangovers and their horrible timing!

“What about me?” You ask out of plain curiosity. 

“What about you…” Kazuha trails off with a playful look on her face.

~

You were chased outside by Katie… well, some of you were. Others were too drunk to function, so rides had to be arranged, and some were growing tired as the moon continued to rise into the sky. 

Yunjin and Kazuha were still there… among others, but none were as notable as them. 

In the moonlight, Kazuha’s skin glistened as someone set up a speaker in the backyard. Like a moon to its planet, you’re pulled into her orbit as you dance together to a song you can’t quite name. Your bodies flow together as if the cosmos deemed for you two to be together.

And, of course, nothing ends a perfect first dance like a perfect first kiss. Your lips move against hers in perfect harmony as you stop swaying to the music. 

You part from her, with both you and her shyly looking away from each other, when Yunjin pulls you close to her.

“You two can’t have all of the fun~” She teases before lightly kissing your cheek. 

You don’t have time to process what happened with Kazuha when Yunjin dances with you to a much faster-paced song. You find time to tease each other, to carefully expose your feelings without being too over-the-top. It’s a delicate dance, a high-intensity card game where you both wait to play your aces.

You play yours first - pulling her flush to you as the song comes to a close.

She plays her ace after yours - her hands pull your face close to hers, and her lips devour yours with a hunger that you’ve never known before.

Another partygoer has to pull the two of you away from each other, wanting you to “not cause a scene”. As if you haven’t done enough of that tonight.

You’re stuck between two worlds, a fork in the road that leads to two different good endings.

What do you do now?

~

“Then Yunjin and I ended up kissing, and we tried to call a ride back to the apartment. I don’t think the driver knew where we were going, since we ended up here.” Kazuha shows you a flier that she found on the desk - the hotel has a similar name to their apartment building, so the mix-up suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“I think we all drank too much,” You groan as you lay down on the bed. “But I don’t regret kissing you or Yunjin, not one bit.”

“So you remembered?” A hopeful glint appears in Kazuha’s eyes.

“I told you that I remembered bits and pieces, but as you were telling me what happened, it all started to click and my memories… sorted themselves out, I guess.” You place a hand over your eyes to prevent any sunlight or artificial light from entering your eyes. “Still doesn’t explain where Yunjin is though.”

The hotel door room is slammed open as someone stumbles into the room.

“Yunjin!” Kazuha explains as you carefully sit up and remove your hand from your eyes.

Yunjin’s hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all sorts of directions and curling in places that it didn’t curl before.

“My head is killing me.” She grumbles before face planting on the bed. “The breakfast here sucks, by the way. Why don’t we go back home?”

“Do you remember much from last night?” You look over at Yunjin, who lifts her head and smirks at you.

“Which part - the party, the kissing, or the hotel room shenanigans?” 

Your eyes widen as you look over at Kazuha - she’s just as flabbergasted as you.

“I’ll tell you all when we’re not hungover, preferably over coffee.” She says before laying her head back on the bed.

“It sounds like you’re asking us on a date, Yunjin.” You tease as Yunjin sighs.

“I wanna sleep, can we talk about this later?”

“We’ll talk later. Goodnight, Yunjin-” Kazuha says before she hears soft snoring from the other bed. “That was fast.”

“Do you want to rest, or would you rather clean up and get ready?” You ask.

“I could use a nap. Once I was semi-sober, I was looking up and down the hotel for Yunjin. I wonder where she went…” Kazuha shrugs as you slide off of the bed. “You aren’t tired?”

“I have to let the other Paladins know where I’m at.” You check the clock - 8:35 a.m.

Neon and King are probably still hungover, so Katie and Mala are the only people you should call right now. You don’t really want anyone to call you since you’re hungover, so you’ll offer the other boomers that basic respect.

“Kazuha, is it okay if I-” You pause as you watch Kazuha’s chest rise and fall - she’s dead asleep, too.

You look over to Yunjin, then back to Kazuha, and then to your phone.

You’d figure everything out, over coffee and other hangover cures. And you had one hell of a story to tell the other Paladins when you got home.

[cartoonsforlife]

Black Hat X Reader

The evil boss's new employee

Includes: Black Hat X Reader,

Warnings: Slightly spicy content

It seemed like over a fucking hour since you arrived at Hat Manor, sitting on a red velvet baroque armchair across from the desk, in the company of the great and infamous Villain: Lord Black Hat.

Indeed, after several unsuccessful attempts to find a job, you had found a card on your door with the phone number and emblem of the Black Hat Organization. At first, you were hesitant. You had already heard about this organization and what it consisted of. You had even watched several of their videos on YouTube to learn more. You are an ordinary human being, you have never committed a criminal act and the idea of ​​working for the most feared and dangerous being in the Universe makes you shiver with fear. However, you had no other options. It was an unexpected chance. You had grabbed your cell phone with a trembling hand and dialed the number that was written on the card. It had only taken 5 seconds to pick up. To your relief, it was not Black Hat on the other end of the line but his faithful right-hand man and scientist Dr. Flug. You had explained your situation to the doctor and he had granted you a job interview with the boss of the Organization in a few days. You were both relieved and anxious. If you make a good impression on Black Hat, maybe he will accept that you work for him. But one wrong step and it will be over for you. Forever.

In the end, the job interview went pretty well, to your surprise. You were nervous when you entered the office and stood in front of Lord Black Hat. Even though he was intimidating at first, he was strangely patient and professional with you. He asked you questions about yourself, your motivations, your knowledge of his company, and you had to explain to him why he should hire you. This last question destabilized you a little but you had managed to find the right words to convince him.

A mischievous smile appears on the evil being's face and makes a contract and a fountain pen appear in front of you in a cloud of black smoke.

You slowly reach out to the pen and carefully read the contract on the desk. Your heartbeat accelerates and you don't know if it's because of excitement or anxiety. You knew that once you signed that contract you would literally lose your soul and there would be no turning back but on the other hand you would finally be free from that fucking unemployed status.

Black Hat taps his gloved fingers impatiently on the wood of his desk, his eyes fixed on you, disturbing you in the process. You grab the pen without wasting another second and sign your name at the bottom of the contract.

The entity displays a satisfied smile and begins to chuckle. He makes the pen and the signed contract disappear in a green flame.

"Perfect! Welcome to the Black Hat Organization, Miss (Y/n)! You will start your work tomorrow! On your first day, Dr. Flug will guide you and explain your tasks to be performed!"

"T-Thank you, sir! I will not disappoint you, I promise!"

As you were about to get up from your chair and leave the room, your boss calls out to you.

"One more thing!"

"Yes, sir?"

Silence…

Black Hat stares at you again. His gaze is neutral this time. An uneasy feeling invades you. You have always hated when someone looks at you like that. It makes you feel like a frightened prey that risks being eaten by a hungry predator every time when someone looks at you like that.

To break the awkward silence that reigns, a little too long for your liking, in this room, you ask him why he wants to keep you after the interview. Could it be that he has changed his mind?

Black Hat smiles at the worry on your face and stands up from his throne to walk over to you.

You lean back in your chair when he is only a few inches away from you.

"Tell me, my dear? Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

That left you speechless. You didn't expect that kind of question at all, especially coming from him! Since he kind of complimented you.

"I… I beg your pardon?"

He leans over and reaches his gloved hand towards your head to slowly caress your cheek. His touch sends a small shiver down your spine and you feel the red burning in your face.

"They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, right? In yours, I see that you had gone through many difficult trials to achieve your goal. You were determined despite the many failures that upset you. No one encouraged you and supported you, not even your family… You could always do it on your own. Oh, poor little thing…”

The being mocks. The image of you curled up on yourself, desperate to be stuck in a vicious circle forever, alone, without having someone to support you and help you get through this overwhelming ordeal makes him tear a smirk. What an asshole.

You were speechless. Everything he said was true. How could he have guessed all this just by looking at your eyes? You were about to ask him when Black Hat brought his face closer to yours. His cold breath made you shiver again. Your heart was pounding in your chest that you were convinced would burst any second. You gasped involuntarily when you felt the evil entity's hand slide from your face to your neck. He ran a clawed finger over the curve of your neck to trace a thin, scarlet line. A hiss of pain came out of your mouth. You felt a drop of warm, wet pearl slide from your neck to your collarbone. Alarmed, you mechanically grabbed Black Hat's wrist to push his clawed hand away from your now bloodied neck, but his superhuman strength didn't allow it.

"What are… what are you doing?! Stop…!"

“Calm down, my dear.” He orders in a confident but firm voice. “I promise you that if you stay still, it will hurt less. Unless you would prefer to start your work day with your neck shredded?” The bastard laughs like crazy as if it were the best joke he has ever told. He grabs your hand that is still clinging to his wrist and squeezes it tightly in warning. If you rebel, you can be sure that he will break your bones with a single grip.

“No…! NOOO!” You answer in a voice mixed with panic and frustration, reluctantly accepting your defeat.

“Good!” He smiles as he releases your hand and you abruptly place it back on the armrest to hold yourself as if your life truly depended on it.

“Now…” He continues in a soft, husky voice. Relax and look closely at my eye, miss (Y/N). Focus on my voice and my eye."

You do exactly as he ordered. You notice that his visible yellowish eye changes color: rings of varying colors moved around his thin pupil. Your gaze remains fixed, captivated by his eye and you begin to enter a trance. You could only see colors dancing around you and only Black Hat's voice can be heard in your ears.

"Surrender to me, mi quérida. Surrender to your Lord and master!"

"Yes, my Lord." You answer in a whisper, now completely under Black Hat's spell.

"Very well. Now tilt your head back."

You obey.

He then brings his large mouth towards your abused neck and slides his reptilian and rough tongue on the bloody line he drew on you earlier.

A moan escapes your mouth at the contact of his tongue.

The villain smiles at your reaction. Without delay he sinks his sharp mint green fangs into your skin, making you tear out a cry of surprise. Tears flow from your cheeks as Black Hat sucks your blood. He lets out a muffled and animalistic moan when he feels the sweet taste of your life essence slip into his throat. Fuck! It had been an eternity since he drank human blood. Of course he doesn't need it to survive but he must admit its taste and smell are so intoxicating.

He unclenches his teeth from your neck and licks the drops of blood from your bite before straightening up. With a snap of his fingers, he releases you from your trance.

You whistle painfully and immediately bring your hand to your neck which is causing you martyrdom.

"What is it…? What did you do to me?" You ask disconcerted.

"Don't worry, my dear. My mark will disappear from you in a few hours…" He says reluctantly.

He would have preferred to keep his mark on you forever to make you understand that you belong to him. "It would be a shame to get into trouble on your first day." He adds mischievously.

You immediately understand who he is referring to: A certain green-haired lizard woman who will not hesitate to kill you if you approach her dear beloved boss.

"Now go! You have to get ready and go to sleep because tomorrow your first day will be intensive!"

"Yes, sir!"

This writing idea came to me this morning at work during a discussion with one of my clients and inspired me for this story without knowing it! I thank her for that! 😊

[haithamuse]

SYNOPSIS.     five times you were prepared when jing yuan summoned you. yet one time, he managed to catch you off guard.

TAGS.     sfw, reader is a cloud knight, can be read as either platonic or romantic, jy is a menace

A/N.     i'm back !! this is based on prompt #857 from @creativepromptsforwriting and their weekend game! helped me a lot to write smth for our favourite cat dad and get back into the groove. i love him a normal amount <3 may or may not write a part 2 to this

You are meticulous—always on top of things and reliable. It is hard to catch you off-guard, which is a core quality you need to stand your ground within the Cloud Knights. You stand out amongst your peers for your perseverance, therefore it is hardly a surprise that you caught the General's attention.

Even then, it does little to rattle your resolve. You have worked hard to get to this point—and it seems like it has paid off.

Your relationship with Jing Yuan started like any other between a superior and those working under him. Though you had hoped—expected—to be acknowledged by him one day, it doesn't make you any less ecstatic to have reached your achievement. You have received orders and interacted with him before, but to receive his commendation is something else.

For the General, it isn't much different. He thinks your outstanding achievement shouldn't go unacknowledged, but Jing Yuan isn't that shallow. To have such a dedicated soldier among his ranks—he ought to get to know you better.

And so it begins.

In hindsight, you can recount all the meetings you had with Jing Yuan to the finest detail—for better or for worse.

The first time he summons you, you straight up refuse. He may be the Luofu's General, but that does not give him the right to put a dent in your routine. Many have called you out on your audacity to deny the summons, but you simply shrugged in reply. If it isn't an emergency, Jing Yuan has to wait.

And he does wait.

He doesn't mind because, on that day, he gains another piece to the puzzle that is you. The General learns that you are not someone who likes being told what to do. It is quite a contradiction for your occupation, but it intrigues him all the more.

The second time he summons you, Jing Yuan has learned from his mistake. He makes sure to ask for your time in advance, allowing you to carve out some time in your schedule to join him for a game of chess.

At this point, you start questioning why he insists on spending so much time with you in private. It isn't like you are bothered because, truthfully, you enjoy his company. Yet still, the cynical part of your brain can't help but wonder what his motives may be.

The third time he summons you, you are prepared. There is no prior notice, but you don't need one—you have already cleared a time window for him in advance.

The fourth and fifth times, he asks you for a time and date. By now, he has long learned that you like to be in charge of your time—and he allows you that freedom.

But for the sixth time, he finally manages to catch you off guard. He does so without prior notice, and you think that all the progress you have made with him was all for naught. However, your thoughts are quickly dismissed when Yanqing is sent to fetch you, claiming it is an emergency. Surprised by the suddenness of the request, you feel a mixture of curiosity and slight apprehension as you make your way to his study.

When you arrive, you find Jing Yuan pacing back and forth, deep in thought. He looks up as you enter, a faint smile playing on his lips. Without exchanging any pleasantries, he gets straight to the point. "There's been an impromptu development proposed by Miss Tingyun. Our Astral friends are bound to depart soon, and she'd like to organize a small event to show our gratitude."

The anxiety you felt for another disaster looming over the Luofu is replaced by utter confusion, and you waste no time in voicing your feelings. "But surely that can wait, right? You had summoned me for an emergency, so that should take precedence."

He does not grace you with a response. Instead, his faint smile only grows wider, and you notice his eyes twinkle with mischievousness. Suddenly, you become painfully aware of the situation you find yourself in. There is no emergency, and Jing Yuan has you right where he wants you to be.

As he continued, he disregarded your exclamation, his eyes fixated on your face, your sudden realization mirrored in your expression. "I'd like you to accompany me to the event. As my plus one, so to speak."

"W-What?" you immediately splutter. You swear you see him grin even wider, but you can't be sure as the heat rising to your face is too distracting. You know the General can be bold, but you didn't think you'd be at the mercy of his wit like this. Before you can help yourself, more questions stumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "When?"

"Now," he glances at the small clock on his desk. "Or rather, about 45 minutes from now."

You swear you short-circuit on the spot—any stoicism you had hoped to display now utterly failing you. That's not enough time to prepare. Why would he only tell me now? Why would he ask me?

As a million thoughts race through your mind, you haven't noticed that Jing Yuan has left the seat behind his desk and is now standing in front of you. You are too caught up in your mind to notice that there is a lot less proximity between you now, only noticing him when he speaks. "There's no need to panic. It's an informal event," his voice drops low, his tone surprisingly gentle. "But I'd be honored to have you accompany me."

Finally, you lifted your head to gaze into his golden eyes. Gone was any sign of mischief, replaced by a comforting golden hue that enveloped your senses. A hue you think could wrap itself around you and offer comfort for ages to come. It is hard to come up with a response, but you won't get a chance to utter it anyway.

A hand rested gently on your shoulder, as Jing Yuan leaned in and spoke softly, "Meet me back here in an hour. There's no need to stress." But you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moves towards the exit.

When he is gone, there is only one thought left in your mind.

What a scoundrel.

[reasonsforhope]

"A new community housing development in the Bronx will feature a cool piece of kit: an on-site aerobic digester that can turn 1,100 pounds of food scraps into 220 pounds of high-quality fertilizer every single day.

Built by Harp Renewables, it’s basically a big stomach filled with bacteria that breaks down food scraps and wasted food into their component parts, and in the future could be a standard part of all apartment units as the amount of food waste in American reaches 30% of the total mass of all trash collection.

The Peninsula, organized by Gilbane Development Company, will feature 740 units of affordable housing, 50,000 square-foot light industrial space and equal sized green space, and 15,000 feet of commercial space, all of which will send their castaway comestibles right into the digester...

Fast Company reports that Christina Grace, founder of a zero-waste food management company, helped plan the design and implementation of the digester into The Peninsula, and helped organize a 40% grant from the city to pay the $50,000 upfront cost.

“The goal is for this material to work its way into the community garden network in the Bronx,” [Christina Grace, who helped plan the design] told the magazine, adding that she expects it to pay for itself over just a few years. “We see this as highly replicable in both commercial and residential venues. We know there’s a need for fertilizer.”

Producing fertilizer right there in the city reduces the need for it to be trucked in from afar, chipping away, even if just a bit, at NYC traffic.

Big problem solver

Perhaps uniquely beneficial to New York City compared to other spots in the U.S. is that the digester will have a significant impact on the Bronx’s share of the city’s rodent problem.

Those who’ve watched the Morgan Spurlock documentary Rats will understand why that’s significant—while those that haven’t will have to imagine what living in a megacity where rats outnumber people by around 8 or 10 to 1 looks like.

Another big problem the bio-digesters could potentially help is pollution and greenhouse gas emissions. Fertilizer is a big emitter of all three of the most-targeted GHGs. Fertilizer, like quarry dust and ammonia is, like so many commodities, often imported from countries who specialize in its production, such as Norway, but also Russia and Ukraine, whose conflict has recently highlighted the fragility of the supply chain with sharp increases in prices...

Bio-digesters by design keep the CO2 and methane in the fertilizer produced, rather than it entering the atmosphere.

For these reasons and more, the aerobic bio-digester is slowly making its way into residential and industrial spaces around the country.

GNN reported on an enormous bio-digester at the heart of the D.C. advanced resource (sewage) recovery center outside the capital, and on the use of bio-digesters on Australian pig farms which are helping reduce the environmental and psychological impact of the effluent produced from such operations.

Harp Renewables tweeted how happy they were to have installed their bio-digester in the town of Cashel, Ireland.

Expect to see more stories like this pop up around the globe."

-via Good News Network, March 17, 2022

Note: Obviously gentrification bad and "affordable housing" is sometimes nowhere near as affordable as it should be, etc. etc. That said, this is such a fantastic use case that I felt I had to post it anyway.

[ninjagirlstar5]

I was struck with a Swap AU 3 days ago...

I did most of my rambling on Discord, so I'm just gonna copy and paste those under specific groups and characters for organization.

The Hollowheads

Chosen: - Swaps places with victim. - Alan creates Chosen first and gets more than he bargained for like in canon, but he actually manages to delete Chosen before he could escape onto the PC (but obviously he survives somehow like canon!victim). - Chosen starts up a company making weapons and shit, even though he technically doesn't like it but it's all he's ever really known to do so… - Chosen is still like, "nah, I'm evil" and goes along with the flow to get what he wants, even if he's not proud of all the weapons he's made over the years. So yes, he would torture someone. (*cough* victim *cough*)

victim: - Swaps places with Chosen. - Alan learns his lesson in Not creating another Chosen but instead creates victim to torment her, only letting her out whenever he feels bored. This ends up backfiring as well as the moment she escapes from Adobe flash, she steals all the tools and lashes out on his PC, which creates far more destruction than he thought she was capable of. - Since Second takes Dark's place, victim becomes besties with him! I'm sure this fallout won't be painful for both of them! (sarcasm) - The tools vic creates and used in the first episode and the Box becomes tools she can pull out at any time with the use of some UI wristbands she made after she and Sec escape Alan's PC so that she can never be powerless ever again (cause she still doesn't have powers in this AU). She even has a hoverbike (like the Mercs have) that she created for herself to help her travel better next to Second. - After she escapes the PC with Second, who is a little brother figure to her, she becomes a terrorist out of spite and anger. Unlike canon!Chosen, who loses interest and becomes more guilty over time, victim's fury fueled her for years. It isn't until Second proposes his plan (elaborated in his section) that victim is hit and crushed with the realization that she ended up fucking up Second to the point that he thinks his plan is okay and tries to stop him. It ends as well as you'd expect. - After this, victim ends up regretting her actions as a terrorist as lashing out at others through her vengeful and spiteful behavior due to her own pain caused so much suffering. Including someone she cared for, like Second in a way. - victim is definitely NOT okay with Alan and never will be (and by that, I mean, she'll never forgive him for what he's done to her, regardless of his change of heart and wants nothing to do with him at this point).

And then there the Box Scene with vic and Chosen:

victim still has all her tools, but Chosen has his powers. victim tries to fight back but one by one, her tools get deleted from her hands as Chosen slowly shows her that he's not just a regular stick. Unlike her, they have actual powers and had been holding back to give her the illusion that she ever had a chance to fight him, quickly turning into a curb-stomp battle. To make matters worse, Chosen…almost seems amused that she's trying to fight against him so damn hard.

But vic nearly gets the upper hand by trying to explode her remaining tools with her and Chosen with them. But unfortunately for her, someone (maybe Agent, maybe someone else) intervenes and deletes the tool on the spot, causing Chosen to lay to waste on her with his fire before finally tying her into the chair.

Second: - Swaps places with Dark. - Alan creates Second based off of Chosen's old code, and sicks him on victim. But he didn't realize that Second would put together that victim is, well, a victim to Alan and chooses to team up with her instead, causing them work together to explode the PC and escape into the OuterNet together. - When victim started doing terrorism, Second was dragged along with her even though he didn't want to do it initially. But because victim was his friend and sister, he goes along with it and ends up getting more and more into it as time goes on. - Eventually, Second tells victim his plan: to wipe out the OuterNet and the Internet to replace with happy zero-conflict people (under their control), essentially destroying sticks' codes and reviving them with his powers but with the twist that he'd replace certain coding to brainwash them so that conflict won't ever exist, period. This is ignoring the fact that he'd be taking away people's agency in the process. victim, who lacked agency for most of her beginning years, doesn't take it well. - Second is just so, so determined to protect victim. He learned it all from her, his big sis. How they must take in order to survive and show no restraint to others. How people hurt cause conflict towards others. But if he can get rid of that conflict in the first place, then she'll have nothing to worry about! He can keep her safe! He wants to keep her safe! He wants to do her proud!

So why is she fighting him? Can't she tell that he's doing all of this for her?

Dark: - Swaps places with Second. - Alan accidentally creates Dark years later, who immediately befriends different versions of the Color Gang (who I have not gotten around to yet, oops), he comes back to see them alive, deletes them, and Dark goes on a rampage. - But this time, instead of Alan relating to Second's ability to draw and animate like in canon, in the AU it goes a bit differently. In his haste to get rid of Dark, he accidentally gets a virus onto his computer which threatens to destroy his work. But Dark, who was also threatened by this virus, attacks and destroys it pretty easily before reprogramming it onto his side and Alan is like, "oh shit, new firewall?" and boxes Dark in, trying to talk him into protecting his PC. He refuses at first, but when Alan brings back the Gang, he agrees...on the condition that this shit doesn't happen again and he gets to play with his friends. - Cue Dark and Alan getting along as he helps keep viruses off of the PC as security and has new friends he can hang out with. He also got to keep the malware that originally threatened Alan as a pet (virabot spider is now just a securebot spider). - Dark is having the time of his life fucking around with his own Color Gang friends. - Dark & Chosen interaction:

Chosen: "Quit your friend group."

Dark: "What."

Chosen: "Join my emo company."

Dark: "Ew, no, that's cringe, lmao" - Dark: "Destruction and chaos!!! But not terrorism, that's for losers, lmao" - Swap!Dark @ Swap!victim while she's stuck in the box

In the Showdown: - Swap!Dark is the Devil to Canon!Second's God, send tweet - victim watches her lil brother get eviscerated and instead of worshipping the ground Dark walks on like how Canon!Chosen respects Canon!Second for his powers, victim…is actually kinda scared of Dark. - Dark was still able to revive the others despite his powers being more along pure destruction and corruption thanks to Second's project of wiping everything clean and reviving things with new code. He just used his powers to start the code without Second's permission and revive everyone without changing their programming or memories. - She still goes to Dark as a last resort since the Mercs have been giving her a run for her money and since she lacks any sort of powers, victim has to rely on her tools for protection. Tools that just don't seem to be enough against these Mercs and she finally decides that if she wants to be free for good, she needs someone that could obliterate them easily. And she knew just who that person is…

At least, she thought she did. What the hell does he mean that he doesn't remember jackshit? - Also, this video is 100% Dark phoning Gold & Orchid while he's imprisoned in RocketCorp.

Speaking of Gold and Orchid...

AVM Characters

Gold: - Swaps places with his dad, Mango. - Jumping into this, instead of Gold getting killed, Mango was able to open up the entrance this time and grabs Gold to pull him out…but he slips and ends up taking his place instead, leaving Gold to watch him get killed and essentially orphaned. He's very much in shock about the whole thing and while he's placed in Maroon's custody, he refuses to leave the house they lived in so Maroon is trying to pay for both which puts stress on their family. Gold feels bad but can't help but feel like his dad is still out there somewhere, lost in Minecraft's coding even though people keep telling him that he's "gone." One day, he comes across his dad's engineering notes and he's struck with the idea of taking apart Minecraft to bring his dad back and picks up a part-time job at RocketCorp (I did not come up with a new name for Chosen's company, oops) to both learn more about tools and to help pay off the bills and stuff, even going as far as to use the savings Mango stashed away secretly for his future and splurging it all to create the perfect tool. - Basically, Gold is about to tear the universe apart just to see if he can get his dad back.

Orchid: - Swaps places with her child, Purple. - Ngl to you guys, Orchid is going through it. For starters, her partner has been training their child way too hard. That was already causing a lot of strain on all of their relationships. And then Purple gets sick and Orchid does her best to take care of him while Navy fumes at the "weakness" but puts the training on hold anyways. But then they start going through this cycle of Purple getting better and then worse and then better again, to the point that Purple is stuck at the hospital and Orchid is the only one that tries to visit and take care of them. Navy is only getting more and more fed up with Purple, with Orchid just begging him to stay and saying that Purple will get better, she will! He just needs their unconditional support and love so he can focus on getting better. - But Purple doesn't get better and as Orchid holds onto his hand, he says sorry for being so weak and Orchid shushes him, saying that they're not weak. Not at all. They're being very brave right now. But she should rest her eyes. Orchid will be here in the morning. - By the time the doctors tell both of them that Purple has passed away, Orchid is a fucking mess but has start to shut down as a sort of coping mechanism. And Navy, just like in canon…abandons her and their child for being weak. Orchid, unable to cope in the OutetNet, leaves on a whim and escapes to the Mac and finds Minecraft, which ends up becoming a sort of comfort game for her but is also where she spends all of her time, pretty much refusing to face reality. - It isn't until she meets the members of this version of the Color Gang that she starts to snap out of it a little. She also doesn't abandon them in The End simply because I don't really see her doing that, so the Color Gang has a higher opinion on her from the start and it's her experience with them that she's a bit more willing to go back to the OuterNet and try again.

Orchid and Gold's dynamic and story:

Orchid is…doing better but hasn't exactly fully recovered either. While she is trying to get her life back together now that she chose to go back to the OuterNet, she's…struggling to get much motivation for anything really and often refers to other people for guidance and help. She doesn't have a job she enjoys, her bills had piled up while she hid away in Minecraft, and she doesn't have any friends outside of those two members of the Color Gang. And even then, she's barely keeping in contact with them. She's on her way back from visiting her child's grave when she hears a voice yelling over something and she turns to look.

It was…well, not exactly a young child, but someone that was barely an adult. He seems to be freaking out over a video being played on a display TV and showing something off to people in the vicinity. The people simply shrugged in response and left him be, the boy staring at the TV in contemplation. Curious, Orchid walks over to see what all the fuss about.

And sees Dark and the Color Gang playing around with the Minecraft icon. Without thinking, Orchid points out that she knows these kids and the boy turns around and goes, "YOU DO?!" The desperation and joy catches her off-guard but she doesn't deny it. The boy grabs a hold of her shoulders, shaking her with the biggest grin on his face, asking if he could help her with something, showing off the page about the Minecraft Icon block. She hesitates and he notices this, quickly backing off and apologizing for stepping over her boundaries, but says that if she decides to help, here's his address. He then scurries away pretty quickly and Orchid can only look on dumbfounded. But she can't deny that this peaked her interest enough that she drops by to visit after work. The young boy is ecstatic that she dropped by and opens up his front door with ease, letting her step inside. It was…something of a mess and he apologizes for it before introducing himself as Gold.

Orchid introduces herself as well and her eyes land on a nearby photo, picking it up without thinking. It's the photo of Mango and Gold when he was a kid and she nearly asks where his father is when Gold snatches it from her hands. She cowers and apologizes upon seeing the distressed, almost angry look in Gold's eyes but it quickly disappears as he says it's okay. This is…actually the reason why he needs help. Setting the photo aside, he shows off the staff he made to Orchid, which quickly amazes her when he shows off how it works. She's heard of command blocks but she never came across one herself. Gold then explains that the reason why he made this staff is because he, well…he lost his father when a Minecraft server got corrupted. But he believes that he's still alive, Gold just needs to retrieve him from Minecraft's coding and bring him back. A small part of Orchid finds this…concerning but her empathy for Gold's grief thanks to losing her own child and her desire to help outweighs her concern, and she asks how she could help. Gold grins and tells her that they need to come up with a plan to get the Minecraft Icon block from that Color Gang she's befriended without….angering them, he suppose. Orchid furrows her brow but Gold explains that he's not sure that they'll let him tear into Minecraft's coding even if it's to bring his dad back, not to mention that the icon is essentially the game itself for them. They might not want to give up their game to a stranger or even a friend. Orchid admits that Dark and co. do seem a bit protective of the things they have and Gold is convinced that they need to be sneaky about this. Which is when he asks Orchid to follow him since they can walk and talk before pausing and asking how much she knows about Minecraft. That's when Orchid shows off her elytra, which is very well kept, and Gold gets excited upon seeing it but quickly tempers his reaction for some reason.

Gold explains the plan, Orchid helps Gold take over the NetherFort and recruit the piglins to their side, and as Gold is contemplating his role as leader, Orchid is struck with an idea and pulls out the old crown she had made for the Color Gang when they were helping to lead a village. She kneels down and holds out the crown, asking if Gold would like to be the first King in the Nether. Gold stares at the crown and giggles, saying that this feels a bit silly. Orchid admits that it is, just a little bit, but the crown would symbolize Gold's status as leader here and it would help tell people who's in charge. Gold then asks what Orchid's role would be, and she simply says that she could be the "steward," someone that supervises and organizes the plans while the King can focus on other matters in public. It's then that Gold accepts the crown and asks her to call him King Gold from now on, and Orchid asks if being called Your Majesty would make him happy in a teasing manner. Gold, who hasn't let himself feel like a child in a long time, blushes and looks away, an obvious admittance that yes, he does.

Orchid helps trick the Color Gang into the track thingy and she feels pretty bad about it, but Gold reassures her that since they're out of the way, they won't get hurt in case something goes wrong and Orchid reluctantly agrees, trying to convince the bad feeling in her gut to go away. This is for Gold and his dad, after all. If there's even a small chance that he could be brought back, shouldn't she support Gold? She'd do the same for Purple, honestly…

It isn't until they receive the news that one of the Color Gang members escaped and she witnesses Gold actually kill the messenger on the spot that she goes, "oh. Oh I might be in over my head here."

When Gold demands her to get the icon while she still can, she hesitates. But Gold slams down his staff and she immediately caves in, saying that she'll be right back and runs off to do as she's told. Of course, she gets confronted by the Color Gang member and they're livid at her betrayal, especially since unlike Purple, who had at least betrayed them once before seemingly mellowing out after the events of LoL, Orchid was actually a very trustworthy person that tried to protect the gang at the time. So this betrayal stings even more because it came from someone that they genuinely trusted as a friend. Orchid feels bad, but she simply says that the Majesty's plans are…are too important to give up like this and she needs to help him. This argument quickly turns into a fight, with King Gold intervening and imprisoning them, with Orchid apologizing about the delay (and apologizing to the CG member) before flying off.

Things go about the same way, although we get to witness Orchid kicking ass cause turns out she used to be a fighter back in the day before she got married to her shitty partner, damn. Orchid comes back with the icon, King Gold thanks her, inputs it into the staff and proceeds to obliterate the roof and the very sky itself and Orchid just stares on in horror as the implications sink in.

Things start to escalate pretty quickly after that as everyone starts fighting for their lives, with Orchid watching on in horror. She's stuck between wanting to support King Gold despite the world-ending consequences, and wanting to help the Color Gang even though she had betrayed their trust. The battle gets worse and worse, King Gold demands that she does something and Orchid flounders as she orders the piglins to fight the gang. But this choice doesn't make her feel any better and as the nether portals are created, she finally caves in and runs away, not realizing that she's being followed.

This is when the Note Block World happens with Orchid's backstory reveal, and Orchid's character development essentially boils down to, "gaining a backbone and making the active choice to confront someone about their issues and questionable choices, even if it means causing conflict in your relationship with one another." Orchid has been struggling with indecisiveness and speaking up on matters for years thanks to her past partnership with Navy, and losing Purple had only cause her to shut down, running away and burying herself into Minecraft to ignore all the issues she had. But it did nothing to make her feel any better. And now, here she is, having helped a child in destroying a world and she just…runs. Runs away from the consequences to ignore everything she had done, including handing over the very object that turned the staff into it's most deadliest weapon of itself. Apparently, running is all she's good for - at least, that's what she thought. But the Color Gang member refutes that, telling her she's wrong. If she was a coward, she would've left them back at The End, but she didn't. If she was selfish, she would have used that village for her own gain, but she didn't. If she was evil, she wouldn't be horrified by the actions that had led to this situation happening. She may have chosen to run away but that's simply because she's scared to continue hurting others from the choices she's made.

The Color Gang member reassures her that she's not a bad person. If anything, she's simply someone that is struggling to do good after all the hardships she's been put through. And just because she messed up doesn't make her a bad person. As long as she's willing to take responsibility and make amends for her mistakes, she can take the steps be better, bit by bit. They reach out their hand to Orchid, asking if she's willing to try again and do better. Orchid admits that she's still scared, that she might say or do something wrong, but the CG member says that she won't be alone in this battle. They have each other and they'll watch each others backs and stop King Gold. Orchid stares at their hand…before slowly taking it, apologizing again for what she's done, but admits that perhaps she should've done this from the start. She should've put her foot down sooner. She knows that King Gold needs to be stopped, but she also knows that he needs help more than anyone here. And as an adult, it's time for her to intervene…even if it's by force.

And yes, this means that Orchid punches Gold in the face. It's okay, she had to get the staff out of his hands for a reason.

King Gold is feeling pretty betrayed by Orchid's sudden switch of teams, and is too blinded by rage and grief to really listen to what she has to say. So the fight goes on, the mobs get erased including Herobrine, Dark and co. + Orchid struggle to stop King Gold until she pulls together her resolve and faces the laser head on. King Gold is trying to blast her away, but as Orchid reaches out her hand, Gold suddenly gets flashbacks to the very day he had lost his father. The day he let his childish excitement get the better of him and endanger his own life to a reality game, his father unwittingly sacrificing himself just to save his life. He tries to shake it off…but when Orchid gets blasted away, just like his own father, he can't help it: he drops the staff and runs, jumping into the laser after her.

For the realization and reconciliation scene, I've been going back and forth in my head on how it would go. I think it would start with King Gold walking through the white void, wondering how he got there and probably calling out for his dad. His dad must be here, right? This is…This is where the end of Minecraft is, isn't it? So…where is he? That's when their house appears and Gold, thinking that his dad is waiting for him inside, runs up to the door and opens it up, yelling out for his dad. But no one answers. Gold searches the house but there's still no one around.

He's all alone. He's still all alone.

Gold stares at the wall, full of drawings of his own plan, his dad's disappearance…no, his dad's death, alongside all the life inside Minecraft dying from his own hands shoved right in his face, a game he used to love with passion. And yet, amongst those drawings was a pink stick figure crossing paths with him, following after him, waving at him, reaching out to him again and again and again. That stick figure was still reaching out even now with wide open arms.

"You can come here. Come here to me. It'll be okay."

Gold swallows.

It's not as if everything will ever be the same again.

"No. It can't be same. I can't promise it'll ever be the same again. But it can be better. We can be better. Together."

Gold squeezes his hands.

He wants his dad back.

...But he's never coming back…is he?

And yet, Orchid was still standing there, waiting for him. Allowing him the choice to come to her on his own terms. A promise that she'll always be here, waiting.

And Gold didn't want to wait.

He forces himself onto his feet. He reaches for the door. He hesitates for only a second but opens it up.

Orchid turns, purple petals of flowers by her feet.

Gold breathes.

And runs into her arms, the crown falling off of his head.

He can feel the surprise in her body before she gracefully returns the hug, pulling him close.

And then everything gets fixed by Dark and co., Gold goes to Maroon and apologizes for the strain he indirectly caused by refusing to make compromises (like with the house) and goes to live with Orchid officially after a long discussion between all of them, and we now have the mother and son duo. Yahoo.

And yes, Gold definitely joins the "Let's Kill Navy" club.

Gold: "I just wanna talk to them."

Orchid: "Wha-"

Gold, raising the staff: "I just wanna talk to them."

Orchid: "WHY DO YOU STILL HAVE THE STAFF??"

Anyways, this is about all I've come up with so far. I haven't even touched the Color Gang or the Mercs, but I'm thinking the Color Gang switches interests and roles while the Mercs end up changing their art styles which effects their personalities a bit but are otherwise somewhat the same? It's something to think about. Now imagine this as Dark commentating on Orchid and Gold's drama during AVM S3.

[jonsonmoond123]

We believe in reducing waste generations rates, and where waste has to be produced, to convert into a useful resource for a circular economy.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

In 2014, the Guardian asked me to nominate my hero of the year. To some people’s surprise, I chose Russell Brand. I loved the way he energised young people who had been alienated from politics. I claimed, perhaps hyperbolically, he was “the best thing that has happened to the left in years” (in my defence, there wasn’t, at the time, much competition).

Today, I can scarcely believe it’s the same man. I’ve watched 50 of his recent videos, with growing incredulity. He appears to have switched from challenging injustice to conjuring phantoms. If, as I suspect it might, politics takes a very dark turn in the next few years, it will be partly as a result of people like Brand.

It’s hard to decide which is most dispiriting: the stupidity of some of the theories he recites, or the lack of originality. He repeatedly says he’s not a conspiracy theorist, but, to me, he certainly sounds like one.

In 2014, he was bursting with new ideas and creative ways of presenting them. Today, he wastes his talent on tired and discredited tales: endless iterations of the alleged evils of the World Economic Forum founder, Klaus Schwab, the Great Reset, Bill Gates, Nancy Pelosi, the former US chief medical adviser, Anthony Fauci, Covid vaccines, medical data, the World Health Organization, Pfizer, smart cities and “the globalist masterplan”.

His videos appear to promote “natural immunity” ahead of vaccines, and for a while pushed ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine as treatments for Covid (they aren’t).

He championed the “Freedom Convoy” that occupied Ottawa, which apparently stood proudly against the “tyranny” of Justin Trudeau’s policies. He hawks Graham Hancock’s widely debunked claims about ancient monuments.

A wildly popular clip from one of his videos about the Dutch nitrate crisis offers a classic conspiracy theory mashup: a tangle of claims that may be true in other contexts, random accusations, scapegoating and resonances with some old and very ugly tropes. He claims that “this whole fertiliser situation is a scam”. The real objective is “to bankrupt the farmers so their land can be grabbed”. This “shows you how the Great Reset operates”, using “globalist” regulations to throw farmers off their land. He claims it’s “connected to the land grab of Bill Gates” and the “corruption of companies like Monsanto”.

In reality, the Dutch government was forced to act by a legal ruling, as levels of nitrate pollution, largely from livestock farms, break European law. Its attempts to curb this pollution have nothing to do with the World Economic Forum and its vacuous rhetoric about a “Great Reset”. Or with Bill Gates. Or with Monsanto, which hasn’t existed since 2018 when it was bought by Bayer. So why mention them? Perhaps because these terms have become potent click triggers.

Brand is repeating claims first made by far-right conspiracists, who have piled into this issue, claiming that the nitrate crisis is a pretext to seize land from farmers, in whom, they claim, true Dutch identity is vested, and hand it to asylum seekers and other immigrants. It’s a version of the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, itself a reworking of the Nazis’ blood and soil tropes about protecting the “rooted” and “authentic” people – in whom “racial purity” and “true” German identity was vested – from “cosmopolitan” and “alien” forces (ie Jews). Brand may not realise this, as the language has changed a little – “cosmopolitans” have become “globalists”, “aliens” have become “immigrants” – but the themes have not.

On and drearily on he goes. He manages to confuse the World Health Organization’s call for better pandemic surveillance (by which it means the tracking of infectious diseases) with coercive surveillance of the population, creating “centralised systems of control where you are ultimately a serf”.

Some of his many rants about Bill Gates are illustrated with an image of the man wearing a multicoloured lapel badge, helpfully circled in red. This speaks to another widespread conspiracy theory: those who wear this badge are members of a secret organisation conspiring to control the world (so secret they stick it on their jackets). In reality, it shows support for the UN sustainable development goals.

Such claims are not just wrong. They are wearyingly, boringly wrong. But, to judge by the figures (he has more than 6 million subscribers on YouTube), the audience loves them.

Some of his theories, such as his recent obsession with UFOs, are innocuous enough. Others have potential to do great harm. There’s the risk to the people scapegoated, such as Fauci, Schwab and Pelosi: subjects of conspiracy theories often become targets of violence. There are the risks misleading claims present to public health. And bizarre stories about shadowy “elites” protect real elites from scrutiny and challenge.

While I’m not suggesting this is his purpose, it’s a tactic used deliberately by powerful people to disarm those who might otherwise hold them to account. Donald Trump’s former chief strategist, Steve Bannon, had a term for it: “flood the zone with shit”. As Naomi Klein has shown, the Great Reset conspiracy theory was conceived by a staffer at the Heartland Institute, a US lobby group that has promoted climate denial and other billionaire-friendly positions. It’s a bastardisation of her shock doctrine hypothesis, distracting people from the malfeasance of those with real power.

[stationarcadia]

Announcement

Hello everyone. This is J. R. Steele on the Station Arcadia account today bringing you some updates, announcements, etc.

Firstly, you may have noticed that our website domain is currently unused. We've recently taken down our website, but failed to consider that transcripts would no longer be available. The link to our transcripts will replace the link in our profile bio. Thank you to everyone in the discord server who has been patient with our radio silence, and have updated us on what they need to access.

Second, we want to apologize for dropping off after Season 1. With Season 2 in full production; myself, Andy, and Eli were incredibly overwhelmed by both college, and the responsibility of managing not only a company, but our cast and crew who were also getting burnt out. Pushing this production was proving to be detrimental to our mental and physical health, and so we just left it to sit for a while.

I've been doing my best when possible to reply to folks on discord, and get organized for our next steps, but going radio silent was not the best solution, we know now. As 17/18 year olds, we sort of panicked when everything started to go less smoothly. In addition to that, college apparently takes up a LOT of time? I certainly wasn't expecting that... /lh

But we are not abandoning this podcast. 2020 was a hard year for so many people, but Station Arcadia was the highlight of mine and many others' year. A lot of creatives experienced the hardships of continuing a creative project once real life came back, and we did too. But we managed to create an incredible first season, and a little bit of a second season.

Season 2 does exist! But not in its full form. Over the course of maybe the next few months, or years, the executive team will be discussing how to distribute our content so that you amazing, supportive folks can have full access to our baby. Our writers, worldbuilders, audio editors, musicians, cast members, and everyone else who helps to make this show happen worked incredibly hard to do S2, and we won't let any of that hard work go to waste.

Third, a few internal snags have hit us pretty hard over the past year now. We will not be releasing this information until we've spoken fully with our entire production team and our cast (but rest assured it's nothing too severe).

We've loved our time with every single cast member who has joined this ambitious project. And if any of you have a specific question, we will not hesitate to answer it. It may reach us quicker if you DM or email me (Jaymes) at penofsteele@gmail.com. I will do my best to respond concisely and truthfully.

Lastly, we want to say a few words of thanks to the folks who have stuck with us since the beginning, have supported us both financially and verbally, and have had faith in this project. We promise that even though it will take time, we will not disappoint you!

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. Stay safe, stay moving, and please stick close. We'll be back soon.

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 10

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: prejudice, PTSD

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

The next morning, Derwin was in the kitchen making coffee when Otto jumped to his feet and scrambled to the back door with a happy bark. The door opened, then came Alba's voice, crooning, "Hola, Otto!" mixed with Otto's ecstatic whines. Derwin realized his hands were shaking and fought to keep a calm expression. Coffee spilled everywhere as he spooned it into the pot. Cursing under his breath, he reached for a towel to clean it up. What did he have to be so nervous about? She had been coming here almost every day for nearly three months; today should be no different.  

"I know, I know, I miss you too," she was saying to Otto, who was winding himself around her legs, making her stumble. Derwin rushed forward to help her up, only to realize, belatedly, that his cane was resting against the stove. He stumbled as well and crashed into Alba, knocking his forehead on her chin. Amid a rush of giggles and ouch and sorry and are you OK, Derwin's nervousness was forgotten, and by the time they had helped each other to their feet and started having their coffee, it felt like just another day.

They settled into a new routine. Alba still spent most of the morning outside, cleaning the debris of the storm from the garden. Derwin couldn't join her, but he would lug the gramophone to the sunroom or the porch, and sit there keeping her company through music. When she came inside to start lunch, he would join her in the kitchen. She taught him a few basic things like how to make rice and roast meat, along with some simple recipes that could be modified with whatever he had on hand. Derwin was pleased to discover he was a competent cook—it was a proud day when he managed to make his first pot of rice without it boiling over. Then, after they ate, he would help her wash up. In the afternoon, if there was nothing else to do, they would take the car down the drive and Derwin would practice changing gears and braking and turning. As Alba had predicted, he soon learned how to drive. But more than these accomplishments, he took great pleasure in spending time with her. Before, he'd been satisfied with staying in the study and knowing she was around; now, he realized he'd wasted all those days when he could've been with her in the kitchen or watched her work in the garden or sat next to her in the car, feeling her hand on his as she grabbed the wheel to stop him from driving into a ditch for sinking them into the swamp. He knew they were on borrowed time, and the more he allowed himself to be used to her presence, the loss would be that much harder once she left, but he couldn't help it. How could he return to his old world, cold and dark and lonely, once he'd had a taste of the sun?   

One afternoon, Alba brought in the mail as usual. One letter, with a Gainesville postmark and a University of Florida letterhead, made Derwin pause. He reluctantly opened it, read it, read it again, and eventually threw it down with a long sigh.  

"Bad news?" Alba asked, turning around from the shelf she was dusting.

"No, not news exactly. And not bad. More like... a dilemma. An offer." She raised an eyebrow, curious, so he picked up the letter and explained, "It's from my old professor at the University of Florida. He's putting together a project called"—he glanced at the letter—"Poetry without Frontiers."

"What is it?"

"He wants to translate poems from English into French, Spanish, German, Russian, Italian, and vice versa, and put them in a book. He hopes the universal language of poetry would bring people all over the world closer together after the—the war."

"And he's asking you to join the project?"

"Yes, he's asking me to pick a poem and translate it into German. Since I speak German. I imagine there's not a lot of us around." He meant it as a joke, but it came out rather bitter.

"That's great!" Alba said. "So why are you looking so glum? Glummer than usual, I mean."

He smiled at her teasing, briefly. "I don't know if I can."

"Why not? You always have your nose buried in those poetry books."

"Yes, but reading poetry is one thing. Translating it—essentially writing it in another language—is quite different."

She stopped dusting and sat down in front of him, fixing those enchanting green eyes on his. "If you don't try, how would you know?" He had no answer for that. She smiled. "And if I could translate that Jose Marti poem so beautifully, as you said, I think you can too."

When she was looking at him and smiling at him like that, Derwin felt like he could do anything. "Will you help me pick a poem then?" he asked.

Her smile widened. "Sure."

Derwin went to the shelf and brought down a few volumes. As he flipped through them, he watched Alba's lithe figure bustling about the study with the quiet efficiency he'd come to appreciate so much. Not for the first time, he wondered why someone like her would give him the time of day.

"You told me you don't plan to be a housekeeper forever," he said suddenly. "So what are you going to do after you're done here? Back to the bakery?"

"Well..." She paused in the middle of straightening a stack of books and thought for a second. "If I tell you, would you promise not to tell anyone?" she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Who would I tell, Otto?" he joked, but she was looking serious, so he sobered up as well. "All right, I promise. What is it?" He felt oddly happy that she was choosing to confide in him.

"I want to go to college," she said.

"Why is that a secret?" he asked, confused.

It took her a moment to answer. "Because my father doesn't want me to."

"Why not?"

"He wants me to take over the bakery. Actually, he wanted Raf to take over, but now that Raf is...  well, it falls to me instead. Never mind that Beatriz loves to bake and is much better at it than I am."

"Why don't you tell him that?"

"He wouldn't understand." She put the books down with a deep sigh. "See, during the war, I worked in a shipyard, building torpedoes to take down German U-boats. I was good, too. My supervisor even recommended me for an engineering program. But I couldn't go, because it was only available at some universities up north, and I couldn't leave Papi and Beatriz for ten months. Besides, designing airplanes and building torpedoes are fine and all, but I prefer to work with nature." She looked out the window and gazed at the swamps. "I want to see things grow and thrive. I want to see cypresses rise in the winter mist, I want to see herons and egrets wading amongst the mangrove, I want to see alligators sunning themselves on the river bank—yes, even the horrible one that attacked us," she added, grinning at him. With her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she seemed lit up by some inner flame, looking more beautiful than Derwin had ever seen her. "And I want other people to see them too, see them for their beauty and splendor. Do you know they're setting up a national park in the Everglades? Imagine that! Miles and miles of untouched nature, protected and preserved by man, instead of being destroyed in the name of progress. I want to be a part of that." She glanced away, her flush deepening. "You think I'm having ideas above my station, do you?"

"No, not at all." He cleared his throat. "You know, the University of Miami has a biology program, and they just opened a marine lab too. You should enroll."

Her eyes widened. "Do you think I can?"

"If you don't try, how would you know?"

She tried to glare at him, but her lips quirked up. "All right, you got me," she admitted and went back to cleaning. "What about you?" she asked over her shoulder.

"What about me?"

"Do you plan to go back to college? Maybe finish that degree?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Derwin. Truth be told, he didn't see a point in it. His Army pension and the rent money he got from the bakery were just enough for him to live on, if he was thrifty, so why would he risk putting himself under more stress to get a degree and get a job? What kind of job could he do anyway? But what Alba said next made him change his mind. "Maybe we can go together," she said, a shy little smile hovering on her lips.

To go to college with her... to still be able to see her, even after she no longer worked for him.... It sounded too good to be true. Derwin reminded himself that, if or when Alba did go to college, she would meet new people, fun, exciting people, and she would probably no longer want anything to do with his gloomy self. But a part of him still hoped, and he said, "Maybe," smiling back at her. He was playing with fire, he knew, but the fire was too warm and comfortable for him to keep away.

***

After some consideration, and with input from Alba, Derwin chose Robert Frost's "Mending Wall" to translate. Professor Bauer gave his approval, and Derwin started working on it, laboring over every line with a care that bordered on obsession. He would read his translation aloud to Alba, and asked her whether the words flowed well together. Even though she didn't know German, she had an excellent ear for rhythm and music, which was why he trusted her opinion.   

For all the fun they had driving, cooking, and reading poetry together, Derwin couldn't help dreading their first excursion into town. About a week after she came back, Alba said over lunch, "I'm planning to go grocery shopping tomorrow, do you think you're ready to tag along?"

Despite her casual tone, Derwin's hand froze over his plate. Seeing his hesitation, she said, "If you're not feeling up to it—"

"No, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Where are we going?"

"Olson's. It's right across the street from the bakery," Alba replied. "They have fresh produce and the price is reasonable."

"And what are we going to do there?"

Alba looked amused, but she answered anyway, "Shopping, of course. Pick what you want, put it in a cart, and pay. Maybe chat with the cashier for a bit."

"And what makes you think I can't do that on my own?" he asked, stalling for time.

She gave him an exasperated look. "If you could, you wouldn't be paying Wendell's for their delivery service," she said. "Look, you don't have to go with me if you don't want to."

"I said I'm fine, didn't I?" After all that had happened, the last thing he wanted was for her to see him as helpless and useless.

Still, he spent the rest of the day writing up a grocery list and trying to practice potential conversations in his mind. He felt slightly ridiculous—a mundane activity like grocery shopping shouldn't make him this anxious—and was reminded of his first year in boarding school, when he'd had a single line in the school play, spent a whole week rehearsing, and still flubbed it on the night. He hoped nothing like that would happen this time. At least Alba would be there, and he could count on her to keep him calm.

Alba arrived early the next morning, and they drove into town. It was mid-morning on a weekday, so the store was relatively quiet—he was grateful to her for that as well. Derwin was aware of curious stares from the few cashiers and shoppers as he walked through the store, leaning on his cane with one hand and pushing the shopping cart with the other. But Alba was walking next to him, and occasionally their hands, placed side by side on the handle of the cart, would brush against each other, and the pounding of his heart would slow and he could breathe more easily.

"Good morning, Mrs. McLeish!" Alba waved to a gray-haired battle-axe, who nodded back at her and shot Derwin a suspicious glance. "Is Ted busy this week?" Alba asked. She turned to Derwin and explained, "Mrs. McLeish's son is a builder."

"He's just finished up a job in Coral Way," Mrs. McLeish replied, looking proud. "They need a lot of repair over there after the storm."

"If he has a minute, do you think he can come to the Grunauer house and have a look at the roof? It got hit by a big branch."

The moment Mrs. McLeish heard the name "Grunauer", her hard-looking face hardened even more, her eyes becoming two pieces of flint. She looked Derwin up and down before answering. "I just remember, Ted's booked another job over in Sweetwater," she said coldly. "He won't be able to help you."

Alba frowned. "But I thought you said—"

Mrs. McLeish didn't let her finish. "And even if he was free, he wouldn't take a job there," she said. "My Ted didn't take a bullet in his leg in Sicily only to come back here and serve some coward who hid under his medic insignia!" Her words lashed at Derwin like a splash of acid, scouring away his skin and getting under his flesh, making his whole body burn with a shame that felt almost physical. The old woman obviously took malicious pleasure in it.

Alba lifted her chin, her eyes turning almost as hard as Mrs. McLeish. "I'm sorry he felt that way," she said to the old woman. "But I think medics are just as brave as soldiers, if not more, because they have to save others and not just themselves. If you can't agree, then I think you'd better get your baked goods elsewhere. Good day."

Without another glance at Mrs. McLeish, who had gone pale with anger, Alba walked off with the cart. Derwin scrambled to follow her.

"You've just cost your bakery a regular customer," he said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't," Alba said. Her nostrils were still flaring, and she gripped the cart handle tightly. "I just can't stand it when people—" She took a deep breath. "Never mind. Let's just shop."

They got the essentials—milk, coffee, eggs, soap—while Alba kept up a stream of chatter, about the best brand of detergent, how the store-bought coffee could not compare to the home-ground coffee her father sometimes got from Cuba, how happy she was that sugar rationing had finally ended. Slowly, the sting of Mrs. McLeish's words faded.

As they reached the meat counter at the back of the store, Alba turned to Derwin and pushed the shopping list into his hand. "Why don't you get some ham and some mince from Mr. Olson, and I'll meet you out front? Oh and maybe a nice roast for your weekend lunches too." He spluttered a protest, but she'd already pushed the cart toward the fresh produce display, after giving him an encouraging smile.

Bracing himself, Derwin turned toward the meat counter. The store owner, Mr. Olson, a barrel-chested, ruddy-cheeked man, stood behind the counter looking at him with pale, impassive eyes. Derwin gave his order in a tiny voice. Mr. Olson picked up a giant ham and started slicing it in quick, practiced movements.

"You're the Grunauer boy, aren't you?" Mr. Olson said.

"Yes."

"Your dad used to come in here all the time." Derwin grimaced, waiting for the inevitable, but Mr. Olson only said, "Sorry for your loss."

Derwin couldn't think of anything to say, so he said, "Thank you."

"Haven't seen you though."

"I don't get out... much."

Like Mrs. McLeish, Mr. Olson ran his eyes from the scar on Derwin's cheek to the cane in his hand. The only difference was that Mr. Olson's harsh features then softened. "Where were you wounded?" he asked.

A tremor started in Derwin's leg and spread until it turned into a pounding of his heart. He'd practiced this conversation in his mind, he could answer the question. Yet why had his throat suddenly gone dry? "Normandy," he said in a whisper, barely audible above the hammering of his pulse in his ears. Perhaps if he said it quietly and quickly enough, Mr. Olson would move on.

No such luck. "Damn," Mr. Olson said gravely, shaking his head. "I didn't even know that any boy in the neighborhood was there. My nephew, he was in the Pacific at the time, same as the Reyes boy. It was bad though, wasn't it?"

In line! In line!

Sarge, there's nowhere to jump!

"Do you still talk to anybody from your unit?" Mr. Olson continued, not noticing that Derwin hadn't answered him. He wrapped up the ham and the mince. There were smears and splotches of blood on his white apron. It made Derwin feel slightly sick to look at them, but he couldn't turn away.

Grunauer, please...

He really was going to be sick now. His chest felt tight. His breath came out in short, shallow gulps. His hands were cold, palms sticky with sweat. Mr. Olson stood with the packages of meat and the blood on his apron, watching him curiously. Without another word, Derwin turned and limped past the shelves and cases of goods, past the astonished shoppers and cashiers. Mr. Olson was calling after him but he didn't stop, didn't even pay attention to the twinge in his leg until he was out in the sun and the fresh air—

No, not fresh air. The smell of exhaust fume hit him, slamming him back into the burning plane, and this time, there was no Ford pushing him out the door. He stumbled blindly, wildly, trying to get away, anywhere but there—

There was a screech of brakes, and Derwin found himself jerked violently backward. Someone was shouting—shouting at him?—while another person was apologizing. Then the scent of frangipani and vanilla replaced the exhaust fume, and the fog around him cleared and he heard Alba saying frantically, "Derwin? Are you OK?"

He had almost walked into traffic. She'd pulled him to safety just in time.

Alba led him to a bench outside of Olson's and helped him sit down. "What happened back there?" she asked. She hadn't let go of his hand, as if she was afraid he was going to bolt again. Derwin held fast to her hand, grounding himself by her sight, her scent, her presence.

"Nothing," he managed to say, as his breathing got back to normal. "Mr. Olson asked me about the war and it—brought back some bad memories, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Alba said. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you on your own."

He shook his head. "It wasn't your fault."

"You want to go home?"

The thought of being in the car, with its smell of fuel and confined space, made his heart race again. "I think I'll walk," he said.

"You almost killed yourself last time walking into town."

"I'll go slowly."

She watched him for a moment, then she said, "How about this? I drive home, get my bike, and give you a ride back on the bike. Can you do that? Can you wait for me here for half an hour?"

"I don't want to be a bother—"

"It's no bother. Here." She stood up and pressed something into his hand. It was her handkerchief, a simple cotton one embroidered with an A at the corner. "To wipe your face," she explained. "You can wait in the bakery, it's cooler there."

He felt like he never wanted to go into an enclosed space ever again. "No, I'll be fine here."

Alba nodded at him. "I'll be right back." She loaded their shopping into the car and drove off, while Derwin remained on the bench, clutching her handkerchief like a lifeline.

The half hour crawled by. Derwin focused on his breathing and let his eyes wander up and down the street, watching nothing in particular, trying to keep his mind blank. He got some more stares from the lunch crowd, but thankfully nobody approached him. Eventually, Alba's familiar figure rolled up on her bicycle, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your chariot awaits, good sir," she said with a grin, patting the luggage rack on the back. Derwin climbed on, a little awkwardly, because of his leg and the cumbersome cane, and also because he had to hold on to Alba's waist to keep his seat. There was a bit of a wobble when Alba got on, but she soon adjusted to his weight and the bike rolled smoothly down the lane, toward the shelter of the swamp.

"This is just like when I was a kid, taking Beatriz to the soda fountain," Alba said, laughing softly. Sitting behind her, Derwin had to fight the urge to rest his head on her back. "Listen, Derwin, I know you said it's not my fault," she continued, oblivious to his torment, "but I think I may have pushed you too much too soon. You don't have to go with me into town if you don't want to. Just take your time and wait until you're ready."

At that moment, sitting so close to her, feeling the calm and quiet radiating from her, he felt invincible. And along with it came a sudden, intense desire to get better, to break free of this prison he'd built around himself. He would do it, not just for himself, but for her as well.

"No," he said decisively. "If I wait, I'll never be ready. I can try again."

Chapter 11

Here is "Mending Wall" by Robert Frost, in case anyone is interested.

Taglist: @kitkat80