#recruitment process safety

[townpostin]

CM Hemant Soren Orders Probe into Jharkhand Constable Recruitment Test Deaths

DGP Anurag Gupta investigates deaths amid excise constable recruitment process in Jharkhand. At least 12 candidates have died during the ongoing excise constable recruitment tests across Jharkhand. RANCHI – Jharkhand’s DGP Anurag Gupta expressed deep sorrow over the deaths of 12 candidates during the excise constable recruitment tests, stressing that Chief Minister Hemant Soren is taking the…

[jcmarchi]

Self-driving taxis are coming to New York City, but will need safety drivers too - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/self-driving-taxis-are-coming-to-new-york-city-but-will-need-safety-drivers-too-technology-org/

Self-driving taxis are coming to New York City, but will need safety drivers too - Technology Org

New York City has unveiled a new plan for permitting companies to trial autonomous taxi vehicles on its streets, mandating the presence of a human safety driver at all times.

Times Square, New York, USA. Image credit: Vidar Nordli-Mathisen via Unsplash, free license

In a bid to proactively address concerns surrounding fully autonomous vehicles, the city has established what it terms as a “stringent permitting program.” This initiative aims to ensure that applicants are sufficiently prepared to test their technology in the complex urban landscape of New York City, prioritizing safety and proficiency.

Mayor Eric Adams emphasized the inevitability of autonomous technology’s integration into the city’s transportation system, emphasizing the need to implement it responsibly.

The criteria for obtaining permits would require prior experience in autonomous vehicle testing, with companies mandated to supply data from previous trials, including incident reports and the frequency of safety driver interventions, commonly referred to as “disengagements.”

A notable stipulation of the new regulations is the exclusion of fully driverless vehicles from testing on public roads within the city limits. Instead, only vehicles equipped with safety drivers will be eligible for testing permits.

Only a few select companies, such as Waymo and Cruise, have introduced driverless vehicles, categorized as Level 4 automation, into the market. However, challenges concerning traffic congestion and safety have hindered their widespread adoption.

In a notable incident last October, a driverless Cruise vehicle in San Francisco dragged a pedestrian for over 20 feet along the street, prompting authorities to suspend the company’s operational permit. Similarly, a few months later, a driverless Waymo vehicle was involved in a minor collision with a bicyclist. Officials in San Francisco criticized both companies for impeding traffic flow and obstructing emergency vehicles and buses.

To preempt such issues, New York City has proposed a mandate requiring companies to maintain safety drivers in their vehicles at all times. Under Mayor Adams’ proposal, companies would still need to secure a permit from the state Department of Motor Vehicles. Moreover, applicants would be obligated to furnish details on the recruitment and training procedures of their safety drivers and commit to adhering to the latest best practices outlined by the Society of Automotive Engineers.

According to a spokesperson, data derived from autonomous vehicle (AV) testing will eventually be accessible through the city’s Open Data portal. As part of the application procedure, the Department of Transportation will assess requests from applicants regarding the confidentiality of specific data that may be withheld from disclosure.

Written by Vytautas Valinskas

[jobstasrecruiting]

In this article, We'll go over some important security advice that recruiters should keep in mind when using job portals. 

[ddejavvu]

wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife

"How could you cheat on your wife?"

Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.

All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.

"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"

She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.

Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."

And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.

Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"

She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.

"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.

"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.

"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"

"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.

She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."

It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"

"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."

A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.

"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"

That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.

"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.

"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.

"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."

She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"

"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.

"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."

"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.

"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."

"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.

"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"

"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.

"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.

"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."

[anneapocalypse]

Not gonna lie, analysis of Minfilia that rests on a reading of her as some kind of hiring manager at a company really doesn't sit right with me, not just because it lends itself to some particularly uncharitable readings of Minfilia, but because it seems to me like a pretty inaccurate reading of what the Scions actually are in ARR.

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are the union of the Circle of Knowing, a group of activist academics who accurately predicted the apocalypse but failed to prevent it and lost their beloved mentor in the process, and the Path of the Twelve, a group for Echo-bearers to help them better understand and make use of their gift--all doing their best to pick up the pieces and protect the realm in the wake of said apocalypse. Minfilia, formerly the leader of the Path of the Twelve, has now been thrust into the position of leadership over both at the late Louisoix's behest. The Scions in ARR aren't a company, they're an activist group, and in ARR still a very small one without the massive web of political connections they fall into later. They don't have a lot of financial resources. They're largely working quietly and behind the scenes. They have a secret code phrase to identify friends of the organization. Being recruited into this group in ARR is closer to being recruited into a resistance cell than being interviewed for a formal job.

Minfilia's role prior to the Calamity was as the leader of a support group for people experiencing a frightening, isolating, and as-yet poorly-understood phenomenon, a group where they could find others like them, understand what's happening to them, and learn how to use their gift for good. And to some extent, this is still a part of her role. The Warrior of Light is brought in because they were witnessed experiencing the Echo, and Minfilia is reaching out to them as a fellow Echo-bearer. I think it's a mistake to interpret her words and actions without that context, particularly her expressed hope that this most recent Echo-bearer she's invited into her group will find something like family there. I mean, listen to the joy with which she says, "I too possess the Echo." She's telling the WoL that they're not alone, that there is a name and an explanation for what they've been experiencing, that they can find others like themselves here. Yes, she's also asking for their help. But this is a pretty far cry from a job interview. However flawed the Scions may be as an organization, I can only see Minfilia's overtures here as offered in the spirit of friendship and camaraderie. And framing that as her trying to build loyalty she can exploit in a corporate manner feels extremely ungenerous given what we know of her character.

I don't want to sound like I'm here to defend the Scions in ARR against any and all criticism--I've discussed my own in the past, from their concerning tendency toward self-sacrifice to the attitude they develop toward the WoL (which is kind of up for interpretation based on your character's relationship to them but which can come across as a cavalier attitude toward the WoL's safety, taking advantage of their unique abilities, etc). In particular, the Scions' experience as a small activist organization, and Minfilia's particular experience as Echo support group leader, has ill-prepared any of them to be thrust into an international spotlight following the defeat of the Ultima Weapon. The attack on the Waking Sands has already revealed the weaknesses in their opsec, and certain scenes in the ARR patch quests reveal something of a power struggle between Minfilia and Alphinaud--one which Alphinaud ultimately wins, because Minfilia lacks the kind of confidence in her position to stand against the force of his personality, and she, like most of the other Scions, starts to fall into the trap of seeing Alphinaud as the second coming of Louisoix and lets him push her around accordingly. Minfilia is simply not equipped or prepared to lead the kind of organization the Scions are turning into. (Urianger, incidentally is one of the few who seems to notice this and remark on it, but also seems to feel that he can't directly object.) The cracks begin to show, and then it all falls apart, and when the Scions finally begin to put themselves back together post-Heavensward, I think they all understand that they can't go back, that what they rebuild will be something new. Over the next few expacs I think we see them developing a new group identity, recognizing that that old model no longer serves them and doing their best to adapt to constantly changing circumstances.

The Scions in ARR have plenty of problems, but they're not a for-profit company and they're also not the same organization as the Scions of later expacs. I think that context needs to be taken into account when interpreting their actions, especially those of their leader.

[nick-writes-stuff]

One-sided Reunion

In-ho/Young-il x gn!reader

Summary: You had been friends with In-ho since you were kids. In the games, there is a man who reminds you of the ghost from your past. In-ho couldn't help but ask you about him, and after the conversation goes poorly, he realizes how dire your situation is.

! warnings: discussing canon-typical violence

a/n: it's finally here! this was so fun to write, and i'm so excited to start writing more for squid game characters. there may be a part two to this one, so keep an eye out if you're interested.

In-ho expected a lot of things when he decided he would go undercover as a player in the newest set of games. He expected Player 456 to try to help the others beat the game with his past experiences. He expected to witness the plans to overthrow the gamemakers in action. He expected the usual danger and chaos and violence. He'd seen his fair share of games before.

He had never expected to see you. He must have skipped over your file during the recruitment process.

This was a pleasant surprise, of course. He always knew that leaving you behind was one of the hardest things he had to do when he left. Sure, leaving his family was another regret as well, but they had definitely become fed up with his behavior before he left for the games. And now, with what happened with Jun-ho, he grew to accept the fact that that bridge had been burned.

He didn't even know how you would have ended up in a place like this anyway. You were never the type to gamble, get caught up in illegal activity, or associate with loan sharks and the like. He figured you must have been there either to help someone or because someone dragged you down with them. He later found this out to be the case, as your father had been having money troubles and used you to try to dig himself out of the hole he made. In-ho had never liked your father.

The first time he saw you, his gaze lingered for a moment to try to make sure it was really you. Luckily, you hadn't noticed him staring, and he averted his gaze to avoid your suspicion. During the preparation process, he did catch you staring at him, however. He pretended not to notice. He didn't change too much appearance-wise since you last saw him, but the years apart were enough to cloud your memory for him to go unnoticed. His demeanor had definitely changed since you saw him as well. He was hardly the same man you knew.

You had definitely changed as well. You were still undeniably you, but there was a bit of that infectious spark gone from you. Your eyes were no like bright and expressive, likely from the struggles you face outside. He wondered how much of those struggles were caused by him. The two of you were very close growing up, and while the bond with his wife and his brother had been stronger, both of those bonds have been permanently severed. Your bond with him may also be severed by this point. He wouldn't know.

When you first started hanging around Gi-hun's group, he realized how much he has really missed you. Your humor, your wit, your compassion. You both worked amazingly together, and it felt like old times. He watched over you in the games as much as he could without suspicion.

After Mingle, Gi-hun had suggested that they start maintaining a look-out schedule to ensure the X's safety during the night. He seemed to anticipate another fight like the one that occurred during his first game. He was entirely correct in this assumption, as the Special Game was scheduled to start the next day after dinner. Dae-ho and himself were given first watch, but the ex-marine tapped out rather quickly. He left to go wake up someone else to continue.

When he heard footsteps, he turned to look but he couldn't make out anything except the red X patch on the jacket.

"Mind if I sit?" He heard your voice.

He shook his head. "No, it's fine."

You sat next to him with a soft yawn. While he and Dae-ho had been sitting in near silence, the two of you couldn't resist quietly chatting. About the games, about the voting situation, about the other players. Once you exhausted those topics, the conversation moved to things more personal.

"You know, you remind me of someone I knew outside of here." You said softly, looking over to the man beside you. You could hardly read the expression on his face in the dark, but you think he raised an eyebrow.

He was conflicted. On one hand he wanted to know how you felt about him—the real him—after he had left, but he didn't know how he would feel about your answer. What if you hated him? He knew how his mother and brother likely felt, and with his wife passing, you were really his only other connection to his life before the games.

Ultimately, he gave into the gnawing curiosity and decided to play along. "Oh really?".

You nodded. "Yeah, you look a lot like him." You started, pausing for a moment as you thought. "Or at least what I remember him looking like."

He acted puzzled by your phrasing, but he knew where this was going. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

Your expression darkened, looking away from the man inside you. "I haven't seen him in a long time. It's been almost 4 years since he..." You trailed off, not knowing how to put the situation into words.

Young-Il frowned slightly. "Oh... I'm sorry. How did he pass?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No, he isn't dead. At least I don't think he is." You said before sighing. Your gaze lowered to your lap as you began fidgeting with your fingers

"He was a friend of mine since we were kids. I lived a few minutes away from where he and his brother lived. I remember he would always walk me home to my house and then turn around and go to his house. His mom was always annoyed with him because of it but he never stopped." You recalled, chuckling softly.

He forced his expression to remain the same even though he wanted to smile as he, too, recalled this pleasant memory. "He sounds like he is a great man." He said.

"Oh, he's the best." You said with a smile. "He had always been the kind of person that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He even donated his kidney to his younger brother when he had gotten sick."

He had two internal reactions to your description of him. Part of him was beaming with pride as you described him, glad you still thought of him highly after so many years. But there was also a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach as he wondered how you would react if you knew what he had actually been doing in the past few years.

He pressed further, indulging his curiosity about what you thought of him after everything that had happened. "What happened to him?" He asked, pausing before continuing, "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

You shook your head, murmuring a soft. "No, it's fine." before beginning: "Life gave him a bad deal. His wife had gotten sick, and they were struggling to pay for her treatments. He got fired from him job as a police officer. His brother told me he accepted a bribe, but I can't imagine him doing that."

He nodded slightly, making sure his expressions didn't raise any suspicion.

"His wife passed away in the hospital shortly after, and he kind of just disappeared. Packed some stuff and wasn't heard from again." You finished your thought. You took a deep breath to try to keep your composure.

He frowned. "That's awful." He said, shaking his head. Part of him felt awful for prompting you to talk about this when it clearly upset you, but another part selfishly wanted to know what you and his family thought of him now. He felt like a ghost haunting his own funeral, getting to find out what others thought of him when he shouldn't have been able to hear it. "Did anyone ever figure out what happened to him?"

You shook your head. "No. His brother tried to push for an investigation, but the leads ran dry. I know his family is still hoping that he's out there somewhere, but at least his brother is starting to lose that hope." You said.

"What do you think happened?"

The second he asked it, he wished he could take it back. You looked over at him in shock at his eagerness to know.

He felt his heart in his throat as he bowed his head slightly began to speak. "That was out of line, I apologize. I was wondering-"

"No it's fine I just..." You cut him off before pausing. "I just haven't tried to give it too much thought. Sounds too macabre."

Young-il nodded, understanding your hesitation. "That makes sense. I couldn't imagine that being an easy task."

In-ho, however, was somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. He struggled to believe that you hadn't given his disappearance thought until now.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. The pause was much more awkward than he would have preferred. He thought about excusing himself to get out of the conversation, but you began to speak before he could suggest the idea.

"Honestly, it doesn't really matter what happened to him." You said softly.

His expression quickly turned into an almost confused disgust. What do you mean you don't care what happened to him? He was clearly taken aback by your comment.

You also gave him a puzzled look. He quickly remembered that he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to your statement. It definitely seemed strange for someone you had just met to react that way to a situation that didn't involve him.

Luckily, instead of questioning him, you rephrased your statement. "I mean that in the sense that no matter what happened, I just hope he's happy. I don't need an answer about his whereabouts specifically, but I just want to know if he's okay." You said, taking a deep breath to try to maintain your composure.

"How are you content with sitting by and not searching for him? If I were in your shoes, I would find him over anything." Young-il asked, trying to sound as empathetic as possible. Hopefully, you take his statement as him asking for advice rather than an attack on your character.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Your eyes narrowed as your gaze turned to a glare. You definitely didn't take that as a request for advice.

"Excuse me?" You asked, your voice louder than before but not loud enough to cause a commotion during lights out.

He tried to salvage the situation. "That came out the wrong way. What I meant was-"

"I really don't care what you meant. I just don't appreciate you accusing me of not caring about my best friend."

"That was not my intention. I was just..." He trailed off. Wait. Your best friend? You still considered him your best friend even after all these years.

He didn't have a lot of time to ponder your statement as you continued.

"I love him, okay? I've known him since I was seven years old. I would do anything to find him. You have no idea how desperately I searched for him, even longer than the police and his brother."

He couldn't do anything but sit there and take it all in. The whole situation was somewhat poetic. He was both the object of your fury and your admiration. You spat words at him about how much you cared about him.

You paused for a moment to sniffle softly and wipe the tears running down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. Your voice was quieter and your words were chosen more deliberately, but he could tell you were just as angry as before.

"My acceptance of his disappearance is not because I don't care about him. If he is out there living somewhere else without me in his life, that's fine as long as he's happy. I've only accepted the fact that maybe I wasn't enough for him, okay? Good enough of an answer for you?"

Despite all of the thoughts running through his head, he couldn't manage to say anything in response to you. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a moment of waiting, you scoffed and stood up. You headed back toward your bed, intending to wake up Gi-Hun for him to continue watch with Young-il.

In-ho knew he shouldn't have pried any further. How did he think you would be okay with him asking such questions? To you, he was a stranger, so he shouldn't have been so invested in your answers, but he couldn't resist. He really didn't have anything to lose at this point. This time tomorrow, he would be back in his position of the Front Man, and you could very well die in the games.

That realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

You could die in the games.

And he would have to watch it happen.

He felt a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach, finally beginning to comprehend the severity of the situation you both were in. He wasn't sure why it hadn't hit him earlier. Maybe while he was still a player, he thought he would be able to better protect you. But whenever he steps back into his role, he was going to be powerless to save you.

Ironic, considering he was one of, if not the most, influential man in the games.

Wait. He wasn't powerless at all. Quite the opposite, actually. It wouldn't be easy, but he could pull some strings to help increase the odds of your survival. He could do it tactfully in hopes that the staff wouldn't pick up on his intentions. But even if they did, it was highly unlikely any of them would have the gumption to confront him about it.

Even so, it seems like the players may choose to terminate the games after the tied vote anyway. If he played his cards right, he could orchestrate a way for you to come across him in the outside world.

But there was a glaring problem with this plan. If he ever met you in person again, you would likely realize that he was Young-il even if he introduced himself as In-ho. During the games, your constant adrenaline and overall fatigue would cloud your perception for now, but in the outside world, you likely would be able to see through the man's dual identities. Assuming you made it through the games. He had faith that you are capable of doing so, but this group of players is highly chaotic.

If you ever did find out about his position in the games, would you ever be able to forgive him for causing you and countless others so much pain and suffering? Thousands of players have died in the games, and some would argue that, therefore, they died by his hands. Even more than that, their families have to deal with the sudden disappearance of their loved ones. People outside the games would never understand that the positives outweigh the suffering tenfold.

There was one glimmer of hope left for him to ponder. You did say that you would do anything to have him back in your life.

Maybe anything could include setting aside your morals and accepting that the games do have merit to them. All he's doing is trying to better the world. No matter how unpleasant the means.

He made up his mind. He'd do whatever he could to get you out of there. He wouldn't make you win, of course. That would be too far and a clear violation of the rules. It was also wholly unnecessary for his reasoning.

However, getting you out unharmed is doable. That's something they've all done before after Il-nam wanted to become a player. And it was even happening with himself to a lesser extent. There's nothing that could stop him from pulling you out one way or another.

There were a lot of problems that may occur. Would you realize he was himself and not just Young-il? Would you even give him the time of day once learning his role in all of this? Could you even forgive him for leaving in the first place?

No matter. You were really his last shot at having any aspect of his past life back. He has no job to return to. His wife is gone. And he ruined any chance of reuniting with his brother when he put the bullet in his chest. You were it for him.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the compound part one

words: 2k

warnings: alien apocalypse au!, violence, reader gets injured, hunger/starvation, mentions of death

part one / part two

you take a deep breath as your eyes focus on the pile of supplies. you know it's bait. you know it's purposely set up near the border of the compound to entice thieves, that someone elses eyes are likely on it right now.

but you have no choice. your stomach growls. you can see canned food. it's been so long since you had something from before. you've resorted to killing wild animals and gathering as much edible berries and plants as you can find, but even those are hard to come by. everything is hard to come by.

you look at the fence separating you. it's chain link, easy enough to climb. there's barbed wire placed on the top, fashioned together with zip ties, but plenty of space for you to fit between.

your eyes adjust as darkness falls, glad your hiding spot is shielding you from most of the wind. now that winter is rolling through the north carolina woods, you need to come up with a new plan. whether it's moving south or finding others to survive with that you trust enough to not kill you for using their resources or leaving you behind as alien bait.

a cloud passes over the moon, sending the world into even further darkness. you don't allow yourself time to second guess, shooting forward as fast as your legs can carry you, praying that your speed makes up for the sound as you scurry over the fence.

you groan when in your haste you cut your leg on the barbed wire, but you have no time to stop and see if the gash is deep.

you make it to the stack of supplies seemingly without notice, but the second your hands touch the box of canned food, a floodlight illuminates the yard of the compound.

“shit.” you allow yourself to mutter a curse word, picking up the small box and tucking it under your arm as you head towards the fence, knowing the other side means safety. 

“stop!” someone shouts from behind as you begin to climb, moving slower now that you have less mobility of one arm.

you let out a scream when someone grabs your leg, you try to kick them away, but then your other foot is grabbed, being pulled down by compound men. you struggle the best you can, even dropping your precious cans of much needed food in hope it hits one of them, but your hands can only hang on for so long before you succumb to their pulling, falling backwards with a thump, head hitting the ground and darkness enveloping you.

--

your head pounds as you try to blink your eyes open before realizing that they're covered by a blindfold. 

what a shitty way to go out, you think to yourself. blindfolded and gagged by compound men. at the end of the world, you don't meet your end in an aliens bite but rather from other humans.

it makes you question if along with the apocalypse people lost their humanity, or if they're just finally able to show their true colors without the expectations of society.

you slowly become more aware of your body. your hands are restricted behind your back to some kind of chair. your fingers reach out to touch the rope and then the chair, sighing when it's cold and smooth. wood you could possibly break, but you have no chance with metal.

your feet aren't restricted. you try to feel around for anything, but the floor around you seems clear.

you consider tipping your chair over, but you have a feeling that would only result in more pain for you.

“you awake?” the question is asked. it's a male voice, of course. it's widely known the compound is almost completely male. only a few rare women have ever been seen behind the fence. you're not sure what their recruitment process is, but you've heard whispers that they bring impressive people in. people that try to steal from them and get caught or defend their stash when the compound men leave on their raids.

you thrash in your seat since you're not able to respond. no use delaying the inevitable. if they're going to kill you, you don't want to wait around for it to happen.

“good.” the voice says, and then all of a sudden the blindfold is tugged off your eyes. it takes you a second to adjust before you can properly look around the room, realizing you're up on a stage, auditorium seats in front of you with a few men in them, all heavily armed.

you realize quickly that the military base the compound men took over must have had some sort of stage for speeches, and that you're now center spotlight.

“she did pretty good.” one of the men in the auditorium hums from the seats as the one who took of your blindfold exits down the stairs to join them. “got to the fence. most people don't even get that far.”

you try to tune out their words, eyes sweeping from some sort of escape, or help. you've learned not to rely on human help after the aliens came, but you might not have any choice.

“yeah, but she got caught.” one man huffs out.

“shit, billy, shut up. we need more women around here.” a new man says, his eyes feeling predatory as he looks over your body, making you press your thighs tightly together. you manage to look to the side to realize there's an armed man on either side of the stage, tucked slightly into the wings, but their dark eyes on you.

“we shouldn't even be arguing.” the man who untied your blindfold says. “wait for him.”

him. the infamous leader of the compound. you've never seen him or even heard his name, but he has a reputation from the bit of gossip you've managed to pick up. cruel. not bloodthirsty or barbaric like some of the men under him, but unflinching in his standards. refusing to give out any sort of help or aid even if a mother is on her knees begging at the fence.

you've heard from some that he doesn't care, you've heard from others that it's because his men come first.

you also know every time the compound men leave on a raid, they're looking for more than just food. someone. someone that the leader lost. presumed dead, just like most of the people after the aliens came, but that doesn't stop him from looking.

your heart breaks for him despite his cruelty. you wonder if it's a son. a daughter. a sister, mother or wife.

you refuse to let your mind turn to the ones you lost. you weren't close with your parents when it happened, but your friends… your boyfriend. you shake your head, willing the thoughts to leave. no use getting emotional right at the end.

you hear footsteps, the men scattered around the first few rows moving to situate themselves, sitting a little straighter, making sure their makeshift uniforms are done properly.

the doors at the back of the auditorium open. you wait for the figure to step out of the darkness, the emerge from the shadow from the mezzanine above.

“untie her. now.” the voice rings out, so familiar it hurts as the men from the wings move quickly to undo your gag. you feel the sudden coolness of a blade against your wrist, but it slashes away at the rope.

the man is moving quicker now, your eyes widening when you realize who he is.

“rafe!” you scream, shooting up from the chair. tears are already streaming down your cheeks as you run, sprint as fast as you can across the stage, rafe also breaking into a run as you take the stairs so fast you're worried you'll fall.

“y/n!” rafe yells out as you reach each other. you're lifted into the air behind him, sobs racking your body as you press your face into his neck, legs wrapping around his hips.

“you're alive!” you can hear the disbelief in rafes voice. 

“i-i thought you were dead rafe.” you whimper into his neck, pressing kisses to his skin between the words. “i came to tanneyhill after they arrived and it was-” you can't finish your sentence. partly because the pain of having to describe what happened to tanneyhill, the home you spent so much time at. but mostly you don't finish because rafe sets you down, moving your head out from his neck to press his lips against yours.

you sigh with relief before kissing back, hands fisting in his uniform, just now realizing how bulky his clothing is, various weapons hanging from them.

“i-i love you so much.” you tell rafe, pressing your fingers against his cheeks, the plains of them still as smooth as you remember. you look into his eyes. it's the same rafe, your rafe, but at the same time he's different. clearly hardened by the apocalypse, aged quicker from the stress.

“i love you.” rafe kisses you again. “i never stopped looking for you.”

you. you're the one. not a son or a sister, but the person the compound men were looking for.

“i-i didn't know you were here.” you wish you saw rafe out on a raid, but just like everyone else in the north carolina woods, you scatter when the compound men leave their base, almost as much of a threat as the aliens are.

“otherwise you wouldn't have stole from me, huh?” rafe smirks, making you giggle. he clearly hasn't lost his sense of humor.

he pulls you close to his chest as he looks to his men. “dismissed. i will be in my chambers. no disturbances unless it's an emergency.”

the men instantly scatter. rafe waits until they all leave before turning to look at you, hands skirting down your body to your wrists. he sighs deeply when he sees the marks from the rope, red and bleeding in some places.

“let me get you cleaned up.” rafe says, and you just nod. it feels surreal to finally be back with him, your boyfriend who you could have sworn was dead. you didn't stay long in the outer banks, not with the limited resources of an island, but you looked every day for rafe to see if he somehow survived the aliens before you fled into the woods.

you feel like your eyes are still glazed over as rafe leads you out of the auditorium, promising you a full tour of the compound later as he moves swiftly down the halls, two men walking in front of him and two men behind him.

you should have known rafe would get himself into some sort of leadership position even after the apocalypse. he might not be the most well versed in combat or shooting, but he can lead and throw commands around like he was born for it.

“this is my- our chambers.” rafe pushes the door open, the four men remaining outside as rafe leads you in. it's surprisingly comfortable inside, suddenly feeling like you're in a home rather than a military base.

“i-i think i may have died when i fell off the fence. there's no way this is real.” you genuinely have to run your hands along your arms, pinching yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming.

“it's real, baby.” rafe sighs with relief as he strips off the weapons, placing them at the table near the door before stripping off his fatigues until he's just in a plain white tshirt and shorts, looking just like the boy you knew before the end came.

as he steps closer, arms wrapping around you and allowing you to relax into his hold, reality comes rushing to you. you try to keep your cries quiet, but in no time sobs are racking your body, rafe lowering you both to the ground as you cry, loud sobs, even interlaced with screams from all the horrors you saw surviving without him. you let it all go, finally safe enough to.

rafe doesn't say anything, just holds you until your cries lessen and you pass out, exhaustion pulling you to sleep.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

[diejager]

I've been reading the Stepfather! Konig fic and I had just an idea. What if to get away and feel at least some safety reader fakes their death and joins the military with many fake names and constantly changes up themself to keep safe and away from König and Horangi?

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, military, recruitment, enlisting, military inaccuracies, tell me if I missed any.

Where was the best place to hide? The last place they would look, right under their nose. You managed - somehow - to keep your papers a secret from them, you were lucky they dealt with things online on encrypted servers, keeping it as hush-hush as possible. Fortunately, there weren’t many requirements for enlisting, all they had asked was your age, level of education and citizenship, some vague papers about you and that was all. You bode your time, leaning on your freedom when you left the house to hit the gym to get a head start in your training, pack a bit of muscle and get into a tight routine to get used to it before you joined; and buying the few things you’d need to build you stage with the few materials and story you made up. 

You were prepared when the time came, just a week before your training and your body thrummed with adrenaline and anxiety, slowly finishing off your plan. And when the time was right, you struck, vanishing with the car that you drove into the lake, you made sure that it was deep enough to be left untouched until you had at least finished your training. It was a stroke of luck, sheer luck that you made it to the base, flashing your papers and given a permit to meet the major of the base to receive your identification once you passed the examinations and interview. 

“Welcome to hell, cadet!” Were the first words you heard in the mass, dressed in the black and white uniform of the navy you stood ramrod with others beside you. 

They separated men and women in the early stages of training, once the selections were done, they’d mix both sex and leave them to train and learn together. It was a gruelling process, the physical and mental exhaustion of it all almost made you crash more than once, mind on the brink of frustration and muscles worn into painful bruises. You’d seen friends - made through nights of venting and moaning about life - and acquaintances quit early or halfway through the training and education. They were weeding out the weaker ones, the less competent and determined from the rest. You feared being picked of quitting, but you powered through it, all your blood, sweat and tears culminated to your graduation nearly eleven weeks later. 

You could stand with pride in yourself, head held high as you received your praises from the major, his rough voice echoing through the room in congratulations. You took your oaths and were given a white uniform and a hat, the black cap and gold encrusted hat that gleamed under the sun. You were proud; you were happy; you felt accomplished and free. You thought of flying, to be and feel as free as the birds that soar the skies, perhaps you’d join the aviation branch of the Navy. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea, to be moved and passed around wherever you were needed, never staying in one place made finding you much harder if König and Horangi found your bluff. 

But you’d gone so far, done so much to take things back or be taken back. You’d accomplished something with what little you had and you knew- You knew that your mother would be so proud of you for persevering. 

“I miss you, mom,” you kissed the sole picture of your mother, the only thing you thought worth keeping, “I’m sorry, I miss you.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A Tribute To Helmets

I grew up during the Apollo space missions, and whilst I didn't show a particular interest in NASA's exploits, I received a kid's space suit and helmet as a present. I vividly recall how different things sounded when I put the helmet over my head. I think that was the point when my kinky fascination for helmets began.

From my childhood, I remember watching an episode of the early Flash Gordon series (in monochrome) where Ming places a helmet on the head of one of his dissenting subordinates. Once the helmet was strapped on, the man became compliant, passive and drone-like.

At that moment I realised that something designed for safety and protection could also have very nefarious uses. Combined with visual and audio stimulation, the helmet could also contain electronic circuitry that can disrupt the natural processes in the brain. Helmets could also contain syringes, which can deliver chemicals and other substances directly into the head to suppress and indivual's throughts.

So here is my AI tribute to the Helmet, and how, when placed on the head it can strip away emotion, knowledge, purpose and individuality.

This man in his early twenties was just starting out in life. He had dreams of being successful, having the perfect suburban life - wife, kids and the kind of home people dream of. He had just agreed to join a multinational conglomerate, and as part of his induction he was required to take a medical. So on the appropriate day at the specifed time he turns up for what he thought would be a routine appointment.

On arrival, he was taken into a private room. He was asked to disrobe and was given a set of leathers and boots to wear, which, despite all his reservations he put on.

Once the leathers were zipped up and boots were on his feet, he was escorted to a room where a lab assistant placed a full-face helmet onto his head. He was then taken into a room filled with tech and video screens. The technician typed some commands into a computer and the helmet activated.

Isolated wearing the helmet, he was subjected to audio and visual stimulation; stripping away his own throughts and identity. Replacing it with a predetermined 'template', which the company would deploy as necessary. Thoughts of family, kids and friends replaced with absolute loyalty to the company.

'Physical' completed, the company has deployed him 'into the field'. Now a biker, his primary objective is to ride around and recruit candidates to join the company.

Meanwhile...

Some scientists are about to record the disruptive effects of their advanced helmets on three 'volunteers'. Once the helmets are fitted the volunteers will follow instructions and head to drone processing.

Elsewhere, two cyclists have been given new 'aerodynamic' helmets for a week to try.

Affixed to their heads, they will have no desire to ever remove their helmets - ever.

Sticking with a sport theme, the new coach has provided the team with revolutionary and technologically advanced helmets. These not only offer superior protection to the head, but also allow the coach a direct interface into the players' minds. It's going to be a successful season for this team.

There are worried faced amongst this army platoon - and they should be worried.

They will follow the General's orders to place the helmet on their heads. When they do their individual thoughts will become suppressed as they turn into droned soldiers. No more briefings, no reliance on old technology like radio transmissions, which can be hacked into by the enemy. The helmet will ensure all orders issued by the commanders are transmitted directly into their brains.

There are changes afoot in civilian life too. A new force for law and order is being created. One by one members of the police force are invited to undergo a routine medical.

Soon they will all be fitted with helmets; permanently connecting them directly to the company network, with orders transmitted directly into their brains.

There is to be a zero tolerance of crime - even minor misdemeanors. So they begin to 'clean up the streets'.

Chavs and scallies are rounded up and each one is fitted with a helmet...

Once the work of the helmet is done, a new 'drone' is sent out onto the streets as a 'recruiter' for the company.

They're also recruiting in colleges and universities...

And back in the boardroom, the executives are monitoring progress of the company's plan.

Each member of the so-called 'C-suite' has been given a helmet to allow speedier decision making and negate the need for laptops, smartphones and video screens. Directly connected to the company's network through their helmet, they follow the instructions fed directly into their brains - following them to the letter. After all each helmet ensures they are exemplary servants of the company.

Hope you enjoyed my AI tribute to the helmet. Depending on the feedback I might do a second helmet blog.

Oh, in case you were wondering which is my favourite helmet, it's my Arai Corser, pictured below.

[iww-gnv]

A Mississippi chicken slaughterhouse put a child into a 'preventable, dangerous situation', the Labor Department has concluded - after the death of a 16-year-old sucked into a chicken deboning plant. Duvan Perez had been cleaning equipment at the Hattiesburg plant of Mar-Jac Poultry on July 14, 2023, when he was pulled into the rotating shaft of a machine and sustained fatal injuries. Perez, originally from Guatemala, had been hired to work at the slaughterhouse by a recruitment firm - despite it being illegal for under 18s to work at a meat processing plant. His death caused widespread outrage, and on Wednesday the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) - a division of the Department of Labor - issued their report, finding a litany of errors and recommending $212,646 in penalties. They also highlighted two previous deaths at the company's facilities since 2020, and accused the company of complacency and recklessness.

[biolumien]

Hello :)

It says your requests are open, and I wanted to know if maybe you could possibly write something for Reno from Kaiju#8. Maybe something really sweet and fluffy?? If not, that's totally fine, I just really like your writing style and would love some more of him 😊

notes: as per usual my writing took on a life of its own... i hope its still what you were looking for!

target practice

reno ichikawa x gn!reader description of just general gun anxiety. word count: 1018

you were never big on the competitive streak that all the other recruits seemed to have when it came to standard practice training. you watched on as iharu and reno fussed over their times down to the millisecond, alongside kaguragi and haruichi, before kikoru would obliterate all of their times anyway. there was also kafka, who was still struggling to maintain a sub-five-minute time on the training course, but he seemed good-natured about it all, despite his 1% compatibility rate with his suit.

to tell the truth, you were quite honestly terrified of wielding guns in general. you had decent compatibility with guns and decent compatibility with blades, too–nothing incredible, but not so bad that you’d fall behind. it’s just that your accuracy was completely off no matter what. firing blank was fine–anyone could do that. you were often even praised for how steady your hand was–but as soon as the ammo was loaded into the gun, it was like your mind would go blank, and you were reduced to a quivering, shaking mess unable to line up your reticle with the target, not to mention how badly you reacted to the recoil.

if kafka stayed at a steady five to six minute clear time for his training, you were at a solid seven to eight minutes–up to ten, depending on how badly you couldn’t recover from raising your gun. 

you look down at the rifle splayed across your lap.

you wanted to become stronger. reno, iharu, and the rest of them only kept getting stronger. you didn’t want to be left behind in the dust.

“you’re up,” hoshina says to you from his lofty perch above you all. “whenever you’re ready.”

you stand up, aware of everyone’s eyes on you. you swallow, your hands shaking as you raise your rifle to shoulder level. your heart pounds in your throat, and your fingers fumble as you load an ammo catrtridge into the gun, pulling the safety. you grit your teeth, trying to get the shaking to stop, but you almost drop the gun in the process, and you fly back, your limbs feeling weak.

“your vitals are showing an elevated heart rate,” hoshina says. “you can sit out of this today if you don’t want to–”

“no,” you protest. “i have to. i have to do this!”

“not if you pass out,” hoshina says, his voice sympathetic. “i get it, you know–i–”

“no, this is just–this is something wrong with me!” you protest. “i just–i keep–” you lower your gun, hating the way you already feel more relieved now that the gun has been lowered. “i can’t… i need to do this. i–” you raise a hand to your eyes, squeezing tightly. why couldn’t you just pull the fucking trigger?

“here. like this.”

you startle as reno walks up to you. behind him, iharu’s eyes are wide as haruichi and kaguragi are still arguing over something. kafka’s eyes are curiously staring at reno, too, but reno seems confident enough as he strolls over.

“i can help,” reno says. “if you’ll let me.”

“i… sure,” you say. 

reno’s hand crosses the distance and presses against yours, guiding your grip over the gun. your heart pounds in your chest again, but for a much different reason other than terror this time. reno was–just really warm. 

“don’t pull,” reno says softly, his violet eyes meeting yours. “squeeze. press the gun close to your chest, tight, like this.” he shifts his other hand, letting the gun press firmly into your elbow. your face flushes a bit as he maneuvers your body with deft hands. “it’ll help with the recoil. i notice you never brace yourself like this. so it’ll help. you’ve seen the training course many times already. don’t move your arms so much, that’s how you’ll tire yourself out. lead with your shoulder.”

as you raise the gun this time, you swallow, finding that your heart is already beginning to pound less.

“thank you, reno,” you say, smiling at him. 

reno’s face goes pink, and he raises his hand to his mouth, a short laugh leaving his lips.

“i… you don’t need to–” “alright, lovebirds, pack that up,” hoshina calls. “if you’re ready to start, then head to the start of the course.” 

reno stumbles backwards a bit out of surprise, and you stare up at where hoshina’s looking down at you all. his gaze is unreadable as usual, a small smile on his lips.

this time, your score is closer to kafka’s. you still startle when you pull the trigger, but this time you’re able to calm down, line up your sight with the targets, and hit them with decent accuracy. you think feel reno’s subtle grip against your hands, guiding your gun–but that was just a fleeting, silly thought.

“you did it!” reno says, standing up as you make your way back. “i knew you could do it.” he seemed to want to step forward in a move to hug you, or something–anything, but instead his hands dangled awkwardly in mid-air for a moment. 

“thanks to you,” you say sheepishly, feeling your face heat up again. you step forward, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, slotting yourself neatly against his body. “really. thank you so much, reno.”

reno stammers for a second, his hands shifting to settle around your waist.

“you don’t need to–thank me,” reno says. “i… you’re amazing.”

that seemed to bear a little more sincerity than any of his other words, and you laugh, feeling warm. 

“thanks,” you say. reno seemed to hold you a little tighter after that, bringing you closer.

“hey, you two.”

you immediately fly back from reno as iharu spoke up.

“the two of you are fucking gross!” he shouts.

reno sputters.

“hey–fuck you, actually!” reno exclaims. “we were having a moment!”

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” iharu shouts. “have your moment somewhere else! don’t just do it out here! you’re so fucking cringe–!”

“oh, like you’re one to talk–”

you watch fondly on as reno and iharu start arguing, a curling warmth in your chest.

[townpostin]

Excise Constable Recruitment: 5 Candidates Die During Physical Test

Opposition slams Hemant Soren govt over deaths, demands judicial inquiry Tragic deaths during the physical endurance test for excise constable recruitment spark controversy in Jharkhand. RANCHI – Five candidates died during the physical endurance test for excise constable recruitment in Jharkhand, prompting criticism of the state government. BJP state president Babulal Marandi lambasted the…

[shadow-5-05]

Okay, @jeanzoriley-cod , @shadowcompanys-medic-beaks , @ask-private-141 , @ask-phillip-graves

((okay, I'm actually kind of scared I made him a little "stereotypical" but uh... Here's my little guy. I know he's very feminine and soft.. my art style makes it worse though.. but uh yeah... I tried explaining stuff a little more below the cut, and I added a few extra details + a drawing of him from his childhood))

((ALSO DISCLAIMER!! I do not know a lot about the army's recruiting processes, or about how shadow company would choose it's soldiers, so if he's unrealistic, forgive me and please don't judge me over it I'll actually cry))

I added a small sketch to show his scars in the corner because I had them all covered up by his clothes..most of them are on his legs since he's incredibly clumsy, or well not focused on where he's going, often walking right through thorn bushes, and right into any sort of sharp weapon below his line of sight

His actual name is Caleb but he mainly just responds to 5-05 or shadow 5-05, he doesn't share his last name for safety reasons (and because it embarrasses him). He has something called central heterochromia (where the inside colours and outside colours of the eye are different) and his face is covered with freckles. Most of his clothes are shadow company merch, or his shadow company uniform, he's not very into "wasting" money on clothes that he "doesn't need". Most of his clothes aren't even bought by him, usually just old hoodies from his older family members (usually cousins) which he would stitch or paint shadow company stuff on (like the "I ❤️ shadow company" hoodie). This guy does not brush his hair btw, no reason for it, he just forgets to do it and when he remembers he doesn't see the point in it, he ends up with his hair all messed up because of it

He's 5'3 (short king) and probably just about average or slightly under average weight. He's from Wales (best country ever /j) too because of course he is (it's where I'm from). He's also gay & polyamorous 👍

His birthday is the 5th of November and he's 26 years old :D

Fun fact; he once had an accident where fire was involved! (the pink scars seen in the sketch are from this accident). I might go more into detail about this in the future but I will say that it has caused him some issues (I can say it was genuinely an accident, no one else was involved)

Another fun fact though! His biting obsession comes from his childhood, where he was often seen as "too weak" to fight "properly" due to being too short and too thin. He ended resorted to biting and scratching to defend himself, this got him the reputation as "the cat" (which may or may not be a source of trauma for him as he was bullied for it relentlessly). Despite that though his favourite animal remains a cat :)

Also, heres colourless/grayscale sketch of little Caleb/5-05 (he still has central heterochromia btw, I just couldn't be bothered to add the other grey to the eyes, because it's meant to be a sketch..)

[swp2023]

SWP Account

TW: transphobia, transmisogyny, SA, gaslighting/manipulation, general trotskyist bullshit

I first joined the SWP as a minor during the Honor Oak demos. When I attended one of the protests for the first time in May 2023, I knew fairly little about the British left and its intricacies. I joined at a time when I was incredibly vulnerable - I was an isolated trans teenager with a poor home and school life and few friends. I initially joined SUTR but was soon syphoned into the SWP and became a formal member around 1.5 months in. After four months I was lucky enough to meet people outside of the party, find my own systems of support, and start drifting away from them. At the beginning of October I formally left the party and rescinded my membership. I essentially speedran the process. I know that I am not the first to come forward about their experiences in the SWP, and that my account won’t be as horrific or traumatic as others’. But the more I sit with the memories of spending time in the SWP, the more frustrated and angry I become with how poorly I was treated, especially as a trans teenager. A while ago, I compiled a list of everything I could recall about being in the party and its impact on me, and I’m hoping sharing it will draw more awareness to the extent that the Socialist Workers Party hasn’t changed and actively poses a threat to young activists. 

Structural/Functional Problems

Most people are aware of the SWP’s overt focus on recruitment, but within the party it’s even worse than it looks from the outside. Recruitment processes target those new to activism, especially young women and queer people. On multiple occasions, SWP leaflets were purposefully plastered outside my secondary school and other schools in the area. Once you’re involved with the party in any capacity, there’s a lot of pressure to ensure you formally join - if you’re not a member, within a month you’ll have membership papers being shoved in your face constantly. The worst instance of this was when I attended Marxism over the summer while I was in quite a bad place. I ended up having a breakdown in a corner of SOAS, and someone walked up to me when I was visibly upset and somehow tried to use it as a recruitment opportunity. Although far from the worst of their faults, the recruitment means the party is incredibly stagnant and frankly, boring. The same meetings repeat over and over, the same discussions are held, conferences are repetitive and demos are attended only for the purposes of recruiting or selling papers. 

The general attitude towards other, non-SWP activists is extremely condescending and patronising, especially in both formal and informal discussions of anarchism and grassroots organising. I consistently heard anarchists being reduced to a violent, ineffective group of rag tag young un’s who don’t know what they’re doing. I think it must have been in their handbook to describe anarchism as “grabbing 15 of your mates and beating up fascists”, because I heard that exact phrasing used at least twice. The belief that the SWP’s unwritten values and structures are the only correct ones runs deeply, and since I was a teenager my age was often used to dismiss my actions as immature or naive. I was told I was being pretentious for wearing a mask at demos - I’d been doxxed before and was looking out for my safety but apparently this made me appear “hostile and unwelcoming”. 

I can’t emphasise enough how much everyone in the SWP is treated as disposable unless you work for them. They don’t care about arrestee support, accountability, or building safe environments. I was a trans teenager so I looked good for their party, but ultimately they couldn’t care less what I had to say and I was often shut down or told my ideas weren’t appropriate. The SWP consistently seizes the politics of individuals’ marginalised identities to create a more appealing facade, while also discarding the same individuals as soon as they are no longer politically convenient. 

Lack of Accountability

From the beginning, it was clear that there were zero helpful routes for complaints or conflict resolution. I asked multiple times at meetings what their explicit process was for dealing with internal issues, and at best I got an off-hand mention to the central committee. Mostly I was shut down right away and told it wasn’t the right time to ask - a better time never became apparent. There is zero transparency and it didn’t take me too long to realise that I had no faith in anyone in the party to protect me or listen to me if something went south. You’ll hear them talk about their “disputes committee”, which was established as a response to the Comrade Delta coverup, but despite all the time I spent in the party I still have no idea who’s in this committee, how to access it, or whether it’s ever successfully resolved a dispute. 

No one talks about the coverup. This isn’t too surprising but every time I tried to ask about it, I was met with the same awkward dismissal. It’s creepy how everyone who’s been in the party for a while feeds you the same “that was a long time ago and we’ve changed and learned from it” schtick. Even a month in the party would be enough to show you that this isn’t true. The process of covering up the reputational damage from Comrade Delta is very much still active and the more time you spend around them, the more subtly intrinsic it becomes to everything you do. I was walking with a paid member of the SWP and watched him slap an SWP “trans rights now” sticker over one that read “the SWP protects rapists in their party”. No organisation that’s suitably addressed its failures should feel so threatened by the reminder of them. 

More widely, there are never any internal criticisms of the party. When I was in, I was in deep. I went to their weekly meetings, their organising meetings, their conferences - I went to fucking marxism. Not once did I hear a natural critique arise, there’s a complete lack of self awareness. It isn’t an environment where you’d feel comfortable expressing criticisms, and this has led to an echo chamber of sorts in which many members are incapable of conceiving themselves or the party as imperfect. It’s a dangerous amount of self-assuredness and this attitude allows for a culture of racism and bigotry to underlie the party’s supposedly anti-racist fronts - microaggressions don’t get called out, racism gets excused especially in the predominantly white spaces. There aren’t any attempts to actually foster anti-racist mindsets or incorporate it into how they organise, it’s largely just for external presentation and again, recruitment. 

Any issues that do get brought up are met with absurd amounts of gaslighting and guilt tripping. The party runs on guilt and censorship. If you ask too many questions people start acting cold or frame your comment as needlessly confrontational. Even now, I still struggle to process a lot of what happened because I was constantly told it was normal, that I was overreacting, that because I was relatively new to activism I didn’t know what I was talking about. 

Transphobia and Transmisogyny

As I’ve mentioned, my main involvement in the party was based around my identity as a trans youth, but there was very little regard for my safety as it pertained to this. For instance, without any warning a parcel was sent to my house with my chosen name on it. This put me in a bad situation because my parents hated the thought of me going by another name, I had to lie and endure my home life temporarily getting much worse. When I brought it up with someone I trusted in the SWP, it was dismissed without so much as an apology for putting me in a dangerous situation. I spoke to another trans ex-member about this and they told me about going through the exact same thing a few years back - the SWP doesn’t learn or change. 

There is consistent, blatant transphobia in the party. There were too many occurrences to list out here, but it’s so profoundly endemic to the party that I spent a considerable amount of time feeling uncomfortable and objectified. I had someone tell me they wouldn’t use they/them pronouns because “it’s too hard”. I was constantly misgendered, and although it was sometimes a careless mistake it was often very clearly intentionally weaponised. Almost every time it happened there was someone in the room who knew me well enough to know what my pronouns were and correct the mistake, but that never happened. No one stood up for me. 

There’s explicit transmisogyny. In addition to being generally misgendered and sexualised, trans women are often referred to with they/them pronouns and as a “person”. There was a trans woman quite deeply involved with the party who I spoke with a few times, she often got dismissed when she contributed at conferences and one time, a cis dude fully stood up and started talking over her while the chair of the meeting allowed it to happen. 

Contrary to what the SWP would have you believe, there just aren’t many trans people in the party. Certainly not a proportionate amount when compared to the wider left, which isn’t surprising once you’ve experienced being trans in there - there aren’t any attempts to make you feel any less isolated, ostracised, or used. There are, however, plenty of cis people who think that just because they’ve attended a trans demo or two they know more about the experiences of trans people than we do. 

I want to note that all the transphobia I experienced and witnessed took place while London branches of the SWP were spending their time at HO trans rights demos, handing out their placards, using it for recruitment, and taking credit for the work that was mainly being done by grassroots activists. Transphobia is just one example of how hollow their ideals are. 

Non-Existent Consent Culture

When I was sitting in a conference at SOAS, a man I didn’t know sat next to me and ran his hand down my back while we were talking, and then repeatedly tried to scoot closer to me when I moved away. 

A different time, someone tried to get me to sit close enough to them so that our legs were touching. 

Both of these incidents were extremely creepy and uncomfortable, and just to be clear: I was visibly/openly a minor during both. 

In general, physical contact is heavily normalised and sort of expected. There was always an expectation that you’d hug people, that you were okay with being patted on the back or having an arm around your shoulders or whatever. I always felt uncomfortable with this and although some people were fine with it and people’s intentions weren’t always harmful, there’s just generally zero consent culture and most times I wouldn’t have felt comfortable saying no. 

When I was in a transition phase of technically still being in the SWP but trying to spend as little time around them as possible, one of them came up to me at a demo (where, for the record, I’d just been through quite a traumatic incident - not that it should have to matter) and tried to pull me in for a hug without asking. When I flinched away without saying anything other than “hi”, she later commented to a comrade that I was being rude. The persistent entitlement to my body and my consent was disgusting. 

Exit Process

When I started spending less time with the SWP and more time with anarchists and antifascists, they were semi-aware of it so I got lots of calls and messages purporting to be “checking in”, but the undertone was very much “why aren’t you standing with us at demos anymore”. No one ever checked in on me when I was properly in the party. One of the calls was particularly lengthy and pretty much summed up to “we feel like you’re drifting away, we really miss you and you’re our comrade” - more guilt tripping. The feeling that I was trapped because I was constantly being contacted and approached at demos was bad enough to make me actively suicidal. 

The final breaking point for me was a conversation that happened in the South London SWP group chat that had reached an intolerable level of censorship. Someone, very politely, complained about how the branch had made a commitment to doing hybrid meetings but consistently struggled to actually have working tech/mics/etc. They also suggested a possible solution. They got shut down with a curt “our main focus has to be in the room rather than on our phones”, a comment that rightfully got called out as being explicitly ableist, especially since the following messages implied that attending online was insufficient or lazy. This conversation was concerning enough, but the original person then got told they “sounded harsh” (they didn’t - I’ve seen more lively conversations in my extended family’s whatsapp group), and was explicitly told to delete their message. I finally had a good answer to what happens when you criticise anything the SWP does, and this was a fairly mild criticism too. 

Then, a comrade I know very gently expressed their support for the original person - literally just said that they agreed with them and didn’t think they were being harsh. This comrade (also a teen) got two separate DMs telling them that they “misunderstood” what was happening and to delete their message as well. The hierarchies and power structures within the SWP are so obviously corrupt, and this whole incident just made that much more clear to me. 

I sent a final message on this chat, calling out the patterns of behaviour I’d noticed and advising people to do what I had - take a step back and look at who actually gets listened to in the party, at the corruption that’s so deeply rooted in it. Then I left that chat. The next day I was removed from every SWP-related chat I was in - fine by me, I was done. I did get sent one DM telling me that I had misread the situation, was overreacting, etc. It was incredibly infantilizing and blamed the fact that I’d been associating with other people as the reason I’d formed these opinions - clearly the SWP was reliant on my isolation. 

I was out of the chats but I did get the aforementioned comrade to update me on the aftermath, which was mostly damage control. The upcoming conference got plugged, people talked shit about me for being immature and overreacting. I’ve got screenshots of this incident in particular but I honestly don’t think they’re too worth sharing. I firmly believe that painting the bigger picture of the party and how and why it operates like this is much more important. 

I’d say I made it very clear that I wanted nothing more to do with the SWP and its members, but to this day I still have issues with them at demos. I’ve had people come up to me and try to touch me in various ways - hugs, back pats, etc - that I’ve expressed I’m uncomfortable with. There’s someone who winks at me. The general attitude towards me seems to be either glaring me down when I walk by (I don’t mind this honestly), or being overly nice as if I hadn’t been groomed into their cult (this is considerably worse).

I think this summarises it pretty well. It’s not everything - some stuff is hard to talk about, some would involve revealing info about me that I need to be private, and honestly my brain has defensively blocked out a lot of the time I spent around the SWP, so I’m still remembering stuff out of the blue. But please listen to me, listen to everyone else who’s been through their pipeline and made it out the other end. They aren’t just an annoyance with boring placards, they hurt people. They prey on young queers and women and don’t actually give a shit about anyone. Kick them out of your demos, kick them out of your circles, and also - try to get people out! I owe my life to the anarchists who were like “hey, we see you’re in there and you probably don’t want to be - you can hang out with us”. Most of the people the SWP recruits are sucked in before they have a chance to form other networks, and it’s hard as fuck to leave a party when all your activism takes place within it and you’ve got nowhere else to go. The Socialist Workers Party is broken beyond repair and needs to be dissolved, and I would encourage its current membership to resign. Thanks for reading. 

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

for the 2k event:

congrats on all the followers!!!!!

Levi and reader are childhood best friends to lover to eventually a married couple. Maybe following their journey through all the seasons and even in no regrets?

Congrats again!!

hello! :3 i'm not sure how to fit this into a drabble, so i did headcanons about how Levi would have reacted to you being pregnant or having a child during these various points in time!

Dadvi Canonverse Headcanons | 2K Follower Event

ACWNR:

➼ Once it turns out that you're pregnant with his child, Levi hauls ass to get the two of you out of the Underground. He picks up shady jobs for the extra money (assassin!levi au anyone?) in the hopes that he can make enough to get you surface residency as soon as possible. ➼ With how uncleanly the Underground was, Levi would be very wary of where you were going. While he was never a fan of dirt and grime and it bugs him to no end to have it around, he was much more concerned about you potentially getting sick and putting further strain on your body that was already hosting a baby. ➼ With him picking up shadier jobs, things got more chaotic and he became more and more worried that he'd take a job he couldn't come back from. As a result, he'd spend every night with you in his arms, his hand over your belly, with him chatting to your unborn child, wanting to savor every moment that he could steal with you. ➼ If he was unfortunate and couldn't make enough money, he'd begin to have to plan on how to raise your kid in a hostile environment in a way that best avoided the type of childhood that the two of you had. ➼ Your pregnancy is one of the reasons why he jumped up so quickly at the opportunity to earn surface residency when he's recruited to assassinate Erwin. He knew he didn't have much of a choice when it came to taking the job, but having you and your unborn child as an extra incentive made him that much more motivated.

Season 1:

➼ Especially with how dangerous expeditions were, he would always go out of his way to visit you and your child regularly after expeditions. He'd be home whenever he could be, just because tomorrow was never guaranteed. ➼ If you're a Scout, he'll try to work with you to get you put on duties that you'd be able to do while pregnant that wouldn't put you or the unborn baby in too much danger. Unfortunately, that meant you weren't going outside the Walls with him anymore. ➼ When he hears that the Wall had been breached, he internally panics. He had promised to keep you in the Walls to keep you safe, yet even the safety of the Walls was compromised. The first thing he does after clearing out the Titans in Trost was to search for you and your child. ➼ Levi's a complete mess when he comes home to you after the Female Titan incident. His entire squad and a significant amount of the Scouts had died on this mission. Being around you and being able to hear you and your child's voice made it just a tad bit more bearable. You were the safe space that he needed to be able to process everything that had happened.

Season 2:

➼ As if to make up for lost time, Levi was able to spend much more time with you because of his leg injury. He hated not being able to do anything to help out with the Survey Corps, but he was also glad to be able to spend time with you and your kid without having to feel pressed for time. ➼ This shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, but Levi's the perfect house husband. He's great in caring for you while you were pregnant, especially since he had to be home due to his injury anyway. He's even better with caring for your newborn baby so you could occasionally rest. ➼ When he heard about the Wall getting breached again, he seriously began considering if he could fenagle a way to move you to the Interior. Of course, the idea of hiding didn't sit right with you, but you bet he's annoyed as fuck when you provided resistance. All he wanted to do was to keep you and your child safe, and things looked like they were falling apart left and right.

Season 3:

➼ Levi is writing you letters the entire time when he's on the run from the Interior Police. He couldn't visit you, and even sending you letters was risky. If you were pregnant, he would make sure that there was someone to help you out so you weren't just suddenly left on your own. ➼ Once Historia is crowned as Queen and he's able to return, he immediately goes back home to you, spending much time needed with you and your child since he's been gone for a while. If you were pregnant when he left and gave birth while he was gone, he'd be super harsh on himself about it even though there wasn't anything he could've done with the way that events played out. He'd overcompensate with the acts of service to try to make up for what he missed. ➼ He immediately falls into your arms after he returns from Shiganshina. If your kid was there to see him, he'd pull them in too. He didn't bother hiding it because you both believed in being honest with your kids about emotions and vulnerability. ➼ Once the Titans have been cleared, he takes you and your kid outside the Walls to visit the beach, trying to answer questions as best as he could as your child bombarded him with questions about humanity existing outside the Walls.

Season 4:

➼ After his initial trip to Liberio, he'd take you and your kid to visit, just to explore the wonders of civilization outside the Walls. It was nice to come here as an actual vacation instead of under the pretense of war. ➼ It absolutely breaks his heart when he sees the pained look in your eyes after he tells you that he was to leave you for a while to go into the forest to watch over Zeke. This was the last time you saw him until after the war was over. ➼ Since you're separated, he starts writing you letters again, sometimes sending back a flower or piece of nature that reminded him of you. He took immense comfort in the letters that you'd write back, bringing that subtle hint of your scent. He could almost hear you say the words and it helps him throughout his long days waiting for news that would never come. ➼ When the letters suddenly stop, and the Rumbling began shortly after, you began to panic. If it wasn't for your kid, you'd drop everything to find him, especially with the assumption that he must have died if Zeke was able to escape. ➼ When you see him again at the end of the War, you were both horrified and relieved. You were relieved because he was alive after everyone kept telling you that he was dead, but also horrified when you saw everything that he had gone through.

Post-War:

➼ If you get pregnant post-war, Levi does everything he can to find a good place to live with easy access to care to make sure everything goes smoothly. ➼ He's a little frustrated with himself at first, since he can't help you with the baby or kid in the same capacity that he would have been able to prior to his injuries, but the two of you adjust, and he figures out alternative ways to help. (brb currently crying over imagining Levi bottle feeding your baby from his wheelchair) ➼ Levi really likes going around town with you pushing him in his wheelchair as he's holding onto your toddler. It was good quality time, chatting with you as you walked him, and playing with your toddler that was essentially the split image of him. ➼ You bet that your child is absolutely fascinated with Levi's scars and is constantly asking for stories about the war. Levi was like a hero to them and they were completely enthralled by the fact that he was such an important participant in the war. ➼ He'd occasionally take you and your kid to Paradis Island just to visit and maybe show your kid memorable areas, like where the two of you got married or ran into each other for the first time.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO:

Odoardo Focherini 

Odoardo Focherini was an Italian journalist and devout Catholic who rescued 105 Jews between 1942 and 1944 by obtaining false identity  papers for them and transporting them to safety in Switzerland. He was posthumously beatified by Pope Benedict XVI.

Odoardo, known as “Odo,” was born in Modena, Italy in 1907 to a devout Catholic family. At a vacation in Trento in 1925, he met Maria Marchesi, and they fell in love and soon became engaged. Odo was 18 and Maria was 16, so they waited until 1930 to get married. They had seven children.

Odo worked as an insurance agent, but in 1933 he followed his passion and started a new career as a journalist. He became managing director of L’Avvenire d’Italia, a daily newspaper affiliated with the Catholic Church that is still being published today. Odo was such an exceptional journalist that he came to the attention of the highest levels of the Catholic Church, and Pope Pius XI awarded him the Order of Saint Sylvester in 1937.

The situation in Europe grew increasingly darker for the Jews and in 1942, Hitler enacted the genocidal “Final Solution.” Cardinal Pietro Boetta, the archbishop of Genoa, asked the editor-in-chief of L’Avvenire d’Italia, Raimondo Manzini, to help a group of Polish Jews escape from fascist-ruled Italy to safety in Switzerland. Manzini immediately recruited Odo, known for his strong moral compass and devotion to justice, to carry out this lifesaving mission. Odo created a secret network of Catholics who wanted to help persecuted Jews as the Nazi death machine took over Europe. Using contacts he’d met during his work as a journalist, Odo procured a large number of false documents and personally accompanied many Jews over the border to Switzerland. Odo saved the lives of 105 Jews between 1942 and 1944.

Unfortunately, the Nazis found out what Odo was doing when they intercepted a letter in which he wrote that he was helping Jews “not for profit but out of pure Christian charity.” He was arrested by the Gestapo on March 11, 1944 and imprisoned in Bologna. That August Odo was transferred to a work camp in Germany. During his imprisonment Odo sent 166 letters to his beloved wife Maria. Later that year Odo was sent to a concentration camp in Hersbruck, Germany. He developed a leg infection which wasn’t treated and became gangrenous. On December 27, 1944, Odo died from the raging infection. His last words were, “I declare that I die in the purest Roman Catholic faith and in full submission to the will of God.”

Odo was posthumously awarded the title of Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem in 1969. In 1996, Pope John Paul II declared Odo a “Servant of God,” because he was murdered for saving Jews. This began the lengthy beatification process, and in 2012, the decree attesting to Focherini’s martyrdom was finally signed by Pope Benedict XVI. Odoardo Focherini was the first Righteous Gentile to be beatified. Odo’s letters to his family were published as a book in 1994. The Memorial Museum in Carpi displays a large banner with a quotation from Odo that he said to his brother-in-law who visited him in prison: “If you had seen, as I have seen in this prison, how Jews are treated here, your only regrets would be not to have saved more of them.”

For saving 105 Jews, at the cost of his own life, we honor Odoardo Focherini as this week’s Thursday Hero.