#specialized construction

[constructionsafetynetwork]

Hazard Recognition in Specialized Construction Fields

The construction industry, known for its diverse projects, encompasses specialized fields, each with unique hazards. Understanding and recognizing these hazards is crucial for maintaining safety and preventing accidents. This article delves into hazard recognition in specialized construction fields and highlights why this knowledge is fundamental for construction safety. The Spectrum of Hazards…

[serpentface]

Retconned Wardi firearms- a basic handgun, a highly decorative ceremonial handgun (belonging to Faiza), and a lance-gun.

Gun tech has officially been nerfed down to hand cannons (press F) (this has been a long time coming but I'd been fallacy of sunk costs-ing myself out of retconning).

Handguns are held similarly to a shotgun, with the butt pressed into the user's shoulder, one hand gripping under the barrel, and the other free to ignite the gunpowder. These represent the most advanced firearms in contemporary usage, both in make and in their use of uniform iron projectiles built to match the gun's bore for greater range and efficiency. Lance-guns are the more basal form, usually larger and mounted with the pole held over the shoulder, and are most effectively used by two people (one to hold and aim, one to light the gunpowder).

The spread of firearms is currently mostly limited to the Eastern Inner Seaway peoples (with some additional distribution via overland trade), and actual manufacture of hand cannons and gunpowder at Significant scale is limited to the region's core powers.

The reason for this limited spread is partially due to specific elements of the technology's history. Gunpowder was first synthesized by Burri alchemists and considered to be the discovery of the legendary divine weapon + solar fire of the deity Inanariya, and its formula (along with techniques for ideally refining its components) remained a closely guarded state secret. It was used predominantly in priestly contexts to generate flame and explosive sounds (in conjunction with earlier practices of generating multicolored flames with use of other chemicals), then integrated into combustible weaponry in the forms of fire lances, which would eventually develop into early handcannons.

The treatment of gunpowder as a guarded sacred or semi-sacred substance continued with Wardi adoption, where knowledge of its making is considered a closed rite. It's name (inya tsatsul or just tsatsul, a derived adoption of the Burri iñazatsūya) still reflects a divine solar association (the Burri word means 'sun's thunder', the Wardi 'inya' invokes the sun, 'tsatsul' is an adapted loanword and has no meaning independent of the substance itself), though its priestly use is now predominantly associated with the firearm'ed Odonii (rather than priests of the solar Face Inyamache). The composition of gunpowder can no longer be regarded as a Secret by any means, though efforts to obscure the methods of its creation are still moderately successful and has kept knowledge of gunpowder manufacture more limited than the total sphere of firearm usage itself.

The actual strongest limiting factor of firearm usage is the rarity of natural saltpeter deposits necessary for making gunpowder. The practice of actively producing saltpeter via nitraries has not been developed anywhere in the setting, and all is instead obtained via natural sources. These sources are rare and limited within the current spread of firearm technology, and result in gunpowder being a limited and expensive substance to produce. The weapons themselves are also very expensive to manufacture (a good quality steel SWORD is far too material-cost prohibitive for most people to own), particularly high quality firearms designed for use with standardized ammunition.

These guns are also very basal, and logistical difficulties in their use (weight, very slow loading and firing speed, high visibility, Relatively low reach and accuracy) along with the restrictive cost of production has kept firearms far from rendering conventional weaponry, armor, and projectiles obsolete (even within the societies that have access to them). They are still, however, very devastating in use within their contemporary context, particularly in that high quality guns have a longer range than the best arrow-based projectiles, and utterly negate most contemporary forms of armor at close range.

[happi-dreams]

buncha emmet n benny doobles ( + plus a lil special spaceship ! )

[pepperpixel]

Some inside job art! Mostly just trying to figure out how to draw these two

[kaontic]

G1 Autobot holoforms/human forms Part 3: The rest of the Ark crew

Okay, besides the rest of the Dinobots (cuz I already did Grimlock), but hang on. 😂

Ratchet

Wheeljack

Trailbreaker

Brawn

Windcharger

Gears

Huffer

Hauler

[tamagoneko]

the boy in the band 💙

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Crazy Ex Girlfriend appreciation week Day 1

Favorite character: Rebecca Nora Bunch

“I have no underlying issues to address.”

[jup1tersparx]

rick rounds autistic and gets away with no one ever picking up on it via pretending all of the autism traits are 1) him being rude on purpose and 2) him just being a REALLY dedicated and stoic leader.

he never makes eye contact with anyone and seems to ignore to half of the things you say when talking to him? yeah he’s locked into that sigma grindset bro he doesnt have time for your bullshit. he refuses to let anyone touch him? oh is he also gonna cry and tell you about his feelings while you’re hugging 🥺🥺🥺? he barely makes any facial expressions, his voice is always monotone and he won’t react at all if you break down crying in front of him? yeah hes hardcore man completely unreadable. he gets really loud and angry and unpredictable when theres a lot of people and noise and lights? yeah hes a fucking wildcard bro you dont wanna mess around near him trust me. we need real men like this leading America forward thank god men are finally being masculine again 🙏🙏🙏 (/s)

[thistledropkick]

I translated the first ever interview with Young Lion Mikami Kyosuke, published on New Japan’s website, from March 8, 2010.

Hit by Hansen’s bull rope and awakened to pro wrestling! A quick interview with anticipated newcomer Mikami Kyosuke

The Act Tower Tournament was held in Hamamatsu on March 7th. There, a newcomer made his long anticipated debut against Taguchi Ryusuke.

His name is Mikami Kyosuke. Influenced by pro wrestling since childhood, he joined the prestigious Senshu University’s wrestling club in order to become a professional wrestler. We managed to catch Mikami for an interview before his match! In this first-ever interview, we talked to him about his current state of mind, his passion, and information about himself.

- Your debut match was decided rather abruptly, wasn’t it?

M: Yes. I was told five days ago. And I’m still about to b*rf (from stress.) I thought “Well, I’m debuting after Fale” (laughs) (Fale Simi Taitoko = a trainee from the same class / debuted in April)

- Mikami, please tell us about your background.

M: I did judo and amateur wrestling, and then entered Senshu University on a wrestling sports recommendation from Nigata prefecture’s Maki Agricultural High school (now Maki Sougou High School)

- That’s a famous college with a prestigious connection to pro wrestling, right?

M: Our coach was Hase Hiroshi (ex pro wrestler, current Lower House member) and Nakanishi (Manabu) would watch over our training sessions as well. Hirasawa (Mitsuhide) was a third year student there when I was a first year. But, I dropped out……

- Excuse me for asking, but why did you drop out?

M: Because I didn’t go to class. I was an economics major but I don’t have any interest in economics (laughs). I originally wanted to do pro wrestling, which is why I originally started amateur wrestling in the first place.

- So, after that?

M: I tried to enroll with New Japan Pro Wrestling, but my application didn’t make it past the initial screening. My dad scolded me, saying “What’re you gonna do about your student debt, you bastard!” and I thought “This is really bad” as I moved back to my hometown. 

I owe my dad a large amount of money to pay off my student loan. So after that, I worked construction for about a year, and then for about four years I was a freeter working at restaurants, at a beach resort, a pachinko parlor, and so on. But then in May of 2009, the (New Japan Pro Wrestling dojo) admission test rules changed, and the height restriction was removed. Hirasawa said “Hey, what’re you gonna do? You gonna go for it?” and I submitted the application one more time.

- And in June 23rd of 2009, you became a student. Were you always a pro wrestling fan?

M: Yeah. Due to my dad’s influence, I always was. When I was still in preschool, I got hit by Stan Hansen’s bull rope at an All Japan show, and my pro wrestling awakening began. All Japan, New Japan, FMW, I loved ‘em all.

- Did you tell anyone about your debut?

M: My parents and my local friends. And later I told my friends on GREE [Note from me: GREE is a gaming social media ap, so this is kind of like telling your Steam friends or something] I told them, "I'm gonna be in a match." The reactions from everyone were pretty intense. Because I hadn't told anyone I was a trainee at New Japan. I only told everyone once the company officially announced it and posted my name on the website. As you might expect, my mother is worried about me. But my grandma, who loves pro wrestling, said “YEAH, GO GET EM!” (laughs)

- What is your special move?

M: I’m just debuting right now, I don’t have a special move yet (laughs) But, since I’ve been doing amateur wrestling for so long, I think I’ll concentrate on a single leg, double leg, and tackle.

- And your “sales point” is?

M: I’ve got a stocky body type, but I’m going for “chubby yet agile.”

- And your rivals are?

M: Right now, the students in the dojo are Fale and Takahashi, and classmates are perfect as rivals. And of course I’m aware of Hirasawa as well.

- What kind of wrestler do you want to be?

M: Most of all, I want to be someone that everyone wants to cheer for. Basically, it’s stupid, but I love attention (laughs) I want to be the kind of pro wrestler that makes the fans yell “DO YOUR BEST!”

- The opponent you want to fight is?

M: There are too many to even name.

- Finally, express your enthusiasm to us in one sentence.

M: Anyway, pleased to meet you all and thank you for your support, I’ll keep working hard and doing my best. Taguchi is IWGP Jr Tag Champion so, having a person like that as my debut opponent is an incredible honor. Anyway, I plan to use the things that he has taught me. Pleased to meet you all, thank you for your support.

[callmekilgore]

Hi everyone!

This is just a little red dead snippet I wrote the other day while down in the dumps. I hope to write more, I have a lot of thoughts for a fic but I’ve never really written before so I’m giving it a try! Please be kind!

“I’ve given up. People just let you down.”

“That’s probably true.”

Arthur sits in silence contemplating your words as you both sit atop your horses overlooking the wide stretch of plains ahead of you. The grass transitioning from a golden green to a darker more peaceful color.

“I don’t think everyone is bad though”

Arthur remarks thoughtfully.

You shake your head and climb down. It’s about time to settle for the night, there’s a long trip ahead of you both.

“If everyone isn’t bad then what do you call it when everyone is out for themself?”

“Well look at the gang. We do for each other. Everybody pitches in. We’re a family.”

“But would the gang still be a family if one person in it had money? Or if somebody fucked up really bad?”

“I guess it wouldn’t be the same as it is now. But I’d like to think there’s more holding us together than needing money.”

Arthur has a good heart. You wish you could still see things the way he does. It’s amazing with all he’s been through that he can still see good in the world. But what hardened Arthur into a better man only made you a shell of who you once were. Where Arthur sees ghosts you only see dirt and skeletons. There’s nothing left for you.

“Do you think you’ll ever love again Arthur?”

He looks at you for a moment. And you can see deep thoughts circling in his stormy eyes. Maybe that question was too far. But you don’t care. There isn’t much you care about anymore.

“I reckon I’d like to try. But I don’t see it being like it used to be. Before I got old. Before things got so damn complicated.”

“I think something broke inside me. I’m just here. Ain’t nothing more to it than that I suppose.”

Even as you say it, you know you feel a longing for that connection. It was unbearable to lose the man you loved. To lose everything you’d ever known. But it’s unbearable to think of moving on. So for now you’re just existing.

“It’s gonna be okay eventually.”

You feel Arthur’s hand on your shoulder.

“It has to be. It has to be.”

[benny-the-spaceman]

you should draw gcbc in the middle w/ emmet and Benny on oposites sides of gcbc with them all holding hands titled “Gcbc has two hands”

hi anon, needed you to know that i saw this and i love you. specialspacecops my shining stars. also everybody loves gcbc (me included)

[octonauts-lover]

Octo-tober Day 3: Monster

I've wanted to post some Octonauts fanfics for a while now, and Octo-tober seems like a good way to test the waters! I don't plan on posting all of my writing for this event, which is why I'm just now starting at day three :p It's because I finally wrote something (I think) good enough to post. Anyways. This is set right before the Monster Map episode.

(@4eyedloser just in case the tags get weird)

Peso has about a million cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. You can see a photo of some of them, in a panorama hung on the wall by his bed. Dashi has her sister. Shellington, a sister of his own, and a nephew. Tweak, her dad, Barnacles, his twin sister, nephew, and niece. Inkling has a nephew as well.

Kwazii, he has his grandad. That he hasn’t seen in years. 

Calico Jack’s quite the character, has been since Kwazii was just a kitten. He’d never go a night without elaborate tales filling the stale air of the ship’s galley. Midnights on a sea of knives.

Adventures, great escapes, and more often than not, monsters. A ship-crushing shallowtooth, a hairy-webbed clockerflock, his daring escapades are what Kwazii sees in his dreams. In his dreams, he’s there with him.

In his dreams, he’s there with him.

Kwazii doesn’t think about where his grandad is. Doesn’t think of what waters he’s in, or… if he’s been swallowed by them. He doesn’t think of his ship, or Pete, or what monster he’s maybe facing now, or of his voice… what Calico Jack, his fearsome, brave, bold pirate grandad, would think of him now. If he was here–if he’s alive–what would he say? What would he not? Hardwood, rope swinging, and fiery gold. Orange sharks, oxygen tanks, and fish biscuits.

When Kwazii woke up that morning, his whiskers pointed him to a map. The pieces clicked. They were in just the right location…

He pounced to open the secret compartment on the top of his coat rack. He yanked the map out, thin and brittle like a roll of cinnamon, one of the last shards of Calico Jack. He’ll find that lost city. Come hell or high water or a colossal yeti-faced terrorknit. No monsters–or memories–would get in the way of this pirate.

[grimark]

unnecessarily long wall of text tag essay aside, “we all need to be nicer to men so they don’t radicalise and try to kill us” is really not a take i’m in the mood for hearing right now.

[desognthinking]

im fascinated what is tomb guardians au i am immediately imagining ava trying to get (very serious about her job) bea to talk to her (t4t aka tomb for tomb communication) like “it’s because you’re always on that damn guarding the tomb” and bea staring at her like “oh (relevant semi-religious curse word/deity invocation), i HAVE to fuck her”

Hi 😄  tomb guardians au is exactly that! except a little weirder, i think. Because they arent the guards stalking the graveyard they are the inhumanly stone-and-metal-but-not-really guardians themselves ☺️it's like what if beatrice had two heads and stood watch over the sealed, entombed heart of a bloodline. And ava was the new, terrible protector of a clan of craftsmen on a hilltop, buried with chambers of generations of their art. And what if they were necropolis neighbors 😳

This is one chunk previously posted and this shorter thing is set a little later, during the wedding mentioned in the first part. i think it kind of matches this ask pretty well 🥺:

Weddings are just like funerals: they’re never safe. The procession overflows from the courtyard at the mouth of the tombhouse, and nobody turns their attention to the other side of the hill. That's Ava’s job. Beatrice, perched carefully atop her roof in a long line of others she can vaguely make out, stretched across the rim of the hills, can see her sway and duck through kitestrings and tree-hung lanterns blowing in the wind as she keeps vigil. 

There’s fire, and an uncoordinated symphony of chattering accompanying music, and colored smoke that drifts up and drenches the air in pinks and yellows. The party had started at the Salviuses’ inner city tombhall, and then wound its way through the cobbled streets to settle here sometime around midday. Now the sun has cooled from its boil and the clouds are dissipating in streaks leaving swatches of color overtop the trees.

Celebration mixes with ceremony in equal parts, and Ava’s soaking it in, so she told Beatrice herself. Amidst the rush of activity at the Silvas’, she’d found her way over yesterday, dangling her human legs over a particularly stubborn branch that tipped over a brass gate, lurching under her weight towards brown grass.

“And, if you want,” she’d said quickly, “the view from atop our central mausoleum is incomparable.” Following the parched trajectory of Beatrice’s traitorous eyes, Ava had reached up to hurriedly smooth out the colorful combs that had erupted from her crown as she blurted out the offer. “You could see the dances up close.” 

She paused, as Beatrice reached out, at first hesitantly, then bravely, to gently still Ava’s hands from patting down the sharp, fiery crests. It’s okay.

(I like them.)

“We’re close enough that you could still keep a lookout for things over here.” 

Proximity, of course, was in truth the last thing that Beatrice feared would compromise her duty, and she knew that Ava knew it too. 

They sat in silence, not uncomfortably. Hot plumes, from where the days-long feast was being prepared in great earthen pots and pits on the rolling green surrounding the Silva walls, thinned out as they passed through the trees to Beatrice’s clearing. 

Whispers of stews, and meats, and spices. Beatrice felt, suddenly, terribly hungry.

“Will you ask again tomorrow?” she chanced, finally. 

Ava, bright and shocked and delighted, laughed. In her relief she nearly fell backwards off the branch, taking with her Beatrice, who had joined her on the tree.

Razor-edged fronds sprung up again from the top of her sun-warmed head. “Horrible”, she joked. 

Beatrice disagreed, and let her know.

Now, the sky is dampening, and the wedding party, in dribs and drabs, pauses to refill its cups and light its candles. In this twilight Beatrice lets herself turn to the west.

It is not easy to see, but the creature on the Silva house is there, beyond the clasp of woods, and when Beatrice meets its eyes its form unfolds in magnificent, menacing span and its unmistakable, jagged tail rises, quick and high, as in warning or challenge. 

From this far away, and half-hidden by foliage, it is impossible to make out the details of that bolted, harsh surface, but Beatrice knows how it feels under her palm, fluttering and leathery and spiny and warm, just as she knows by a glance the towering shape of the display and the exaggerated, daring, silly invitation that it extends across the space between their roofs. 

Ridiculous. 

Ava – terrifying as she extinguishes the numerous wraiths that have already sought to take advantage of the guardian transition, serious as the new caretaker of an artistic legacy, and an achingly, brilliantly quick learner of that uncommon dialect spoken by Beatrice’s house – lifts off her roof in a dramatic jump, and lands with a shaking thud that sends shivers through the ground all the way over. 

\

Help arrives so quickly that Beatrice knows said help is going to give her a hard time. 

“Mary,” she greets, relieved all the same. “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping watch?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Shannon's got it all handled back home,” Mary traces the perimeter easily, scanning the horizon in each direction and then feeling the hollows and convexities of the tombhouse in quick reappraisal. Beatrice stands aside as she smoothly pads across the surface of what she must have judged to be possible points of weakness, tests the robustness of a couple of Beatrice’s carefully constructed defenses, then nods, satisfied. 

A great-aunt, peeking out too to watch the celebrations, looks up, sees Mary, and waves. Mary sends her a bow. 

“You know, Bea, she’s right,” she hums, finally. “It’s not too far away, and you’ve always been focused when out visiting.”

The bait is not particularly subtle, and Beatrice narrows her eyes. 

“I just don’t think it’s safe to reduce any protections during a celebration when everyone’s guards are down.” She busies herself with cleaning up the place, tightening the wards and doing some final redundant sweeps and checks. “It’d be easy for someone or something to slip through, especially with so many unfamiliar faces.”

“Mm. And you’d be distracted.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sure.” Mary circles, then sits down, settling in and getting comfortable. She uncoils and reaches out to nudge Beatrice gently where she’s examining the shifts in some stones very conscientiously. “And I promise not to look over.”

“Mary.”

“What?” She shrugs, casually puts out a strong claw and kicks Beatrice firmly off the parapet. “Time to go-o.”

There’s a shower of stone fragments as Beatrice shakes and gathers herself to snap and snarl halfheartedly and harmlessly up at her from the ground. 

Mary looks over the edge and shakes her head, grinning. “Oh, baby girl,” she tsks, “Don’t tell me you need me to teach you how to fuck her.”

“Mary!”

Mary’s laughter echoes as Beatrice turns and steals into the darkness, necks hot with embarrassment. “Now hurry up, Beatrice,” her call seeps, howling, into the roots. It warps with the topography of the earth into something deep and old, sinking its frigid teeth into Beatrice’s bones. But the shape of the wind whipping past Beatrice’s ears is fond and teasing in its turbulence as she tears through the thicket. “Your poor girl’s waiting for you.”

[winepresswrath]

i am absolutely a nicki girl by the way it's just that much like show!lestat my love for him is so pure he doesn't even have to be hot. he can be an ugly crier with a floppy lil wig it only inspires tenderness.

[layalu]

me the entire time in Durgan's Battery: waugh just like Deep Roads Dragon Age