#tuc Grace

[overandunderland]

It's Not a Sleepover (Seeker Of The Warrior Chapter 9 Excerpt)

"Your kids will walk through these doors again, no matter what. Even if I don't," he promised, his voice steady yet tinged with a finality that belied the seriousness of his commitment.

The implication of his words was stark; he was prepared to ensure their safety at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing his own well-being.

The air seemed to thicken with the weight of his promise, the room charged with a mix of apprehension and a deep, unspoken understanding. Grace felt a chill run through her as she processed his words, the reality of the situation settling around her like a heavy cloak.

The tension in the room reached a crescendo as Owen pressed, his voice blending urgency with a stark, commanding edge. "I need you to say that you understand, Grace."

Grace's response was quick, her voice tinged with rising panic. "Owen, I DON’T understand—" she began, her words trailing into a plea as she grappled with the enormity of the situation thrust upon her.

“I need you to say okay Grace. If I don’t come back—"

"Stop saying that! I'm not going to tell you to d–" Her protest was cut short, her voice cracking under the strain of emotion, her eyes glistening with the beginnings of emotion. She had barely been able to agree to let them go, to shoulder this type of assurance. That wasn't fair, not to any of them. But the boy wasn't letting up, he was unrelenting in his pressure. Like the rats, snarling against the glass, slobbering and scratching the walls of their tiny apartment back in New York. She could almost hear them again, chattering, squeaking getting louder and louder in her brain. Untill Owens voice cut through:

“Say Ok.”

“OKAY!" The word burst from Grace in a yell, her voice echoing off the walls, laden with frustration and fear, the acknowledgment forced from her by the unyielding circumstances.

A heavy, tense silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant chirps of morning birds and the soft rustle of leaves outside—a stark contrast to the internal swell. After a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly, Grace spoke again, her voice shaky, through her clenched teeth.

"If it comes down to you or my kids, You will make sure they come home."

Have I told y'all how much I love Grace Campbell?

Chapter 9 is out now ❤️💜

[emerdoodls]

wishing i was good at writing bc theres a concept thats been bouncing around in my head of like. an outsider pov fic about the campbell family throughout all five books. or like a bunch of fics. idk.

[aldoodles]

Here's a toughy if your into some angst esque moments. You capture facial expressions so well.

Grace, sitting at the table, waiting for her kids to come home at the end of Book 1.

If I was her I wouldn’t’ve been able to function let alone keep going to work

[zukkaoru]

you guys should read the underland chronicles (<- voice of a guy who just finished their reread and is emotionally distraught forever)

[40cleverways]

I've been trying to get a handle on how I imagine them.

[haveihitanerve]

Angelina: ugh these guys were totally rude to me today. Larry: [jokingly] hey gregor, can i borrow your axe? Gregor: [not jokingly] yeah its next to my bed Larry:... Angelina:[oop]... Larry:... w h y

[what-in-procrastination]

“I don’t know that we’re good, but you’re good.” —David Kugrich ripping my heart out

[applesandpavenders]

Okay, but Gregor’s mom going with him to the Underland, badass. Seriously badass.

[thelesbianluthor]

Watching The unsleeping city II reminded me how much I have loved TUC and why I fell so hard in love with d20, these people and the characters they create. Especially how easy it was for me to adore Emily Axford.

TUC was my first d20 campaign and Sofia was my first favourite character. Seeing her face the Order with her head held high and taking responsibility of what she has done with grace. The way she stayed true to herself and her own beliefs and made a statement by being honest and respectful.

Fuck Tony Simos and I am glad that even if he got the position in the end his claim was not as strong because Sofia did not play into his hand when it comes to her reaction to the trial.

Also Kingston talking with Tony and being firm in his position was so good. That's HIS FAMILY! I cannot wait to see Tony getting his ass handed to him

[tarousbaby]

I CAN HEAR THE BELLS !

GETOU SUGURU STORY

wedding fever trope!

kinktober day three!

non-con recording, some dirty talk??

masterlist <3

on your big day, your best friend suguru tells you three different reasons why he should be your husband instead and why the runaway bride scenario is just so appealing.

word count: 2637

I CAN HEAR THE BELLS !

your reflection seemed fake, almost. the makeup powdered onto your face meant to make you look happy, and your tittering bridesmaids dresses in different shades of deep red bustling behind you. 

nothing could calm your nerves, the raging storm ravaging around inside you. 

one of the bridesmaid, some cousin of your arranged husbands, came up behind you and grabbed onto your arm. 

“aren’t you excited?” she asked, beaming, “he’s going to be the best husband!”

sure. 

he was influential, and you were pretty. your clan was dying, his was thriving. it was all the incentive your family needed to accept the marriage proposal on your behalf.

you hadn’t even been given a second to consider it, and your husband hadn’t been cruel but…you simply didn’t want to marry him. 

you were too young, only fresh out of highschool with a good group of friends. you should’ve been partying, exorcizing curses, drinking so hard until you blacked out at the late hours of the morning. 

but instead you’d spent the last few months sitting at home doing nothing because according to his clan it was unsightly to do regular adult things. 

suguru had been your saving grace, always coming by and watching movies with you or having an at home dinner. he knew how lonely you were, stuck in your apartment more often than not.

you could really use him right now. he always knew what to say, how to calm you down. he was good to you. suguru was wise, careful with his words, knowing exactly what could set you off and calm you down. 

behind you, your bridesmaids gushed about how beautiful they all looked. they wouldn’t notice if Suguru stopped by, right? you grab your phone from your purse, scrolling through your contacts before you find suguru’s. 

“i need you,” you text him, “could you stop by?” 

the response is almost immediate. 

“i’ll be there in a second.” 

even just by that text, you feel a wave of comfort wash over you. solace from the fact that in one hour, you’d be married. 

your eyes raise back to the mirror, staring yourself down in the reflection. you looked like the perfect bride. makeup done immaculately, not a loose strand of hair in place.

your dress was stunning, you would say that much. the white lace and drill against your skin only made your complexion stand out more, enhancing your finer features. 

running your hands along the hips, you smooth down the skirt of your dress, trying to make it poof a little less. you couldn’t wait to change into the after party dress, the light-weight red dress that made you stand out less. 

that was when you could fade out into the background, become the wife, and let the fame and limelight go to your husband. you could be the pretty housewife he and his family had wanted you to be, even if your hands itched to exorcize a curse. 

there’s a knock on the door, quick and cut, as if the person didn’t want to be on the other side too long. you already know who it is, and a bridesmaid is running to open the door before you can even fully turn around.

the girl peaks her head around the corner, murmurings things about how nobody was allowed to see you till the ceremony. 

suguru’s voice drawls, “i’m her best friend, i suggest you let me in.” 

the girl peaks her head back in, looking to you for clarification to which you simply nod. 

meakly, she opens the door, and suguru waltzes in. you notice the way he halts in his tracks upon seeing you, but you’re too busy admiring how he looks.

even if you didn’t like him, your husband had good taste when it came to suits.

it was relatively simple, your average black suit and white undershirt with a red tie. but suguru was never one to be formal. the tucks of his white button up stuck out from underneath his vest, and he had no jacket in sight. his hair was in a loose half-up half-down bun, as it typically is. 

his dark eyes sparkle with something unknown, and you feel yourself smiling against your palm. 

he takes a few steps forward, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm with a short bow. “you look beautiful,” he whispers, looking up at you between thick dark eyelashes.

“thank you,” you reply, but you can’t even find the words to describe him. 

alluring, lustful, gorgeous.

you could feel the eyes of your bridesmaids as suguru stood up straight, a good amount taller than you, even in your heels.

“what’s wrong?” he asks lowly, trying to block the sound of his voice from the others. you sigh, looping your arm with his and leaning against his bicep.

“everything, i guess? it’s just…i really don’t want to do this, suguru.”

he hums, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “i know. i cant believe this.”

you give a huff, “if you cant believe it, how am i supposed to feel?”

suguru smiles, open and wide, before pressing s soft kiss to the skull of your head. you squirm, hiding further into the fabric of his blouse.

“think i could leave?” you joke, “i’ll be a runaway bride. wonder how much shame that would bring him, huh?”

suguru’s quiet for a very heavy moment, and you turn your head just slightly to look at him in the reflection of the mirror. his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips twisted in a frown.

you consider saying something, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. you let out a soft breath, squeezing his arm lightly.

“maybe you don’t have to go through with it…” suguru muttered, “maybe we can go, i can take you. nobody has to know.”

you pull back, apprehension written all over your body language. you don’t quite say no though.

“my parents love you, they’d hide you if his clan started looking for you.”

“suguru,” you say weakly. you couldn’t say no to him. “that’s not a good idea.”

“neither is this,” he points out. his eyes go soft. “just…i can keep you hidden.”

you lean your forehead against his chest.

“give me any valid reason, and i’ll run.”

the words escape you before you can even properly consider what you’re about to do. suguru smiles wide.

“how bout three?”

your bridesmaids stare, straining to hear your quiet conversation.

“anything,” you stress.

“one, you won’t be happy.” he isn’t wrong. you’d be miserable. housewife isn’t the job you wanted in life. you didn’t want to sit at tea with his brothers and cousins wives and talk about mediocre things and how amazing your husbands were.

“two, he doesn’t want you.” suguru wasn’t wrong on that either. he liked your face, and your body, sure but not you. he didn’t like that you enjoyed exorcizing curses. he didn’t like that you enjoyed going out with friends. he didn’t like that you had a life outside of him and his clan.

“three, i do.” 

you pulled back so sharply it almost gave you whiplash. the look suguru gave you was akin to amusement, but you could see the careful consideration hidden behind his mask of indifference. 

one of the bridesmaids approached, tapping him on the shoulder. “sir, the ceremony just started, i suggest you go take a seat.” 

he stutters, before looking back to you. you swallow heavily. “your car is going to leave in five minutes,” you say slowly.

suguru’s never looked happier. he borderline runs out the door, not looking back because he trusted you. 

inside your chest, your heart pounded, blood rushing to your cheeks. we’re you really going through with this? you couldn’t back out now. 

you turn to your bridesmaids, and smile sheepishly. “i need to use the restroom…” you giggle, “pre-vow nerves, y’know?”

they look for each other, sharing looks and giggles and nods of agreement. you make your way into the attached bathroom and lock the door.

finally, you feel like you can breathe. 

you survey the room for a window, finding a relatively sized one behind the toilet. it was a small fit, but it would work. sighing, you close the lid to the toilet and take everything off the back of it as quietly as you could. 

fumbling with the locks to the window, you eventually pry it open, but it refuses to stay up on its own. 

fighting with it, you take your first steps onto the toilet, leaving your shoes on the tile. 

you shimmy through legs first, your feet dangling over warm grass. you struggle to breathe, your chest pushing against the window pane.

eventually you make it out fully, and desperately tug the length of your dress through. you land in a heap of limbs and lace on the dirty grass.

a little dizzy, you look up, not paying any attention to the hundreds of dirt and mud stains now costing your dress. you didn’t buy it, your husbands family did…so.

you hike up the ends of the dress, and run. you know soon enough those bridesmaids are gonna start knocking on the door, assuming they hadn’t already, and tell you that you need to walk down the aisle.

suguru’s car is exactly where you knew it would be. 

he’s waiting for you, one arm slung around the passenger seat head rest and the other gripping the wheel. 

you pull open the door, jumping in, uncontrollable laughter spilling past your lips. as soon as you’ve gathered up all your dress, you slam the door shut and scream, “drive!”

suguru listens to you, as he always does.

you aren’t sure how far you're driving, but soon the church becomes a far away place, and you end up losing your veil somewhere in the process. 

suguru finds an empty car park somewhere close to an unused trail, and parks to take a breath.

he looks to you, his face split with his smile.

you look to him, a matching grin on his face. 

you jump him, uncaring for the way your dress tugs and rips as you smash your lips against his. he groans into your open mouth, reaching for your hips and pulling you into his lap.

suguru licks into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your lip, smearing your lipstick and sucking on your tongue.

you whine against his lips, rutting your hips through the fabric of your dress, but getting no friction. suguru chuckles, and grips your waist hard to keep you still.

“ah, not yet. wanna savor this moment. maybe i should take a picture? send it to your bastard of a fiancé, show him what true pleasure looks like on you.” 

oh, suguru was mean.

and you loved it.

“please,” you panted, only to be awarded with a harsh bite into your cleavage. he bit hard enough to break skin, a small trickle of red blood leeching down and staining the crystals of your dress bodice. 

his tongue lapped at the mark as you hissed, back arching into his touch. more, more, more, your brain chanted.

suguru cared nothing for your dress, clearly, as he reached behind you and ripped the bodice straight in half. you heard the sound of thread snapping and crystals cracking as he threw it’s remains to the passenger seat.

now, he had full access to your boobs, and he didn’t take this lightly. 

suguru bit up and down your chest, muttering curses and suppressing groans as you twitched and squealed at every brush of contact his lips made with your puffy nipples, peeking out and begging for attention.

suguru kisses a sweet line down the center of your body, mouthing open sloppy hickeys against your skin. 

somewhere in suguru’s car, your phone rang with missed calls and texts. you found yourself giggling despite the ridiculousness of it all. you straighten, squeezing out of your skirt as suguru pushes his seat back. you were naked, save for your underwear and garter belt, a request of your fiance. 

you can feel his cock outline straining through his pants, pressing into you, separated by the thin fabric of your clothes. you wiggle your hips slightly, letting his hands roam around your body. eventually, they settled over your stomach, before dipping lower. 

he pulls back your garter belt, letting it snap back against your skin with a slap that has you shivering. “your fiance’s a creep,” he comments, but you see the way his eyes glimmer as he tightens it against your thighs, forcing the plush of your skin out. 

you struggle to keep your breathing even as his hands lift, pulling down your panties. your stomach churns, anticipation swirling in your chest. 

suguru cups your cunt with his palm, his middle finger dipping into your heat and slicking his finger. you whimper, biting down on your lip. sis finger drags up, collecting more of your wetness until he reaches your clit. 

he smiles, and gives a few testing circles that have you mewling. 

“still a virgin?” he inquires. 

softly, you nod, lost in the feeling of his fingers on your clit. one of the things of being married to the future clan head, was that you had to be plenty fertile in order to produce an heir. in the eyes of your husband’s family, if you hadn’t been a virgin, you wouldn’t be fertile enough. 

that meant Suguru would be your first. how scandalous. 

his fingers speed up on your clit, and you can’t help but roll your hands into his palm, fingers reaching up to toy with your nipples. he presses a soothing kiss to your stomach, and then follows it with a gentle bite. 

“faster,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open, “‘m almost there, sugu.” 

suguru listens to you, speeding up so fast you almost scream. but then, he rips his fingers away, and the feeling disappears just as quickly. 

“no!” you cry, “no! no! no! please, i jus’ wanna cum!” 

suguru grabs you by the neck, pressing bruising kisses to your lips as his other hand intertwines your fingers. 

“do you really want me to make you cum?” he asks, “tell me, tell me you want me to.” 

“i do,” you shriek, “i do!” 

your orgasm comes quick, slick pushing out of your pussy as you squeal, hips jerking and twisting. suguru grabs onto your waist, squeezing the plump of your hips and thighs and watching you twitch through the aftershocks. 

he leans up, burying his face in your neck. 

“feel good, baby?” 

“more than good,” you sigh, smiling at him. “way more than good.” 

your hands drift down, pressing against his dick. “let me help you…” 

he shakes his head, breathing in the smell of your perfume. “no, baby, tonights all about you. gonna make you feel so good.” 

you pout, “but i wanna feel you in me.” 

suguru looks up at you, grinning almost cruelly as he looks at you. “no, baby, we gotta save that for the honeymoon.” 

confusion settles deep in your bones. “huh?” you mumble, tilting your head. he jerks his thumb to the back, where a camera is propped up. the red recording button blinks, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

his hand pushes against yours, fingers pressed directly to each other when you felt it. at some point, he’d slipped off your engagement ring with one of his own, a simple silver band glistening on your ring finger where your old stone used to be. in all honesty, you preferred his more. 

“you’re evil, suguru,” you grin, and loop your arms around his neck to pull him into a searing kiss, imprinting the memory into your brain. 

“only for you, baby.” 

[ladystarksneedle]

Of ladies and birds

(Helaena’s pov)

A/N: For @starstrucksnowing thank you so much for reaching out to me with this idea💞 I hope you like what I've done with it.

Thank you all for reading! Please do refer to this post as this little drabble is connected to it.

Word count: 712

It is a cloudy day when they're informed, at breakfast. Mother sits with her hands still clasped in prayer, telling them how their father wishes to see them. It is more of a summon than a request. It is no secret that he isn't well. She doesn't remember a time when he's ever been healthy, but his ailments have worsened considerably over the past few years. He's lost an eye now with half of his face covered in salves and bandages. She'd been to see him once before, when the loss was fresh. Her mother had applauded her for her kindness and the care she'd shown him, however it was mere curiosity and partial spite that had led her to his chambers. Covered in a fog of incense and dust, with his model of Old Valyria looming ominously, she'd glanced upon his face trying to hide her shock. He looked pitiful, a man on the precipice of death. Skin blackened, with protruding bones and labored grunts of pain interrupting the hollow heaves of his chest. She'd held his hand for a moment, only to get closer before leaving just as swiftly.

"Rhaenyra?"

Her sister had found her way to him even near death. Perhaps memories lingered in places even the gods couldn't reach. 

She finds herself at his doorstep again now, her brothers in tow. She's decided to leave the children behind, despite mother's insistence, his face will only serve to scare them. The royal apartments are the same as before, with the curtains pulled shut and a flurry of maesters at work. They bow as they reach him with Ser Criston closing the door behind. He's opted to stay indoors, she notices, looking back. Her mother's hands on the King's face give her reason enough. Fresh blood coats her fingers as she speaks to him in hushed tones informing him of their presence, wiping and adjusting his bandages. He grunts audibly and raises a bony finger beckoning them. Aegon bows his head looking anywhere but him. Aemond is the first to approach. He kneels beside her, enquiring about his health, monotonously reciting pleasantries, exactly as is expected of him. Mother tenses nearby as he speaks, yet smiles at him nevertheless. It is their turn to go next. Aegon shuffles behind her as she goes to sit beside him, gazing at him with pity and distaste. He yearns for him still, yet his presence only serves to deepen the wound he's inflicted upon them all. 

"Helaena", he croaks surprisingly. "How are you my butterfly?"

"I am well, father. As are the children."

"That is good. Very good. Your mother tells me they are growing well, yes."

"They are, father. They've begun to babble now."

"That is good. Good."

She looks at her mother imploringly, wishing to leave.

"And what have they said, hmm. A child's first words are a true delight."

"Lady and bird "

He looks at her now, his eye widening a fraction. 

"Those are, interesting words to use"

"They're very attentive. They've been watching me embroider a ladybird for a while, a present rather. Perhaps that they caught on to it out of curiosity."

"How curious indeed, and who" he stutters, "Who was the recipient of this delightful present "

"Ser Criston of course."

She hears shuffling behind her followed by an urgent cough. Her mother wrings her hands anxiously. Aemond and Aegon look at her wide eyed, suppressing their smirks.

"Indeed" her father croaks pitifully, extending his hand towards her. "You are very kind, my child, a most comely princess, caring for all our subjects."

"Ser Criston is hardly a subject father" she says tilting her head towards him.

"I think it is best we let the King rest my loves, we have kept him long enough." 

"That would be wise your grace," Maester Orwyle chimes in hurriedly, behind her.

As they rise together to leave, she glances back at him being tucked in apprehensively by their mother. Ser Criston gives her a subtle nod as she crosses the threshold.

"Perhaps you'd like to take that walk in the gardens today princess, I've heard it's a good day to spot a ladybird."

She beams up at him and nods. The incense lingers on.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond

[bisexual-kelsier]

Love Is Stored in the Oatmeal Raisin Cookie

On Lizzie & Ripred

The newest take I’m seeing right now, both in the TUC tags and on my “controversial TUC takes” post, is that Lizzie’s relationship with Ripred is unfounded and that the inclusion of it “robbed” us of a softer moment between Gregor and Ripred. I disagree with this take so much that I decided to write an entire essay about my thoughts on the subject. The most common argument I see against Lizzie is that she received Ripred’s affection, as well as his tragic backstory, after being present for a very short period of time, while Gregor has known Ripred for months. At a surface level, this may seem counterintuitive, but when we dig deeper into the characters and their behaviors, motivations, and allegiances, the thematic significance of Lizzie’s role in the story becomes apparent.

First and foremost, let’s take a look at Gregor. I love this kid so much, but I do believe that the core of this argument hinges on his more subtle flaws as a character. Consider this: the entirety of The Underland Chronicles is narrated from Gregor’s point-of-view. What does this mean for our perception of the story? We receive only the context that Gregor has, and we only receive the details that Gregor notices and finds important. Across the series, his understanding of the Underland and its denizens expands, grows, and solidifies. He is twelve by Code of Claw and very much still learning and growing, but some of beliefs have settled by this point.

This is where Ripred comes in. Gregor has more or less made up his mind about Ripred by the end of Curse of the Warmbloods. He wants to lead the Gnawers and will achieve that goal by any means necessary. He’s an ally, but probably not a friend, grumpy and abrasive and untouchable. Definitely not worthy of sympathy, because he can take care of himself. In short, Gregor doesn’t see Ripred as a multidimensional person, as someone with emotions outside of anger and self-importance.

In direct opposition, we have Lizzie. Upon first glance, she might seem inconsequential until Code of Claw, because her character arc is quiet and mostly happens off-screen. She’s anxious about almost everything, and the Underland puts her through a lot of trauma in the earlier books without having ever set foot down there. It took her dad from her when she was only four years old, and when he returned years later, he was ill and severely traumatized. His absence and then his inability to work meant that she grew up in poverty, spending a large portion of her childhood food insecure and without a stable home life. Similarly, the Underland suddenly took Gregor, who by that point had undertaken a parental role in the household, and Boots away on more than one occasion. These traumas were then compounded on in Curse of the Warmbloods, first when her family’s apartment was swarmed by rats and then when Grace, the stable parent and breadwinner, contracted the plague and was unable to return home.

Lizzie’s role in both Marks of Secret and Code of Claw directly opposes the effect that Gregor—and by direct extension, we as readers—expects this trauma to have on her. Lizzie is afraid of almost everything, and the Underland has harmed her directly in the past. She should approach it with fear, maybe even hostility, like Gregor does in portions of the book. Lizzie is not Gregor, though, and her key trait as a character is that she is able to see the world as a whole through different eyes. So she chooses kindness, instead.

This is where the excerpt above comes in. Lizzie has never met Ripred personally at this point, and she really only knows anything about him from Gregor’s stories—which almost certainly don’t paint Ripred in the kindest light. Lizzie sees beyond the surface of these stories, though, and considers Ripred as an entire person, with depth and emotions. What she sees between the lines is up for individual interpretation. Maybe she latches onto Ripred’s insistence that Gregor learn echolocation, a skill that might save her brother’s life. She does pester Gregor about practicing. Maybe she sees pieces of Gregor reflected in those stories about Ripred. A rager who doesn’t quite fit in where he’s from or where he’s fighting for, who can be stubborn and short-tempered and quick to hide his vulnerabilities from the people he considers himself responsible for. Maybe she sees pieces of herself reflected in those stories. Maybe, as someone who has lost pieces of her family, who has only one friend, who has likely eaten less than her share so that others could be full, she finds it easy to spot the humanity, for lack of a better word, in Ripred, like light through the crack under a locked door.

Whatever her reasons—and maybe there are no reasons beyond “he’s a person, too”—Lizzie goes out of her way to treat Ripred with kindness before she ever meets him. She sends some of her own food with Gregor so that Ripred doesn’t have to go completely hungry. She makes sure Gregor knows to share that plate of oatmeal raisin cookies with Ripred. Where Gregor rarely shows any gratefulness for his help and, in fact, rarely views him through a lens unclouded by a deeply ingrained bias against Gnawers, Lizzie is kind. Ripred notices.

This is not a matter of Ripred suddenly opening up to Lizzie for little reason after bonding with Gregor across the entire series. Ripred treats Lizzie differently because she acted differently. Their relationship is not built only on Lizzie’s similarities to Silksharp, but on a history of compassion and respect. It isn’t shoehorned in, it’s a necessary relationship that supports the central themes of The Underland Chronicles—violence, war, and colonialism are cyclical, but the refusal to continue living life based on the biases of the past can break that cycle and bring about a brighter future for everyone.

[hardynwa]

Zamfara insurgency, others will end in months – CP

The Zamfara State Commissioner of Police, Kolo Yusuf, has vowed to end insurgency in the state in three months. Yusuf disclosed this during a meeting with members of the state’s organised labour unions, religious leaders, civil society organisations and journalists on Thursday. He made the promise while calling for the suspension of the proposed nationwide protest by the Nigerian Labour Congress and the Trade Union Congress slated for February 27 and 28. The CP attributed the call for protest to the removal of fuel subsidy by President Bola Tinubu’s administration, adding that by the next three months, all insurgency-related problems will be resolved. The police boss noted that both the federal and state governments have set machinery in place to end the menace. Yusuf said, “This problem did not start today. And the present government is all out to address the issue. The major problem associated with this is the withdrawal of fuel subsidies, and it was not done by this government. “So, we need to be patient with this government because it is not this government that withdrew fuel subsidies. What this government needs now is prayer. People are calling for industrial action here and there. Even the trade union wanted to embark on industrial action, but they listened to me after I appealed to them, and suspended their threats. “By the time all of you here don’t work, you will bring the state down to its knees. The bandits are there and refuse to allow anyone to farm. I don’t sleep anymore. I keep calling DPOs and area commanders just to resolve the problem. “By the grace of GOD, in the next three months, all the problems will be resolved. All machinery has been put in place by both federal and state governments to end the insurgency. So let us support the government to end insurgency and forget about going on strike.” The organised labour had planned a two-day nationwide protest over the high cost of living, inflation, insecurity and hardship in the country. However, in another twist, the TUC backed out of the planned protest, saying that the decision to protest on the said dates was not taken collectively by both unions. In his response to the police boss, the TUC chairman, Zamfara State, Saidu Mudi, said the group couldn’t back down on the protest as it hadn’t been ordered by its national leadership. He said, “You were there, you witnessed the session. He has spoken as the CP on how he wanted the labour unions to back down on the strike actions. But for us, there is no way that we can shelve our planned strike because we have not received any directive from the national leadership. We are going ahead with it except an agreement is reached.” Read the full article

[aldoodles]

Felt like drawing Gregor’s parents :o)

[zukkaoru]

suzanne collins shouldn’t allow a movie about her new book actually. maybe then people would finally get the point.

[haveihitanerve]

Her son is dead.

Gregor, is dead. The boy, her boy. The child she raised for eleven years is no longer. In his place stands a man. A warrior. Battered by war and still grieving. Alive maybe, but Gregor is not. When she looks into his eyes all she sees is sadness. And weariness. And so much tiredness. He can never sleep and yet the bags under his eyes indicate it is all he craves. He only ever smiles for boots. Little, soft smiles, when she does something cute. Smiles that aren't entirely fake, but aren't real either. Gregor is dead. But Grace is anything but weak. And if she has to grieve him quietly, behind the door of her bedroom, she will. And she will do anything to bring her son back. She has been through the unthinkable and survived. She can bring back her son, no matter the pain. Can’t she?