#raise a queue to freedom

[kabr0ztrousers]

OUGH that bugfic was plenty dark, thank you for your excellent work 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

also had another idea! fem!reader somehow finds herself as the stress-relief chew toy for an all male clan of Gnolls 👀 they were cast out by the matriarchs of their previous clans years ago, so they haven’t fucked in ages and are super pent up. she has a bad time at first, coming to terms with the fact that she belongs to them and she’ll never know the taste of freedom again, but eventually they break her, and she wouldn’t leave her new masters for anything in the world. if you have any ideas or alterations in mind, go wild!! i’d love to see what you come up with!

Kabr0z Writes episode 67: Chew Toy

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Noncon; kidnap; group sex; impregnation; knotting; corruption;

A/N: There's currently 42 requests in the queue, mixed in with the odd miscellaneous ask I'm not sure what to do with 😁

As always, please direct any requests to my ask box and they'll get written when they hit the top of the list

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Cultists raided the caravan. You were about 3 days out of Baldur's Gate headed south along the Sword Coast to Candlekeep when they attacked. Most of the group were captured, awaiting god knows what fate if you don't find a town with an Adventurer's Guild desk and get help. With any luck, the dirt road you're walking will lead to civilization and not some lost city or long-forgotten tomb

Hell, if you did find one of those, there's an even to good chance you'll find a party of adventurers there anyway. It's not like adventuring parties are hard to find, there's normally at least four per tavern.

The road came to an end at a cave. Because of course it did. You sighed and steeled yourself, this is precisely the kind of place you'll go to find a fighter, cleric, mage and/or rogue looking to seek fortune and fame. All you had to do was take those first steps into the scary cave.

The cave smelled of blood, and rotting meat. Not necessarily a bad sign. Nor were the wooden stakes driven into the ground in places, or the gnawed bones lying around. If anything that raised your hopes, an empty cave is just a cave, this is positively bait for a team of idealists hoping to make their name.

You went on, keeping to the shadows as you snuck in. This place defi isn't a goblin cave, there's no cookfires. Not an owlbear, there's too much worked material. A cackling, barking laugh answered your question.

Gnolls. Hyena-people, as big as an orc.

Sure enough, around the corner you saw a couple of gnolls wrestling. As big as the stories said, dressed in rags and furs, flint axes lying forgotten on the floor as they tried to grapple one another into submission.

Ok, some gnolls, but no heroes to beg for help. Not ideal, but at least you hadn't been seen. You stepped backwards, turning for the cave mouth. And stepped straight into a gnoll behind you.

The canine brute grabbed you and barreled forwards, yipping in excitement "Girl-thing! Yes! Yes!"

The others looked over to him, the two who were sparring broke from each other, the larger pawing over to you "Not us. Not replace. Need mother-leader"

The one holding you tore off your skirt "Not mother-leader. Woman. Fertile. Make new."

The big gnoll inspected you, sniffing your hair before grabbing a fistful and pulling it back to push his face into yours. He smelled of rotting meat and matted fur, an undercurrent of thick musk wafting from him "Have to do. Hold girl-thing. I go first."

The big gnoll grabbed your tit, squeezing hard and making you gasp. You tried to struggle and squirm against the grip of the one behind you as a clawed hand rubbed your folds. Wetness spread over your lower lips even as you tried to stop it. You were at odds with your body, praying to the gods these gnolls wouldn't get to have their way with you as your cunt invited him in.

"Girl-thing is ready." The big one put his slimy hand to his nose, sniffing it "Smells good. Bear lots of pups"

A blunt object pressed up against your cunt. You closed your eyes, pretending you were anywhere but here as it slipped in, the gnoll growling with satisfaction as he sank into your loins.

He sped up, grabbing you off the scrawny one, holding you up by your hips, arms under your knees, keeping you open.

He pressed you against a wall, pounding into your soaking cunt, the sound of your pussy being violated almost drowning out your sobs as you felt the leaking cock pushing up inside you.

You cried out as he hilted himself in you, the knot at the base of his cock expanding to trap you together as he stuck his tongue down your throat. His cum started to fill you up, the heat spreading through you as you stayed locked together.

He was still humping, even as he panted and spurted, the thick knot sending waves of pressure through you, bouncing between your cervix and your entrance. You could feel it pressing up against the inner parts of your clit, forcing against your g-spot. Your legs started to shake, your abs clench, and your hands grip the rough fur of the gnoll railing you as you came to your first wailing orgasm.

He howled as your pussy clenched and squeezed, milking him inside you. You didn't want to enjoy it, being fucked by this stinking brute, but you couldn't help but let a moan escape your lips as you humped into him, grinding your hips against his.

The knot popped out of you, the alpha gnoll dropping you as the next stepped up, the scrawny one this time.

He turned you onto your front, lifting your hips as your face ground into the dirt. No need for foreplay this time; your slobbering, open cunt welcomed his cock as he started thrusting. He was a little smaller than the first, but not by much. If he were a human, he'd still be considered amazingly well-endowed.

Your hand moved on its own, rubbing your clit as he fucked you, your hips rolling and waving against him as your mouth opened to allow whines and gasps of animal lust escape you. Again, a knot swelled up inside you as the second load of hyena-man cum pulsed into you. Your toes curled as you rubbed yourself harder, cresting the peak of another orgasm.

You ached. Your pussy was raw and punished, stretched and twitching as the second knot pulled from you and the third one took its place. You didn't even have enough energy now to moan. You just lay there, hindquarters presented an dripping cum as beast after beast took their turn on you. By the time the last male had pulled out, the alpha was ready for a second helping.

Round and around they went, filling you with a mix of potent cum, taking out their frustrations on you. By the time they were done you couldn't move, sprawled drooling and leaking on the cave floor, short breaths and sporadic twitching the only clues to your continued life.

Gnoll cubs come fast, within weeks of daily treatment you were already visibly pregnant. The pack was gentler with you now, you smelled like them and they could see you were carrying their young.

By the time you were halfway along, the former alpha was curled at your seat. Your hand idly scratching behind his ear as you watched your pack spar and bring home the hunt. They still hadn't figured out how to maintain a cookfire, and teaching them which wood was good for burning was tricky, but they just need a strong woman's hand to guide them.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know there's a reason you came here... It doesn't matter now.

You've got a pack to lead.

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Sorry this one was late! Shit happened last night and left me in no mood to write, so we're getting another Sunday double-bill.

Also meant I could put my whole pussy into this one, so to speak, so not all bad.

I was gonna have this one ending worse for Fem!Reader, but it felt better to invert the power dynamic at the end (plus I love gnolls as a player race in D&D and their equivalent in PF2e so I wanted to make them a little nicer)

[dean-a-mean-tae]

We Can't Make It On Our Own | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

After a rough day, a moment with the youngest of Stray Kids helps Nicholas come to an understanding. | Little bit of Jeongin x Nicholas

(@cafekitsune made the dividers) | Nicholas Ross Master List

What's the saying? Walking on eggshells? Or thin ice? You're nervous, you're scared, and you have to be cautious of your actions. One wrong move, and you plummet into ice-cold water.

Growing up on thin ice makes children cautious and forces them to mask themselves, to mold themselves to what their parents want. Other adults believe they've raised well-behaved kids. When the children are out in the world, they don't know what to do with so much freedom.

There's no one looming over them, no threat of being hit or yelled at for spoilt milk. They can't find their place, emotionally or mentally.

Yesterday, Nicholas had another episode that left him in much worse shape than usual.

The day started fine. He got out of bed with only a slight twinge in his knees. He went through his routine, ate a bacon sandwich, and went to practice.

It was right after they finished that the first pain hit in the back of his right knee. He grabbed the shoulder of the nearest member, who happened to be Seungmin, and sighed.

"You okay?" The younger grabbed his arm, guiding Nicholas to a nearby couch so he could sit next to Minho.

"I'll be okay."

And he would be, just not for a while. The pain had gotten worse. It hurt his right leg and back. Nicholas looked at Minho out of the corner of his eye and watched as Minho nodded before leaving to get Chan.

After a moment, Nicholas was in his room, surrounded by his members. Jeongin and Seungmin lay on either side of Nick while Hyunjin lay behind him against the headboard. Chan was looking for his heating plushie in his closet.

Minho cooked something light for Nick's stomach while Felix made him tea. Changbin and Jisung were in the laundry room drying Nick's blankets.

The next day, the others wouldn't let Nicholas up. He was on bed rest until they decided he was fit to move. They were kind enough to bring him his laptop and Nintendo Switch.

This morning, they let Minho and Jeongin stay with him. They ate breakfast with him before Minho went to wash the dishes and clean the little mess from their last living room sleepover.

Jeongin was told to stay with Nicholas.

"Make sure Nick doesn't try to get up," Minho said, staring pointedly at the maknae before walking out of the room.

"I hate when you guys talk like I'm not here."

Jeongin lay on Nick's shoulder, the older's arm wrapped around him, watching a movie. He looked up at Nick with a sigh.

"I don't think they mean to do it. I know I don't," Jeongin assured, leaning on his side propped over Nick.

"What if I went back to my grandparents?" Nick whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Like, if I left Stray Kids and went to America?"

"We'd try to talk you out of it," Jeongin said, voice just as quiet as the other. He leaned over, his hand propping him over Nicholas so he wouldn't crush him.

"Chan hyung chose you for a reason. You're talented, and we love you." Jeongin tilted his head in thought, his vision blurry as he started to ramble.

"We all bring something to the table. Chan looks out for us, Minho makes sure we're fed and takes care of us, Changbin keeps us energized, Hyunjin helps us use our voices, Jisung helps us have fun, Felix shows us it's okay to be happy, and Seungmin balances him out by telling us it's okay to be sad. While I keep everyone on their toes."

"What do I bring?" Nick asked.

Jeongin stared down at him, eyes bouncing around Nick's face in thought. For a moment, there was silence. The movie had paused when the 'Still watching?' queue popped up. Minho had shifted further in the dorm, so they only heard their breathing.

"Peace." The younger whispered.

For some reason, Nick understood. Maybe it was the emotion in Jeongin's eyes, or perhaps it was the memories of different members coming to him for comfort. Maybe it was the fact that they took care of him with a smile, even when his conditions set them back. But he understood, and that's what mattered.

Nicholas brought the group peace and a space for them to feel safe.

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: …

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence.  Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic.  Feel free to scroll if this offends you.  If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology.  And remember the tenets of religious freedom.  Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

 Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early.  Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work.  Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street.  As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning.  Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning.  Not a great sign.  You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code.  The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot.  Somebody definitely called in, you think.  Great.  Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you.  She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer.  15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes.  Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says.  “Definite yes on the bonus texts.  Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.”  You roll your eyes and sigh.  To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors.  It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me?  Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her.  You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions.  Keri nods.  “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.”  You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section.  You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section.  “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here.  It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room.  You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster.  You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times.  Most were understanding.  There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug.  A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work.  The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes.  Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch.  Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss?  Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you.  He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket.  He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors.  Must be a new donor, you think.  Damn, he looks good.  You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi!  Are you a new donor?”  You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves.  You step back from the door and walk toward him.  He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins.  Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over.  Twice-over.  Your pulse quickens.  His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides.  You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel.  He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles.  He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath.  His hands are big and scarred.  Definitely works with his hands, you think.  He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before.  You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel.  His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place.  Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger.  His skin is warm under your clammy finger.  He chuckles.  “Heard that one before,” he says.  You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard.  His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists.  You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs.  “Are you hydrated?  Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.”  You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption.  His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.”  He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front.  You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you.  Fuck, you think, looking back at the door.  Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this.  He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.  You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless.  There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one.  As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones.  Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast.  You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center.  It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull.  Oh well.  After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations.  You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze.  You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row.  He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own.  Get a fucking grip.  You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area.  You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri.  Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her.  Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do.  You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly.  You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream.  Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh!  Keep your voice down!”  You hiss, making both of you giggle.  “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks.  “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up.  Can you believe he’s that old?  He does NOT look like it.”  Odd, you think.  He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier.  Wait, did he say I was cute?  Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth.  “Wow, he looks good.  How old is he?”  Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975.  Damn.  20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard.  You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier.  He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?”  You ask, approaching the front desk slowly.  The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines.  Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk.  You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him.  First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright?  My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!”  he fumes.  The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric.  Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this.  Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that.  Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on.  “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?”  You ask.  She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets.  Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough.  I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric.  Blake is a great employee.  We can fix this.  Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer.  But Cedric isn’t having it.  He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives.  The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield.  Oh, hell no.  He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops.  Get this guy out of here.  Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him.  Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!”  Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath.  Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen.  Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands.  Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks.  She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees.  She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps.  Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps.  Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off.  I told Blake to call the cops.”  She nods.

“Go ahead.  When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices.  You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina.  “Take your afternoon break, love.  I’ll handle everything else,” she says.  “Thanks, Ker.  I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.”  She nods.  You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center.  Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you.  You walk over to the fans and stand underneath.  The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite.  It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask.  It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this.  Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric.  You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked.  Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples.  Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck.  He says your name, surprising you.  Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier.  Twice-over.  His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap.  His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement.  You can only imagine what he looks like from behind.  His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes.  He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits.  He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted.  Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face.  Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward.  Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon.  He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile.  “I’m okay.  Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion.  He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him.  He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway.  I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says.  He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier.  You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to.  I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point.  You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek.  Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’.  You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face.  He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek.  His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever.  He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare.  You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you.  “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind.  You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation.  His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile.  His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden.  He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side.  He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs.  “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.”  He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it.  A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.”  He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.  This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means.  Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’.  Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck.  Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses.  You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions.  He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave.  You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

[hassibah]

https://commons.com.ua/en/ukrayinskij-list-solidarnosti/

Ukrainian Letter of Solidarity with Palestinian people

"Our solidarity comes from a place of anger at the injustice, and a place of deep pain of knowing the devastating impacts of occupation, shelling of civil infrastructure, and humanitarian blockade from experiences in our homeland. Parts of Ukraine have been occupied since 2014, and the international community failed to stop Russian aggression then, ignoring the imperial and colonial nature of the armed violence, which consequently escalated on the 24th of February 2022. Civilians in Ukraine are shelled daily, in their homes, in hospitals, on bus stops, in queues for bread. As a result of the Russian occupation, thousands of people in Ukraine live without access to water, electricity or heating, and it is the most vulnerable groups that are mostly affected by the destruction of critical infrastructure. In the months of the siege and heavy bombardment of Mariupol there was no humanitarian corridor. Watching the Israeli targeting the civilian infrastructure in Gaza, the Israeli humanitarian blockade and occupation of land resonates especially painfully with us. From this place of pain of experience and solidarity, we call on our fellow Ukrainians globally and all the people to raise their voices in support of the Palestinian people and condemn the ongoing  Israeli mass ethnic cleansing.

We reject the Ukrainian government statements that express unconditional support for Israel's military actions, and we consider the calls to avoid civilian casualties by Ukraine's MFA belated and insufficient. This position is a retreat from the support of Palestinian rights and condemnation of the Israeli occupation, which Ukraine has followed for decades, including voting in the UN.  Aware of the pragmatic geopolitical reasoning behind Ukraine’s decision to echo Western allies, on whom we are dependent for our survival, we see the current support of Israel and dismissing Palestinian right to self-determination as contradictory to Ukraine’s own commitment to human rights and fight for our land and freedom. We as Ukrainians should stand in solidarity not with the oppressors, but with those who experience and resist the oppression.

We strongly object to equating of Western military aid to Ukraine and Israel by some politicians. Ukraine doesn't occupy the territories of other people, instead, it fights against the Russian occupation, and therefore international assistance serves a just cause and the protection of international law. Israel has occupied and annexed Palestinian and Syrian territories, and Western aid to it confirms an unjust order and demonstrates double standards in relation to international law.

We oppose the new wave of Islamophobia, such as the brutal murder of a Palestinian American 6-year old and assault on his family in Illinois, USA, and the equating of any criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism. At the same time, we also oppose holding all Jewish people all over the world accountable for the politics of the state of Israel and we condemn anti-Semitic violence, such as the mob attack on the airplane in Daghestan, Russia. We also reject the revival of the “war on terror” rhetoric used by the US and EU to justify war crimes and violations of international law that have undermined the international security system, caused countless deaths, and has been borrowed by other states, including Russia for the war in Chechnya and China for the Uyghur genocide. Now Israel is using it to carry out ethnic cleansing."

[strawberryys-stuff]

YOUR WARRIOR | part 1

Neteyam x Li'ona!fem!reader

i have been trying to break my writing block for six months and managed to get this piece out of it

contains: brief mentions of scars/wounds, brutal murder of a fish, forced marriage, kind of enemies to lovers

and definitely has grammar errors, sorry for that

It was difficult. He was a na'vi hybrid, an exquisite combination of human and alien species, while you were the daughter of a pure-blood king. The possibility of a lasting relationship was low, nearly non-existent among your tribe, but that thrill ignited a dangerous spark neither of you could quench.

Neteyam was mesmerized by your beauty, by the elegance of your movements, by your firm posture, but mostly by your tangerine-colored eyes. Instead of the common golden gaze, yours had a tint of orange around the pupil. They held so much mystery and passion that Neteyam wanted to grasp and solve like it was some kind of a riddle. They held a bunch of secrets he was willing to discover. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan fell in love with the Li'ona princess who, unfortunately for him, was betrothed.

You were promised to a determined na'vi, a muscular warrior, whose reputation was apparently unhealthily pure. But tasun was raised alongside your older brother and shared some of his personality traits. He was stubborn, too cocky for his own good and disloyal when it came to relationships. There were seas of rumors about his awful behavior towards his past partners, especially towards your cousin. You strongly disliked that boy but you had to obey your mother.

Maybe that was why you felt connected to the omatikaya hybrid. Neither of you had the freedom you deserved. Both of you were forced to grow up at a very young age, to look after your younger siblings. everybody had high expectations you had to fulfill.

But in reality, you were just hopeless teenagers who wanted, no, needed to experience true love.

You narrowed your tangerine gaze at the swiftly moving target, tightened the grip you had on your whetted spear and pinched your bottom lip with the sharp tips of your fangs, precisely counting every loop the unaware school of fish had been making. After a minute of watching, you aligned your armed hand with the target and inhaled the scent of seaweed as your weapon striked the head of a fish with a splash.

Quickly leaping over the seawall terrace to get ahold of the spear, you battled the smug grin that threatened to spread across your pursed mouth and studied your catch with a burning glimmer in your eyes. When your fingertips were about to touch the handle of the weapon, several weirdly-shaped creatures casted heavy shadows on the unmoving surface of the clear sea and attracted the eyes of other fishermen as well, awaking curiosity and confusion in the Li'ona na'vi.

You collected your spear, along with the multiple breathless fish, and took your feet out of the seawall terrace you decided to clear out today, a woven net overflowing with your catches caressing your exposed lower back. You strapped the netting to your slim figure and created clicking noises with your tongue to call your ilu. The animal greeted you with an enthusiastic squeal and revealed its back to the rider. After you connected your queue to the sea creature, the group of skilled fishermen set off towards the sandy shore where the intruders had landed.

You emerged out of the resting sea with your peers and pushed some wet raven locks out of your eyes that glittered in the afternoon sun rays. You abandoned your ilu along with the woven net near a centralized ilu pen after you offered your recent catch to the bewildered animal and disconnected your queue from it.

"What happened?" your younger sister questioned the sudden cluster of your people after she surfaced beside you, tugging drenched strands of hair behind her pointed ear. You shrugged your shoulders with a shake of your head and approached the herd of Li'ona villagers with the naturally curious girl.

You swiftly dodged any arriving people, keeping your tail close to your calfs in case somebody didn't notice your presence and accidentally stepped on it as they did many times before. Untroubled, your sister walked through the cluster easily, each Li'ona moving out of her way towards the intruders.

You slided aside to avoid approaching muscular bodies and the Olo'eyktan, who was returning with his newly organized hunting party precisely on time. You appeared behind Tasun, your betrothed, and the eldest son of the chief, your brother, with folded arms across your rising chest as Maratu walked out of the herd, spear in hand.

"What is that?" Tasun gestured to the tail of the closest Omatikaya boy, making the victim of his following remarks to glance over his tense shoulder. Your betrothed stifled a chuckle as he pointed to the thin tail that was flicking from side to side. "Is that supposed to be a tail?"

You slapped the nape of his neck in disapproval and released a warning hiss below his ear, forcing it to turn downward as you pushed the two arrogant boys apart. Your brother swatted your hand away from his chest and poked your side in return, chuckling when you took a step forward with a growl.

Neteyam lowered his piercing amber eyes on your small turquoise form and caught your tangerine-colored gaze in the process. The target of the nasty remarks flickered by his side while his withdrawn ears twitched as you displayed your full beauty underneath the bright burning star. A shimmering spark of forbidden interest twinkled in both gazes and sealed the command of the Great Mother herself.

"We seek Uturu," Jake announced and received judgemental glares and exaggerated gasps from each direction. Maratu tilted his head slightly as his wife, Kirnat, emerged out of the humongous crowd with a scowl decorating her facial features. You were pulled backwards by Tasun when the pregnant woman began to circle the foreigners and were detached from the eldest son.

"We are half-reef people," Maratu mentioned the differences as he gestured to the desperate family, weak chuckle stroking his lips. "You are forest people. Your skills will be nothing but a waste, JakeSully."

Kirnat tugged at their thin tails and pointed out that they will not be capable of swimming in the water. She approached the oldest daughter of JakeSully and Neytiri with a huff and seized her wrists to inspect her unusual hands. "These children-" she lifted them up for everyone to see and displayed her five fingers with a silent growl, "-aren't even true Na'vi."

"Yes, we are!" Kiri snatched her hands out of the Tsahìk's grasp and pulled them to her heaving chest, tangling her fingers in the shawl she had on her shoulders. Tuk wrapped her arms around her leg to hide away from the intense stares and snuggled up against her thigh, making you sigh in defeat.

Neteyam tuned out the persuasion when you sneaked past your assigned lover and appeared on his left with flattened ears, his twitching at the sight. He allowed himself to marvel at your softening face that showcased concern and some kind of pity. He absorbed your wrinkled forehead and the unique shape your pigment patterns were creating in the middle of it along with your delicate facial structure.

"Gross," your brother pretended to gag beside his friend and quickly shielded his head when you faced him with a glare and clenched teeth. The boy received a slap on his shoulder from your cousin, Maru, who silenced his laughter with a stern tone.

You bowed to show your gratitude before your youngest brother could tackle your legs. Neteyam narrowed his eyes at the interaction as his father pleaded the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk for a chance, stating that his family can adapt like he did many years ago. You picked up the whining little boy with an eye roll and let him fidget with your handmade necklace.

The eldest son of Toruk Makto noticed the tender caresses you left on your sibling's upper back to soothe his pounding heart and throbbing headache, swallowing the hums that were threatening to escape out of his mouth. He was flabbergasted by the relationship you had with the little boy and wondered if he was your younger brother. The urge to ask for your name was clawing at his dry throat and forced him to clear it as he dedicated his attention to his father and Maratu, missing the opportunity to catch you staring at his differently built body.

"Your arms are thin, your tails are weak," Kirnat wrapped her fingers around the youngest son's forearm to reveal his five-fingered hand and pulled it upwards, a hiss drumming against the walls of her throat. "They have demon blood!" The herd of her people took a couple steps back, mouths agape with disbelief.

Neteyam flinched when the pregnant woman poked his stiff shoulder and pushed some of his tightly braided hair forward to reveal a healed wound to the little boy that had been taking in his appearance in your arms. He pointed to the scar, which made Neteyam shiver. You followed his curious gaze and noticed the wound as well, scolding the boy for pointing at the Omatikaya. Neteyam covered the healed injury with his four-fingered hand and scooted closer to his younger brother, who had been devouring the beauty of the youngest daughter of the chief.

Maratu shared a look with his mate and tilted his head slightly to convince the woman without using his words. Kirnat stole a glance at the fleeing family and closed her eyes, battling her inner voices. Once they fluttered open, she nodded and gave her husband her consent. "Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us," he began to announce and buried the smooth end of his spear into the sandy shore. "They do not know the sea, they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless."

JakeSully encouraged the rest of the family to bow and mutter a quick thank you to the Li'ona leaders. Maratu accepted their politeness easily while his wife stifled a snicker and dissolved the cluster with a wave of her hand, motioning you to follow and return to the village with her. "My oldest son Ralu and youngest daughter Aneya, will teach yours the way of water," he clarified despite the protests of his son and silenced him with a glare. "Enough, ma 'itan. It is decided." [son]

By the imperfect posture of your mother you could tell she was against the idea of allowing armed strangers inside your village. you couldn't blame her. After the RDA attacked your former home, you refused to accept anyone who had the guts to travel beyond their territory, but here you were, trusting a title - Toruk Makto. the legend was well-respected in your tribe and beautifully captured in your songcords and celebrations, but would a true Toruk Makto seek Uturu among strangers? Run away from the threat?

Based on the stories your Ancestors provided you with, no. Toruk Makto would never flee, but a father would. JakeSully was also a father who cared deeply about his children and that was something a true warrior, a true legend would do - he would protect his most valuable treasure.

The thought of leaving your home, the people you love, behind just because humans are sickeningly greedy and unappreciative made you physically ill. And in some way, you had to go through that as well. So, after your father returned into your family marui pod and got scolded by his wife, he approached you with pleading eyes.

Your legs were dangling over the edge of the pod, ankles submerged. Various shoals of fish swam around your feet, trying to avoid colliding with them as your father took a seat beside you in silence. Your bioluminescent dots began to glow along with the underwater world you learned to appreciate and take care of.

Maratu exhaled heavily and placed his hand on your hunched back. You immediately straightened your posture but kept your exhausted gaze on the never-ending sea. "I know you aren't happy with my decision," he stated, figuring how you felt from your behavior during dinner. "And trust me when I say, I am not exactly happy either."

Your ears twitched at his confession which made him chuckle. "I know it will be hard to accept their presence and most people will take decades to do so." You turned to face your father, confusion flashing across your tangerine gaze. He grabbed your hand and placed it against his beating heart - an intimate gesture among your people, your father mostly used to show his seriousness and affection.

"What I am about to ask you may be selfish after what we had to go through, but you are the only one capable of doing what is right." His words scratched the back of your mind which awoke unpleasant memories. "I spoke to JakeSully.." you nodded and encouraged him to continue, "his oldest son Neteyam, I believe it was, was trained to be an Olo'eyktan-"

"What are you trying to say, dad?" you interrupted his speech as your fear of interacting with the Omatikaya boy kept growing. Maratu squeezed your hand and pursed his lips, giving away his request. "No," you snickered sarcastically and pulled your hand away from his tattooed chest, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, dad, that is- I am not-"

"I want you to become his personal trainer-" Before you could protest, he put his index finger on your lips. "He has great potential for a warrior and you will help him get there."

"But dad-"

"There isn't room for buts," he interjected harshly as he collected himself and stood up, silencing your upcoming grunts. "I do not want to hear it, daughter. You will help that boy out either way."

"Yes, sir.." you muttered angrily while your father walked back inside where a wave of joyful cheers and laughter of your younger siblings engulfed his tall figure.

You clenched your fists hard it made your knuckles white. You should have known. Your father never came to have a chit-chat with you, he always assigned you new chores, or ordered you to babysit your siblings.

What was so special about that Omatikaya anyway?

Was it his muscular body that seemed to be perfectly built for the sea and rainforest environment? Was it his pretty privilege? Was it his daddy's title? What the hell made him so suitable for the position you have been trying to get ahold of for years?

You had no clue and that made you furious. A frustrated growl crawled out of your throat before you plunged into the calm sea to clear your head. After you managed to swim far away from your marui pod and realized you were running out of air, you resurfaced at the edge of your resting village, fighting the urge to cough.

"Are you alright?"

Your bloodshot eyes scanned the shore for the source of that sickeningly soothing voice, finding nothing but pure darkness. A trail of tiny glowing dots started to move inside the rainforest your village was surrounded by from the other side. A lean, pretty tall figure emerged out of the woods, clutching a bow with a half-full quiver of arrows hanging on their shoulder. As they stepped out of the shadows into the bioluminescence, you noticed the bold dark-blue skin that was decorated with sharp and straight patterns.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to focus on their face, praying silently for any Sully besides Neteyam. But as they entered into the moonlight, you swallowed your prayers. Their tightly-braided hair was tied up in a high ponytail, revealing their defined face features. You traced their glowing dots, from left to right, and captured their golden gaze.

"Oh," you breathed out and cleared your throat as the Omatikaya boy approached you. "It is you.."

"You don't sound very pleased," Neteyam pointed out your disappointment and slung his bow over his free shoulder before he placed his hands on his hips. "You must be the other daughter then-"

You scoffed. "The other daughter?" Neteyam watched you walk out of the sleeping sea, seeing how offended you were by his words, and raised his brows in surprise. "You-"

You stomped towards the na'vi hybrid and poked his stiff shoulder, almost pushing his quiver off. "Do not," you warned and exposed your fangs in the process.

"My apologies." Neteyam withdrew his hands and took a step back to show some respect which you snickered at, not fully believing. "I did not mean to be disrespectful," he admitted and bowed to seal the truth.

The silence that fell upon you two was overflowing with tension and one-sided admiration. You were studying his unreadable facial expression while he was devouring your beauty.

His golden eyes traced every single droplet of sea water you had on your turquoise skin. Neteyam also tried to memorize the pattern of your bioluminescent freckles before you managed to turn away.

"Go back," you muttered over your shoulder as you started to walk back into the endless bowl of water, desperately searching for an escape from his curious gaze.

"Wait-" already ankles deep, you turned around with arched brows. Neteyam offered you a sweet smile, "Can you tell me your name?"

"You will know it soon enough, forest boy."

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Around Christmastime PARTIES: Zane @rn-zane & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: A store SUMMARY: Zane and Wynne have to deal with an entitled customer while in line together! A conversation follows. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

After all this talk about Christmas decorations and consumerism and what not, Zane couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty as he hugged the shopping basket to his chest. It was just a few strings of lights, nothing boisterous, but the darkness of the house from the outside felt more and more looming with every passing day. The least he could do was put up some lights, pretend it was inviting when he got home from work. Actually making it look lived in would perhaps prevent an accidental squatter from settling in, too. Especially now with Chris dropping in when needed. 

The store was fairly busy, an after-work rush forming a decent queue to the cash register. Zane zoned out, eyes rolling slightly when he finally noticed that there was indeed Christmas music playing. Apparently it really was never too early. Blocking out the rather bad pop-rendition of Santa Baby, his eyes roamed aimlessly until they caught on a gut wrenchingly familiar sight. Wynne’s back was facing him but it was them, no doubt about it. A few people separated them in the line but the second they’d finished paying, Wynne would turn and spot him. 

They’d made it very clear that Zane’s… well, existence, brought them discomfort. He couldn’t blame them in the slightest. Shifting on his feet, worry rising at the thought of ruining Wynne’s whole day, about them probably trying to be polite while absolutely hating the sight of him, Zane made the sudden decision to simply leave. Gently nudging the person in front of him with an apologetic smile, he gestured past her. “Sorry, I just need to-”

“Boy, if you think I’m letting you cut this line, you are dead wrong.” Her voice rang out loudly, eyes sharp and freezing Zane to the spot, excuses about just needing to get past to leave falling on deaf ears as she continued on a tirade of ‘kids these days and their manners.’

—

With their new job paying a little better, Wynne was starting to grow more comfortable with spending some money on themself. One of their newest objectives when it came to spending money was adding more items to their wardrobe, which had been limited and very much filled with old Protherian clothing ever since they’d ran away. And though those fabrics were sturdy and comfortable, they looked out of place or rather — not like themself. Someone who had grown untethered from the commune that had clad them, fed them and told them how to both live and die.

They had tried on different clothes, looking at their figure in the mirror as if it was an improved version of themself, while also feeling like they were a stranger. It wasn’t really like they were venturing out wildly — they still clung to muted, earthy tones. But there was a pair of jeans in their arms that felt very much like a statement piece to them.

It was a glorious, kind moment where their freedom was celebrated in a tiny yet meaningful way. They almost forgot about the pessimism that had overtaken their mind, but it soon enough returned when another customer raised her voice. Wynne looked over their shoulder to look at the commotion, eyes already wide but growing wider at the sight of Zane. The sound of the woman’s voice seemed muffled even if it grew louder with every self righteous work she spoke and Wynne swallowed.

They seemed to land after a moment, grasping the situation better as in the background of their mind they remembered the vampire woman who had forced Zane’s head down into their neck. How she was dead like Padrig and the demon. They didn’t feel afraid, they found, just a general type of bad. Like their guts were churning in their stomach in response. “It’s okay, he’s with me, he’s not cutting in line,” she said to the woman, fingers digging in the fabric. “But we’ll um, leave. Okay?” Wynne moved from their spot in the line, leaving one less person for the angry woman to wait on and heading towards the back of it. The last thing they wanted was to be a witness or participant in some kind of scene. At the back of the line they loitered, looking at Zane and wanting to say something — just not being sure what. 

—--

This was hell. Hell was real and Zane was stuck smack dab in the middle of it, being shouted at by an older lady with Wynne’s attention turning towards him, eyes widening in horror. He could have moved first, turned his head away, anything. Instead, Wynne’s gaze and the angry confrontation kept him glued to the spot, mouth dry and stomach twisted with anxiety. In some karmic twist, Wynne was the one who stepped up to the rescue, diffusing the situation. 

The woman still looked offended but clearly found it harder to be angry with Wynne than the tall and, in her opinion, rude young man. Zane, to his credit, did manage to mutter an apology despite being practically smacked speechless at this point. His feet shuffled until he too had left the queue, hands clutching desperately at the basket in his hands. As if the solution to this situation rested somewhere underneath the lights and garland stuffed in there. 

Wynne was watching him, making a prompt exit stage left seem a bit hasty, so Zane slowly shifted his way over. A good six feet of distance separated them, both seeming just as lost for words. “Those look nice,” was the first thing to leave his mouth that wouldn’t have been a new rendition of profuse apologies, head nodding towards the jeans in their arms. 

—

So much had happened since that time in the barn. That wasn’t to say the memories had grown any less sharp and jagged — Wynne still awoke panting to the memory of that dank and dark place, feeling that cold sharp pain in their neck again. They still looked at Arden and wondered if she thought about it too, if she replayed those bits even if she didn’t want to. But so much had happened since all the same. 

Some of the most relevant occurrences perhaps having happened within them. Though part of them was more lost than ever now that the demon was dead and that chapter was closed, they also felt more in charge than they ever had before. Zane was no longer as scary a thing as he had once been, in those initial days, weeks and even months since the kidnapping. And though they felt uncomfortable, there was no resentment or fear to be found. Just that same sadness that everything came back to these days. 

They looked down at their jeans, then back up at Zane. “Oh. Thank you.” Wynne grimaced a little. They almost opened their mouth to explain that they were very excited to buy new clothes, but Zane barely really knew them. “That woman was not very nice. Your … lights are nice though.” They dug their teeth in their lip. “Um. How have you … been?” They did kind of wonder. After all, they understood now that Zane had lost quite a bit at that barn, too.

—

It wasn’t a smile but it was… something. Their eyes no longer held the same glaring amount of conflict as they’d done in the hospital, the last time Zane had seen them. Wynne looked better, too. Stronger, almost. But still in some ways shrunken by the weight of the vampire’s presence. He glanced back towards the woman who had loudly made her opinions known, giving a small shrug. “People get tense around the holidays,” he excused, even though he had no idea if that was just the lady’s general attitude. Benefit of the doubt. 

His lips quirked slightly, relieved in some ways that Wynne seemingly wanted to keep this conversation going. It almost slipped out, that he was going to decorate the house but bringing their attention to the place Wynne had been held and hurt seemed… bad. “Trying my hand at some decorating,” Zane said lamely instead, shifting his weight, wishing things were different. 

“Oh, uhm…” His eyebrows had shot up in surprise, the question probably the last thing he’d expected Wynne to ask. “You know… dealing. Done a bit of training with Emilio which was… surprisingly nice. Lots of work, keeping busy.” Zane focused on relaxing his hands, currently twisting the handle of his basket within an inch of its life, the plastic threatening to snap. “You and uh, Ariadne, huh? That’s great.”

—

That seemed to be true enough, that these so-called holidays made people more tense. Wynne tried not to think about last year around this time, when they’d been on the run and so many places had been packed and decorated. “I guess so.” People at home would get stressed around big rituals and the like as well, lash out more easily and make larger demands. They wanted to stop comparing things to the past and live in the present.

But it was unshakeable. Zane stood across from them in the store, but they were also across from them in the barn. They blinked. “I like the decorations,” they stated bluntly and simply, “The town looks nice. Twinkling like that.” They tried not to think about where Zane might put up the decorations, preferred to think it was just at the hospital. 

When the vampire mentioned Emilio they were a little surprised. It wasn’t like they felt betrayed by this fact — just surprised. They trusted the slayer’s judgment, just as they trusted in Ariadne’s. That was two points in Zane’s favor. “That’s very nice of him. He taught me some moves too. It’s good I think, for us.” They probably could use some fighting skills. “Still at the hospital?” Wynne beamed a little, nodding. “Yes. I’m — maybe it’s …” They cut themself off. “It’s really nice. About five months now.”

—---

Zane couldn’t pretend not to notice the signs of discomfort, the way Wynne’s eyes would unfocus for a second or shift uncomfortably away from him, the tension in their shoulders. Not that he was doing any better but comparing their situations felt unfair - Wynne didn’t have anything to make up to him. “I agree. It’s always been my favorite thing about the season, everyone trying to keep away the darkness.” He huffed out a quiet chuckle at himself. “Which sounds way too dramatic when talking about fairy lights.”

Talking about the people they both knew instantly felt safer. Zane didn’t want Wynne feeling obliged to ask how he was doing, to pretend to care about his emotional state just for the sake of politeness. Both of them cared about Emilio, for some reason, and Ariadne for obvious reasons so the common ground felt steadying. The line moved forward and the two shuffled along with it. “Yeah, it was strangely nice. He’s a good teacher.” It was comforting that Wynne was learning how to defend themselves, too. While Zane definitely needed to, it was clear which of the two was more vulnerable. “Still there, yup. No shortage of people that need the ER, sadly.”

Watching Wynne’s face be taken over by an emotion that wasn’t stress nor discomfort made Zane unable to contain his own smile. “I’m really happy for you two. It’s good that you have each other.”

—

The world had been painted in black and white at home. No shades of gray — just absolutes. Things were either good or bad. There was either sowing or reaping, day or night, life or death. All these opposites were required for a balanced world, and in that kind of world view there was no space for someone like Zane. Someone who had hurt them badly and was still good. But Wynne had gained insight over the past months and knew now that these things could coexist. “No, it makes sense. At home we’d burn a lot of candles when it got dark. And there were the stars, of course. You can’t see them as well here.” They flushed a little, at this lifting of the veil. 

It was still hard to trust their own judgment at time, as it felt like their mind was leaking with the thoughts of people back home. But Emilio and Ariadne trusted Zane, and he was being nice to them now. They inhaled and exhaled deeply and found that their unease wasn’t as large as it had been at the beginning of this conversation. “He really is.” They smiled sadly. “I would hope one day less people need it.”

They nodded. “I think so too.” Wynne was quiet for a moment, fumbling with the tag on the jeans. They didn’t want to befriend Zane, but they also didn’t want to think of him as the monster from their memory any more. He’d killed the woman who’d forced his teeth down. Wynne had condemned their mentor to death. There was a red thread there, something tying them together. They didn’t want to explain it to him yet (if ever), but it made them feel something close to forgiveness. “It’s okay. If you want to be friends with Ariadne. I’ve thought about that. It’s okay. You seem like …” They shrugged. “You could be a good friend to her.” They were both undead, after all. And in that area, Wynne could never offer Ariadne their full understanding.

—

It took him a moment to realize the flush spreading over Wynne’s face and another moment to realize why, his usual intuitiveness in reading people murky by the stress of this encounter. They had revealed something they hadn’t meant to, reminding Zane of their strange bonding experience way back in that hospital room. Another piece in the puzzle of Wynne's life, but clearly one they hadn’t meant to let slip so Zane brushed it off for them. “Nothing really beats a sky full of stars. I am a sucker for a scented candle, though.” 

Again, silence settled between the two of them but it didn’t feel quite as heavy as before, a small step in the right direction perhaps? Zane was used to the silence of people thinking, pondering on a response or what to say next. Now that Wynne no longer looked like they wanted to bolt from the store, he could let the silence sit. Eyes widened slightly when they finally spoke again, a proverbial olive branch being handed over that Zane still didn’t feel quite deserving of. “That’s-” He cut himself off, an array of things to say at the ready that all eventually boiled down to sounding like he didn’t trust Wynne’s judgment on this. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll be here if she has any time. I’ve heard being in a nice relationship can be really time consuming.” A joke, sort of, delivered with a soft smile. Almost hopeful. Zane didn’t expect Wynne to ever fully get over what had happened - it had left more scars than just the one they were clearly quite expert at covering up. But maybe things could, at some point, be fine. 

— 

Zane didn’t ask about where they’d come from, where they had burned the candles and seen the stars. There were a lot of places with candles and stars, of course, but it still felt like something personal. Maybe one day they’d tell him about how they’d recognized something of themself in him, but this place was not the right one. “I personally prefer a nice scented oil. But I don’t say no to a candle either.” This small bit of common ground was nice enough for now.

Had this really been the person who’d ripped open their throat? Who’d made them bleed despite his refusal to? It was hard to think of this Zane as the same person as he stood here, with strings of lights and talking of things so mundane. Wynne knew people contained multitudes. People could be vicious and violent and yet be kind, like Emilio. People could care about you and still intend to hurt you, like their parents. People could be the sweetest, softest person you knew and still have to make others afraid, like Ariadne. It didn’t make sense, but it did. It just was this way.

They let out a nervous laugh, bursting past their lips awkwardly. “We have our own lives! But yes … I do take up some of her time. But it’s okay. Really.” Wynne was sure of it. They felt a twinge of selfishness for their previous request, but then their neck was still marred. Some things took time. “I hope your house looks nice after decorating. I’m … I’m going to check out now. See you around, Zane.” There was no need to duck into an opposite direction if they were to see him again, after all. He hadn’t meant any harm in the barn and he certainly meant no, now. They lifted a hand in a half wave and walked back to the check-out, feeling their throat throb but feeling something besides their elation, too. Hope.

[bonesandthebees]

on another philosophical note sparkle emote (im too lazy to switch to mobile for the emojis kfjdsksd)

this is why i like . idk i love being online. i went on a whole rant today with my friend about like the freedom that having an online persona can give you. it's so much easier to experiment with gender identity with pronouns, etc etc

and even like... pfps. pfps mean so much to me. i have discord nitro and like . i literally thought it was useless until i did it to match pfps with my friend and then i never went back whoops, but i just... love being able to have multiple pfps. i love being able to express myself in so many different ways. i feel like having one pfp is so... constricting. i don't change my personality (or at least not consciously) when i talk to people online. in fact i feel more like myself online than in person lol but, it's nice to be able to express different parts of myself all at once.

and the amount of people who ive met online who are more comfortable with their online name than their irl name, idk i just find it neat :) i love seeing people having a safe space to truly be themselves eueueueu

agreed I love being anonymous online it's very fun to be able to give yourself kind of an alternate 'persona' where you can try stuff out like that!! names are especially fun. for pretty much all my teen years I could never come up with an internet pseudonym I liked more than my real name so I just. used my real name. because I was a little dumb BUT I didn't give away any other personal info about myself (like I never put my last name anywhere or anything) so I was fine

but yeah once i got into uni I started trying out internet nicknames and I have a lot of fun with them! I still really like my og nickname that I went by for a long time (I went by Cactus hence why my main blog is called bonesandcacti), but then when I got into mcyt I wanted to switch it up again. I liked the idea of going by bones, but I also wanted to try out bee because I have a bee tattoo and I love bees so I thought the name was cute. so that's how I got where I am now.

now it's reached a point where I go by bee in irl situations if I'm meeting people who (might) know me through my fics 😭 like anytime I'm in a lovejoy queue I introduce myself as bee, and when I was at twitchcon I only said my name was bee. I'm lucky that bee could also pass as a real name so it never raises eyebrows lol. I do actually really love my real name though. if I ever do get published you guys will find out what it is so you'll finally be able to call me it which would be fun

internet names are very fun and people should have fun with them :) I've never found a huge attachment to any of my pfps, except maybe my twitter pfp atm since it was art of me done by my dear friend @/aweirdlisa for my birthday last year. I love that art sm. but other than that I don't find I have a huge attachment to my pfps but I get what you mean. if I had full discord nitro I'd probably switch it up depending on the server just for funsies

[sehnista]

Hi, I am Ahmed from Palestine, from the northern part of Gaza City. I am 33 years old, married, and a father of two children. I live in the Jabalia refugee camp with my family, which consists of 19 members, in a four-story house.

Since the beginning of the war on Gaza on October 7th, life in northern Gaza has been extremely difficult, lacking basic necessities due to the siege imposed by the Israeli army on the northern part of the Gaza Strip. The occupation has blocked food, medicine, water, electricity, and even communication networks. Thousands of airstrikes have been carried out, and hundreds of massacres have been committed, mostly affecting innocent civilians, the majority of whom are children and women. The infrastructure, thousands of homes, and civilian facilities have been destroyed.

On May 12th, 2024, the Israeli army besieged the Jabalia camp for the second time and ordered us to evacuate, informing us that it was a military operation zone and a dangerous combat area. We were forced to leave our homes in the camp and flee under heavy bombardment and intense gunfire, navigating through the rubble and bodies lying in the streets and on the roads. We became homeless, with no food or water. During this difficult siege, I lost two of my brothers, Abdullah, 30 years old, and Atallah, 26 years old, due to random shelling and airstrikes on the camp.

Why am I collecting donations?

After more than 15 months of war, on January 19th, 2025, the ceasefire came into effect, and we returned to the camp to check on our home. However, we were shocked by the extent of the destruction and devastation in the camp. The homes had turned into piles of rubble, and we could no longer recognize the places or roads due to the scale of the damage. Our house was completely destroyed, leaving us homeless. Now, my family and I live in a small tent that is insufficient for the number of family members. It offers no privacy, no bathroom, no kitchen, and it does not protect us from the summer heat or the winter cold. We are living in an overcrowded environment with displaced people, chaos, piles of garbage, and the spread of diseases, especially among the displaced children.

This war has forced us to live in extremely harsh conditions and an environment that is unfit for human life. We continue to suffer every day from the ongoing war, repeated displacement, lack of resources and essentials, fear, pain, and oppression. Not to mention the hardship of fetching water, standing in long queues for basic needs, and struggling to find food—another challenge added to our suffering in this devastating war that is destroying people, buildings, trees, and animals. All of this has exhausted our bodies and deeply affected our mental well-being.

Therefore, I am reaching out to you through this humanitarian platform to help me support my family, rebuild our destroyed home, and contribute to providing the basic necessities of life so that I can live with my family with dignity and freedom.

• How will these donations be used?

1) An apartment will be rented to temporarily house my family until the reconstruction of the destroyed house is completed, as an alternative to a tent, at a cost of $600 per month for at least two years. (An estimated total cost of $14,000 over the two years.)

2) Purchase the basic tools and equipment necessary to furnish the rented apartment at an estimated cost of $5,000.

3) Purchase clothing and basic necessities for all family members at an estimated cost of $6,000.

4) Remove the rubble of the destroyed house and rebuild it at an estimated cost of $140,000.

5) Purchase the tools and equipment necessary to furnish all apartments in the new house at an estimated cost of $35,000.

• How does your donation and support make a difference?

Your support and donation is a noble humanitarian cause that supports and strengthens our resilience during the war. This contribution, even if it is small, will make a huge difference in my life and the life of my family.

Please help us to live in safety and peace, to start over to achieve our ambitions and dreams, and to create a safe environment for our children that will provide them with a bright future.

€220 raised of €200K

[crossrh0des]

#𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐑𝐇0𝐃𝐄𝐒 :   an indie,   kayfabe portrayal of CODY RHODES.   ripped from canon,   rewritten as an original character.

portrayed by kam,   they/them,   25

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧:   living up to a name that's heavier than gold.   pride stitched into every thread of the dream.   stubbornness passed down like an heirloom.   raised on promises and polaroids of greatness.   fighting for a kingdom he had to build with his own two hands.   ego carved from legacy,   heart beating out of pure grit.   destiny complex.   when rudy francisco said   “perhaps we are all just trying to be the person we needed when we were younger,”   he felt that in his bones.

this portrayal of cody rhodes is independent and unofficial. i am not associated with cody himself, his family, aew, wwe, or any company. everything here is my own take, based heavily on personal headcanons and creative freedom.

i am a real person with a real life outside of this blog. responses and activity will happen when i have the time and energy. please be patient and respectful of that. all replies and posts will be put in the queue as my activity here will be LOW.

i dont tend to give out my discord. tumblr ims are the best place to reach me.

this blog is selective and 18+ only. minors do not interact. if i find out you are underage, you will be hardblocked without notice.

if you excuse or support racism, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, ableism, toxic behavior, or harassment of any kind, do not interact with me. you are not welcome here.

my writing style is simple and focused. whether you like your posts clean or highly formatted doesn’t matter to me, as long as it's readable. all edits and graphics posted here are made by me unless otherwise credited.

[devnair32]

Dare to Take the Plunge? A Complete Guide to Bungee Jumping in Rishikesh 

Looking for an adrenaline rush like no other? If your heart craves thrill and your spirit seeks something bold, bungee jumping in Rishikesh is the ultimate adventure waiting for you. Nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, Rishikesh isn’t just the yoga capital of the world—it’s also home to one of the most exhilarating free-fall experiences you can find in India. 

This guide dives into everything you need to know before taking that unforgettable leap. 

Why Rishikesh for Bungee Jumping? 

There’s a reason bungee jumping Rishikesh tops every thrill-seeker’s bucket list. It combines raw natural beauty with the highest safety standards, offering jumpers a breathtaking mix of scenic views and unmatched adventure. 

Rishikesh offers not just a jump—but an experience. Surrounded by dense forests and river valleys, it’s a setting that amplifies the emotion of the fall, making it one of the most iconic spots for bungee jumping in the country. 

Rishikesh Bungee Jumping Height – How High Is the Jump? 

If you're wondering about the intensity, the Rishikesh bungee jumping height is not for the faint-hearted. At 83 meters (272 feet), it’s currently the highest bungee jumping height in India. 

That’s equivalent to leaping off a 22-storey building. The moment of free-fall is pure adrenaline—followed by a smooth rebound, all while you’re harnessed safely by international-grade equipment. 

Is It Safe? 

Absolutely. The operators here follow international safety protocols, and the entire system is handled by professionally trained jump masters. Helmets, body harnesses, ankle cords—all equipment undergoes rigorous checks. Even first-time jumpers can feel confident taking the plunge. 

The site is purpose-built and regularly inspected to ensure maximum safety, with multiple redundant safety checks before every jump. 

What does Bungee Jumping in Rishikesh Cost? 

Planning your budget? The cost of bungee jumping in Rishikesh typically ranges from INR 3700 to INR 4000 per person for the jump alone. Combo packages that include other adventure activities like the Giant Swing or Flying Fox may cost a bit more. 

Video recordings of your jump are also available at an additional price—and honestly, it’s worth every rupee for the bragging rights and replay value. 

How to Book – No Last-Minute Surprises 

To make the most of your experience, it’s highly recommended to handle your rishikesh bungee jumping booking in advance. The slots fill up quickly, especially during weekends and holidays. 

Online booking is quick, easy, and ensures that you get to your preferred time without standing in long queues. Most platforms allow you to select your activity, preferred date, and time—all in a few clicks. 

Who Can Jump? 

Most people can enjoy Rishikesh bungee jumping, but there are a few requirements: 

Minimum age: 12 years 

Minimum weight: 40 kg 

Maximum weight: 110 kg 

People with heart conditions, high blood pressure, recent surgeries, or pregnancy are advised not to jump 

You’ll need to sign a declaration of fitness before the jump, so be honest about any health concerns. 

What to Expect 

Once you reach the jump site, you’ll be briefed thoroughly. From there, it’s a short walk to the platform where the view alone is enough to raise your heartbeat. As the jump master counts you down, it’s just you, the wind, and gravity. 

The feeling? Pure freedom. You’ll never forget that split second when your fears disappear, and your instincts take over. It’s a mix of thrill, fear, joy, and peace—all rolled into one moment of flight. 

Bungee jumping in Rishikesh is more than just an adventure—it’s a personal milestone. Whether you’re conquering a fear, checking off a bucket list item, or just craving the rush, it’s an experience that’ll leave you buzzing for days. 

And if you're ready to take the leap with the best in the business, Jumpin Heights offers a world-class platform with unmatched safety and scenery—making it the go-to spot for thrill-seekers from around the world. 

[saifawaisi3211]

Streamline Company Incorporation in India for Startups with Bizsimpl: A Modern Guide for Founders

The startup ecosystem in India is booming — and while founders are brimming with groundbreaking ideas, one foundational step remains the same for all: company incorporation. No matter your industry or scale, getting your startup officially registered is the gateway to operational freedom, growth, and investment.

If you’re wondering how to go about company incorporation in India for startups, you’re not alone. Thousands of entrepreneurs face the same questions: Which structure to choose? How complex is the process? Can I do this online?

Enter Bizsimpl — a modern solution for a new generation of entrepreneurs. Bizsimpl doesn’t just register your business — it empowers your startup journey by offering streamlined, efficient company registration services tailored for India’s dynamic startup scene.

In this blog, we’ll explore:

The evolution of company incorporation in India

How startups benefit from early registration

The Bizsimpl difference

Real-world use cases and examples

And why now is the best time to make it official

The Evolution of Company Incorporation in India for Startups

A decade ago, incorporating a business in India meant endless paperwork, long queues at government offices, and navigating confusing regulations. Thankfully, the Government of India has digitized much of the process — and with expert help, company incorporation in India for startups can now be completed in just a few days.

Still, navigating forms like SPICe+, eMoA, eAoA, and obtaining DIN, DSC, PAN, and TAN can be overwhelming for first-time founders. That’s where a dedicated partner like Bizsimpl steps in to simplify every step.

Why Startups Should Incorporate Early

Delaying incorporation is a mistake many new founders make. Here’s why it’s important to register your startup as early as possible:

1. Protect Your Brand

Once your company is registered, no one else can legally operate under your business name. It gives your startup a legal identity and protects your intellectual property.

2. Open Business Bank Accounts

Only a registered entity can open current accounts, apply for loans, or use payment gateways. Incorporation unlocks financial services essential to running your business.

3. Sign Legally Binding Contracts

Want to partner with other companies or onboard clients? A registered company gives you the ability to enter contracts under your business name.

4. Build Customer and Investor Trust

A registered business appears more credible and professional. It signals long-term intent, attracting better clients, partners, and investors.

Bizsimpl ensures that your company incorporation in India for startups happens quickly, correctly, and with zero complications.

Bizsimpl’s Approach: What Sets It Apart

Unlike generic service providers, Bizsimpl is built around the specific needs of startup founders. Here’s how Bizsimpl transforms the incorporation experience:

✅ 1. Personalized Guidance, Not Just Forms

Founders are never left alone to figure out complex jargon. Bizsimpl assigns an incorporation expert who guides you through every step — from choosing the right structure to final submission.

✅ 2. Zero Paperwork Stress

You send the required documents once — we handle the rest. No chasing government offices, no paperwork confusion.

✅ 3. 100% Digital, 100% Compliant

The entire process — including DSC application, DIN allotment, and MoA/AoA signing — is managed online. Whether you’re in Bangalore or Bhopal, Bizsimpl’s services are available pan-India.

✅ 4. Founders First

Bizsimpl doesn’t just serve startups. It understands them. The process is designed with fast-paced, resource-strapped founders in mind.

Choosing the Right Structure: A Quick Guide

The structure you choose affects compliance, funding, taxation, and even your company’s future. Here’s a simplified breakdown:

🔹 Private Limited Company (Pvt Ltd)

Best for: Startups planning to raise external investment Perks: High credibility, separate legal entity, easy transfer of shares

🔹 Limited Liability Partnership (LLP)

Best for: Service-based firms or professional partnerships Perks: Flexibility, low compliance, limited liability

🔹 One Person Company (OPC)

Best for: Solo entrepreneurs who want limited liability Perks: Combines benefits of sole proprietorship with company status

Bizsimpl offers expert consultations to help you choose the structure that aligns with your business goals.

Real-World Use Cases: Startups That Benefit from Early Incorporation

📦 Example 1: E-commerce Startup in Delhi

A solo founder wanted to sell niche fashion products online. With Bizsimpl’s help, she registered her OPC within 8 days and was able to secure a payment gateway and open a business account immediately.

🚀 Example 2: Tech SaaS Team in Bangalore

Two co-founders were ready to raise angel funding. They opted for Pvt Ltd registration through Bizsimpl. Investors were impressed by their clean, compliant incorporation, which accelerated funding.

🧑‍⚕️ Example 3: Health Consultancy in Pune

An LLP was perfect for a group of healthcare consultants. Bizsimpl guided the team through all partner documentations and ensured a smooth launch.

Timing Is Everything: Why You Should Incorporate Now

In 2025, India remains one of the fastest-growing startup economies globally. With government schemes like Startup India and growing investor interest, there’s never been a better time to go official.

Delaying your company incorporation in India for startups could mean:

Losing out on funding opportunities

Missing early market traction

Legal vulnerabilities

Difficulty onboarding clients or partners

Don’t wait until you “feel ready.” With Bizsimpl, the process is faster, easier, and more affordable than you think.

Simple Steps to Incorporate Your Startup with Bizsimpl

Here’s how easy it is to get started:

Visit bizsimpl.com

Book a free consultation

Submit basic documents (PAN, Aadhaar, address proof)

Bizsimpl handles name approval, DSC, DIN, MoA/AoA

Get your Certificate of Incorporation in just days

That’s it — your startup is now a legally registered business!

Final Thoughts: Turn Your Vision into a Legal Reality

Starting up is hard — but incorporating your business shouldn’t be. Bizsimpl empowers you with tools, expertise, and end-to-end support for smooth, stress-free company incorporation in India for startups.

From structure selection to document filing, Bizsimpl is built for one purpose: to make your business official, fast, and future-ready.

[gracwe]

Hi, I am Ahmed from Palestine, from the northern part of Gaza City. I am 33 years old, married, and a father of two children. I live in the Jabalia refugee camp with my family, which consists of 19 members, in a four-story house.

Since the beginning of the war on Gaza on October 7th, life in northern Gaza has been extremely difficult, lacking basic necessities due to the siege imposed by the Israeli army on the northern part of the Gaza Strip. The occupation has blocked food, medicine, water, electricity, and even communication networks. Thousands of airstrikes have been carried out, and hundreds of massacres have been committed, mostly affecting innocent civilians, the majority of whom are children and women. The infrastructure, thousands of homes, and civilian facilities have been destroyed.

On May 12th, 2024, the Israeli army besieged the Jabalia camp for the second time and ordered us to evacuate, informing us that it was a military operation zone and a dangerous combat area. We were forced to leave our homes in the camp and flee under heavy bombardment and intense gunfire, navigating through the rubble and bodies lying in the streets and on the roads. We became homeless, with no food or water. During this difficult siege, I lost two of my brothers, Abdullah, 30 years old, and Atallah, 26 years old, due to random shelling and airstrikes on the camp.

Why am I collecting donations?

After more than 15 months of war, on January 19th, 2025, the ceasefire came into effect, and we returned to the camp to check on our home. However, we were shocked by the extent of the destruction and devastation in the camp. The homes had turned into piles of rubble, and we could no longer recognize the places or roads due to the scale of the damage. Our house was completely destroyed, leaving us homeless. Now, my family and I live in a small tent that is insufficient for the number of family members. It offers no privacy, no bathroom, no kitchen, and it does not protect us from the summer heat or the winter cold. We are living in an overcrowded environment with displaced people, chaos, piles of garbage, and the spread of diseases, especially among the displaced children.

This war has forced us to live in extremely harsh conditions and an environment that is unfit for human life. We continue to suffer every day from the ongoing war, repeated displacement, lack of resources and essentials, fear, pain, and oppression. Not to mention the hardship of fetching water, standing in long queues for basic needs, and struggling to find food—another challenge added to our suffering in this devastating war that is destroying people, buildings, trees, and animals. All of this has exhausted our bodies and deeply affected our mental well-being.

Therefore, I am reaching out to you through this humanitarian platform to help me support my family, rebuild our destroyed home, and contribute to providing the basic necessities of life so that I can live with my family with dignity and freedom.

• How will these donations be used?

1) An apartment will be rented to temporarily house my family until the reconstruction of the destroyed house is completed, as an alternative to a tent, at a cost of $600 per month for at least two years. (An estimated total cost of $14,000 over the two years.)

2) Purchase the basic tools and equipment necessary to furnish the rented apartment at an estimated cost of $5,000.

3) Purchase clothing and basic necessities for all family members at an estimated cost of $6,000.

4) Remove the rubble of the destroyed house and rebuild it at an estimated cost of $140,000.

5) Purchase the tools and equipment necessary to furnish all apartments in the new house at an estimated cost of $35,000.

• How does your donation and support make a difference?

Your support and donation is a noble humanitarian cause that supports and strengthens our resilience during the war. This contribution, even if it is small, will make a huge difference in my life and the life of my family.

Please help us to live in safety and peace, to start over to achieve our ambitions and dreams, and to create a safe environment for our children that will provide them with a bright future.

Hello, Ahmed. Thanks for reaching out. I can’t donate at the moment, but I’ll share your fundraiser here so others can help. ❤️

To all the folks at home reading this, please donate to Ahmed and his family. With Isnotreal resuming its bombings and all crossings in Gaza closed to aid, supporting campaigns like Ahmed’s is essential to help families afford the incredibly high costs of food, clothing, and shelter in wartime conditions.

Any funds that come through now would mean the world to him and his family. Yes, even €5 is helpful! If you cannot donate, please boost this fundraiser to help reach those that can.

Ahmed’s campaign is not yet vetted, but donations are protected.

As of March 27th, he has only raised €10 of his current €200,000 goal.

[justsayyesmiss]

IMMIGRATION

PAGE ONE

PANEL 1

A classic image of Pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock, facing the reader as they step ashore.

CAPTION: We’ve all been taught that the United States of America began as a nation of immigrants.

CAPTION: That idea does not get mentioned in the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 Mandate for Leadership.

PANEL 2

Three soldiers point semi-automatic rifles at a toddler who is sitting on the ground, looking up in fear.

CAPTION: Project 2025 seeks to bar their modern-day counterparts from any kind of entry into the United States.

PANEL 3

A group of Pilgrims encounter a group of Native Americans, who are gesturing to a deer they have hunted.

CAPTION: According to our myths, America’s first immigrants were met by native people who generously helped them adapt to an unknown new land.

PANEL 4

A weather-beaten mother holds her child in an arid landscape, an empty bowl in her hand.

CAPTION: Anyone fleeing another country for greater freedom won’t find that kind of welcome.

CAPTION: “As a general principle, adjudication of applications and petitions SHOULD be paid by applicants, not American taxpayers.”

CAPTION: “Aside from an increase in all fees, the rule SHOULD drastically limit the availability for fee waivers and SHOULD implement a fee for asylum applications.” [2025, p. 146]

PAGE TWO

PANEL 1

A group of migrants, clutching meager belongings and wearing surgical masks, face soldiers at gunpoint.

CAPTION: For people looking to apply for visas, Project 2025’s proposed changes to the process would make things more difficult, almost impossible.

CAPTION: “T-Visa and U-Visa reform. Unless and until T and U visas are repealed, each program needs to be reformed to ensure that only legitimate victims of trafficking and crimes who are actively providing significant material assistance to law enforcement are eligible for spots in the queue.” [2025, p. 150]

PANEL 2

Migrant workers picking leafy vegetables in the fields.

CAPTION: “Eliminate the two (of four) lowest wage levels for foreign workers.” [2025, p167]

CAPTION: “Cap and phase down the H-2A visa program. Congress should immediately cap this program   at its current levels and establish a schedule for its gradual and predictable phasedown over the subsequent 10 to 20 years, producing the necessary incentives for the industry to invest in raising productivity, including through capital investment in agricultural equipment, and increasing employment for Americans in the agricultural sector.” [2025, p. 611]

PANEL 3

A child does schoolwork by candlelight.

CAPTION: If the Heritage Foundation gets its way, admitting students already protected by DACA or refugees from Ukraine would be grounds for terminating access to loans.

CAPTION: “Department of Labor: Deny loan access to those who are not U.S. citizens or lawful permanent residents, and deny loan access to students at schools that provide in-state tuition to illegal aliens.” [2025, p167]

PANEL 4

An archival image of the Birwood/8 Mile segregation wall in Detroit.  On one side of the concrete wall, we see scrub grass and a few trees; on the other side, somewhat ramshackle houses.

CAPTION: The same restrictions would be true for public housing

CAPTION: “Department of Housing and Urban Development: Ensure that only U.S. citizens and lawful permanent residents utilize or occupy federally subsidized housing.” [2025, p167]

PAGE THREE

PANEL 1

19th century immigrants crowded on a boat gaze at the Statue of Liberty in the near distance.

CAPTION: The very idea of the United States grew from people escaping political and religious persecution. In its own words, Project 2025 believes…

CAPTION: “Victimization SHOULD not be a basis for an immigration benefit.” [2025, p. 141]

https://stopproject2025comic.org/comic/immigration/

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness - Redux 17. Queue in Lobby

After a hearty breakfast consisting of mashed pineapples and gravy, a steamy and private (but brisk) shower, Turtle Dove found himself in the dreaded place once more: the locker room. A sweaty nightmare filled with the sickening pheromones and musky overtones of testosterone.

Groups of men were huddled in a circle. Corvette had the floor, along with an announcement:

“So as you all know, my favorite Selkie, Nakadashi, has been pregnant. She’s currently in her third trimester, and any day, I’m expecting her to go into labor. Which means I’ll have to retire her from battle for a while. It sucks, but wouldn’t want her to fight while giving birth, y’know?”

Several of the men nodded.

“So, that means I’ll also have to fuck my other Selkies extra hard while she’s giving birth.”

Again, more nods.

“But, I’ve been thinking: I really like Nakadashi. I wanna keep cumming in her and making more kids with her. Maybe it’s about time I retire from being a commander and raise my kids with Nakadashi.”

Gasps erupted.

“You know the military won’t ever let you or your Selkie leave, right?” One man, named Gauche, reminded Corvette.

“What? That doesn’t sound right,” Corvette shook his head. “I’ve done my service. They’ve got to send me home if I want to.”

“You don’t get it: both you and your Selkies are military property. They get to decide. It’s because of them that you’re even allowed to fuck without impunity.”

“Yeah, that part’s great, but now you’re telling me I’m stuck here?”

“We all are.”

“Fine! Then I’ll just sneak out, along with Nakadashi, then we’ll live our lives happily ever after!”

“Don’t be a fool!” Dickens interjected. “If you try to take off, you’ll be branded a traitor and will be hunted down as if you were just another Corrector. That goes double for your Selkie if she were to escape. She’ll be branded as a rogue Selkie. Look, it’s true we signed our lives away when we took this job, but we play an important role in making this world a better place. Even at the cost of our own freedom.”

“But eventually there won’t be any more Correctors, right? Then we can all go home.”

Turtle Dove just watched in utter confusion at whatever conversation he walked into. Utter bafflement came at watching Corvette, usually this big and stocky guy filled to the brim with pride and power, now turned to a sniveling child who was too used to getting his way.

“Unlikely,” Pilsner stepped forward, his deep and heavy breath exuding authority across the room. “Look at how long I’ve been a commander. If this war hasn’t ended in the many years I’ve been around, what makes you think it will end in your lifetime?”

“But what are we supposed to do about our kids? A child’s gotta have a father, right?” Corvette protested.

“Nothing. You don’t get to see the byproduct of those Selkies. Maybe they get shipped off to orphanages and adoption agencies. It’s not about raising a family. It’s a numbers game. We fight, we impregnate, we die. As long as more lives are created than lives lost, that’s the closest thing to victory we will achieve.”

Corvette’s eyes widened, then he sulked.

“We have a pretty good life here,” Dickens stepped forward, his hands out. “We don’t have a sergeant breathing down our neck. We can make our own schedules. The food we have here is of the highest quality. Our rooms may start out crappy, but the better we do in missions, the better lodging they give us. As if saving the world wasn’t incentive enough, right? And, not to mention, getting to have sex with your Selkies whenever you want.”

Usually that reminder would have brought Corvette back to life. But all he could think about was just how boxed in he was.

I’m trapped. I can’t just stick to my routine in blissful ignorance. The life I have now...that’s all the life I’ll get. Wait. Fight. Fuck. Wait. Fight. Fuck. Repeat until I die. What’s the reward for my survival? Continue the routine all over again. There is no rest. There is no retirement. I’m going to keep at this when I’m Pilsner’s age. Maybe long after that. And that’s if I don’t get killed in battle.

He crouched down and shook, clutching the sides of his veiny head.

Turtle Dove had enough of the sideshow. He shoved past the crowded mass of men and was only blocked off by someone in front of him – the bulky frame of the weathered soul, Pilsner.

Corvette shouted and pointed his finger at the aged man.

“Then why do you put up with it, huh? If you’ve been here that long, if you’ve been this miserable, why have you chosen to put up with it? You could either fight back or off yourself!”

They were questions, but framed as accusations.

“Do you know why I keep going?” Pilsner stroked his mustache with a fiery gaze. “Because I believe some men when they say ‘I fuck anything that moves’. I believe the same applies to these so-called ‘enemies’ of ours, the Correctors. I want to see what happens when two opposing forces who fuck anything that moves meet.”

Pilsner cleared his throat and added:

“Or, some commanders will come up with any motivation as a means to cope with their conditions.”

He glared behind him, right where Turtle Dove stood.

“Isn’t that right?” He asked, in a low whisper.

Turtle Dove nodded.

He didn’t know how much Pilsner knew about him; he didn’t have to. Being stuck in that complex came as no great surprise, and he was past the point in thinking he could honor his sister’s memory by being the military’s property.

How many lives are we saving? Or is saving lives even the point? He asked himself, but found himself chuckling. Again, resignation was so much easier.

“You!” Corvette pointed. “You think my suffering is funny, huh?”

Turtle Dove was so lost in thought that he failed to realize Pilsner had already stepped away and Corvette’s finger was pointed at Turtle Dove, instead.

“Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you,” Turtle Dove tried to save face, even with the eyes of several men on him.

“So you’re gloating. You’re going on an important mission while I’m stuck here to stew in my misery. You, a rookie! Meanwhile I’ve been here well over a year, and where’s my recognition?”

Turtle Dove grit his teeth.

I’d rather the conflict be with the Correctors, not fellow commanders, he thought.

“If you’re looking for a good way to die, there will be other opportunities,” Pilsner said. “Wait your turn.”

“You think I wouldn’t succeed? Is that it?”

His anger’s not letting up. Once a human’s aggression has escalated to this level, even when he’s calmed, his baseline will be higher than his previous baseline, Turtle Dove observed before doing stepping past Pilsner and into the circle where Corvette still held everyone’s attention. He was going to continue to walk through the threshold where he would be warped to the battlefield, but Corvette reached out and held tight to Turtle Dove’s shoulder.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Turtle Dove groaned:

“Do I look like one of your Selkies?”

“Excuse me?”

“You may be finding out just how little agency we have as commanders, but that doesn’t mean you get to touch me as you please,” Turtle Dove groaned once more, wry and tired in his delivery.

“Why, you –”

Corvette reached out his right fist and came close to punching Turtle Dove square in the jaw, had Turtle Dove not pulled himself into Corvette’s embrace. Corvette’s hit missed, and to save face, he opted to simply shove Turtle Dove down, where he fell and hit his cheek against the metal lockers.

Turtle Dove’s cheek felt raw, but when he picked himself up and put his hand against his cheek, he was relieved not to feel a single drop of blood, and instead a tender swelling.

“This is useless,” Turtle Dove brushed off the dust from his clothes.

Does anyone ever clean up this locker room? He wondered, before noticing the imposing figure of Corvette still huffing with his fists clenched.

I’m clearly weaker, and I’m not looking for a fight, anyway. I just want to get this over with, Turtle Dove agonized, before taking a different approach.

“Pilsner. Beni. Dickens. Let’s not waste any more time. We’ve got a mission to do,” he commanded, aware that he was in no position to give any veteran commanders orders.

The three from among the crowd stepped forth. First Dickens, then Pilsner, and Beni in the back. Turtle Dove saw it as a good opportunity to walk outside the threshold.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?!” Corvette bellowed. He charged toward Turtle Dove, but Pilsner caught Corvette by his meaty head and slammed his face into the floor.

“I thought I made myself clear, boy: wait your turn,” the older commander said to Corvette.

With an unconscious Corvette, the four commanders stepped outside where they were subsequently warped far off into the desert plains.

The sun was blinding.

As Turtle Dove materialized, the shades of yellow and brown began to take shape. Sand, firm sand, was the next piece. Along with hills, a warm orange horizon, and stony cliff faces.

The air was hazy, smoky. But still much more inviting than the underground base.

“Ah, nice cool breeze! Blue skies!” Dickens, light on words and on his feet stretched.

“What? It’s –”

The sky shifted to cloudy and light blue.

Pilsner and Beni materialized last. He pulled up a map through one of the programs on his phone. It displayed their current location, as well as their apparent objective.

“The cave this Corrector nest is said to be is about 10 kilometers from here. Now that we’re here, it won’t take long for the Correctors to sense us and start attacking. I suggest we summon our Selkies and split. Beni and I will take to the right. You two will take the left. If any Correctors try to breach through the middle, all four of us will take them down. Understood?”

Neither Turtle Dove nor Dickens had any objections.

“We’ll reconvene at the cave entrance,” Pilsner concluded.

The four commanders summoned their Selkies. Turtle Dove went last, more excited to see what two the others chose.

Beni went first, as he summoned Hot Waxy and Shibari.

Hot Waxy was a tall, thin, tan woman with oily, slick skin and a lit match in each hand. Follicles of her hair, which was pure white, dripped down and singed against the hot sand. She wore a white, metallic, silver apron and silver jogging pants.

Shibari was larger, and in lieu of clothing were layers upon layers of rope which covered up much of her skin. Her hair, matted, was the same shape of tan as the ropes which bound her.

Pilsner summoned next: Edger and Tantrix.

Edger was a ponytailed woman with a spiked helmet and spiky armor. Against her sleeves were two sharp, curved blades. Tantrix, meanwhile, sat down, legs stretched out, eyes closed, with a sequined robe over her cinnamon brown skin. Stretched out, she seemed in constant meditation.

Dickens, the one whose Selkies Turtle Dove had been most excited to see, summoned next: one, a tall, pale woman in a black and white striped robe and pointy hat emerged, carrying a similar, black and white wand with a smooth, circular tip.

The other Selkie summoned had on long white tights with black spots, long, brown leather boots with spurs, a brown leather jacket with a black apron underneath, and a cowboy hat which covered her blonde hair which like Hot Waxy, was also in a ponytail. And, on her waist, was an apron with large pockets.

“Turtle Dove, meet Hitachi and Sybian,” Dickens introduced his two five star Selkies.

[viconic]

❝ i thought you wise , viconia . and , yet , here you stand again ; after i spared your miserable life once before . that eager for your dark mistress ' embrace , are you ? ❞

@sharransepulchre

Queue a raised white brow as she looked this one over. Obviously she knew who she was but viconia was at a disadvantage since she didn't know who this one could be. Perhaps some lost sharran or ex sharran from the sound of it.

"I do not know what you speak of. In truth I don't think I have ever seen you before."

She in truth no longer worshipped any dark mistress. Her skills now honed to more martial pursuits. She still retained a portion of her clerical abilities but they came from the goddess Eilistraee. The dark maiden of the drow, goddess of freedom. Though she didn't worship her.

"Though since you know of me I assume you are Sharran?"

[reverend-dog]

The Last Job

The city lived.

But the price….

Celebration and mourning lived side by side. The Triune saved two million lives when they lifted the photon bomb into space, only to be caught in its blast radius. Everybody understood they made the sacrifice willingly, everybody was grateful to them. It didn’t dull the pain. At least the villains responsible had also been destroyed along with their unholy creation.

Steel Breeze knew better.

City lights struck glints from her metallic form as she leaped from rooftop to rooftop. Any other night, she would cover up, or choose darker avenues. A helicopter’s spotlight picked her out, and she knew some law-abiding citizen had reported her. She let the helicopter long enough to give the police a hint to her course, then leaped upward and grabbed its tail boom.

Her weight threw off the helicopter’s balance, and the pilot fought to regain control. When Steel Breeze felt confident the craft would land safely, she released her grip and resumed her aerial trek. “Follow me, fuckers,” she muttered to herself. “Just not too close.”

Memories crowded in. Freedom. Kaiju. Moonwitch. Steel Breeze had met them her first time out, before she went solo. She’d heard about them before, of course. Who hadn’t? Meeting them face-to-face felt like an achievement unlocked, even if it did mean a stretch in ultramax. Breaking out earned Steel Breeze a spot on the Triune’s watchlist, even if it were near the bottom.

After her enhancement, Steel Breeze tried taking on the Triune by herself. It ended badly, but her own refusal to allow collateral damage or endanger civilians prompted Moonwitch to beg leniency at Steel Breeze’s next sentencing. The sight of her before the judge, long silver hair, pale, flawless skin, large, luminescent eyes, faintly haloed by her own radiance, as she exhorted the judge to remember the system was supposed to rehabilitate, not just incarcerate… no crime Steel Breeze committed after that made her feel as low as the breakout that followed. Though she was dragged along because Morningstar destroyed the entire facility in search of a super army did not lessen the feeling of betrayal.

She went overseas after that, to avoid further encounters with the Triune, but kept current on their activities. She maintained files on all three, but the one on Moonwitch dwarfed those on Freedom or Kaiju in terms of details and especially images. The last time they’d met in person was during the UN hearings on para registration. Steel Breeze had attended incognito, and on a whim joined the queue for a meet-and-greet during a break in the hearings, organized by the anti-registration lobby, to give people a chance to see and humanize these modern deities. All of the Triune showed their best sides, even Kaiju, but in Steel Breeze’s memory it was Moonwitch, with her brilliant smile and easy grace, that did the most to bury the legislation.

And now they were dead.

Steel Breeze found the “abandoned” refinery right where Anonymous said it would be. The hum of the generators carried only a short distance, but against the rural silence came clear to her ears. Scant effort had been taken to conceal the entrance, and Steel Breeze deduced her quarry decided to rely on their secluded location for camouflage. She reached into the facility’s power grid, pulled in as much as she could hold, and made her entrance. She did not hold back.

The noise attracted attention, of course. Aerial reconnaissance confirmed the presence of a known and wanted supercriminal, so CIPHER deployed a containment squad. In the middle of a burning, shattered ruin that used to be a bomb factory, they found the remains of the group that called themselves Sunburst. In the middle of it all, stood Steel Breeze.

She raised her arms. “I surrender,” she told the CIPHER forces who approached with understandable caution. “This is my last job. Take me in, I won’t resist.” To herself she said, I wish we could have been friends, Moonwitch. I’m sorry it took this much for me to understand.