#require recruiting engineers

[mirohlayo]

SUCH A SIMP

( The monegasque driver has no problem showing himself to be particularly affectionate with you )

warning : fluff, charles spamming you with messages (but it's cute)

note : race week again bby

word count : 2.2k

Oh. It's funny how the monegasque who seems so confident turns into a real man unable to breathe properly when he's away from you.

A young woman who has only just taken her first steps in the incredible world of F1. You were able to apply for the red team, the italian Ferrari team. A great and majestic racing team whose name demands respect and recognition, especially for Italians. And you had just joined these motorsport gods in F1.

Finally, you are not in charge of the most difficult and relentless job either. You were recruited as a new social media manager, certainly with a lot of tasks to carry out, but undoubtedly a little less important than those of the racing engineers and strategists. However, the media is a source of content that fans of the sport love and your ultimate goal is to create the best videos and content possible for Ferrari.

So little by little, you appeared in the Ferrari motorhome. Your colleagues were starting to remember your face and your name, and after a good three weeks on the job, a lot of things had radically changed.

Firstly, you had integrated well into the Italian team. Good relationships and understandings with your colleagues. And secondly, and not least, a new form... of friendship - if we could describe it that way - was formed between you and the famous Monegasque Ferrari driver. Charles Leclerc.

The young man found himself curious about you, interested in this young new woman of his age who, despite the difficulty of the work, completed the tasks required in no time, a fairly perfectionist quality. It must be said that we can clearly see that she really likes this job. And this had intrigued Charles, who often found himself looking for the young brunette.

With the support of his teammate Carlos, who pushed him to take the plunge to try to approach you, Charles ended up introducing himself to you - as if you didn't already know him in this environment. He approached with a shy, almost nervous smile, while he could not hide his completely admiring, almost affectionate look. He struggled to form his sentences, far too dazzled by your sublime beauty and presence.

You seemed quite shy and reserved at first, and that was the case in everyday life. But that's what made you so charming, and Charles felt his heart beat harder and harder every time he managed to make you smile or laugh, a blush that appeared on your face and that he loved more and more.

You blink suddenly, as you start walking with your shoulders straight again in the paddock. You were so lost in your thoughts, remembering how this friendship between you and the driver had blossomed, that you hadn't noticed that the Ferrari motorhome was right in front of you.

The automatic doors open as you enter the small cube, shyly greeting the employees and your colleagues. “Hey, Y/n.” Carlos smiles at you kindly, happy to see you there. You hadn't set foot in the paddock for 2 weeks already, the team had offered you the opportunity to work remotely. You jumped at the opportunity, the chance to spend some time with your family during the week.

“How were your two weeks away from us? I bet you missed us” He winks at you, knowing deep down that a part of you was eager to get back to work there. "It was great. I got to enjoy a little bit with my family." You smile sincerely, remembering the activities you shared with your parents. “But it’s true that I missed working within the stable itself. And then, I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Carlos' smirk is evident, his arms crossed over his chest as he smiles more and more. You raise your eyebrows slightly, intrigued by his reaction. "Is something wrong? Did I say something funny?" Finally, he chuckles weakly as he shakes his head. “I’m just thinking about how a certain man here was also very, very excited to see you again” He purses his lips, narrowing his eyes, leaning down to your ear so he can speak in a low voice.

“And although I really like you Y/n, that man isn’t me. Besides, I’m sure he’s currently complaining about how much he misses you.” He stands up straight and gives you another wink, followed by another smirk. You feel your cheeks heat up, blush violently. You try to look away, embarrassed.

You know very well who Carlos wants to talk about. You wanted to deny it, to tell yourself that it wasn't true and that it was only your conscience playing with you, but after Carlos' words, all these questions seem true. "Come on, go. You must have a lot of work, just like me. See you later, Y/n!" Carlos pats your shoulder as he walks further behind you.

You don't know how long you stood there in the middle of the motorhome floor, but long enough for you to think about what just happened. Carlos is always honest, and when he saw you in the presence of Charles, he did not hesitate to make some embarrassing remarks to you, like that the monegasque looked at you with hearts in his eyes or that he particularly liked to seek physical contact with you.

These remarks made you blush and Charles always seemed to become embarrassed, more shy than before as he begged Carlos to leave you alone. Because the Monegasque driver knows that his teammate is aware that he has a weakness for you. More than a weakling, he's literally a simp for you. But he really doesn't want you to know.

Or rather, he would like to but he's afraid of rushing you or of you not feeling the same way. After all, three weeks might be too early for you, but for Charles it was enough to make him completely lovesick for you.

You finally come to your senses, and after checking that your face is no longer completely red, you sit comfortably on the chair in your office. You finally got to work, responding to the last email you missed. A notification vibrated your phone, and glancing at the screen, you saw Charles' name.

You really wanted to continue working seriously, you had promised yourself to get back to work but the notification and the message from Charles were running through your head. So, despite yourself, you grab your phone and open your messages to click on the driver's message. Your gaze softens as you read it, your heart racing.

Charles Lec

I heard you finally arrived to the circuit. can't wait to see you again, miss you y/n :(

see you at the 11 o'clock meeting

The message makes you blush again, more lightly this time. But just with a simple message, Charles knows how to make your heart beat and put you in all your moods. He is charming, funny, and caring. Of course you had to fall in love with him. And Carlos' words said earlier secretly gave you hope. Hope for something deeper.

You were about to respond, but your eyes drifted to the messages he had sent you earlier in the month, specifically during your two weeks of remote working. And reading the messages, that's where Carlos' words took on their full meaning.

Charles Lec

07/06

i just learned that you are remote working, that's why I didn't find you at the paddock

i'm sad that you're not here but you also need to rest during these two weeks :(

miss u a lot

09/06

hello you ;) hope everything goes well.

i don't know if you saw the qualifying but I'm starting the race p11

the race will start soon, I hope you can still watch it

can't wait to see you again, gorgeous

still miss u

12/06

it's not race week but I would have liked to spend these few days with you but you work and you must surely enjoy your family

eat well and don't stay up too late, pretty girl

have a good day :))

14/06

i miss u y/n

i feel like it's been forever since I last saw you

I have already planned a few little things to do when you come back, call me back when you can :)

15/06

hello youu

In 1 week I'll see you again but I can't wait any longer

i think I'm gonna die if I don't talk to you right now

can i call u please? :(

16/06

i did a little workout today and I will continue next week

we see each other again in less than a week and all I can think about is that

take care sweetheart

miss you a lot lately :(

not just lately, miss u always, every single minute of the day

Everything seems to fit together like a puzzle. So Carlos was telling the truth, the man who is so eager to see you again is definitely Charles. Come to think of it, he texted you almost every day. To tell you how much he missed you and that he wanted to see you again, not forgetting to add a few pet names here and there.

This kind of revelation changes everything. Your feelings, the way you think and behave. You were still surprised at the idea that Charles could potentially love you the same way you love him. But there is no doubt about it, after everything that has just happened in a few minutes. And you didn't know if you were looking forward to going to the meeting or not.

But there you are, in front of the door to the small interview room. And as you enter, a little late, almost everyone is there. You can feel several eyes on you, but one is undeniable. Charles is there, sitting, his gaze completely glued to you, totally absorbed and attracted by you alone. He follows you with his eyes, completely in love, while your angelic beauty completely takes his breath away. Oh, he missed your face so much.

You move towards your chair, painfully avoiding meeting his burning gaze. But after all, it's impossible. Why would you want to avoid him, when he certainly feels the same way as you.

So, calmly, you sit down, you take your pen between your fingers, and taking a deep breath, you end up laying your eyes on him. You meet his gaze and there, time seems to stop for a moment. His eyes burn into your face, and your breath catches. But a shy smile, which ends up widening, takes its place on the driver's face. And, shyly, you smile back.

And during this meeting, you couldn't help but glance at each other a few times. And in Charles' head, everything was panicking. He wanted to hold you in his arms and never let go. He wanted to spend every next minute by your side, making you smile and laugh until you lost control. He wanted to stay for hours admiring you, listening to you speak with your sweet voice. He was finally able to live and breathe properly.

The meeting ends, you take a strangely long time to put away the few things you had brought with you. And Charles strangely seems to take care to say goodbye to each of the people who leave the room. So that in the end, you find yourself alone in the room. No one speaks, your gaze each focused on the corners of the room. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Charles finally approached you.

So close, that he ends up wrapping his arms around your waist, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. You practically melt in his embrace, as you return the favor, your hands gently caressing his back. “I missed you so, so much.” His voice is muffled. You giggle weakly, and just that little laugh melts Charles' heart.

"Carlos informed me that a certain person here was very eager to see me again, hmm?". Your shy nature wasn't the type to tease people, but seeing Charles like this made him absolutely adorable and you couldn't help but tease him a little. He groans, because he knows that as soon as he meets Carlos again, he will make him understand that he, on the contrary, will never look forward to seeing him again. But for now, he's just enjoying the moment.

"If it's to be able to stay in your arms like this, then yes I assume that this person is me. And now that you are here, you are certainly not going to leave me." And in an overconfidence, he pulls back just enough to place a soft, long kiss on your cheek, while his hands gently squeeze your hips. The sudden touch makes you jump slightly, and your face doesn't fail to show your embarrassment as it turns a pretty pink.

Which absolutely makes Charles laugh, totally captivated by you. But he absolutely didn't expect you to kiss him back, on his cheek already crimson from the contact of your lips on his skin. The room is suddenly filled with giggles, while the two secret lovers, or rather the two idiots in love who see their relationship blossom into something more beautiful, remain there for a while longer, in each other's arms.

And Carlos, who wanted to make his way into the room to collect his Ferrari cap, had observed everything from the doorway. A huge grin on his face, he finally rolled his eyes, amused. “Such a simp.” He whispers these words, which, without a doubt, perfectly reflect reality. Because yes, Charles is just a simp for you.

[niteshp6669]

Shapoorji Pallonji Recruitment 2022 Apply Now

Shapoorji Pallonji Recruitment 2022 Apply Now

Shapoorji Pallonji Recruitment 2022 Apply Now  | ITI Job | Diploma Job | B.E/ B.tech Job , PGDCM | All Candidate Apply Now www.nkiticampus.com   Company Name :- Shapoorji Pallonji Engineering Limited   ABOUT COMPANY  Shapoorji Pallonji and Company private limited is a global, diversified Organization of 17 major companies. We delever end to end solutions in 6 business segments namely engineering…

[havendance]

Anyway, my proposal for a run on Detective Comics where I write a series of one-shot stories showcasing all of the various supporting cast Batman has accumulated with stories, including, but not limited to:

Batman invites Nightwing to Gotham to help him solve a murder. The murder is very straightforward and they dance around the real reason Bruce invited him, until at the end, he finally admits in a constipated Bruce way that it's the anniversary of him adopting Dick and he wanted to spend time with him.

Huntress and Robin (Tim Drake) team up to investigate Killer Croc. It turns out he's turning over a new leaf in the sewers near the Marina. Huntress is dubious, but Robin convinces her to give him a chance, though she says she'll be watching him. We re-canonize Joker: Last Laugh.

Damian and Duke team up to take on a street-racing operation--a mission that naturally requires them to do some high adrenaline racing together.

The Riddler gets on social media with a plot that involves lots of puzzles and clues all over Gotham. Oracle taps into old members of "We are Robin" to take it down.

Batgirl (Stephanie Brown) and Batman end up on the same missing persons case. With the pressure on to find the missing child, they snipe at each other as tensions rise. In the end, after saving the kid, Bruce sort of kind of apologizes in a Bruce way and expresses some measure of respect for her.

Jason teams up with Ghostmaker to take on, idk, one of the Clayfaces. Does Gotham still have one of those? I haven't read any comics ghostmaker's in yet, but from I've heard it sounds like they'd have an interesting dynamic. Jason gets flashbacks to digging his way out of his grave.

Luke Fox recruites Harper Row (She does engineering stuff right? I also need to read comics she has a significant role in.) They take some new tech for a joyride and go bother the Penguin.

Batgirl (Cassandra Cain) and Azrael team up to take down Mad Hatter. He probably has some elaborate Alice in Wonderland theming going on that neither of them get. (I think neither of them should have read it.)

Batwoman and Catwoman team up to steal back some Kane family heirlooms, possibly from Jacob Kane (What's his and Kate's relationship looking like anyway?), possibly from someone else.

Gotham Girl and somebody. Me advancing my Cass & Claire agenda Possibly Oracle trying to rehabilitate her in that controlling yet well-intentioned way she has sometimes? Someday, I will get to being more up to date on what Claire's status quo in current comics is.

A handful of representatives from Gotham's various crime families get together in the backroom of a bar somewhere. They play poker and exchange stories of being busted by the various bat-affiliated vigilantes in which they are very scary and almost inhuman. It ends with Batgirl (Cass) busting in and beating them up.

Helena Bertinelli takes a gig as a substitute teacher at Gotham Academy. She teams up with Maps & other supporting cast when Mr Freeze takes the school hostage while trying to escape the police.

[shouldprobablybereading]

AITA for taking an overseas position without consulting my wife?

Throwaway in case my wife sees it.

I (51m) was recently offered the job of my dreams, it came out of nowhere but fits with everything that I have worked towards for the last 30 years. Really the opportunity of a lifetime and will allow me to actually make a difference. However I would be required to move out of the country very far away, with limited ability to travel back and forth. At first I was ecstatic and said yes pretty much immediately, but when I was speaking with my colleague on zoom he kept telling me that I was getting in over my head. And then my recruiter seemed to think it was weird how quickly I agreed.

My wife (47f) and I have been fighting a lot more lately. She keeps complaining that I am not involving her enough in my life and gets annoyed when I spend time with my friends. I’m starting to get the feeling she resents me for never becoming as successful of an engineer as she wanted to. Which is ridiculous since the truth is that she simply never had what it took, and I don’t think it’s fair for her to be angry at me. She also gets angry with me when I tell her this, for some reason. If I tell her about the job offer I am sure she will go crazy.

Thing is, if I don’t take this position I know they are going to ask my brother (47m) instead which I am certain would be a disaster. He is really successful in our field, but he is reckless and throws himself into things head first. With a skull thick enough that I would not be surprised if he could survive a rockslide. It feels like I have been babysitting him since we were children and I am scared of what he would do without my direct supervision. If they put him in charge I am sure it would burn to the ground. His wife died a while ago and he did not take it well, so he and his boys (13m & 17m) have been staying with us for a while to sort things out. Which is actually a reason why I am not as comfortable leaving, you see I am not comfortable with how much time my wife and he are spending together. They were friends before me and my wife met, it was how we were introduced, and while they never dated I am also not an idiot. You do not keep friends of the opposite gender and bring them to parties without there being some interest. I am afraid that if I leave they might start something.

My children (28f) and (21m) are both adults, so they are no real reason for holding me here. I have paid for both of their college educations as well as my son’s wedding last year. So clearly I have done everything that is expected of me. I would have done the same for my daughter, but she seems hellbent on getting her PhD and seems to get upset whenever I suggest that she should try to settle down. Which is actually really annoying because if I am actually leaving then I need her to have a husband who I can leave the family company to, as my son is the only person I know who is potentially more of a loser than my brother.

I don’t think I have done anything wrong, but my coworkers do not seem to agree. So am I the asshole? I just want to make a difference and be away from all of this mediocrity.

[cowboyjen68]

Hello Cowboy Jen! I was wondering if you had any advice for me

Here’s the situation- I’m a young lesbian (I’ll be 17 going into college) and I’m going to study geology. I’m assuming my classes and later on my work environments are going to be mostly men since geology is a male-dominated field. Any advice for being in spaces without very many women? And picking a different field’s not a very good option either, geology’s been my obsession since I was five and I doubt I could give any other field as much attention and focus.

When I was DEAD SET on being in the DNR or a Forest Ranger or some kind of Park worker I was in my tweens and early teens. I loved the idea of working with people and animals and outside and getting to use my hands and my knowledge of land and history. Then some Jack Ass at the Corps of Engineers station I volunteered at told me women couldn't really do the job right and it was too dangerous and I lost confidence. I stopped going and didn't reapply for the Mayor's Youth Parks program I had worked at for two years. I just left the idea behind. I see now all the older women park rangers that are around and read stories of women like my current boss who was a naturalist for years in our county. I work at a nature center almost entirely staffed by strong women with the exception of the CEO, the marketing guy and one outreach guy. If I had seen any of these women in my teens i would have said "heck yeah women can do this".

You are going to be that leader, that beacon. That is a thought to keep in your pocket on hard days.

The truth about working with men is, in general, they don't really care and they kinda just feel awkward. They lack social skills around women so they end up saying the dumbest stuff. I am not saying men can't be total pains in the ass or feel threatened by you being around, they absolutely can. At the end of the day we are all human and women are 50% of the population so at some point they have dealt with women in class or at a job.

Mostly just start off with giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Saying stupid stuff to try and be funny is not the same as harassment or hate. If you don't feel offended or insulted or threatened don't try feel like you are because you think you are supposed to be.

Look them in the eye, do listen to those who have good things to share, teach or discuss. Don't dismiss men for being men. Just as many humans, they want to share what they know and tell you what they have learned. I have been taught so much by the men I work with at the farm but I had to tell myself to listen and not just paint them in my brain as being bossy or mansplaining.

Don't shy away from questions when you need help. Ask when you need to ask and thank them for helping when they do. If you are interrupted by them say "I am not finished, please wait your turn" or something similar. Stand up for your right to share what you know or to get more information when you require it.

Basically, think of men as neutrally as possible until one proves he is to be avoided or ignored. Listen to your gut if you feel unsafe or degraded and keep notes on that behavior. If you must, tell your professor or a dept head if you feel like the bad actor will continue or possible endanger you.

Once you learn your trade you can recruit other women and share your love of your job/degree and some day it will not be more men than women around you!

[lelelego]

You've vaguely mentioned Eli's life pre-bullet to the head before so I was wondering, is there any part of his old life that's liable to come back to haunt him eventually? Ex partners, old debts, stuff like that?

if anyone it'd most likely be his ex partner, who i frankly have not developed very much under the guise of "many of eli's memories from Before He Was Shot In The Head has been muddled resulting in a return to his bolder personality from when he was younger". he's got a name like damian, or ethan, or nathan (eli genuinely can't remember so neither will i!!!!)

anyway very long post about what happened pre-new vegas and what may come back to bite him in the ass that got away with me under the cut. SORRY IT'S SO LONG!!!

eli only remembers bits and pieces of this, but the essential bullet points of that mess is as follows:

eli gets into a travelling caravan that wants to see more of the world outside of shady sands. the caravan's leader is damian/ethan/nathan/gathan/kathan. he is very charming and very lovely to eli, as are the other people in the caravan (~about 7-8 people large, with 2 brahmin.)

he decides this is an excellent opportunity to pick up being a mailman to earn some caps along the road in addition to being the caravan's travelling engineer/repairman.

they make a happy bunch, taking on non-violent freelance work such as scavenging, repairs, ranching, trading, transport... making a good amount of caps for necessities and a treat or two. they get along, and eli is more and more charmed under the arm of dathan/iathan/rathan, and eventually confesses to him, much to the guy's delight and they start a Thing that eli is too scared to put a label on for fear of being booted out of the group by Creating Drama

they travel into utah and arizona.

-than is very hot and cold with eli; one second he'll be nudging shoulders with him and telling him sweet things, and the next he's yelling at eli for being too much of a burden because of his leg. (this is where eli gets very good at maintaining his leg brace.)

as they travel in utah and arizona the idea of becoming a caesar's legion protected caravan grows teeth in -than: there's more than enough work and it's no surprise that CL caravans are well protected and reap various benefits that simply don't come with being freelance.

while resting for the night sometime they're approached by a CL scouting squad and the leader has a drink with -than. obviously a recruitment effort, and it solidifies the idea for -than - but the scouting leader requires a buy-in or offer for caesar of some kind, caps, a valuable invention, or (you guessed it!) a pretty slave.

and boy, isn't eli just the prettiest thing?

so they start to travel together towards a bigger legion camp, but the CL scout doesn't exactly keep this deal under wraps, and espouses to eli the wonders of being a slave under caesar's legion. he could have such a wonderful life being his, not having to worry where he slept, when his next meal is, hell, not having to think at all! wouldn't that be wonderful?

eli escapes that mess the very next night. being small and quiet's always had its disadvantages, but not that night.

eli ends up escaping to the nearest town without a CL flag and pays what he can to another caravan to bring him along, that he can fix things real good and pay them a little more from his paycheck from the mojave express.

he manages his way back to shady sands to his sister camille, who's working as part of the local police force (still under NCR?) in the city, but the anxiety that -than knows where he might be gets to him and he starts travelling in california again, jumping from caravan to caravan and town to town delivering mail and earning what he can by offering repairs and gun/armour mods.

up until he lands the strange job to new vegas.

so like i said before eli really doesn't remember a lot of this, all he knows 100% is that there was a guy named -than who tried to sell him into the legion in exchange for a caravan contract, and he managed to run away. he gets bits and pieces in dreams that make his heart rate increase by 200% but that's really it. i imagine -than was probably very unhappy he escaped and the big fat paying contract with CL either fell through or he got something subpar, and holds a grudge against the one person who decided not to go along with his plans for once.

and if you made it here thanks for reading!!!!

[bolognamayhem117]

Do you ever have an idea that's totally achievable with your skill sets but requires days or months of turbo focus but you're too ND to drop the idea for it's absurdity and blind moronic ambition so you just take a massive chug of stale coffee and crack open the laptop with a half gagging "Ahh'rite... Let's get into it."

....So, out of curiosity, what's the Baldur's Gate fandom's appetite for a dating sim style browser game where you control your preferred companion while THEY have a unique dialog with your Tav as if TAV were a recruitable companion?... Because if the engine I used to play around with still works.... I think I could do things like that.

[mind-travel-er]

The Sun's Course [Part 1]

the empire's slumber

— Pairing: Brother Day (13th) x Female reader

— Synopsis: A story in which a Genetic Engineer is recruited by Brother Darkness, in secrecy. At the wake of his death and the rebirth of his Dynasty, Cleon The Painter dares to ask questions. However, Brother Day (12th) won’t tolerate to bring those matters into the light, and especially by the one person capable of understanding its ramifications. You. 

— Warning/Content: Hurt/Comfort, Cleon 13th, Touch-Starved Cleons, Character Study, inspired by S01E03.

— Word Count:  2.7 k

[read me on AO3] · [PART 2]

12,086 Era Imperial | 19 years after the fall of Star Bridge | Rule of Cleon the 12th; The Ruthless “It is treason,” you say. “I know,” answers Brother Darkness, gazing at the glass separating him from his younger self.  There, in a tint of sky blue that only Surfacers had seen, was floating a little cloud. The fetus of Cleon the 14th. “That’s precisely why you are here.

You look at the rumpled traits of the third brother, in his simple linen gown made of ocean. If his younger counterparts were wrapped in royal blues, it seemed that with age, the specter of the color was sinking deeper and deeper, like his melancholy. But it’s not only age that shrivels the face of Brother Darkness. There is a glint in his eyes that only comes with the dread of one’s end. The glint falls on you. “Will you do as I ask?” Your ears have to devote themselves to truly understand his words. “Of course, Empire,” you respond before your next heartbeat. One should not refuse Empire. No one dares. And you have to close the parting of your lips and compose yourself; rewinding his request in your head. As if he were asking permission. Hands clasping the strap of your medical kit crossing your chest, you turn yourself completely towards him, making sure your eyes don’t falter when looking into his own: “I will do as you ask.” A small smile brightens his face for a moment; like a meek, flickering flame. He turns himself towards you, putting his hands behind his back, and your memories echo Brother Day and Brother Dawn with the same mannerism. Countless times, you have seen his holograms do the same ritual during public speeches. You just hadn’t pictured seeing it one day in front of you. As if we had only collectively dreamed of the Empire’s presence, never experiencing it for ourselves.  “Call me Brother Darkness, Engineer. It is my place in the shadows that allows me such folly.” And it is. Terribly so. But you can’t say that, of course.  You swallow, but no saliva comes. You respond nothing, your lips cautiously sealed.  “Surely, you have questions. No one has come here for four thousand years, except for Demerzel and some of the Genetic Dynasty. I myself was not allowed.” He turns his head again, slowly, towards the glass. And one of his hands, gnarled and speckled, comes to rest on the barrier. If only for this obstacle, death and birth would be reunited at last. You dare to look at him, and it tames the slight freeze response gripping your body. He’s not as harsh as you imagined. There’s a softness about him that you could never hope to find in his other versions. At least, that’s your hypothesis.

Then you look around. Even for an artificial womb, with water coming up to the ground, it feels methodical and emotionless. The artificial tranquility of the sound of the fountain mixes with the harsh lines of the brutalist concrete. Even at the heart of the Dynasty, you find no warmth. You wonder if it’s perhaps one of the reasons that led to the destiny of Thespis and Anacreon. The day the only heat to be felt was fire raining down on two planets. You have to remind yourself that this Brother too has the potential to make those same decisions. No one likes doubts, and it could be argued that the foundation of all nations is stability. And stability requires certainty, not questions we do not dare ask. You think of your teachers and colleagues. Friends. Almost family for some. Streeling University suddenly seems like another planet altogether at this very moment. So, you hope this Brother can stomach uncertainty. And you ask:  “Why weren’t you allowed here?” “We had rules,” he responds, perhaps not to you specifically. “Apparently, witnessing one’s own origin can lead to madness.” His head bows, and his thin, white hair acts like a blinding shield.  “Perhaps…” He lifts himself again and scrutinizes the cords floating from the little body, attached to no mother and no belly. “Perhaps the same fate awaits me. Perhaps I’ve seen too much already.” You don’t comment on that last confession either. But you still have questions.  “What do you hope to find, once all the samples are collected?” The white shield goes away, and a mix of blues and greens observes you. Do his younger versions have the same nuances in their eyes? “Two things, Engineer,” he says now, truly focused on you. “First, if we are indeed all the same, just as Cleon the First dreamed. I fear time and experiences change us all, despite our … common bases.” He smiles, but there are no crinkles around his eyes.  “An egotistical search, no doubt. To answer if I’ll be remembered for my particularities… and if they even exist on a genetic level.”

Brother Darkness makes a few small steps towards you. Palms behind his rounded back now coming before him, opened.  “Second, I want to know. Will this one be different?” You can see how wide his eyes are and how the rim of white around his iris tends to take up more space than it should. The last time you saw such a display was from a sub-level worker at the weekly market. An orange in his stained hand, crossing eyes with the Imperial Guards. You look briefly at the fetus of Cleon the 14th, brows frowning.  “How so? I thought the replication was flawless. Aren’t such tests conducted again and again?” “No anymore,” he answers. “Do Luminists open the Script every time they apply their beliefs? The raw genetical code has remained untouched for centuries.” “You fear that corruption of the original material might be an issue?” You articulate. Again, his feet valiantly pace forward despite the smallness of their steps. His hands, slow and gentle, take yours. They can only feel the cold of the Aura separating the two of you. How could such a little thing prevent the most basic human interaction?  “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”  “Brother Darkness?“ “Like the Sun behind the horizon just before it rises. I cannot see it. But, it’s here. Do you understand? You must conduct the tests.“ Maybe someone else wouldn’t notice the faint tremors of his fingers while he let them slip from yours. But you’re a researcher, and paying attention to details is the core of your practice. All speaks of Cleon the Painter and how he recorded history, producing the most exquisite murals ever made in Trantor. Masterful techniques that you had studied at school; moving patterns embedded in your digital manual. The cold is gone, but something much warmer stays with you. He rolls one of his navy sleeves with application, just as a child might have done during a medical exam. And suddenly, the knot in the pit of your stomach relaxes. The realization blooms in you as this version of Empire folds his linen tunic to offer the veins of his arm. Decades had reduced him to a frail figure that could barely walk without the help of a simple stick. If the man before you was responsible for an entire Galaxy, he was a man nonetheless.  You examine how his bent and rigid fingers fail to grasp the unyielding fabric. How the sides of his index and major, the same ones used to sign peace, are still covered with nano-pigments that swirl and curl on themselves. Your heart tightens. And memories flow from your grandfather, usually tucked away for rainy days. Perhaps you could join and help? But the Aura is there, hanging on his wrist, guarding him jealously. You don’t want to feel the cold again. Instead, you say:

“There’s no need for blood. A simple lock of hair will do.”  He stops. And his brows arch themselves. “Or… saliva, if you prefer. But I doubt that spitting in a tube would be dignified.”  You feel yourself lightly chuckling. He notices your hands; coiled and away. And he’s letting out a small scoff as his eyes wrinkle. The tips of his fingers come to press on the silver bracelet, and in response, a low hum raises the hair on your forearms as it does when a summer thunderstorm is ready to burst with lightning.  “You’re quite right. We can’t let that be my last contribution to this world, can we?” Empire has a sense of humor. It seems that not only color but the kindness of Brother Day would someday deepen as well. Or was it always there? Lingering just under the surface and waiting to take a breath? While searching for a more comfortable place to rest your equipment, only the sound of rippling water comes to you. The room is barren. There’s nothing to sit on. A far cry from the nursery of your little brothers, all in pale shades of apricot. Twins and twice as many teddy bears to fill the space. But here, nothing is soft or comforting. There are only three grey steps at the feet of the tanks. This will have to do. When the heat of Trantor was settling down, long walks at the end of the day were your favorite moments with your grandfather. Habits die hard and survive many, so without a second thought, your arm treads around the old man next to you, offering to slowly sit down. For a brief moment, he looks at you with something holds you in his green and blue eyes. Something you cannot quite pinpoint as you’re focused on opening your medical kit. There, amongst scalpels and test tubes, was hidden a reminder of your mother’s love. A wooden comb carved into the shape of a Ghillie raptor.  “Wood,” he comments with a whisper, now looking attentively at the relic between your hands. “I thought only the Palace had that privilege.”  All objects made of organic matter were indeed banned on Trantor. Those kinds of primary resources were too scarce to be transformed into commodities. The comb was a paradox: priceless because of its essence, and unsellable because no one was wealthy enough to buy it. It was just meant to exist.   “My mother was a horticulturist here. She was in charge of the wild woods before her retirement.”  “I know.”  A smile blooms on your lips. Of course he knows.  “Even wild woods on this planet are painstakingly crafted and engineered, aren’t they?” he says with a low tone. “Nature and Human-made don't have to be opposites. My mother guided life, and so am I. Tweak it and make it better. Not with trees and branches, but with threads of DNA.”  Holding the warm woods between your palms, your eyes are called by the creature deep asleep. Naked and unprotected by any womb. Devoid of touch. And as you follow the invisible link between the dormant unborn baby and Brother Darkness, you observe the carefully crafted bracelet. A protection that had continued the tradition born in this tank.  “Shall we?” At your question, Brother Darkness releases the gentle hold in his gaze and turns himself to offer his spine.   While the carved comb brushes his hair, strings of snow intertwine briefly with your fingers, weaving unintentional caresses. A sniffle is all you hear in response; the sound that someone makes when tears are at the brim, ready to tumble. If they do, you cannot see. But a life without true touch must be a lonely one. Some scars are invisible.  Time stretches itself. 

True, you could have gotten the scalpel out of your kit some time ago. Instead, you comb strings after strings until there’s nothing else to do but take the surgical blade into the palm of your hand. Your fingers select a lock of hair at the base of his neck, one where the disappearance is susceptible to going unnoticed. An unsettling thought grows in your mind, whispering that you could take advantage of the inactive Aura. Make the blue linen red. Nothing to stop your surgical tool, and, no doubt, countless people had dreamed of such an opportunity. Thespis, Anacreon… And how many worlds have been wounded in 400 years? How many mothers crying out after their sons and daughters? How many deaths at the hand of his three fingers signing peace?  However, in front of you, stooped and patient, there’s only an old painter. And he’s a dead man walking anyway, isn’t he? So you tuck away the intrusive thought. The blade glints, and the lock falls.  “You’ll soon ascend.” You speak softly, with a simple observation at the tip of your tongue that you don’t dare quite make.  Your hand clasps the genetic material into darkness. “Ah,” he rasps, “yes.” And he sighs shortly, like filling his lungs might be difficult. “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful…  It's the transition that's troublesome, you see.” “Aren’t you afraid that the end of the week will come too soon?” “That is just the thing, Engineer. Despite your best efforts and those of your kind, it will always come too soon. Even for those like me.” You wanted to ask if he could promise that your own time, and the life span of your family and friends, wouldn’t be shortened. That he would make sure, even guarantee, their safety and well-being; only for you to focus on the research. Your underfunded Faculty could receive a substantial donation for the risks you were taking. All of this was possible… if unsanctioned studies on the Genetic Dynasty was not considered treason. More so, you fear that betrayal amongst Brothers will steepen the price of your involvement in it. You don’t dare speak because answers will give you neither assurance nor security.

Instead, you place the milky lock in one of your sterile containers. From tank to test tube. Who would have thought that the time in between those two moments would be so defining for the whole galaxy? “I’ll always leave. But I fear one day I might not return.” Science is supposed to be the heart of your work; devoid of political influences or subjectivity. There’s no loyalty toward Streeling University. But it would be foolish to assume you can afford a lack of allegiance towards Empire or its lesser versions. So, you respond: “That’s why I’m here, Brother Darkness. Rest your worries on me.” Saying there’s only the obligation to help him would even be a lie, you realize gradually as your eyes fall on the wooden comb back in your pouch. There’s something more: you want to.  “In the meantime, maybe you should hold on to this …” A faint blush warms the surface of your cheek. You hadn't planned on this. Yet, between your hands lies the little Ghillie raptor, waiting to be gifted. “I know it has no monetary value. Especially to the only person on Trantor that has access to timber.” He turns himself as far as his old bones might allow, wincing at the twist. You can immediately tell the waves are back in the ocean of his eyes as soon as he sees what you hold.  “That’s perhaps the most precious thing someone has ever offered.” “It’s worthless wood,” you comment with a slight smile to lighten the exchange.  His voice stifles, and it breaks.  “It’s priceless comfort, Engineer.”  Silence lingers for a few minutes as he grazes his thumb over the ridges of the wings. Then, it disappears into the abyss of his linen wear. The procedure is done, yet he doesn’t get back up. As if he was maybe waiting for the ghost of the comb to come back in his white hair. Instead, with shivering fingers still stained by swirling pigments, he touches the bracelet, and a warm light embraces him. How many times had he put this armor back on? Had he ever had the liberty to truly take it off? “I have one final question concerning your endeavor.” He only inclines his head slightly towards you, but you know he listens attentively. This is the one question you didn’t dare ask all along, until now.  “Brother Darkness… What will Empire do when he finds out?” 

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

I want to write something long form about the teacher strikes and the state of education in England right now.

You’ll hear a lot of teachers in the coming days and weeks say they don’t want to strike, or they feel guilt about striking. I’ve thought about it, and I want to strike, and I don’t feel guilty, and I think I owe it to students to strike. Maybe not the ones I teach now, but the ones I might teach in five years time.

I owe it to some of the Y7s, 8s and 9s I taught last year who were deeply passionate about science. In particular, I’m think of the Y7s who loved our space topic, and may never get taught by a qualified physics teacher. I’m also thinking about the sort of country they’ll grow up in, the opportunities they’ll have and the future they deserve.

I can write some arguments within the liberal, capitalist context we live in,  for improving education, and specifically why pay and working conditions need to be improved for teachers and why striking is our only option. I know that’s not what a lot of you follow me for, but they may be persuasive if you know teachers or want to talk to people about why they should support the teacher strikes.

1)     There is a national shortage of teachers. This is a fact- we know a large number of teachers do not stay in the profession long term- 1/3 of teachers who trained in the last 10 years are no longer teaching. Other research suggests many of these teachers quit in the first 5 years of teaching. This year, we have struggled to recruit across secondary subjects. In subjects like maths, science, MFL, geography and more, the situation is especially dire- but this crisis is even starting to impact primary schools now. First and foremost, students are going without qualified, subject specialist teachers. In other professions, the Tories acknowledge high pay is needed to recruit suitable staff. Why not teaching- which after all requires a specialist degree and often a post graduate qualification too.

2)     This doesn’t just hurt individual students, it hurts the whole country, because it leaves us with a lack of people who are capable of becoming doctors, dentists, engineers, entering other health care professions, working in the STEM fields that are meant to drive our economy. Investing in education grows the economy long term, and is better for society as a whole.

3)     But it does also hurt the social mobility of individual students. Richer families can pay tutors, or go private to make up for deficiencies in teaching. But those from low income families can’t. Few parents have the time or ability to bridge the gap themselves.

4)     Furthermore, if we think about really vulnerable students- who, make no mistake will be used as a weapon against teachers during the strike- they benefit from well funded schools. They benefit from having consistent adults in their lives. They often take a long time to form relationships with staff. A revolving door of supply teachers (which is the reality in many secondary schools) really hurts them.

5)     Teachers struggle to negotiate pay for themselves. Many schools will baulk at the idea of a teacher negotiating on their own pay, and take deep offense, as if the idea of negotiating pay in a capitalist society when you have an unusual skill is totally unreasonable. So, teachers can only negotiate pay on a national scale. And because the government won’t sit down and negotiate, the only thing we can do is take industrial action.

6)     Ultimately, schools can’t afford to pay teachers well- so any pay rise needs to be fully funded. Again, hence strike action.

 We can say that the teacher shortage is about working conditions too- and it is, for sure. But it’s also true that the teacher shortage appears to be most acute where a teacher’s pay won’t stretch as far because accommodation costs and other costs are high.

I want to take a moment at this point to address the idea of “work to rule”- which doesn’t actually exist in English law, btw.

Action short of a strike in teaching would likely take the form of teachers not running clubs and trips, maybe refusing to do marking as well. These are all things that would negatively impact students, but have a totally negligible economic impact, if at all. It would, inevitably, drag on for months, because the government simply would not notice.

A teacher strike, ideally one that shuts a large number of schools, will have a noticeable impact on the economy, because some parents won’t be able to work or travel. Yes, it’s rubbish for parents, but the impact on students will genuinely be lower than weeks or months of action short of a strike. And it’s the only language the government will listen to, unfortunately.

 I want to talk also about what the Tories are doing to education. I alluded to this earlier, but I think it bears exploring specifically.

The Tories are destroying education. At this stage, I think it’s gone beyond neglect, into a deliberate policy to damage state education. They can’t say that out loud, of course, but why else, at a time of massive teacher shortages, would they cut teacher training places from 2024? Why else would they implement the ECT program in such a way it’s driving early career teachers out of teaching? Why else would they starve schools of funding to such an extent?

Why would the Tories do this?

I’ve got two possible theories for you.

One, they want a poor, uneducated underclass, with limited job prospects, in order to exploit them. And educating the working classes and providing them with opportunities for social mobility runs against that.

Two, some tories take a more eugenicist outlook, they think education is simply wasted on said “underclass”. That no amount of good education would improve the prospects of certain groups, so why bother?

Perhaps it’s a little of column a, a little of column b. Certainly, there are strong objections to teachers in state schools sharing opinions that might be contradictory to the governments’.

So I strongly believe this strike is to preserve the future of education.

 Obviously, if we consider the wider state of the country, there are lot of important reasons to join a wider worker’s movement. And I’m going to come back to that point about working conditions, because part of that is the shortage of funding in other public sector areas, meaning schools are asked to do more and more with less and less.

It’s increasingly clear Rishi Sunak’s Tories are both fascists and disaster capitalists, who are going to take what they can from this country before their party implodes. And you all know what I think of the political alternatives. It’s also true if we wait two years for an election, people will die- not least in A and E waiting rooms, or waiting for an ambulance.

The Tories are happy to let £42 Billion in tax go unpaid (largely by the rich and mega-corporations), and then they turn around and say there’s no money.

I genuinely think this wave of strikes could be the start of something- of meaningful political change that carries this country to the left. Maybe the some of the current union leaders will not push things far enough, but we are the union, so we must push further. And we can use this opportunity to really influence the UK political landscape, and build solidarity for a mass worker’s union.

[codingquill]

Why is landing an Internship as a Computer Engineering/Computer Science Student so hard ?

Hey there, dear coders!

I apologize for my long absence—life caught me off guard with a lot of work and projects. Now that I finally have some time, I wanted to make a post to connect with you all. Thank you so much for 1,000 subscribers! I know maintaining a community requires consistent posting, and I feel like many of you might have forgotten about me. But I promise to make something big out of this. I've been thinking about starting a newsletter where you can receive weekly emails from me, discussing something I learned that week or anything that intrigued me and I felt like sharing.

Now, back to our question: Is it really hard to land an internship as a computer science student? The answer is yes, and as a computer engineering student myself, I can attest to this.

I've often wondered why it's so difficult. After some observations, I discovered that almost every computer science student's resume looks the same. The portfolios are nearly identical, lacking uniqueness. If you've studied at the same school as your friends, what would make a recruiter choose you over them?

This is where uniqueness and a sense of self come in. Your portfolio or website should reflect exactly who you are as a person and highlight your strengths.

The second crucial factor is dedication. I've had classmates who are extremely dedicated. They might not have any special skills, but they show immense interest in what they want to do. This drive is palpable, and recruiters can sense it too.

Sometimes, the resume isn't even the most important aspect. For big companies like Oracle, what you say and know during the interview and technical tests matters more. The resume is just the very first step.

So, what I've learned along the way can be summed up in two words: uniqueness and dedication.

Now how to Create the Perfect Resume to Land an Internship as a Student ?

1. Keep the design simple:

Avoid extra designs or too many colors. While uniqueness is important, recruiters generally do not favor overly designed resumes.

2. Structure your resume properly:

- The Resume Header

Contact Information:

Full name and title: List your first and last name. Use the title of the role you want instead of your current title.

Professional email address: Use a clean format like firstname.lastname@gmail.com.

Phone number: Choose the number you check most frequently. Record a professional voicemail greeting if yours is too casual.

Address: List only your city and state. Let recruiters know if you're willing to relocate if applicable.

LinkedIn or other professional social media: Include your LinkedIn profile if it's active and relevant. List any portfolios or computer engineering-related sites.

- The Resume Summary

A paragraph where you describe yourself by answering these questions:

What is your professional style? (Use one or two descriptive words such as patient, critical thinker, consensus builder, excellent designer.)

What is your greatest engineering strength?

What will you add to this particular team?

What is your process for building and maintaining computer networks?

What are you proudest of in your career?

Example:

Motivated computer engineering student with a strong foundation in software development and solid analytical and problem-solving skills. Looking for an opportunity to enhance my skills in a challenging professional environment.

- The Employment History Section

Be specific about how you contributed to each position and the impact you made.

List the job title, organization name, dates of employment, and 3–6 bullet points showcasing your achievements.

Start each bullet point with a strong action verb like collaborated or designed.

Highlight significant achievements rather than just listing responsibilities.

If you have no experience, include a projects section. This will act as your experience. Highlight how you worked on each project and your passion for it.

- The Skills Section

Combine hard and soft skills. The skills section is often the first place recruiters look to ensure you have the key abilities they're seeking. Your entire resume should support the skills you list here.

- The Education and Certifications Section

List your education, including any relevant courses or special achievements during your degree. Also, mention any certifications you have, whether from freeCodeCamp, Google, Coursera, etc.

By following these tips, you can create a resume that stands out and showcases your unique strengths and dedication. Good luck with your internship search, and remember to stay true to yourself!

[niteshp6669]

Ceigall India Limited Recruitment 2022

Ceigall India Limited Recruitment 2022

Ceigall India Limited Recruitment 2022 | B.E / B.Tech  | Diploma Civil | Apply Now www.nkiticampus.com   Company Name :- CEIGALL INDIA LIMITED     Ceigall India Limited Recruitment 2022   Job Opportunity – Pavement Specialist   Required Qualifications :- B.Tech / Diploma (Civil)   Experience :- Min. 5-10 Years   Job Description :-  Review of solid pavement materials Maintenance of…

[katy-kt-katie]

PURPLEROW

❤️What happens when the most famous woman in the world and a regular guy, fall in love?

👩‍🚀Astronaut Dana Scully is world famous for her accomplishments in space.

🦊 NASA psychologist Fox Mulder has admired her from afar, but is now tasked to keep her company virtually while she’s on a mission solo.

📖 RATED E. Chapters Daily. This is a NOTTING HILL AU. Chapter 1 below:

I was never meant to remain alone up here. It was supposed to be hours– twenty-two to be exact; everything in space is known and measured, precisely predicted. And yet, here I am—preparing to be completely alone for an unknown amount of time.

I hear the quiet whir of machines as I bound weightless from screen to screen, trying to determine my current status. But even as I look from screen to screen, my brain wrestles with a feeling of impending doom.

“Some issue with their main rocket,” the voice in the speaker tells me, “that’s why they aborted.”

I’ve prepared for situations like these. You don’t become an astronaut by being delicate or soft. I remind myself of the tough stuff I’m made of: graduating from The Naval Academy top of my class, breezing through medical school, and being recruited by NASA. Having a successful career as an astronaut—

“Dr. Scully, can you confirm your current velocity and the pressure parameters?” a technician asks, interrupting my inner pep talk. The technician is one of many voices from Houston—the Johnson Space Center, to be precise, where several dozen engineers and scientists monitor everything that is happening up here.

“Seventeen thousand, six hundred and eighty-four miles per hour, Houston. Pressure gauges are within limits.”

“Thank you, Dr. Scully. We’re working on next steps down here. The Director suggests you might do your daily exercises and report back when finished?”

“Affirmative.”

Houston ends the call. They’re still monitoring hundreds of readings—pressures, temperatures and speed among other things, but when our calls end, they mostly leave me alone.

Despite the isolation I feel at being alone here, it’s nice to have a bit of privacy in which to continue my mental meltdown. If every step I took up here was being watched as if I had a stalker…I think that would be worse.

I huff laughter at my thought—I don’t actually take steps here. I’m floating two hundred and fifty miles above Earth on the International Space Station. I push from a wall and float through a chamber into another section, finally ending up in node three.

ISS inhabitants are required to exercise daily for ninety minutes, a necessity to keep our gravity-less bodies healthy and strong. I use the weight-lifting machines and run on the treadmill—my body harnessed down so I don’t float away.

As my Nikes pound the platform, I close my eyes. I’m completely alone in space. No other human is with me, nor is anyone scheduled to join, thanks to a rocket issue with the Russians.

This was supposed to be the smallest mission on the ISS in terms of people; dubbed “Expedition 4A,” it was set to determine the minimum number of crew members that could successfully maintain the ISS between more elaborate missions. I am the lone American taking part, along with one Cosmonaut and one German who were set to join me today—but alas, the rocket failure.

I know I can handle myself up here—I’ve already been through some extraordinary situations with NASA. But, I feel haggard as I finish my run—my heart racing faster, my sweat beading harder, and my breath catching. It’s a panicky feeling I’ve experienced occasionally in life, but not in years.

I turn off the treadmill and take a deep breath, centering myself before returning to our main communications pod. Houston is waiting for me.

“Dana?” I hear the voice I recognize as Mission Director Walter Skinner booming through the speaker.

I pick up the headset—although I can hear through the speaker, the headset is much clearer. I turn on a monitor, seeing Mission Control brightly lit with dozens of bodies bustling about.

“Director Skinner. I’m here.”

“Alright, Dana. We’ve been discussing next steps. Our plan is to abort the mission and bring you back down, but it’s going to take us about a week to prepare.”

“Okay, sir,” I say. I’d love to argue the mission could continue with just me, but it’s not designed for one person, and I learned many years ago—as the daughter of a Naval Officer—that I need to accept the well-thought-out decisions of my commanders without debate.

“Also, we noticed a blip at the end of your workout—an anomaly—possibly indicative of a panic attack. Are you alright?”

How could I forget I’m hooked up to heart and respiratory monitors while exercising? Houston misses almost nothing—they can’t afford to—too much is at risk. “I’m alright, sir. I just needed a moment to collect myself. I uh—I haven’t ever been in space alone. I just needed to wrap my brain around that.”

I see Skinner nod his head. “I wondered about that. I’ve called for a NASA Psychologist to check in with you,” he shuffles his papers; “I’m not sure if you’ve worked with their team before…Dr. Diana Fowley runs the unit.”

“A Psychologist?”

“Just to make sure you’re feeling okay about the mission getting canceled and being up there alone.”

“Okay, sir.” For the second time in minutes, I begrudgingly accept the decision without further debate.

READ THE LONGER STORY HERE: on AO3

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 3 - I Need You

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: Mando returns to Tatooine to recruit the only person for the job.

The apprentice sifts through the new junk that the Jawas brought earlier that day, inspecting each piece of scrap and spare part. By far, the worst way to spend a day in her opinion.

Though, she knows that she should be grateful to Peli for sticking her neck out for her and saving her. Safety means passing the hours doing boring things like counting the grooves on each gear and pulling apart a compressor. The last time she really felt stimulated enough was working on the Razor Crest…

The faraway whistling of an incoming ship hit her ears. Another customer? Standing up from her spot, she stepped out towards the landing platform where Peli waits. Immediately, her mentor gives a light smack to her arm. “What did you do to Mando’s ship?”

“Ow! I fixed it!”

“Then why is he coming back?” She points up.

“What?” No, that’s impossible. She fixed it to perfection, that much she is certain of. Why is he back? Unfortunately for Peli, her rookie has a way with words. “Maybe he’s here to ask you on a date.”

Peli smacks her again, but this time elicits a snicker instead. “You better hope he’s not here to complain.”

“For his sake, he better not be.” She is prepared to defend her work if necessary. Besides, the Mandalorian seems like the type who might not appreciate such expertise. The two women wait for the Crest to touch down and for her hatches to open. Shuffling down the best he can, Grogu extends his arms towards Peli, who welcomes him.

“Hey, kiddo! Did you miss me that much?” she asks, bending over to pick him up. Following behind him is the Mandalorian, a swiftness in his stride.

“What brings you?” asks the apprentice. “Not satisfied with my work?”

“Ship’s fine,” he answers.

Oh. Good. She closes her jaw, seeing no need for any bark. Stars, what if she was right?

“Oh, that’s good,” says Peli. “So what brings you? Oh! You got a job in the area? Want us to babysit the little one?”

“Not exactly. I need the girl.”

“I told you, I’m not – wait, what?”

The Mandalorian crosses his arms. “How good are you at sabacc?”

She narrows her eyes at him, wondering just what in the galaxy was he thinking with a statement like that. Usually, she's pretty good at reading people, but his helmet complicates things. “...What do you know about that?”

“Peli tells me you were caught cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat! I don’t cheat!” She places herself between him and Peli, wanting him to see the full brunt of her expression. “I explained this to my employer already. I. Don’t. Cheat. I’m not light fingered nor do I use cheaters.”

“Then why did they accuse you?”

“Because I was winning too much.” She shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

“So you’re lucky?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s adorable. Luck only takes you so far.”

“What do you mean?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, glancing back to Peli for a brief moment, who simply shrugs. Turning back to the Mandalorian, she crosses her arms. “Is there a point to all of this?”

“Yes.”

Peli nods. “Alright, you two. Let’s sit down and talk about this like adults. Isn’t that right, little one?” she says, cooing at him as she leads them to a table with chairs. Once everyone is settled and Grogu is given a little snack to occupy him, the Mandalorian explains it all.

“There’s a sabacc tournament in Canto Bight. The grand prize is five ingots of beskar, the metal of my people. I have to get it back for them.”

The girl leans back in her chair. “So, you’re looking for tips? I guess I could try to teach you.”

“I can’t enter the tournament. It would require me to remove my helmet, so I’m looking for someone to stand in for me. Someone I can trust.”

Peli gives a single, loud, “hah!” She slaps the table. “What? Don’t tell me you want to enter this one.”

She nearly falls out of her chair. For a street urchin on Tatooine, the thought of leaving and going somewhere as glamorous as Canto Bight was nothing more than a dream, a fantasy. Then she looks down at herself, in dirty clothes and covered in sand and dust, smelling of metals and gas. The thought of being among the rich and beautiful looking like this is… intimidating to say the least.

“What if I did?” he says.

“You sure? She cheats.”

“I do not cheat!” She slams her hand on the table. “I count!”

The Mandalorian tilts his head. “Count?”

Of course they wouldn’t get it. Neither of them play this game like she does. “Okay, see if you can follow this. A deck has seventy-six cards, right? Sixty regulars, sixteen specials like The Star and The Evil One. All I do is keep track of where that card is or could be through process of elimination and probability.”

“Wait.” The Mandalorian leans forward. “You’re telling me you can keep track of an entire deck of cards? In your head?” He sounds… impressed, actually, from the little she can gleam from his modulated voice.

“I-It’s not much different than keeping ship schematics in your head.” She shrugs, trying to play it cool. “See? It’s not cheating.”

“Huh.” He sits back. “I guess it’s not.”

Peli glances between the two. “Hey, hey, wait a minute! You’re not seriously thinking of taking her, are you?”

He couldn’t be, no way. “Why not?” he responds.

She laughs at him. “Have you seen me? I-I don’t exactly look like someone who should be walking around Canto Bight unless I’m fixing the heat. Besides, those tournaments have a ridiculous buy-in, don’t they?”

“I have the credits for the buy-in.”

She gulps. "And this?” she gestures to herself.

“We can buy new clothes there.”

Is he serious? “Wait, wait, wait.” She holds up her hand. “What’s in it for me?”

“Yeah, and for me?” asks Peli. “She’s my responsibility, remember?”

“I understand that any credits you win in the tournament are yours to keep,” he says. “I don’t need them. Just the beskar. And you can take a percentage of her winnings. How’s that?”

The women glance at each other slowly, the air silent other than Grogu’s soft sounds. “Fifty percent,” says Peli.

“No way. Ten.”

“Forty.”

“Twenty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Twenty-five, final offer.”

“Fine!”

Grogu claps his hands together and smiles.

The Mandalorian stands up. “How soon can you leave?”

“How soon can I… oh.” Yes, she would have to leave to go to the tournament, wouldn’t she? Leave Tatooine for the first time in her life. Years spent looking at the stars, watching ships coming and going, and now it is finally her turn. Ah, but this trip did not come cheap.

She stares into the black of the Mandalorian’s visor, trying to guess how he looks underneath. Does he peer at her, scrutinizing her behind the safety of his helmet? Or maybe, is he smiling out of gratitude? Either could be true, but she would never know.

It only takes her a couple of minutes to gather a small pack of belongings – it isn’t as if she has a lot to begin with. Just trinkets and personal essentials.

“Bring her back in one piece!” says Peli. She waves with the droids, granting her a much needed smile.

“I will.” He ushers her into the Razor Crest, a gloved hand pushing against her back. He has a rough touch fitting for a bounty hunter, clearly impatient. When they sit down in the cockpit, he says nothing else to her while he fires up the Razor Crest, no words of gratitude or anything of the sort.

He is as cold as the armor he dons.

I know I’m here because he needed someone he could trust… but can I trust him?

If she couldn’t, then she knew she shouldn’t be going to Canto Bight of all places. Too late to turn back now.

[handeaux]

Cincinnati’s High Society Was Dominated By Madame Devereux And Her Blue Book

Before Madame Clara Anna Rich Devereux stuck her nose into things around 1880, Cincinnati’s polite society was an embarrassment of disorganization. A half-century earlier, Frances “Fanny” Trollope had lambasted the local gentry in her scandalous 1832 book, “Domestic Manners of the Americans,” in which she states:

“All animal wants are supplied profusely at Cincinnati, and at a very easy rate; but, alas! these go but a little way in the history of a day's enjoyment. The total and universal want of manners, both in males and females, is so remarkable, that I was constantly endeavouring to account for it.”

In a thoroughly typical Queen City response, the local pinkies-up crowd pretended Trollope’s book did not exist, spoke no more of it, and carried on obliviously.

Mrs. C.A.R. Devereux was not amused. Born into a family of authentic Boston brahmins, she married General Arthur F. Devereux, who distinguished himself for bravery during the Battle of Shiloh. He was a ranking officer in the Army Corps of Engineers and was based at Cincinnati. The Devereuxs and their five children occupied a house in the fashionable East Fourth Street neighborhood, almost next-door to Murat Halstead, the publisher of the Cincinnati Commercial newspaper. Halstead recruited Mrs. Devereux to add some life and color to his newspaper’s society columns.

It is a considerable stretch to describe any of the pages in any of Cincinnati’s dozen daily newspapers (five were in German) back then as offering “society” news. What the newspapers published was a “personals” page in which tidbits provided by nearly any subscriber appeared in print. To pick one random example, the 5 March 1882 Cincinnati Enquirer’s “Random Notes” column featured a sick bill collector, a talented woman cobbler, and a traveling haberdasher along with reports of social gatherings among the wealthy tribes atop Walnut Hills and Clifton.

The upper crust was so appalled at finding themselves lumped indiscriminately with tradesmen and parvenus that they considered any mention of anyone’s name in any newspaper as something of a social embarrassment. As a result, Mrs. Devereux endured years of tribulation as she endeavored to convince the city’s blue bloods to provide her with any printable tidbits. According to Alvin F. Harlows’ “The Serene Cincinnatians,”

“Mrs. Devereux, when she called at some of these ultraconservative homes for items, was not even seated in the parlor, but had to wait in the hall until the lady of the house chose to go down and speak to her.”

The tables turned after 1892, when Mrs. Devereux published the first of her annual “Blue Book” directories of Cincinnati society. Overnight, she became the final arbiter of social standing in the Queen City. Any grande dame who dared confront “Madame” Devereux risked banishment from the now-official social register.

Just how influential was the annual Blue Book? In that inaugural issue, Mrs. Devereux announced a new schedule for “at home” days. Etiquette in the 1890s required a strict schedule of “calling,” in which the socially conscious made the rounds of their peers. Whole books were written about the proper distribution of “calling cards.” Anyone who was “at home” for callers on the wrong day faced social ostracism. Appalled by the seemingly random schedule of visitations in Cincinnati, Mrs. Devereux decreed a new schedule, totally fabricated by herself:

“The first two Fridays in the month are Clifton at home days, the last two are set apart for Mt. Auburn. The first two Thursdays of the month are at home days for Avondale, the last two for West Sixth and Fourth Streets. The first two Mondays for East Walnut Hills, the second two for the West Hill. Tuesday, the Burnet House, St. Nicholas, East Fourth and Pike, Broadway and the East End generally. Wednesday, Dayton Street and Covington.”

Cincinnati’s societal matrons fell sharply in line. They had no choice. Mrs. Devereux herself (often referred to as “Madame” because her surname appeared to be French) was quite pleased with herself. In the fourth (1896) edition, she bragged:

“The Blue Book has become as indispensable a requisite for the escuitoire of the woman of fashion as her silver-mounted writing utensils and her crested seal. To the man of business it is almost as useful, for it tells him ‘who's who’ at a glance and where he or she may be found.”

In addition to her annual directory and her unsigned contributions to the Cincinnati Commercial, Mrs. Devereux published her own occasional newsletter, called “Tips” in which she passed along the really good stuff to her subscribers.

Throughout the mid-1890s, Mrs. Devereux’s columns in the Commercial often jostled against saucy squibs penned by an ambitious young writer named Mary C. Francis, who provided gossipy material to several Cincinnati papers. So long as they shared space in the same newspaper, Mrs. Devereux held her tongue and her pen. When Miss Francis relocated to New York and published a few successful novels, Mrs. Devereux spread all sorts of calumny.

Mary Francis sued for libel based on an item in Mrs. Devereux’s Tips which implied that Miss Francis had escaped to New York because she had engaged in behavior unbecoming a lady, published salacious material and had been barred as a consequence from the best Cincinnati homes. Further, Mrs. Devereux claimed that Miss Francis had attempted to “hoodoo” money under false pretenses from a Cincinnati artist.

In court, Miss Francis’ attorneys demolished the Devereux defense, awarding the plaintiff $500 in damages. Mrs. Devereux, with typical chutzpah, immediately devoted an entire issue of her Tips newsletter to attack the judge, the jury, the plaintiff’s legal team and Miss Francis and her witnesses. Mrs. Devereux lamented the injustice of a judicial system in which a fine woman such as herself could be vanquished by rabble of such inferior social standing. Miss Francis sued again and appears to have been settled out of court.

Shortly after her courtroom defeat, Mrs. Devereux retired from journalism for a couple of years. When the Cincinnati Enquirer acquired the Commercial in 1900, the new publishers enticed her into resuming her duties at the society desk and she remained in that position until her death in 1910. In its obituary, the Cincinnati Times-Star recognized her influence:

“She achieved remarkable success, and it has been said of her that she was personally familiar with more prominent lives than any other individual in the city. Her acquaintance was as wide as society’s limits, and her knowledge of affairs embraced everything needful to the conscious newsgatherer and polished writer.”

Notably, throughout her final stint at the Cincinnati Enquirer, Mrs. Devereux was assisted by her daughter Marion, who assumed her mother’s duties for the next 30 years and escalated her family’s stranglehold on the city’s moneyed classes. While Clara may have been an arbiter, there were more than a few who saw Marion as nothing short of a dictator.

[callimara]

The Setting

Bougainville

A quaint town with a population of 10,000. Located in the Pas-de-Calais department of Northern France, it is an amalgamation of days past and modern times; preserving its original construction from 150 years ago while intertwining with modern-day advancements.

History

The town was founded in the late 1800s by Olivier Bougainvillea: a renowned physicist from Paris who led a scientific expedition to the area that would later be known as Bougainville. The goal of his expedition was to study unusual electromagnetic radiations within the area. He set up a research base that would inadvertently grow with the influx of scientists and researchers Bougainvillea recruited to participate in his research. The growing scale of Bougainvillea's research necessitated better infrastructure and living facilities; resulting in the arrival of more labor for construction. The rapid influx of people now requiring long-term accommodation in the area demanded more housing, and soon the base had transformed into a small hamlet. Thus, began the settlement of Bougainville. As time passed, the families of the workers and researchers had relocated to the area; operating independent businesses to fill demands such as clothing, food, and other essential supplies. And as the economy grew, so did the settlement. More merchants and businesses settled in the hamlet, and soon, what was once a research base became the town of Bougainville: named after the lead scientist that pioneered the settlement of the area and powered the town with his discoveries and innovations. In honour of his legacy, Bougainvillea flowers line the front of almost every street, creating a beautiful sight at every turn.

Geography

Bougainville has Calais to the north, Le Portel to the west, Lumbres to the east, and Desvres to the south. It is nestled adjacent to the Parc naturel regional des caps et marais d’Opale. As such, lazily drifting fog and chilly weather are a permanent fixture in the small town, perfectly complementing its slow, leisurely lifestyle. A river divides the town into two sides: West and East. Western Bougainville is its central business district; housing the entertainment district and the shopping district; as well as the town hall, Bougainville bank, and police station. Eastern Bougainville is the town’s health and education district; being the location of Bougainvillea University, Bougainville General Hospital, and the Bougainvillea Foundation’s central laboratory; which is open to the public as a science museum. To the north of the town is the Emilie Francoise Nature Reserve, which is 1000 acres of protected marshland and forest. It is also here that the Bougainvillea Power Plant is located; which provides electricity to the entire town.

The Bougainvillea Foundation

A multinational conglomerate with subsidiaries in a variety of industries.

Including, but not limited to:

pharmaceuticals

medical equipment

electronics

non-profit organizations

military equipment

firearms.

Central Laboratory

One of the crowning jewels of Bougainville, the Bougainvillea central laboratory is a marvel of modern engineering. From its humble beginnings as a research tent, it is now the primary location for all of the Bougainvillea Foundation’s science exhibitions. Thus, it is a famous field trip destination for many educational institutes. It is the oldest and largest lab of the Bougainvillea Foundation. It has contributed much to the lifestyle advancements in Bougainville by: supplying power; being the primary supplier of medicine, medical supplies, and funds the Bougainville healthcare system; and founding Bougainvillea University.

Bougainvillea University

Founded in the honor of Olivier Bougainvillea for his contributions to modern science and the founding of Bougainville, Bougainvillea University strives to shape brilliant minds that will pave the way to innovation and discovery. Graduates of this university may receive highly coveted employment with the Bougainvillea Foundation.

Bougainville General Hospital

From its humble beginnings as a small 3-bed health clinic, the facility has grown to an impressive 300-bed general hospital with an emergency department and specialist operating theatres. Though it has maintained its original exterior, its interior has been refurbished with state-of-the-art healthcare facilities thanks to the generous donations of the Bougainvillea Foundation.

Shopping District

The location of most of the shops in Bougainville. It is the most popular tourist and student destination in town, boasting an array of grocers, book stores, bakeries, boutiques, cafes, restaurants, and wineries.

Entertainment District

The centre of Bougainville’s nightlife, this area is where most of Bougainville’s adult recreational businesses are located. From bars, taverns, and billiard, to nightclubs, strip clubs and gambling.

Emilie Francoise Nature Reserve

Named after the town founder’s wife and fellow scientist, Emilie Francoise nature reserve is 1000 acres of protected marshland and forest. The reserve is a popular hiking and camping destination for locals and visitors alike. In honor of Olivier Bougainvillea's beloved wife, fellow scientist, and Parisian ecologist, the nature reserve aims to continue the conservation efforts of Emilie Francoise Bougainvillea in protecting the town’s natural landscape.

Key Locations

Luna Lake A crystalline lake that is 30 km wide that reflects the sky like a mirror. At night time, it seems to hold the moon on its surface. It is populated by diverse aquatic life, making it a popular fishing spot.

Bellevue Valley A valley covered with flowers all year long. Different flowers bloom during different seasons and months.

Celine Falls The biggest, most scenic water fall in the nature reserve

Labyrinthe Marshland The largest marshland in the nature reserve and home to a diverse population of wildlife.

The Underground

There are whispers of an underground black market where illicit goods and services are distributed. Though its location is largely unknown…

▶ Wildward Master Post