#every small business should have the capacity to do this

[banamine-bananime]

Growing up I lived in an area with a lot of cattle farming and I was very scared of the cows. Do you have any cool facts that will make me either more or less afraid of cows?

oh hmm let me think on that!

facts related to how to interact with cows so all parties feel and stay safe:

they have a very prey herd animal mentality. they want to move with their herdmates. they want to watch any potential threats like people and move away from them. they don't like loud or unfamiliar noises (they're sensitive souls. sometimes if i visit a dairy wearing waterproof coveralls where the cows are only used to people wearing cotton coveralls, just the whisper of waterproof pants rubbing against each other can spook them) or abrupt movements or going into areas they can't see well (and they have difficulty with depth perception due to their wide-set eyes for 300 degree vision, and with high-contrast, so going from sun into shade or vice versa can look like stepping into a white or black void for them and they don't like it)

based on this, we know the keys to low-stress cattle handling are consistency in how you interact with them, calmness (small movements, quiet words to let them know you're there), moving cows in groups big enough to have friends but small enough you can control the whole group without them milling around or the ones in front stopping and causing a traffic jam, and slowly moving them by just barely getting in their "bubble" of "whoa, you're a little too close for comfort, i'm going to move in the other direction" without ever getting into their "YIKES RUN AWAY FROM THIS THING" bubble

the last point involves understanding pressure and flight zones and point of balance:

from Mississippi State University Extension:

from grandin.com (highly recommend as a source of information about animal behaviour and welfare!!! temple grandin my idol since i was like nine i love her so. and i tear up when i think about how much she's done for millions of animals ;_; she's a genius and no lie revolutionized low-stress handling):

pet cows that get doted on enough to bond with people may not see people as a threat so the normal ways we use pressure zones to iinteract with cows don't necessarily do anything for them. you would lead them more like a horse, using a halter. or lure them with treats.

beef cows typically have little contact with people, often just processing (vaccines, preg checks, quick exam for any health problems) a couple times a year, so they can be very wild. doesn't mean they're aggressive, the overwhelming majority are non-aggressive but they have very large flight zones, so if you don't recognize that and approach too quickly, getting deep in their flight zone, that can get you into a dangerous situation where they get aggressive as a last resort. that said, they do usually still choose flight unless their calf is with them. "never get between mom and baby" applies as it does with any species

dairy cows are in between beef cows and pet cows. they interact with people regularly, several times per day, and it's respectful but not doting. kind of a business relationship with their handlers. they're not terrified of people by any means, but they haven't been, like, hand-fed treats to get over their instinctive wariness of potential-predator-like animals, and they know sometimes handling results in unpleasant experiences like medical treatment or pregnancy checks, so they avoid touch and have a flight zone, though it's small (and sometimes they'll calmly let you walk right up to them unrestrained, or approach you and lick you out of curiosity). very very rare to have an aggressive dairy cow (as in, one that attacks you instead of moving away when you're bothering them a little. really bothering them and ignoring body language when they can't move away is much more likely to get you kicked)

bulls are not docile. not every bull will be aggressive, but you should assume that every bull has the capacity to become aggressive with little provocation, and always keep a respectful distance and know your escape route if you have to be in a pen or field with them

cows love exploring with their tongues. any time you're in a dairy barn there's gonna be at least one friendly girl mlem mlem mlemming who won't leave you alone

adding on to the above, there is a slight caveat that you still have to be a LITTLE wary of friendly cows. 99% of the time they're just friendly but sometimes cows in heat will try to mount people. you don't have to be scared of friendly cows but if they're right next to you just keep them in your line of sight so you can move away if they make like they're going to mount. again, not common, never happened to me, but something to be aware of

signs of a happy, relaxed cow: lying down, chewing cud or eating, tail hanging down relaxed, moving slowly with her herd

signs of a slightly wary cow (you have entered the "pressure zone"): standing still/stopping what she's doing, turning towards you, ears turning towards you (watching the ears is a very good way of knowing what she's paying attention to), tail swishing or raised a bit away from body

signs of a distressed cow: vocalizing (they also moo for other reasons though), tail swishing, fidgeting/pawing/looking like she wants to move but doesn't know where to, freezing up and intermittently making erratic movements (back away a little)

signs of an aggressive cow: head down with attention on you, pawing ground, turning to show you their broad side. (turn sideways and calmly but swiftly walk away diagonally)

#cattle #veterinary

[moonstruckme]

hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him. 

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it. 

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.” 

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?” 

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart. 

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.” 

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.” 

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again. 

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.” 

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.” 

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him. 

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.” 

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fluff #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[fatphobiabusters]

Hey, sorry if this is a weird question but I'm trying to learn more since I honestly wasn't educated about fatphobia before and I'm trying to fix that (especially now that I won't be a teen in a few months and my mom could be considered fat and I love food so like we all know the body type I'll have in a few years). I often see people say that being fat is bad because people like firefighters and nurses get injured when saving/caring for them and I'd like to know if there's any way to like.. fix that? I obviously don't want very poorly compensated people risking their lives to get injured more than they have to but I also don't think policing people's bodies is right...

Hmmm where to start. The thing is nurses are understaffed, often asked to move patients by themselves when they shouldn't be. It's not just fat people that can injure a nurse, anyone who can't assist on their own lifting can. Lifting say, 180 pounds from the floor is risky, Hospital beds are closer to the average person waist plus there are handles and bars for the patient to assist. Rolling a patient in bed is difficult, again if the patient can't assist. Making sure staff is getting help is crucial. They wouldn't let me move myself from the bed I was on, onto the surgery table but it was quick and took three people to properly nest me and slide me over. (I was going in for gallbladder surgery) there were multiple people who could have assisted in the room if they needed more. So really, fighting under staffing and over working in the medical field is key.

Im not as familiar with fire fighting techniques however I know that there's an issue of businesses not having Evac Chairs or sleds for the physically disabled. I'm thinking of the brand Evac Chairs but ANY such device is useful.

Im looking at the sleds:

This goes up to 440

This one goes up to 500 carrying capacity!

These should be part of fire and rescue training and provided to the rescuers for public safety. Any business that sees a large amount of foot traffic should have these on site. (I don't expect a small mom and pop shop to have one, but Walmart should. Hospitals should.)

So basically: proper training, the right equipment and proper staff. These all play a role in how to circumvent awful situations.

Also take the consideration of what these people say "it's bad to be fat because nurses and fire fighters" these types of people are one bad turn from saying "it's bad to be in a wheelchair because it's too hard for fire rescue" or "it's bad to need nurses to turn you to prevent bed sores" they think, fundamentally, that fat people choose to be fat so we deserve less empathy. And even if it was 100% a choice for every person, it doesn't mean we don't deserve care and common sense accomedations. You can't say you respect bodily autonomy and support disability rights if your support is conditional. Only supporting "the good ones" is a policy in futility.

As an aside: check your smoke detectors and reduce fire hazards. Know your exits and keep low to the floor if there's smoke. Regardless of size people get real relaxed with fire safety because it's rare it's an issue. Some basic things is all you can do so please do them or have someone your trust to do them.

-mod squirrel

#Ask #fire safety #Galaxy ace #Mod squirrel #Bodily autonomy #Fatphobia #Healthism #emergency response

[creekfiend]

I get a lot of asks about training advice and I'm always like "well I am not a professional in any capacity" and also I forget every book I have ever read etc the moment someone asks me, but I remembered at random today that my very talented friend has written a really amazing training book that I think would be especially good for the people who tend to ask me this, bc Bridger has ADHD (LIKE DO MANY OF US) and is therefore really good at breaking things down into digestible chunks! this is one of the things I find most challenging about training so I think this is an extra valuable thing to have in a book.

It's mostly training basics for people who are beginners, but in a way where you can use the info the build a LOT of skills once you grasp the basics, and I really vibe with Bridger's ethics around training as well.

it's called Level Up Your Dog Training by Natalie Bridger Watson and I'm going to provide a couple different links where you can get it.

Amazon link:

Support a small business link:

(Bridger adds: "Also for accessibility, there is a large print paperback edition (Amazon only) and a digitally-narrated audiobook (Google Play only, trying to get it available more places). Am aware of the ethical implications of AI narration and would like to replace this with a human-narrated version when I can, but that costs $1,000-$2,000+ to hire out, so the not-ideal compromise is digitally-narrated for accessibility in the short term with plans to do better when I can.")

Anyway this is a really great book and not recommended as often as it should be bc it's just not one of the standard go-to books (yet!!!) so I thought I would plug it and in doing so answer all the training rec asks I get all the time and am so bad at answering 🤣

#dog t #PLS FEEL FREE TO REBLOG ITS A RLY GOOD BOOK. #other online training content i like include smart bitch dog training #superpup academy #ummm #cogdog ofc but a lot of that goes over my head bc im not a sports guy lol.

[v3nusxsky]

Hi! Could you do a CG Natasha/Little!reader? Where the reader has abandonment issues, and severe separation anxiety ( due to basically being passed around the foster care system) and she breakes a cup on accident ( or breakes something) and panics because she thinks her momma will be mad and leave her and fluff/comfort happens?

Love bug

*Authors note~ Mars failing her driving exam with silly mistakes equals an Agere fic so I hope you all enjoy*

Trigger Warnings~ little r cg momma nat mentions of Wanda (aunt) hinted at foster care rough childhood and abuse

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You were okay before she left, you managed to kiss her goodbye and totally didn't cry. Well you did but after she left. It was silly really, she'd be gone twelve hours maximum, the mission so low risk she'd be doing a duo rather than a whole team. Without you. Of course you worry for her, as she does for you, but for some reason this mission was hitting you hard. Perhaps it was the fact it was last minute or maybe you'd just been pretty sensitive today. But either way Natasha had asked Wanda if she'd keep an eye on you today. It made things easier for you to have someone around when Nat couldn't be there.

Natasha left about ten in the morning and you weren't expecting her to be there till ten at night, so of course you cried yourself to sleep for a nap. Your hope was that it would take up most the time but in fact you only managed to sleep for an hour and a half. You'd woken up feeling rather small, not really understanding you'd regressed or why you'd done so. But the list that you'd made yourself to keep yourself busy and fully distracted from your lover's absence was forgotten.

Without the mental capacity to even consider doing all your adult you tasks you just rolled over and snuggled into your Mama's pillow, nuzzling into her scent hoping to convince yourself she was truly right her. It did nothing but make you miss her more now. Crying was your only reaction to this and that's how Wanda found you when an hour later. Eyes now puffy and red as you sobbed for your Mama. "Oh darling, are we a little one?" Wanda murmured gaining your attention and receiving a small nod and whimper of "Auntie Wan" accompanied but sniffed and whimpers."I'm here lovely, what can Auntie Wanda do for you?"

"Wan Mama" you whimpered, pouting at the mind reading witch. "Oh I know my darling girl, remember Auntie Wands can read your mind?" Her attempt to get you off of seeking out Natasha seemed to work for now, you gasped as if you didn't already know this information. That was how Wanda was stopped showing you call little tricks with her magic that had you amazed and mesmerised on her rather than who wasn't here. With the promise of more tricks with her magic she managed to convince you to come and settle down with the team. They loved when you regressed and your little state loved them just as much.

You spent hours with the team, even eating a little as auntie Wanda made sure Bucky and Thor were unsuccessful in their attempts to try and "steal" your food of your plate. You giggled every time the tried and wands would remove their hands with magic. Tony filled your mind of all these cool toys he could design for you and all the gadgets he could make for his favourite little Avenger. You didn't know you were the only little Avenger and you most certainly didn't know that your Mama and Auntie Wanda would string Tony up the second they thought you'd be in any danger.

Natasha was due back in an hour and a half now. The team watching all the movies your little headspace loves to watch, in fact you'd began with 101 Dalmatian's so it only made sense you'd watch 102 and 103 Dalmatian's. In fact on the third film Wanda decided everyone should have a warm drink to settle themselves for bed. Really it was so you didn't feel alone when she asked you to have your night time drink. Your headspace meant you were willing to drink from a cup with some support so Wanda happily helped you drink. But one time you got brave, curiosity running through your mind as you attempted to be a big girl and make your Mama proud. But the crash of the mug smashing on the ground startled everyone, your warm drink spilling everywhere amongst the shattered mug. Immediately, you began to attempt to clean the mug, not realising in your little state you could hurt yourself, and mumbled "Im sorry! I'm so sorry! Mama gone be mad me I sworry wan no tells Mama on mes? I fix I fix it please no want mana leave."

Bucky attempted to come near you only causing you to shrink further into the mess and cry a plea of forgiveness and that you'd fix it. You didn't want to hurt again. You wanted to make sure your Mama didn't hate you, that she would stay with you and that she still loved you. All these people were wrong, and that made you mad. You wanted your Mama and the fact they wouldn't get her caused a meltdown.

Wanda quickly became the gravity for you, ushering the men away from the room and immediately scooping your crying form off the floor and using her magic to clean the mess. "Hushhhh little one, it's okay it's all clean. All gone. No one is mad. Your Natty is still gonna love her precious girl I promise" Wanda soothed as you sobbed into her shoulder hiccuping through them. "Shh little one. I'm here aren't I? Did I go?" Causing you to shake your head, "want Mama."

"Did I hear my Lovebug wants her Mama?" Natasha's voice rang through the compound causing you to stifle a sob and gasp clinging to Wanda. Although you wanted Nat more than life itself but the fear of her getting mad at you for the mug and leaving you alone. "I'm sorry no let hurt me. I'm sorry mama I no mean do it I try fix" you whimpered showing your hands that Wanda had magic bandaids on for you. "Oh my little Lovebug, Mama isn't mad I promise. I'm here baby I promise and so is Wands here. She took care of you for me huh?" You nodded and pointed to the television where the white spotted dogs were. "Ah I see you had doggies on huh? You must be super tired love bug. I think it's time my lovely girl gets some rest with me. Wanna cuddle my baby while we sleep" she whispered kissing your head as Wanda helped guide you into Natasha's arms. From there you'd have a few more meltdowns before drifting off to sleep with your head buried into her neck.

Word count~ 1178

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #natasaha romanoff #nat x you #soft mana nat #natasha x you #nat #soft natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #cg nat #mama nat #natasha marvel #black widow fan fic #natasha mcu

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Hey, wanted to say I am in love with your work. Really fantastic! May I ask: Do you have any pieces of advice for inspiring CoG writers or Interactive Fiction writers? Thank you and can't wait for more.

Im absolutely welcome these types of asks as they help remind me of what ive learned myself. Im going to try and say what i think every aspiring writer should hear to help them start out. Here we go: 1) Ensure you know what how much youre writing from the very beginning and plan accordingly. If it is a smaller story, do not be super ambitious, use it as a starter game to learn the basics of choicescript and learn the social media aspect of producing a title. If it is a large story, say over 800k words long, then you NEED to have an outline for each arc to help you know A to B for the story beats. Make outlines upon outlines and you will be doing yourself a favor. ESPECIALLY when coding. 2) THIS ISNT LIKE WRITING TRADITIONAL NOVELS. Know that Interactive Fiction is frustrating to write. You can write 3k words for a choice group, and players will only see 500 words or less worth of content for that choice group. Do not feel disheartened, for it is what it is. Just know youre doing a good job providing content and playable interaction with choices! Just be aware and mindful of not injecting bad or useless content in these choices! Have it matter in some way, either to represent/flesh out the world, characters, who the MC is, consequences, relationship changes, and foreshadowing.

3) Do not get too caught up with reader interaction. Your main job is to write write write. Create a hard limit for how many asks you answer, how much time you spend interacting with readers, and know what type of questions you should answer. Simply put: Be strategic! There may be a great question, but it could be too spoilery or it could take too much of your time to answer. 4) I learned this the hard way. Do not release information about the ROs until you actually reach the part in the story we meet them. If i can go back in time, i wouldnt have announced mine so soon haha. Youre gonna be eager to share your work and talk about it, but youll only be shooting yourself in the foot with people who only seek romance from your game! Also, dont overshare about em. You could retcon something and a reader may get upset with the change. Keep it simple! 5) Set low goals. Do not overpromise. You will feel guilty for failing and it may/will affect you mentally and your willingness to write. 6) You are not perfect, and that's okay!!! I struggle with this (and honestly everything ive listed here), but reminding yourself that its okay to not be perfect will help. You're human. It's hard to remember, and take it seriously, but you have to try. 7) Choice of Games (and more specifically Hosted Games) offer amateur writers a chance to share their work with others. Though games are becoming more and more expansive and huge, don't feel like you HAVE to do the same. A Mage Reborn is widely considered to be one of the best titles to have come out in recent years, and is listed at having 160k words! Small package (160k is by no means small in any capacity, dont get it twisted) big impact! 8) Know what type of game and title youre writing. If your project is focused on romance, dont spend more than necessary on worldbuilding, action, or thematically unrelated things. Stick to what the focus is, and your strength! 9) Ask for help. Seriously. You are combining coding and writing, so there's bound to be errors and things you wont understand. The CoG forums and Twine communities are always ready to help. Reach out to the communities or other authors for help. Just remember that some may be too busy to really help, so don't feel disheartened if one doesnt have the time. There are others, and you usually only need one to say yes to help figure out what youre struggling with or why you keep getting that error message. 10) Understand that you are giving a piece of your soul out there. It sounds corny as hell, but it's the simple truth. There is literal risk involved as a creator, no matter if you write, develop, draw, sing, perform, etc. There's obviously the risk of spending too much time on a hobby or dream for too little gain, but what im referring to is the all too common story of a creative putting their heart and soul into something important to them, and receiving no attention or being told it sucks. It will damage you, and perhaps even break you. Because again, you may have given it your all. So please take care of your mental health. It's okay to retreat and stop for a while. That doesnt make you a failure. Most of us creatives do this because we love the subject, and want to share what we can with others that love the industry, hobby, or topic theyre in. Remember that love, and remember what made you fall in love enough to put yourself out there. Remember you started for the art and craft.

#kingdomsandempires #interactive fiction #authors of tumblr

[csuitebitches]

Girl Code Rules

Sometimes I’m shocked when I go to a party and I see a girl alone in the bathroom, throwing up, with not a single friend in sight. Some of you guys need to learn what being a good friend means. Having emotionally stable, healthy friendships is important. You can’t just demand that unless you offer the same back.

1. Don’t fuck your friend’s ex.

That should be self explanatory but unless your friend themselves have given you the green light, don’t do it. And I still would say, don’t do it either way. Sharing bodies in my opinion is quite weird.

2. Make sure your friends are home safe.

If your friend hasn’t replied back to your message, call them to make sure they they’re safe and sound.

3. Be honest.

If you think your friend’s outfit could be better or if you feel that they are making a bad decision, you can inform them while also being kind. You don’t have to lash out at them rudely. Don’t be afraid of sharing your genuine opinion, you have a right to it. However, there’s a way of saying things and you can deliver the same meaning with different words.

4. Be there for them.

If your friend can’t handle too much alcohol, make sure they don’t drink too much.

Sometimes being there doesn’t just mean giving your advice. There are times when we know better but we just want to rant it out. I always ask my friends, do you want me to hear you out or do you want my advice?

5. Boundaries.

You’re allowed to have boundaries and you’re allowed to exercise them. If your friend has been going through a tough situation but you don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with it, tell your friend honestly what the situation is. “Hi, let me read this in a bit and get back to you” is better than not replying.

6. Check in with your friends

I used to suck at staying in touch with my friends when I left for uni. So I made a list of the friends I genuinely cared about and wanted to support. I would set reminders every weekend to check in on a different friend. That system worked out pretty well.

7. Support your friends!

If someone has started a small business, just had a baby, or is starting a new chapter in their life - celebrate their wins! It doesn’t mean that financially you go all out. But something as small as a congratulatory or promotional post, a sweet message, a video call; being there for your people is so important.

8. Don’t get defensive

When people tell us what we are doing wrong or if we made a mistake, we often get defensive.

“I didn’t do that!”

“That’s not what I meant!”

We cut off the other person and try to justify ourselves.

Try not doing that. Let the other person speak and tell you if you hurt them or made them feel bad in any way. The most difficult part is staying quiet and just listening, but this is what makes or breaks any relationship. Allow the other person to get it off their chest - confrontation isn’t easy and can often make people anxious.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #strong women #getting your life together #feminine energy #balance #friends #Making friends #being friends #better friends #how to be a good friend #popular #how to be popular #frienship

[centrally-unplanned]

after your last post about STEM, what do you think about expanding the fields of 1) environmental science and other study of the environment and our interactions with it and 2) urban design and urban planning. Imo both of these should be as big as health sciences and engineering respectively, the only reason they’re not is that people don’t care about our interaction with the environment we need to care about and systemic place-drivers behind inequality, liveable lifestyles, and our ability to actually live sustainably as a species. mostly asking bc these are fields I’ve studied in and there’s very minimal, very introductory education imo compared to how much potential there is for 1) innovation and 2) applied study of ecosystems etc to actually care for said ecosystems

These are classic individual-cart-before-the-structural-horse issues. Does the current US economy (I'm talking about US, this will be unique by country, no commentary on Italy or w/e) lack for environmental scientists? When the EPA makes job postings for inspectors, when Williams & Connolly LLP puts out the call for environmental consultants for pending litigation, when Siemens is drowning in NEPA paperwork for a solar installation and needs to onboard staff, do they lack for candidates? Like fresh-out-of-school candidates, not "30 years of experience litigating environmental impact statements in United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit" candidates? I think the answer is "no" - its a popular major. It has tiers for levels of math skill, it has politics & business subfields, and so on. The system only needs so many of these people to do its job - I actually know about the environmental field from a professional capacity having built a degree in it, and right now we graduate too many in this field if you made me bet (but again not by like a ton, they do fine).

You can't make the system care more via the lever of supply of college majors. We currently empower environmental scientists by X% because that is how much we value the environment as a society. You wanna budge that you gotta convince people, win hearts and minds, initiate political reform, etc.

With urban studies I haven't done this professionally so I am a little less confident, but I think we oversupply that category even more. We have tons of urban planners in the US - we just don't let em do anything! We hire them by the dozens in every city and then suborn them root-and-stem to elected officials and an infinite array of veto points by local councils and lawsuits. Boosting the supply of graduates would do absolutely nothing - in fact its a "flakeout" career as we call it in the industry, the kind of job someone majors in, gets hired in the field, and then leaves after a few years because it turns out to suck for w/e reason. (though again, never dug into the data on this one, so grain of salt on this specific claim. Wider thrust is true).

I think this ties into a general principle I have - the US higher education system is not a lever for social change. In some small ways sure, and for academia oh yeah ofc and I have a ton of ideas on that one. But overall its downstream of wider social forces, and its decently-optimized to cater to the needs of those social forces. You can't squeeze new social goals out of society's certification system.

[ri47]

A Reminder on VesalBlood Project Fanworks Policy

we've been on hiatus for a little bit, and seeing as it looks to be in fashion, it's time for us to emerge from hiatus solely to shoot ourselves in the foot.

probably an ill omen to joke about that, but it seemed like the most eyecatching way to open a business as usual reminder. how're you all doing? this update's from rin's desk

feel free to skip this if you're mad about the clickbait or have already read the fanworks policy. there is a bit about translation at the end that may interest international fans, though.

GENERAL STUFF

I've gotten a few asks about this, and while it's covered on the official site, I wanted to lay things out here so that people who haven't checked out our beautiful hub (check it out! I like to think it's quite pretty!) know it in no uncertain terms

RI47 HEAVY INDUSTRIES fully supports all fanworks within the extent permitted to us by international copyright law, which we unfortunately must obey. would that I could tell you to break that, but I can't, so I shan't.

you can make zines, comics, fanfiction, games, songs, whatever you want. you have blanket permission to produce crafts, physical and digital, as long as you don't attempt to impersonate RI47, pass it off as official, or otherwise operate in a for-profit capacity. we ask that, in cases where you do want to sell something, you run it by us first (and send us a copy!)

TRANSLATION STUFF

because VesalBlood Project is the work of a small team (presently consisting of two permanent members and a few contributors), it's not currently viable for us to work on releasing anything in multiple languages. not gonna attach any sob stories here, but every member of the team is below poverty line and works on the project as a labour of love.

English speakers, as it stands, make up the majority of the audience. this means that releasing in English is the most viable way to make sure that VesalBlood is available to as many people as possible with a budget of zero. I regret that it's this way, but officially translating an unfinished work is unfortunately just not in the cards.

all that aside, while you have permission to translate and distribute things related to VesalBlood to your heart's content, we do have an official book of translation documents that has been maintained for the entirety of the project's existence. while these documents aren't publicly available due to containing spoilers for future projects, we would be happy to share relevant sections with anyone who would like to translate VesalBlood for a wider audience

if we haven't released something in your language, whether or not it's commercial, we'll look the other way if you happen to be offering it somewhere that it's otherwise unavailable.

while we have general translation notes for most localisation efforts, mainly detailing connotations of certain terms and which ones should remain untranslated, there are slightly more specific translation notes available for French, German, Japanese, Mandarin, Polish, Portugese, Russian, and Spanish efforts. these notes mainly contain information specific to speech patterns and the characters used in names, but contain a few "official" translations for trickier setting terms that don't exist outside of VesalBlood

all that being said, I don't personally recommend translating Diesem Fernen Traum yet, unless you specifically want to translate the beta version of a work-in-progress

translation is the greatest show of love that I, personally, think can be given to a work. sharing something with others even when it's not easy is a deeply beautiful thing, and I'm eternally thankful to everyone who's ever set out to do it

The Short of It

if you want to make fan merchandise related to RI47, you can do it as long as it's not for profit.

don't impersonate us (it's very rude)

if you want to make something based on RI47's works on a for profit basis, we can talk about it, but you need permission.

if you want to translate anything official from RI47, you can do it.

we have translation documents we want to share with you. it will make your life easier. there are some translations that were written in advance solely to take work off your shoulders.

if you release a translation of something that would otherwise be paywalled, we wouldn't hold it against you.

as an addendum to the previous note, if you want to translate something that would otherwise be paywalled, we would like it if we could work with you on the process

Diesem Fernen Traum is unfinished and subject to revision with time, so consider that before setting out to translate it

in this studio, we love and respect translators

until next time, rin

#VesalBlood

[cooganbegs-blog]

Somehow I’ll never get used to the fug of hot humidity that envelopes when you walk outside the airport in KL! My brain is fuggy and I’m feeling overwhelmed. Read a great book on how to build and coach product teams, it seems like so much to change and implement and drive and champion. I’m not sure even which bits I should start with or even if I care enough to try.

The longer I’m in this role, the more I realise I hate managing people. Working in a team, love it…. managing up and down, I hate it. So am trying to nut out, how do I keep the parts of my job I love and leave the shit I dread and that drains every fibre in my body!

Have reached out again to a possible opportunity I met through Sprout. Only this time I was clear that the catchup on Wednesday evening is most definitely in my capacity as a Head of Product and not the Chair of Sprout. Go Steward … combines finance and small scale producers with an awesome business model. Not sure what I could bring to the table but I’m definitely keeping the conversation going.

What is my next role. I commuted to three years at the orange company, once again if I make it it’ll be by the skin of my teeth and where grit and stubbornness! Surely there’s a world where I have a role that is challenging yet is In a company with a product I actually believe in. And I’d take a pay cut if it was possible .

Hilton Doubletree, that cookie is going to get smashed shortly!!

[psanders2217]

I would love to see you write something about love. The deepest love that you’ve ever had. 🥰

This is a very good question to ask someone, but I don't have a straightforward answer.

The most love I have felt only has been with platonic friendships.

After a period of time, when I feel like I know them well enough, I just want to tell them "I love you."

It is like a promise in a way, because I feel like I know you so well now, that I don't think you will leave my life.

It also means I will not leave yours, and I would cement myself in place if it means to be your friend.

I do feel very deep love for my friends, especially for my best friend.

"Best friend," seems like a hard title to have, and I only say it to people when I feel like they deserve it.

And she does.

She has been with me as I have grown up, and she is one of the only things I have left from my childhood.

It does feel like we are intertwined in a way.

Like we are double helixes rotating around one another.

Even when we do not talk to each other for a while, either because we are both busy, or just not in the mood, our friendship doesn't burn out.

When we talk to each other, we always talk freely, because we both know the other has no judgement.

No matter the allotment of time in-between when we chat, it never has an impact, we always just talk when we need to talk, or when we want to.

She said to me, recently, "...It’s just nice to call with you, because you’re one of the people I trust the most and like the closest friend to me I’m always myself around you."

It meant so much to me.

It means so much to me.

I have a lot of love for her, and I know she does for me too.

However, I don't know the maximum capacity of what "deep love" is.

It doesn't feel like I love someone so much, my soul repeats their name over and over.

It doesn't feel like I love someone so much, every word they say is like a poem.

It doesn't feel like I love someone so much, their face is sculpted into my mind.

It feels like I still have so much love to give.

I have never loved someone so much that I have been engulfed in it.

That seems like something only a romantic relationship can do, but I haven't had one of those yet.

I use "yet" because I hope I experience it in its entirety.

It sounds lovely.

I think I something that is more personal to me, that I think I may love the most, are just words.

The words people say to me, the meanings of them, the tone, the implication, the repetition of words, all of it.

I love hearing people speak freely, and so passionately, that it makes them so ecstatic.

I like when people trust me enough they say whatever is on their mind, because truly... they should be allowed to.

Words of affirmation are something I love.

There's something so endearing about telling someone blatantly, "I trust you."

"I think you are one of the most amazing people I know."

"You should see the way I see you."

"I always want to talk to you."

All of it is just so beautiful to hear.

It means they think about you, even when you aren't near them.

It means they are so touched by your presence, they store a little bit of it in their mind.

They are like little butterflies, when you see them, you just want to smile at how surprising and wondrous they are.

I know the mind tries to play tricks and overthinks, so these words do help.

It isn't just the affirmations either, it is just talking to people.

I really like texting, because I always reread the conversations.

I like seeing all that they said to me in the moment, just because they felt like it.

The things people do mean a lot to me.

Even if they think it's insignificant, I find it very thoughtful.

Like asking to hold hands, because you are scared of a haunted house.

Like playing the same game together.

Like sharing the deepest thoughts and insecurities with each other and then comforting one another.

It is, really, the little things.

The small stuff.

It does mean a lot to me when people do these kinds of things.

They say stuff to you, because they are saying it to YOU.

They mean it for YOU, and only you.

I love the meanings of words deeply.

I will be sure to post something I made a while ago just about the meanings of words.

As deep as I love words, I don't think it is the deepest love I have ever had.

The wording of this is very particular.

"The deepest love I have ever had" makes it sound like I carry it with me in my pocket, or have it displayed as a prized possession for everyone to see.

I don't have that.

I love a lot of different things, but nothing as deeply with no uncertainty.

I don't know if I love anything so much, I have thought about it every day of my life.

There is a new friend I made that I really love, and have thought about a lot, but not to this extent.

Deep love seems passion driven, and I have been so exhausted by life, I am not passionate for things I love.

Maybe, my answer is just I love people.

It's so generalized that... I also hate people.

It is like a yin yang.

I love them dearly, even with their flaws, but I also hate them as much, even if they have their good sides.

People are so complex, too complex

It is one of the things I don't and will never understand fully.

People have their own interpretations and perspectives on different things shaped by how they grew up.

I found out, that the way I view things and what I say to people about them... is quite different.

It is a surprise.

I have a lot to say on different things, because I want to be sure I get my point across.

I have been told I have great advice on things.

What I don't understand is how people want to bottle that up.

I always confide in my friends, but I don't understand the ones that don't.

The people that keep it to themselves, and let the sword slowly sink in.

It doesn't make sense to me.

It is the total opposite of what I think.

I know there is a reason, and I can think of one.

It is just I don't get it is all.

I think people in general are too complex for me to deeply love, but I think it can be done.

I think there is someone out there that I can love with everything I have.

I just don't know where, or who they are.

Maybe it is someone I already know, and we just don't know each other enough.

The time will pass, and I am sure I will find out.

I am very sure I will.

That doesn't mean someone doesn't love me with everything they have.

My mother might.

My friends might.

My cats might.

I just don't know if they do or not.

I would need that to be blatant.

I would need them to say it to me, because I don't believe I can be the deepest thing someone loves.

It seems impossible to me.

Improbable.

Whatever the answer may be, it is definitely not simple.

It is not simple in the slightest.

It is as complex and confusing as people.

It is as dangerous and vulnerable as a sword.

It is as heartfelt and safe as a hug.

It is as self aware as me.

I hope this answer satisfies you in some way, because it required a lot of thought.

I am sending a piece of my love to you and to whoever reads this.

Thank you for asking such a question.

I enjoyed answering it.

#my writing #poems and poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #thoughts #writing #poem #my poem #inspiration #personal #deep thoughts #love #platonic love #romantic love #relationship #relationships #friendship #friendships #friends #friend #best friends #personal thoughts #complex #complicated #yin yang #words words words #words #my words #i love this #i love you

[cookinguptales]

I’m sorry, but it seems outrageous that you would contact a podcaster about accessibility at their show before contacting the venue and feel hurt when they redirected you to contact the venue. From their perspective, they’re probably doing a lot of shows in a lot of places, and they’re experts in podcasting and putting on shows, not on the accessibility of every venue they perform in. If the venue isn’t communicative or is inaccessible, it’s understandable that you’d be frustrated with the podcasters for not considering that before booking the venue, but anyone could’ve told you that contacting the podcasters first was the wrong order to do things.

Yeah, I figured I'd start getting these as soon as the post hit over a thousand notes.

Welp. *rolls up sleeves*

I think it must be very nice to just be an expert in your chosen field. To not have to worry about whether you can physically walk into a building whenever you go some place, especially for work. It's not something that I've ever experienced, but I think it sounds nice.

Personally, when I book venues for my job, that's a question I have to ask, both because I am disabled and because my boss is. And so are many of her fans.

I wonder how you think disabled podcasters book shows, or disabled comedians, or disabled musicians. Do you think that it's impossible to ask about basic accessibility options before you book venues? Do you think that might be an important question to ask if, in your podcast, you explicitly say you support disabled people and treasure your diverse fans? Do you think that might be a question that might be asked along with things like stage size, auditorium capacity, and sound system? Because, like all those things, it is a basic concern when it comes to putting on a show?

I am not upset that the venue is accessible or not. Hell, I still don't know if the venue is accessible or not, though I suspect it probably is. I am upset that they did not ask. I am upset that when they were asked a question that might confront this privilege, they continued not to care about the answer to this question.

I never expect able-bodied people to be experts. I expect them to ask questions and consider the answers before they call themselves friends or allies. I am tired of people saying they shouldn't have to be experts in accessibility to put in any effort whatsoever. And frankly, I resent the idea that the onus should always be on disabled people to find a way to exist in public.

The entire point of my post is that they should know what kind of place they're performing in. And, if they realize that they do not know the answer of a fundamental question that would make their show accessible to all fans, they should damn well ask. Shifting that responsibility onto others shows me that it never mattered much to them in the first place.

You're acting like I've never planned an event or spoken to a venue in my life, and frankly, that's condescending. This whole ask is condescending. I'm tired and my blood pressure is low and I'm cranky and I'm tired of people like you showing up in my inbox to treat me like I'm a goddamn idiot for expecting able-bodied professionals to give a shit about accessibility before I ask them to.

You know, I don't usually make a big fuss about the ADA and the legal requirements that small businesses have to adhere to when offering services. This is not because I want to be a nice, accommodating cripple. It's because I'm fucking exhausted. If I made a fuss every time I encountered an ADA violation, I'd be comatose. There are like three of them on my fucking block.

But if you're a business, and make no mistake, we are now speaking about business matters, you had damn well better know if you're even in violation. Christ. These aren't infants, they're grown-ass adults taking money for their work and advertising themselves as inclusive.

I know exactly what their perspective was. I know it because I have encountered it every day of my goddamn life. I know that it wasn't a concern they thought was important while booking because I'm sure it's not a thing they regularly have to think about. I know that they think it's the venue's job or the customer's job or the government's job to make sure that places are accessible. I know they thought it should not have to be one of their many logistical concerns while planning this tour. They just wanted to be podcasters.

I would like to be just a lot of things.

Well, what I'm telling you is that's a privilege and it's apparently an unexamined one. Someone doesn't have to be kicking my cane out from under me to be engaging in (and benefiting from) systems that oppress me. And while I don't expect people to know these things immediately, it says an awful lot about a person what they say when they're confronted with them.

And they said "this isn't our concern."

So uh. Their show isn't my concern. And frankly, your pearl-clutching isn't, either. I'm tired of exhausting myself so able-bodied people don't have to, and I'm tired of treating your perspective like it doesn't piss me off.

Get fucked, anon. I have friends to attend to.

#replies #I usually try so hard to be nice when I talk about these things but goddamn #if you're not going to enter into this conversation with good faith neither will I #you anonymous fucking coward #cw: #ableism #disability

[bubbleguppyyy]

Oh, Little Birdy

Chapter 2

Dean x fem! reader, Past! Bucky x fem! reader

Story Synopsis: Being plagued by constant dreams of a man with beautiful green eyes who calls you Birdy can be very confusing if you don't remember ever meeting him. You want to understand these dreams all while trying to understand why you used to harbor feelings for a certain Winter Soldier who wants "nothing" to do with you. 

----------

Walking into the meeting room, you were greeted by awkward silence from almost everyone except Sam, Tony, and Wanda. Tony gave you a small smile from the front of the room, trying to ease the tension. Wanda and Sam ushered you to the seat between them. You chanced a glance at Bucky, but he was too busy actively avoiding your gaze by practically hiding behind Steve, who was giving you an annoyed glare. 

You just sighed and sat beside Sam. If they wanted to be petty then you wouldn’t engage with them. Quite honestly, trying to repair your friendship with them was the last thing on your mind, the green eyed man taking up most of your thoughts. You made a mental note to talk to Sam after the meeting.

“Alright, now that everyone is here, we have received another ping of activity going on in an old Hydra base. This one hasn’t been active in a hot minute but Fury said we should take a look just in case we have another group forming again.”

You zoned out as Tony started babbling on about statistics and the specifics of the mission. You would get the rest of the information from Sam or Wanda on the way there. You just couldn’t find the brain capacity to focus on Tony right now.

Sam seemed to notice and rubbed your shoulder to at least try and get you back to the present. You were too busy staring off into space, thinking about what might’ve connected you to this dream man and why you seemed to have feelings for him, yet you ended up with Bucky. None of it made sense. Why would you-

“Are you even listening?”

You slowly turned your head from the glass windows to Tony, about to apologize, but Tony was looking down at the ground awkwardly. That’s when you realized who had asked you that. You whipped your head around to look at Steve who had his hands planted on the table in front of you, looking royally pissed. 

“No, I wasn’t listening. Some people don’t have to know every minuscule detail to do a job, Captain.”

You watched him clench his jaw, eyes hardening. You knew he was about to say something that was going to set you off. You had been more on edge since the dreams started and he had taken note of that. You usually liked rilling him up when you knew he had nothing against you, but now he did have something. 

“Maybe you should be taken off the mission. You’re not in the right mind for this. I’ve noticed you starting to lose it over the past two weeks. You’re not fit for a mission right now.”

The tension was so thick in the room it felt like it was suffocating you. Sam was looking between you and Steve, trying not to get in the middle again and have to choose a side. Tony gave you a pitying look and Wanda simply sighed and shook her head. 

Not fit for the mission? Losing it? Oh, he was about to see losing it.

“Not fit for the mission? Shouldn’t you be telling that to your pal Bucky? I’m not the one considered a national threat. I’m not the one that is under mandatory counseling even though I should be after all of the shit I went through. I’m not the one having to go through court every three months. Do you know what it was like to be one of the only women able to survive the soldier tests? Of course not, you’re fucking Captain America, why would you give a shit about some woman below you? You’re so caught up in yourself that you can’t even see that Bucky needs to rest and get more help, not go on every mission possible. Do not tell me I am not fit for a mission when you won’t even get Bucky, god forbid even me, the help we need.”

Your hands were planted right in front of Steve’s. You were in his face, seething with frustration and anger. He had no idea what you went through. He had no right to tell you what you could and couldn’t do. 

Suddenly, Sam’s hand slid onto your back, causing you to flinch from the unexpected touch. 

“It’s okay, let’s just take a moment away. It’s going to be okay, you’re going on the mission.”

You continued to glare at Steve whose face had softened some but still held that arrogant defiance. You didn’t want to back down, you wanted to see how much he and Bucky’s actions pained you. 

You slid your hands into fists and hung your head. You hated how you couldn’t hold a stare for very long anymore. With a quick glance at everyone, you left the room quickly. You wanted to go to the weapons room. You never understood why but, you always felt the safest there. Especially with the knives and rifles. 

“Friday? If Sam comes looking for me, will you let him know where I am? Also, he’s the only one allowed in here until I leave.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

You honestly had to give props to Tony for creating the lifelike AI. She truly was a wonder.

You walked over to your weapons drawer, slowly pulling the entire drawer out to set it on the floor. You grabbed some tools for cleaning and sharpening and set them next to the drawer. Slamming your hand on one of the light switch buttons, you closed the curtains to the surrounding glass windows. 

Sighing as you sat down, you felt the weight of everything that happened come over you. A small sniffle turned into full-blown sobbing, you couldn’t stop it. You just wanted everything to make sense. Why did Bucky avoid you? Why did Steve always pick a fight? Who was the man in your dreams? 

You continued to cry as you grabbed the knife you had been found with. It was a good-sized dagger, its handle made of beautiful silver with swirling designs engraved into it. The blade was long and pointed, fitting perfectly into the personalized holder Nat made for it. 

You ran your finger over the top of the blade, slowly falling into another trance. Your finger stopped on a spot just before the hilt. There, sat a small engraving, two words that have constantly plagued your mind.

“For Birdy”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #fanfic #dean fanfiction #supernatural #marvel #the avengers #tony stark #sam wilson #daggers

[eabd]

"David and Goliath"

Some of you are trivialising the boycott: that it being seasonal, and it won't make a dent to the establishments that are funding the genocide, that the efforts are misplaced, etc.

Well, many of us are feeling angry and helpless over the wanton bloodshed. Boycotting It is the only way for us normies to participate in the jihad - we are unable to fight in the battlefield (we’re even cringing at the thought of being called to the PLKN), let alone contribute anything worthy of change to the plight of the Palestinians.

An-Nu‘mān ibn Bashīr (may Allah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) said: "The believers, in their mutual love, compassion, and sympathy are like a single body; if one of its organs suffers, the whole body will respond to it with sleeplessness and fever."

This is the only way we can influence change through the only language capitalism understands: money. Do you think the companies would go all out to explain their “neutral stance” if they’re not worried about what a personal social media post would impact on their business? At the very least, it is for our own conscience. Nevermind if it won’t so much as cause a ripple, but we are doing our part to the cause.

On the authority of Abu Sa`eed al-Khudree (may Allah be pleased with him) who said: I heard the Messenger of Allah (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) say, “Whosoever of you sees an evil, let him change it with his hand; and if he is not able to do so, then [let him change it] with his tongue; and if he is not able to do so, then with his heart — and that is the weakest of faith.”

I also saw statements such as: “Well if you’re boycotting A,B, and C, why not boycott the rest of the X, Y, and Z?” That is like saying if you’re donating to a cause, why not give all your money then? Every one of us operates on varying capacities. We are doing what we can within our capabilities, no matter how small. Some participate in peaceful protests, others make videos to raise awareness, and I paint to express my stand.

Others are risking their lives documenting the horrors in Gaza and the West Bank. Palestinians are losing their homes, lives, and their loved ones. Yet they can still say Alhamdulillah.

Did you know that mothers are having C-section, children being amputated, babies operated on without anaesthetics? There are women who have had their uterus removed to save their lives from postpartum bleeding.

Let’s stop criticising others who are doing their part in solidarity with generations of suffering, those affected by the sight of parents collecting body parts sprawling amongst the rubble, fathers cradling their babies with their heads split open from the bombings, mothers refusing to wash her hands from the blood of her martyred children she carried in her womb, and the children not knowing their fates being orphaned.

At least they are doing something to take a stand in the face of injustice.

Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) said, "Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, should not hurt his neighbour and whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, should serve his guest generously and whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, should speak what is good or keep silent."

#2023 #Palestine #Gaza #West Bank #art

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 14

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 14: descending into madness

Summary: Alfie meets with Bernard and discovers Livy is missing. It doesn’t go well.

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, violence and angst

Word count: 4376

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 13 again!)

Alfie and Livy were having a private moment by the Cut when they were interrupted by Thomas, and Livy learns the men are working with Bernard McCall from the High Rip Gang—the man responsible for her abuse and trafficking as a child. Livy panics and flees with the help of Polly and Esme. 

This chapter starts with a small time jump. We’re back at the Cut, only this time, it’s from Alfie’s point of view…

"Livy, I need you to know that I—"

… that I love you. 

Fuck, he was so close to saying the words that had evaded him for weeks, but as always, Thomas Shelby has the worst possible timing. 

"We need to talk." 

"No, we don't. Leave before I shoot you in the face."

Alfie refuses to turn around, his broad shoulders shielding Livy from view, his fingers gripping her hips as he contemplates pulling the trigger. 

It’s fucking tempting. After a long week, the last thing he wants to do is talk business. Especially not now, with Livy in his arms, staring up at him with wide eyes and swollen lips. How someone like her finds pleasure in his company, Alfie will never understand. She deserves better, surely, but it’s too late for that. She’s his now, and he’s going to finish telling her how much he loves her just as soon as he can get rid of—

"Bernard and his boys are making a move."

Oh, for fucks sake. 

Alfie knew getting involved with those useless cunts from up north would end up biting him in the arse. He curses, slamming his fist into a crate, wishing he wasn’t right all the damn time. 

"He's on his way from Liverpool. He knows about Sabini and would like to renegotiate."

"Yeah, I bet he does," Alfie grumbles as he helps Livy down, his frown deepening when her heels narrowly avoid a murky puddle. It’s yet another reminder that she doesn’t belong in this filthy fucking city, but he’ll have to tolerate it a bit longer. There will be no getting out of this meeting now, not with Liverpool proving such a valuable asset. 

Begrudgingly, he admits that expanding their network has been profitable. But at what cost? Bernard is no fool; he demands a premium for access to the docks, and now that Sabini’s gone, Alfie can only imagine what else he’ll ask for.

Or at least … that's what he would be doing if he wasn’t so fucking distracted. 

Alfie prides himself on staying two steps ahead of his associates and rarely enters negotiations without knowing what the other party hopes to achieve. It’s what sets him apart; while his capacity for violence is legendary, along with his fiery temper, it’s his dangerous mind that’s responsible for his astonishing rise to power. 

He’s astute, focused, and cunning. 

But not tonight. 

After being away from Livy and coming so close to confessing his love to her, he feels more like a nervous schoolboy than a criminal mastermind. Fucking hell. It’s taken him so long to get to this point, to find the courage to say what needs to be said, but with every passing minute, fear and doubt are creeping up his spine, the foreign emotions slowly consuming him. 

Vaguely, he’s aware of taking Livy’s arm and leading her to a car, Cyril yapping at their heels, a cutting breeze chasing the setting sun, chilling without the familiar presence of his hat. But Alfie observes these things as if from a distance, still lost in thought. 

I love you. 

It shouldn’t be this hard to say, should it? They’re just fucking words, and he’s never been short of them before. In fact, he considers himself something of a master when it comes to weaponised conversation. 

Maybe that’s the problem. 

Alfie uses words to control, confuse, and manipulate; they’re like tiny foot soldiers in his one-man army. He’s confident on the battlefield, making deal or die offers with dangerous men, but here, with her … well, fuck. 

As the streets fly by, a blur of grey and cobblestones, Alfie wonders what type of man he’d be if he hadn’t been hardened by life. Would sweet words—soft words, beautiful words, words a woman like Livy deserves to hear—roll as naturally off his tongue as the curses that pepper his speech? Would he have courted her, taken her to dinner at least, before fucking her at the goddamn breakfast table? 

He’s never been prone to second-guessing himself, but as Thomas rambles on about Bernard, Alfie tallies his list of regrets. There’s so much he would do over if he could; fuck, he should have sought out Livy as soon as the war ended, protected her like he promised, instead of waiting for her to show up on his doorstep. If only he hadn’t been such a selfish bastard, she would never have set foot in the Eden Club, and those fucking wops would have never laid a hand on her. 

Of course, Livy finds trouble wherever she goes, and under normal circumstances, Alfie would never allow himself to wallow in the past. But he’s not accustomed to feeling vulnerable or insecure—love is toying with his mind—-and she’s everything he never knew he wanted.

He’s afraid of losing her, scared of the moment when Livy comes to her senses and disappears from his life. Like a rainbow after a storm, here one minute, gone the next, leaving nothing behind but brightly coloured memories. 

His chest clenches painfully at the thought, but Alfie quickly shuts it down. It won’t happen; he won’t let it. She’ll be back in Camden Town soon enough, and then he’ll take her somewhere, somewhere expensive, and tell her properly, be a fucking gentleman for once in his useless life—

“Esme.”

Livy’s soft voice catches him off guard, and Alfie finds himself blushing under his thick beard, grateful for the fading light. The car comes to a stop as he turns in his seat and fights to keep his expression blank. 

“Probably putting the kids to bed," Thomas replies. 

Alfie nods, avoiding her eyes, sure that if Livy looks too closely, she’ll see right through him. And now is not the time, not with Thomas Shelby watching on silently and Bernard McCall arriving any fucking minute. 

"Why don't you go and say hello—alright, pet? I'll come and find you when we're done here.”

Time seems to freeze as he waits for her response, and there’s a strange tension in the air he would normally remark upon. But nothing about tonight feels normal, and he’s never felt less like himself as he hurries to help Livy out of the car, holding her close when she nearly trips over Cyril. 

“Fucking mutt,” Alfie growls, his frustration bubbling over. 

But to his surprise, his mild-mannered pup growls right back. 

Alfie frowns at the odd behaviour, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing at attention. His instincts urge him to pull Livy close, to look deep into her golden eyes before she rushes off. But then her full lips brush his cheek, and Thomas is leading the way to the betting shop, and business is business, after all. 

He lets her go.  

“Right, Thomas, I think we both know this is a waste of fucking time.” Alfie is irate and can’t be bothered to hide it. “He wants a piece of London, and that ain’t fucking happening.”

“Of course not,” Thomas scoffs, pausing to light a cigarette before taking a seat behind his large desk. “But Bernard is … optimistic. Just talk to him, eh?”

“Talk to him,” Alfie repeats dryly, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. He hates everything about this fucking office; the trinkets and the smoke and, most of all, the smug fucking man sitting across from him. “Well, I know this is hard to believe, but I’m just about out of words tonight. So why don’t you stop dancing around and fill me in on your fucking plan?”

With Livy gone, Alfie has finally managed to gather his wits. Bernard is on his way because the Blinders and Jews are dividing up territory, and it’s so fucking obvious he can’t believe he didn’t see it earlier. But Thomas did—and judging from the look on his face, it can only mean one thing: a ridiculous, overly-ambitious plan. 

And fuck, he’s too tired for this. 

While part of him reluctantly admires Thomas for his initiative, and his ability to twist anything to his advantage, lately there have been rumours of Russians and Americans, politics and weapons, and silly things Alfie wants no fucking part of. Especially not now, with Livy in his life. It’s a ballache waiting to happen, and he has a bad feeling he’s already an unwilling pawn in one of Thomas Shelby’s games. 

“We’re just buying time tonight, Alfie. That’s all. Send him back to Liverpool, let him find his head, and I’m sure we can all come to an agreement.”

“Fuck off, Thomas. Do I look like one of your dumb fucking brothers? I know you’re playing at something—“

Before Alfie can finish, they’re interrupted by a loud knock on the door. 

“Come in,” announces Thomas, shooting Alfie a stern look. 

Alfie grunts, eyeing a pretentious bronze horse from across the desk, fighting the urge to smash Thomas in the face with it. 

His temper fails to improve when the door opens, revealing Arthur and Bernard. Now he’s stuck in a room with who he’s sure must be his three least favourite people on this fucking planet. 

“Bernard,” greets Thomas. His tone is polite, but he doesn’t stand or offer his hand, and neither does Alfie. “Take a seat.”

Bernard doesn’t take offence. Instead he smiles, a crooked smile, revealing a prominent gold tooth. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replies, dropping into the seat next to Alfie and nodding when Thomas offers a whiskey. “Straight to business then, lads?”

Alfie huffs. “Well, here’s the thing, right. I recall us making a deal just the other week—did we not?” He strokes his beard before pointing accusingly at Bernard, shaking his finger at the older man. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we did, mate. And yet here we are again, sharing air in this godless city.” Alfie’s voice drops dangerously. “So I’m guessing you have something of considerable importance to tell us. Unless you enjoy wasting my fucking time?”

“Wastin’ your time?” chuckles Bernard, sipping his drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his weathered hand. “Oh, that’s funny, that is.”

“Is it?” Alfie glances across at Thomas. “‘Cause I’m known for a lot of things, mate, but my sense of humour ain’t one of them.”

Arthur snorts from his place near the door, having witnessed Alfie’s ‘humour’ firsthand. 

“Well, ‘ere’s the thing, big fella. When we was negotiatin’, you failed to mention your plan for the Italians.” Bernard’s smile disappears and is quickly replaced with a menacing scowl. “Now I can’t ‘elp but feel you’re wastin’ my fuckin’ time here, mate.”

Alfie isn’t easily baited, but he can feel his patience slipping away, his temper rising in its place. The more he thinks about it, the less he cares about Liverpool, and he’s not sure how much more he can tolerate from this ugly scouse fucker. Right now, all he wants is to be home with Livy, and he’s not afraid to break a few bones if it will hurry things along. 

“Is that so? Well, don’t be shy then.” Alfie leans forward and looks Bernard straight in the eye, just inches from his face, daring him to look away. “Tell us what you want, treacle.”

Bernard refuses to back down. “A third of the Italian’s territory,” he snarls.  

“A third of …” Alfie can’t help it; he throws his head back and laughs, a barking sound from deep in his chest, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Right, well, that ain’t ever going to happen, now is it? So thanks for coming. Now, why don’t you fuck right off—“

“I think what my colleague is trying to say”—Thomas gives Alfie a pointed look—“is that London is off the table. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Bernard narrows his eyes, jaw clenched as he waits for Thomas to continue. Alfie follows suit, wondering where the fuck he’s going with this. 

“You’re a smart man, Bernard. You know you can’t maintain that kind of territory from Liverpool.” Thomas stands and looks out the window before turning back to face the others. “But you didn’t come here to talk about London.”

“Then what the fuck am I doin’ ‘ere? Since you know so fuckin’ much.”

Thomas reaches forward and places his palms on the desk. “Because we both know I’m a man of considerable resources.” He straightens up and inhales from his cigarette before pointing at Bernard, the smoke coiling between them. “And I have something you lost. Something you want back.”

And there it is, thinks Alfie. 

The pieces are falling into place. Thomas Shelby has pulled a bargaining chip out of thin air, and Alfie would bet his left nut it’s because he needs Liverpool for more than his sad fucking gin. 

He has a bad feeling about this …

But Bernard grins. 

“There’s only one thing I want more than London.”

“Patience,” Thomas promises. “Go back to Liverpool. Give me 48 hours, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Bernard nods agreeably, leaving Alfie feeling like a third wheel with no clue what they’re talking about. But he knows better than to show his frustration and instead sits in stony silence, hands fisted by his side, fuming as Thomas wraps up the meeting. 

But when the door closes, he explodes. 

“What the fuck was that?” Alfie demands, coming to his feet, ready to wrap his fingers around Thomas’s scrawny little neck. 

“Alfie,” he replies, raising his hands in peace. “I just needed to buy some time.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Alfie growls dangerously, stalking closer. “But time for what, mate?”

Thomas takes a cautious step backwards. 

“To call in some favours. I want Liverpool, and I want Bernard out of the picture. It’ll be better for both of us.”

Alfie stares him down as he weighs up his options. 

Beneath the whiskey and smoke, he can smell Shelby bullshit, and there’s no doubt in his mind Thomas would play him for a fool. The intelligent thing would be to keep pushing for more details—by any means necessary—before this whole mess has a chance to blow up in his face. 

But he’s exhausted and just about out of fucks tonight, so for once, Alfie chooses the easy way out. Maybe he really is getting soft, but right now, he can’t find it in him to care. Not when he has other, more pleasurable, things on his mind. 

“Right, Thomas. Well, as you know, I am a man of faith. So I’m going to let your blatant fucking lies slide—for now. But know this. I can smell your pikey nonsense a mile off, and I will only allow your little games for so long.” 

Alfie steps back and collects his cane, absently reaching for his hat before remembering its fate. He curses, leaving Thomas with a final warning. 

“Do not tempt me because I will not hesitate to end your measly excuse for a life.”

And with that, Alfie stalks out of the room, ready to collect Livy and finally get the fuck out of Small Heath.  

“What the fuck do you mean she isn’t here?”

If Alfie thought Shelby men were infuriating, that was before coming up against Shelby women. 

Esme leans against her battered door frame, arms crossed over her chest, shooting Alfie a look that would melt steel. Polly stands behind her, smoking a thin cigarette, looking bored. 

But Livy is nowhere to be found.

“What are you deaf?” snaps Esme. “I told you she left earlier with your big oaf of a dog.”

His hand grips his cane as he silently counts to ten. Alfie isn’t the type to hit a woman, but he wonders if tonight will be the night he makes an exception. 

“Listen, love. I’m just about out of fucking patience. So stop with the bullshit, yeah, and tell me what else you know before I knock it out of ya.”

Esme practically snarls, reminding him of one of the small yapping dogs he’s seen on Cyril’s walks; she looks ready to chew his ankle off when Polly intervenes. 

“Look, Mr Solomons,” she proclaims, pushing Esme aside. “Livy left a half hour ago, said she was looking for you. That’s all we know.”

Alfie frowns and tries to hide the panic slowly rising in his chest. “Well, she didn’t fucking find me, now did she? Do you have any idea where she might fucking be?”

Polly shrugs, taking her time, inhaling from her cigarette before continuing. “Ask Thomas. He thinks he knows everything. Let him help you.”

Fucking hell. 

At this point, Alfie is so tired he can barely stand, so angry he can barely speak, and so worried he can barely breathe. And now he has to drag his arse back down Watery Lane to enlist the help of Thomas fucking Shelby. 

He wonders if this night could get any worse and then berates himself because of course it could. Fear settles in his gut, memories of Livy’s kidnapping fresh in his mind, the worst-case scenario increasingly possible. 

Because how could she just get lost? 

Lost … 

The fear suddenly turns to ice, like glass shattering into a million shards, exploding, slicing him to ribbons from the inside out. 

“And I have something you lost. Something you want back.”

He’s still in the dark, still missing vital fucking information, but a sixth sense tells Alfie that Bernard’s visit and Livy’s disappearance are no coincidence. With a speed he shouldn’t possess, not with his sciatica flaring up the way it is, he finds himself banging on Thomas’s front door. 

When he doesn’t immediately answer, Alfie signals to Ishmael, who’s been patiently waiting by the car all evening. He has him blow the horn, not caring if he wakes the street. He’ll wake the entire city, burn it to the ground if that’s what it takes. 

He promised Livy, promised her father, and promised himself this will not happen. Not again. After years of merely existing in this wicked world, he finally has something real—someone worth living for—and he’s not going to give her up without a fight. 

Alfie feels a fresh surge of panic, and he’s ready to smash the door down when Thomas casually opens it, a cigarette dangling from his lips, wearing a bored expression just like his fucking aunt. 

“Alfie,” he greets dryly. 

“What have you done with her, Thomas?” asks Alfie, his voice deadly calm. 

Thomas frowns, an unusual show of emotion. “I don’t know what—“

Alfie slams his cane against the door, splintering the wood, the sickening crack echoing down the empty street. 

The floodgates have opened. 

“No, Thomas,” he bellows, spit flying from his lips, rage thundering through his veins. “This is your fucking town. So tell me, where is she? What fucking happened to her?”

He reaches for Thomas, blindly shaking him. The fear is so much worse than the last time Livy went missing. Too much is unknown. He can’t make a plan, can’t mobilise his men; he’s fucking helpless, and all he can do is take out his rage on this cunt because Alfie is sure he’s involved somehow. 

His fists start flying before he can stop himself, and he must break Thomas’s nose; there’s blood, warm and wet, coating his hands as he drags him into the street. The residents of Small Heath, accustomed to violence, shut their curtains and look away as Alfie continues to unleash his fury.

He knows he should stop—he needs Thomas’s help—but Alfie can feel himself descending into madness, fear and anger blinding him to reason. Flashes of Livy alone in the dark run through his mind, and he can’t control his body’s violent reaction. Every cell is calling for her; she’s the light in his life, and he needs her back. 

“Where is she?” he roars, over and over, as the coppery scent of blood fills the air. Alfie barely notices when Arthur and John appear, shouting and pulling at his arms, or when Ishmael cocks his gun, bringing the others to a standstill. 

It’s only when another voice rings out, strong yet feminine, that everyone stops and listens. 

“She left,” Polly announces, standing in the street, surveying the scene with disgust. “And can you blame her? Look at the lot of you.”

Silence rings out, and Alfie‘s heart skips a beat. 

“She left?” he repeats dumbly, oblivious to the eyes on him as his mind struggles to make sense of her words. 

Polly nods. 

Alfie lets go of Thomas, not looking when he lands in a heap, not caring when his brothers drag him away. His attention is on Polly, and Esme when she joins her from the shadows. 

“Why?” Alfie asks, in a whisper so broken he barely recognises his own voice. 

But he finds no sympathy among the Shelby women. 

“Because she’s not fucking safe here, now is she?” snaps Esme, crossing her arms defiantly. 

“Of course she is,” Alfie scoffs, his anger returning. “I keep her fucking safe. She’s safe with me,” he roars, thumping his chest with his bloody fist. 

Polly raises an arched brow. “And how’s that working out for her?” 

He opens his mouth, ready to unleash hell, but finds he can’t because she’s fucking right. Livy’s been in danger since the moment she showed up on his doorstep. 

And Polly knows it. 

“That’s what I thought,” she replies, her voice softer this time. “Listen. If you care about her, you’ll leave her be. She’s safe, for now.��

“I can’t just fucking—“

“Yes, you can,” Polly commands. “Get a room at the Midland and clean yourself up. She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Alfie wants to protest, but the look in her eyes compels him to listen. There’s more to this, and he intends to find out. Besides, what choice does he have? He glances around and finds himself surrounded by angry Shelbys, with more Blinders lurking in the shadows, their familiar peaked caps concealing dangerous blades. 

Yet they keep their distance when he turns away, and he can’t help wondering why they allow him to walk off after smashing Thomas in his pretty face. 

It doesn’t add up, any of it. 

His hip is grateful for the comfortable bed, but despite the late hour, he can’t fucking sleep. 

How could he? 

The clock on the mantle ticks loudly, keeping pace with his heart as he stares at the ceiling. Alfie’s deep in thought, trying to put himself in her shoes, trying to understand why Livy would leave him. 

Just hours ago, she was wrapped in his arms, staring at him like he mattered … and now she’s gone? What is she so afraid of that she’d leave without saying goodbye? Why wouldn’t she let him protect her? Doesn’t she trust him? 

These questions swirl around his brain with no sensible answers, leading him to the real possibility that Polly is lying. She is a Shelby, after all, and it’s not unreasonable to imagine her covering for Thomas and whatever he’s plotting. But if she is, she’s a fucking good liar. 

Either way, Alfie can’t figure out his next step. 

He could call for men, head north to Liverpool and track down Bernard. He still suspects the fucker has something to do with her disappearance. 

But it’s risky. They’d be outnumbered, and what if he’s wrong? What if someone else has her? The last thing he wants is to waste valuable time on a wild goose chase. 

Or what if she left of her own accord, as Polly claims, and wants nothing to do with him? The thought is heartbreaking, almost too painful to envisage, but he knows he has to consider the possibility. Is it worth chancing a war with Bernard when he might not have her? 

Absolutely. 

He’s already written off Liverpool; it’s too much fucking hassle, and there are easier ways a violent man can make a fortune. But more importantly, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to get Livy back. With every minute she’s gone, Alfie realises just how much he would happily sacrifice to be by her side. He’d give up a thousand Liverpools without a second thought if that’s what it takes to get her back in his arms. 

But right now, he doesn’t know where to strike, and the best he can do is weigh up the odds. It’s all a fucking gamble, and Alfie isn’t a betting man, especially with no clear favourite and so much at stake. 

He stands, growling with frustration, fighting the urge to break something, when he hears a soft knock on his hotel door. His heart leaps, hope rising in his chest as he crosses the room in two long strides, praying he’ll find Livy on the other side. 

For a moment, he swears he can smell her sweet scent, cherries and vanilla, flooding his nostrils and warming his heart. But then he flings the door open, and his smile disappears, disappointment washing over him when he sees Polly and Esme instead of his beloved. 

His first instinct is to slam the door in their smug faces, but fortunately, the logical side of his brain takes over. He takes a deep breath and arranges his features into what he hopes is a welcoming expression. 

“Come in,” he invites, standing aside. 

Polly nods, sweeping into the room like she owns the place (and probably does). Esme follows close behind, looking less than pleased to be there, throwing herself into a chair by the window and planting her boots on a small table. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” mocks Alfie, sweeping his hand in a broad gesture and making no effort to hide his irritation. 

“What was that?” snaps Esme, staring him down as she deliberately ashes her cigarette on the carpet. 

He glares back. “Did I stutter?”

“Fuck off, you—“

“Enough!” shouts Polly, coming to stand between them. She turns to face Alfie. “We didn’t drag ourselves out in the middle of the fucking night for the fun of it. Now, do you want to bicker like a child, or do you want to find Livy?”

That shuts him up. He gives a slight, sober nod. 

“Good. Now take a seat. We need to talk.”

Tag List: @noz4a2 @confessionbrain​ @omgeternal​ @potter-solomons​ @quarterpastmidnight​ @woofgocows​ @shaddixlife​ @redhead7799 @cillmequick​

#Livy x Alfie #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fanfic

[bittieswithbrokenbones]

A papyrus bitty is lucky to have an owner that cares so much!

Spaghetti was Mattie's - like all classic papyrus bitty's- favorite food and he ate it very often. Mother had given him a perfect and pampered lifestyle since the day she brought him home; he was convinced he was the greatest bitty ever to end up with such an amazing owner and

One night, he was on dining table dancing around excitedly and chanting 'spaghetti' over and over to the tune of Mother's humming as she stirred the sauce for dinner. He did this every time she made the dish for him and neither him nor her seemed to get tired of it. However, this time while hopping around and spinning, he had unknowingly made his way closer and closer to the edge of the tabletop.

A single misplaced step interrupted his fun as he suddenly slipped and plummeted to the cold hard floor; when the pain registered after a second, all he could do was wail and and hold onto his arm.

One frantic drive later, Mattie sat on Mother's lap in the bitty vet's office with dry tear tracks on his cheeks, sucking pathetically on a piece of monster candy she was holding up for him. The vet had slathered his right arm with a tingly white paste then wrapped it with some fabric; It was now stuck at an angle in his new sling and while it wasn't comfortable, at least his pain had settled a little.

The vet said he had gotten very lucky with the way he landed and he'd only received a small fracture so there was no need for an actual cast. With a weeks worth of monster candy and some rest, he should be fully healed. Unfortunately, papyrus bitties were one of the most fragile and prone to injury bitty types; while they technically were able to take more damage than their counterpart, they didn't have the same magical capacity or reflexes so they tended to heal slower and be clumsier.

Mattie ended up going to bed early that night and without his spaghetti. He whined a little bit about missing his favorite meal while he got dressed in his pajamas but ultimately decided he was too tired from the vet visit to mind too much and his mother would most likely just make him extra tomorrow to make up for it.

What he didn't know what that his mother was rattled more than he was by the experience. She stayed up all night just pacing around the house thinking about what she'd do if Mattie got hurt again, or worse, dusted. Even though the bitty vet was kind and expressed that it wasn't her fault, all she could think of is that he wouldn't have gotten injured in the first place if she didn't let him on the table.

She went back and forth before making up her mind about what to do. It was a tough decision and while she knew he wouldn't like it, if keeping her beloved bitty safe and healthy involved making some major changes to his lifestyle, it didn't matter.

...

Mattie's life plummeted so suddenly overnight that he barely had a moment to fully process the situation outside of crying in confusion and begging his mother to stop.

Mother had taken apart his bitty-sized race car bed and tossed it into a garbage bag, leaving him with just the small mattress and blanket as he watched in horror. He tried desperately to get her to put it back together but she just started picking up his toys and tossing them in the bag too. Both the frame of his bed and the majority of his toys were made out of a hard textured plastic; she would have to replace his toys later on with some simple soft foam toys but decided it best to leave his mattress without a frame. The fun was essentially gone.

Originally, he just had an area of her bedroom that was completely open and free to him with a bitty potty in the corner for him to do his business. Now, there was just a large rodent cage so Mother could lock it and make sure he couldn't wander and get hurt while she slept. She tried to make it as cozy as possible; she cut a small piece of carpet to fit inside and arranged his mattress and potty in the far-corners while giving him enough space to put his softer toys in if he wanted them in there. No amount of preparation would make the transition easy though and when he first saw the cage, he burst into tears and ran away from her. He no longer had his freedom.

She no longer made him spaghetti for dinner either and instead he'd get a little dish full of dry bitty kibble. Even though she made sure to get the most expensive and nutritious kind, Mattie thought it tasted like mud. The first time he tried it, he had demanded his normal meal so she explained to him that it wasn't entirely healthy and they'd have to save spaghetti for special occasions only but he barely heard her over his whines. He went to bed hungry more often than not.

His arm had healed quickly and - to the relief of his mother - he had not had another accident since but his overall mood took a huge hit.

Every night as he laid on his bare mattress, curled up in his blanket miserably and sobbing his heart out, he would wish over and over again that when he woke up everything would be back to how it was.

But it never came true.

#bitty abuse #bitty whump #bwbb: drabbles #probably could have fixed this one with some dialogue but i couldn't figure anything out and kindof lost interest in this idea halfway oops #sorry if there's too many semicolons i loveee using ';' its like a brother to me