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Are you planning to install fences on your commercial property? Before making any random decision, read the article and call an expert at Fencing Supplies Essex. For the greater good, you need accurate knowledge. This article will help you with that.
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collapsedsquid · 1 year
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Students at schools across England rallied against strict new rules that stopped them from using the toilet during lesson time on Friday.
Secondaries in Cornwall, Essex, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire were all reported to have seen angry pupils rioting against measures by shaking fences, flipping desks, kicking doors, or standing on playing fields - refusing to go into class.
[...]
“Such school protests have happened in numerous schools throughout the country and unfortunately a number of students decided to engage in a protest relating to certain school rules.”
An Essex headteacher explained that pupils “are able to access all toilets before school, break times, and after school,” and that “if a pupil requires access to the toilet during lesson time, they request a pass from their teacher.”
But students spoke up about the policy being an infringement of “human rights” and parents were supportive of their stand.
Richmond School in North Yorkshire was reportedly been locked down with some students letting off fire extinguishers and kicking down doors. Local reports said a tree was set on fire, that teachers were pushed over and windows were smashed.
And they say the kids aren't learning anything in school
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taraljc · 1 year
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So @lemonsharks and I have been trading headcanon back and forth for the last week and tonight was the realisation that the reason Lockwood (despite being orphaned at age 6) sounds so posh is because his incredibly posh extended family (who disowned his mother for marrying somebody who didn't have an ancestral seat) did what rich people always do with inconvenient small children: they sent him to boarding school.
I am basing this primarily upon my father who at age three after his mother was killed in an air raid was sent to Skippers Hill Manor Preparatory, an all boys boarding school, where he gained an RP accent that got him beat to shit on the regular when his grandparents stopped paying for Skippers and he had to go from a crazy posh boarding school to King Edward VI Grammar School in Essex.
My dad's posh accent (and straightness and whiteness) is about 97% of why he was able to emigrate to the United States in 1969 and with no university degree (having gone into the RAF at age 15) within 10 years was a massively successful VP at the number one rental car company in America, and within 15 years, the president and CEO of a large travel company.
Anyway, current headcanon is that Lockwood ran away from school MANY, MANY TIMES. And that eventually he struck a deal with the extended fam where at least he got to choose the school and he picked the one with the best fencing team.
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book recs that aren’t super difficult to find?
You know what anon fair ahahaha 😂
I’ll do my best!! (But also keep in mind I haven’t read all of these - so I can’t say much in terms of trigger warnings or how good they all are )
(But also if this about Galveston 1900: Swept Away and The Grass Widow , you can currently get kindle versions of them!) the same goes for other ones on this list , if physical copies are hard to find i either read it online or had a kindle copy (especially for the graphic novels - many have been read online or via apps that offer them )
< lesbian and bisexual women >
- Manga/Graphic Novels
* Kase- San and Morning Glories
* Beauty And The Beast girl
* goodbye to my rose garden
* our teachers are dating
* ring my bell
* love lily /love lily (depending on the site)
* impulse
* Magan and Danai
* dykes to watch out for
* jane’s world
* collectors
* renai idenshi
* tamen de guishi
*moonlight garden
* the two of them are pretty much like this
* bittersweet con panna
* still sick
*on a leash
* you are always crafty
* Sora haena
* doughnuts under a crescent moon
* a joyful life
* girlfriends (this was my first one 🥺)
* secret of the princess
* pixels of you
*roadqueen : eternal crush
* motorcrush
* always human
*kiss it goodbye
*thats Ms Bulldyke to you
* Amongst Us
*pregnant butch : nine long months in drag
*fun home
*giant days
(I’m going to stop here because I feel like it’s getting kind of long ahaha)
- Fiction books
* stuff by Bridget Essex / s.e diemer (if you want some light , cheesy and some easy reads)
* Annabel and I
* Roses and Thorns
* Crossing The Wide Forever
* sword of the guardian
* lily of the tower
* in the distance there is light
* Lancelot : Her Story
* the better to kiss you with
* she gets the girl
* backwards to Oregon
* tell it to the bees
*anne on my mind
* fire logic (it’s a fantasy series)
* luminous dead
* around the houses (I think? I don’t know if it’s OOP or not)
* love at cooper’s creek
* whiskey sunrise
*awake unto me
* shaken to the core
* water’s edge
* a hole in the world
* courting the countess
* survival instincts
* my secrets your lies
* the fate of stars
* the jasmine throne
* architects of memory
* notes of a crocodile
* legends and lattes
* princess of dorsa
*the space between worlds
* written in the stars
* the abyss surrounds us
* honey girl
* passing strange
*the lilac mines
* everyone in this room will someday be dead
Not a complete list but I’m hoping I was able to get a few different genres in there ^_^
< gay and bisexual men >
- Graphic Novels and manga
* our dining table
*restart after growing hungry
* secret xxx
* never understand
* my brother’s husband
* I think our son is gay
* check please
* fence
*bloom
* tipping over you
* the less then epic adventures of Tj and Amal
* koisuru barairo tenchou
* joou to shitateya
* zankoku na kami ga shihaisuru (definitely very intense and triggering)
* letters for Lucardo
* taproot
* what did you eat yesterday ?
* Fake
* other boys
- Fiction
* Honesty
*bear , otter and the kid series
* anything by Ginn Hale
* luck in the shadows
* all that’s left in the world
* wonders of the invisible world
* the man who fell in love with the moon
* Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe
* the stone prince
* the way you are
* the prince’s boy ( by Paul Bailey)
* the god eaters (last time I checked the author had a version online you could read for free)
* survivor stories by JP Barnaby
* the living one
* brute
* when skies have fallen
* confessions of a mask
* memorial
* this is kind of an epic love story
* wolfsong
* the last Romeo
* young mungo
* Beijing comrades
* swimming in the dark
* less
* the page turner
* hide
I think I did an okay job of spreading across genres for this one too aha.
But thank you very much for the ask! I hope maybe you are able to find some on there that interest you! But as I said I haven’t read all of these so please be sure to look up revised and trigger warning lists if you are worried :)
I hope you have a great day! 💕
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catherinetcjd · 2 years
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The Essex: Modern Plan #3883
4 bedrooms - 2.5 bathrooms - garage - rooftop deck - multiple balconies - pet friendly -
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Custom Content Included - stairCorner Concrete by HugeLunatic(HL)/GoS - Roof Edger/fence by HugeLunatic/Sims2Artists
Lot Size: 3x3 Lot Price (Furnished): $101,005
DOWNLOAD @ SFS
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therehavebeenstranger · 9 months
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tagged by @theresa-of-liechtenstein :) yay i love talking about me
1. are you named after anyone? my middle name is after one of my great grandfathers (first letter the same)
2. when was the last time you cried? ah the other night after seeing sweeney todd i had had many emotions that day (some very negative, some, like the ones from seeing the show VERY POSITIVE) and then i must have dropped this shmatta i had brought in case the theater was cold, this pashmina, which i'd bought in college which i'm very attached to and suddenly it was gone and hit my Emotions Limit and had a wee breakdown
3. do you have kids? no! maybe someday
4. do you use sarcasm a lot? sometimes! im more of a quips person
5. what sports do you play/have you played? when i was a little kid i played rec softball (i was terrible at it), soccer, and basketball. i fenced in high school; my weapon was sabre.
6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people? hair. then how they dress. but very much hair
7. what’s your eye color? brown
8. scary movies or happy endings? these things do not feel remotely dialectical to me. this is not an opposed question. false premise. scary movies can have happy endings. non scary media can end in tragedy happy endings, i guess?
9. any special talents? maybe writing counts? but i went to school for that. um, crochet? i can do a pretty good ramona singer impression
10. where were you born? essex county, nj
11. what are your hobbies? crochet. reading. comic books. painting quite badly. reality television. regular television.
12. do you have any pets? this is rosie she's the light of my life
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13. how tall are you? 5'2 but im loud so that makes up for it
14. favorite subject? i was an english major w a creative writing minor then got an mfa in creative writing so. english :)
15. dream job? full-time writer. so--publishing and selling lots of books, doing readings, leading workshops, judging contests. teaching at a prestigious university but somehow being famous enough to not have to do a lot of academic committee bullshit. mostly having freedom and time to make cool shit. i'd really like to make some comics too. (any artists who wanna collab hmu lol but for real for real im dying to make a thing with another person)
im supposed to tag 15 people but im just gunna tag till i get bored: @stankhead @autumngracy @bisexualbeckett @apocalypse-friend @camillekaze @hopelesslyfree @pintobordeaux @januariat
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slowroadtosantiago · 11 months
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Day 38 - Samos to Barbadelo
It was about a 12 mile day and mainly very pleasant walking.
We both had a good night’s sleep though are now debating whether the bites on my arms are from the midges when sitting by the river or from bedbugs as the Albergue had a duvet/quilt on the bed. I haven’t been bitten anywhere else but slept in my sleeping bag liner with my arms out.
Anyway, we had breakfast at the cafe next door before setting off about 7:40. The path followed the road for a mile or so alongside a very pretty river until we came across a bridge under some trees where the ground was covered in white fluff from the trees.
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We crossed the main road and started on a 5 mile green byway which was incredibly pretty and again reminded us of home. Along one fence people had created crosses made from sticks.
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A mile or so down the path someone had left out coffee, hot drinks and fruit for a donation, so we stopped for a drink along with some German youngsters.
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The path continued through lush greenery, passing small hamlets on the way.
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The path we had taken to and from Samos was a diversion from the main route and we joined back up in a village called Aguiada. On the map it indicated that there was a cafe there and we were gutted to find that it wasn’t open. No worries, there should be one in 700m we thought. Nope, that was closed too. Jane was somewhat miffed. In silence we trudged on towards Sarria. Eventually we came to a campsite and even though the cafe area wasn’t open we sat on their chairs for a rest and a snack from our backpacks.
In a bit we carried on towards Sarria, getting a glimpse of it through the trees. Sarria is the closest city to the 100km mark which is the minimum distance you need to get your Compostela, your certificate to say you have walked the Camino. As a consequence it is renown for being very busy and crowded with people just doing the shorter distance. It holds the record for the most albergues in one town!
As we arrived at the Sarria sign Rian popped up to walk in with us. We followed the Camino signs, crossing a river where the flowerbed on the banking read ‘Sarria 114km’.
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We also passed a massive painting on the side of a building of Elias Valina. He was a priest who died in 1989 who was instrumental in reviving the Camino in the 20th century and designing and painting all the yellow arrows on the path.
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The path took us up into the old town. We were quite disappointed with the place. I think that we were expecting it to be much more vibrant but perhaps it was the wrong time of day. We were all getting a bit peckish so stopped at a cafe for a drink and a sandwich.
We left Rian phoning a few albergues to see where there were beds available, and carried on out of town.
After initially climbing up, we then went down a steep road and across an ancient bridge, and then across a wooden bridge.
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We started a climb up a very steep hill being very quickly overtaken by two youngsters blasting out music striding away into the distance. On the way we passed an interesting looking gnarled tree before coming out into open land where after a short while we found our Albergue.
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I had a shower then gathered all my clothes together and the Albergue washed and dried them for 7 euros. Apart from my undies that’ll do me until I get home - merino wool t shirts just don’t smell!
We went for a drink then eventually a meal in the main building. Rian had found a bed here so she joined us too. Another chap whose name we have forgotten, but just call Essex man, is also staying here. We met him first in Molinaseca and our paths have crossed a few times.
After dinner we sat on some comfy chairs and had a simple conversation with a lady from Switzerland who had just started from Sarria. She only spoke a little English and my German was almost non existent but we got by with the help of Google translate.
So now we’re chilling in bed (my turn for a top bunk), with another shortish day tomorrow to Portomarin.
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wegingerangelica · 1 year
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It's been a hell of a year for you, darling! So, please answer any or all of the following, if you would?
End of the year Asks
Song of the year?
Album of the year?
Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?
Movie of the year?
TV show of the year?
Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?
Favorite actor of the year?
Game of the year?
Best month for you this year?
Something that made you cry this year?
Something you want to do again next year?
Talk about a new friend you made this year
How was your birthday this year?
Favorite book you read this year?
What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?
Post a picture from the beginning of the year
Post a picture from the end of the year
A memorable meal this year?
What’re you excited about for next year?
What’s something you learned this year?
What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?
Favorite place you visited this year?
If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?
Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?
Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one
Thank you, lovely Caffiend!
Song- Face It Alone by Queen. Bringing our beloved Freddie Mercury back to us one more time.
Album- Queen's re-released The Miracle Collector's Edition that my hubby gave me for my birthday.
Elley Duhe
Jurassic Park World Dominion
The Essex Serpent
I saw a 3D picture of The Twin Towers at GROUND ZERO. I thought to myself, "this sums it up."
Tom Hiddleston- Favorite actor of every year!
Game of 2022- Survival of the fittest.
None.
The Insurrection at our Capitol. War on Ukraine. My church Elder died. My Dad died. My Mom doesn't know who I am, etc...
Nothing from this year, but I would like to see Colorado Springs again.
I met a wonderful lady at church. She talked of all the states she's lived in and how her family is spread out all over the eastern US. She told me about her baking and the fruit cake she made for Christmas. After she and her husband left (we were at potluck), she returned to the bottom of the stairs, motioned for my husband to come over, (I did not see her), then she handed him her last homemade fruit cake and said, "Merry Christmas".
My husband showered me with gifts! The best one was The Miracle Collector's Edition.
I read The Night Manager Saga and I Love the Way You Lie again. Wonderful way to put all the turmoil out of your mind! I have been reading a lot of Loki fanfiction.
I am swearing like a sailor! I am truly trying to stop.
I will try at the end.
Ditto.
Thanksgiving when my kids were together with us.
World Peace! People getting along!
The eye opener for me was how hateful, cruel and harmful that some people are in this country.
We have a pug family!!! Our kids are all gone so we now have another family to love and care for! Max the dad, Angel the mom, Lilly Belle and Lila Mae the children, and JackJack the grandpa.
My sister in Lincoln, Ne.
Fence in the yard!!!
No.
Yes. A perfect mate for Loki to drive him crazy and delight the reader. She struggles with 3 personalities and has yet to learn her abilities.
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chromosome23hq · 2 years
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APRIL 27, 1998. THE ESSEX HOUSE, NEW YORK.
MISSION OBJECTIVE: Under Sela Musa’s (@musas-muse) leadership, Isobel Cooper (@isobelcooper), Samson Clemens (@samson-clemens), Levi Crowe (@ascrowesfly), Riley Hunter (@rileyprobably), and Tenzin Tashi (@persuasivewhispers) must destroy the Essex House—once and for all. (Click here for the GDoc version!)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Fire, violence, blood, death
She holds up a fist to the team behind her, indicating for them to hold their current position. According to the intel the Brotherhood had managed to get, they’re closing in on their first obstacle: perimeter guards patrolling the outer rim of the property. She motions for Levi to take the other side of the stretch of fence they’d chosen for their infiltration, and follow her. Silently, she stalks up closer to the current patrol and takes cover behind the wide trunk of a tree. For a few moments, she only watches the slow pacing, uniformed faces. In the dim light, she flashes three fingers at Levi—three guards on her side.
Pressing his back into a similarly broad tree, Levi watches Sela closely, waiting for her count before nodding curtly to confirm. He turns his attention to the other stretch of fence, keeping his breaths carefully metered and watching for his own patrol. Two. Glancing at Sela, he tugs off one glove and stuffs it in his pocket, exposing his skin both to make the two pale fingers he holds up easier to see—and to ‘arm’ himself.
One guard is already close enough that he doesn’t waste any time, darting out from behind the tree and running in a crouch towards the uniformed woman. She doesn’t see him coming, and Levi doesn’t give her any chances, reaching to press his fingers to the back of the hand, holding her gun and sending her crumpling into the grass. A tranquilizer round from another guard glances off the fabric of his hood, and Levi curses into his mask as he ducks.
Sela nods as Levi confirms the number of guards she’d expected, and turns away to focus on her three as he darts out of cover. Unlike Levi, Sela doesn’t dart into action right away, choosing instead to watch her three as they walk. She removes her gloves and waits for a more opportune moment to strike.
It’s not long before that moment comes: two guards come close enough to where she stood poised to strike, with their backs facing her. The third is nearer the end of the fence, out of earshot. Seizing the moment, she takes swift steps up to them and manages to wrap bare hands around their mouths, their throats turning to stone before a sound can be made. In a blink, she’s surrounded by two statues, with one left to go.
Levi’s second guard immediately charges, which he’ll consider a mixed blessing: the man is big, but he’s stupid and reckless—too stupid and reckless to raise the alarm before rushing in. Another tranquilizer round deflects harmlessly from Levi’s leather jacket and the thick layers underneath, the mutant crouching, braced, hand out to the side, and a wild look in his eyes. The guard takes a broad swing with the butt of his pistol that Levi neatly weaves, bare hand striking lackadaisically up at the man’s chin to drop him to the grass.
Tugging the tranquilizer pistol from the guard’s limp hand, Levi examines what looks like a custom grip and pulls the trigger, scowling when a light flashes red, and the round doesn’t discharge. He tosses it onto the man’s chest and turns to half-jog back towards Sela, unsurprised to see she’s well in control of the situation.
Sela darts back into the shadows cast by the treeline, her sleek bodysuit helping her to blend into the darkness. She makes it about halfway to her target before he turns around and starts pacing back towards her—and his now stone colleagues. She decides to wait, allowing him to come to her rather than risk startling him into calling for help. He nears the tree she’s taken cover behind—and stops.
Her heart pounds in her chest, and a sinking feeling in her stomach warns her to prepare for plan B. As she slowly leans down to grab a largely fallen bit of branch, she hears a soft ‘what the hell…?’ that confirms her suspicions: he’s seen her handiwork on his colleagues. As he’s still too far ahead of her for her to quickly reach, she grips the branch tightly in her hands and turns out of the shadows and into the light—right in front of the guard, who has enough good sense to be startled.
First, she lifts the branch and brings it down hard onto the wrist holding the gun. There’s a clear snap, and the gun falls to the ground as the man lets out an anguished gasp. She lunges for him before he can be louder, but he sidesteps her. Sela tries the branch again, but he manages to grab hold of it with his good hand. He attempts to use the branch as a catalyst to swing her into the electric fence, but she lets go just in time to avoid a full collision; only a finger grazes the fence, sending a bolt of electricity up her arm. Sela bites down hard on her lip to keep from yelling in pain, turning a murderous glare toward the man instead. Feeling emboldened by his minor success, the man lunges at her—seemingly to send her crashing fully into the fence—but is met with an open palm slap to his cheek, which instantly turns to stone. The action sends another wave of pain through her hand, but she also pushes that down and grabs the key card off the man’s belt.
Sela meets up with Levi near her first two statues, still giving her hand a light shake. She gives him a quick once over to make sure he’s alright, then nods with approval.
“Well, alright, little bird. Make the call.”
Levi tugs his mask down partially so he can shoot Sela a look for the nickname, partially so he can raise his cupped hands to his lips. The call is quick, simple, to the point: the common loon, soft but unmistakable in the cool evening air. He counts to five, then calls again. “Their weapons aren’t any good to us. Custom shit,” Levi murmurs to his leader, pulling the mask up again as he keeps his gaze fixed on the compound beyond, looking for signs of alarm. “Fortunately, we weren’t counting on them anyway.” The six of them are arsenal enough on their own.
Isobel felt like she was going to throw up, and if she had a paper bag, she’d be hyperventilating in it. She wasn’t sure why she was chosen for this mission; she was a mess of a person. She watched Sela and Levi take down the guards, and she waited patiently for her to be of use. Her guilt knotted in her stomach seeing those guards turn to stone. She wondered if there was a way to reverse that. She wondered if those people had families, spouses at home, and kids waiting for them. Her thoughts were cut short when the two came back to give more direction. If she wasn’t careful, she’d give their position away, her entire body engulfed in flames like a beacon. Isobel twisted her fingers together. “How are we getting through that fence?” she practically squeaked.
Sela sent a pointed glance toward the newest member of her team. “That would be where you come in.” She motioned with her head for Isobel to walk with her up to the fence. “You’ll need to melt it down enough for us to slip through.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. This is why Isobel was chosen for the mission. Sela offers no options to her.
Isobel gulped and nodded. Maybe if she pretended like she had the confidence, it would magically appear. Her hands balled up into fists as she walked beside Sela listening to her words. What would Elliott do? He was a firestarter; he was always so cool and collected. She wished she could be just like him. Isobel took a few breaths before flipping her sweaty palms over, and fire instantly appeared. The flames began to travel up her arms, and she let out a frustrated groan. Her emotions were out of control and now so was her fire. The flames traveled down her feet, covering her whole body until she was just a walking flame. At least she could use this to her advantage. Walking through the fence, she left a perfect human-formed hole in the links. Isobel walked back to make it slightly bigger. Okay, okay, okay, go away now, she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and shaking her arms.
Sela cocks an eyebrow at Isobel’s display of flames. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but she hadn’t been all that specific; besides—it worked. As the crackle of the interrupted electricity sparked and died, she kept her ears trained to the dull hum beyond the fence, and her eyes shifted along each side of the structure—her muscles grew tense with stored energy, waiting to spring into action at the first sign of an alarm.
When no such sign comes, Sela offers Isobel a muted smile. “A little unconventional,” She starts quietly as she advances up to the blobby, person-shaped hole. “but not bad.” There’s enough chill in the air that the metal cauterizes within seconds, and Sela doesn’t wait a moment longer to carefully (she’s in no great hurry to see if the electricity is still lingering) walk through the hole—her head barely skirting under the top. Only once she’s safely on the other side she turns back to her team, an expectant tone edging her voice. “C’mon then, let’s get this done. We don’t have all night.”
Samson lingers at the back of the group, lurking like the true predator he was born to be: silent, hungry, watching.
Sela and Levi kill with no mess; Isobel does her job of clearing a large section of the fence.
It’s time.
His nails more closely resemble claws, his pupils blown wide. Stalking forwards, he’s the last one through. Even for his bulk, he moves silently. A human shield and weapon all in one. His shoulders and head brush the fence, but he doesn’t feel it. He’s too far gone already.
A guard comes across them not much further in coming across the melted fence behind them. Samson is on him before he can even register what he’s seeing.
There’s no logic to it. He doesn’t take the gun out first. He goes for the throat because it looks appetizing; he can immediately pin him down and then keep hunting. Teeth sink in through the skin, through muscle, through cartilage. He pulls back and rips at him like a wolf stripping a lamb’s flesh. The guard wants to scream but can’t; only a bloody gurgle escapes.
Samson puts him out of his misery with a sharp swipe of his claws. He brings his foot down, hard. Crushing the dead man’s hand and his gun.
Isobel is fully on fire, and Levi is, quite frankly, impressed—but this isn’t the time or place for a light show. He knows she needs to calm down. “Take it easy, cocuyo; we don’t need a beacon,” Levi says more gently than his words might let on. He’s already got a soft spot for the trio of initiates that helped break him out of Riker’s, and contrary to what most people might think, he has a lot of patience for new recruits in general; people don’t always come to the Brotherhood out the gate swinging. Isobel’s hands shake, but she gets the job done.
Samson brushes past the lot of them, the tension in the line of his body obvious even in the dim light. Levi doesn’t watch the carnage that follows, only pauses to look back to Riley, a borderline feral flicker lighting up his own eyes as he reaches out with his ungloved hand. It’s a look Riley should be very much familiar with, a look Levi had given him back during the October riots: let’s cause some chaos, love.
Riley could not be more satisfied; after years of being behind the scenes, he is allowed to be a part of a mission, a really important one that may make a long-lasting impact. His job was the same as always, but he didn’t complain that he was good at it after all; he needed to make sure everyone got out of there alive, with minimum injuries. That is exactly was he was so observant (even if his eyes did linger longer on Levi than on the other members, he did not let that get in the way of his role, he also needed to prove himself); he watched Sela and Levi move in the shadows, prepared to strike at the right time—and they did beautifully so, except for Sela’s touch on the electric fence, something that he would soon take care of whenever they were free from danger. Isobel melts the fence, and Riley can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves his lips, knowing that at least that part was over and now they were ready to cause some chaos.
He takes Levi’s hand, the same kind of spark present in his eyes, his heart beating with excitement and love as he brings that hand up to kiss his knuckles softly, a silent I love you. After that, Riley brings his backpack to the front, quickly unzipping it and taking some latex gloves, which he quickly puts on before approaching Sela. “That was quite the sting, let me see your hand,” and just like that, that thin barrier is enough to keep Sela’s powers from affecting him, but not thin enough that his own powers can’t pass through and heal her. The pain is gone within just a few seconds, and everything affected by the shock is restored to its original state. “All good?” he asks before moving back to stand with Levi; they should keep moving unless more guards want to experience Samson’s wrath—unfortunately for them, Riley’s powers would not be useful after Samson was done with them.
She’s been watching with curiosity the whole time. Observing the powers her teammates possess being put to good use. She could’ve used her own ability to have all the guards turn on each other, but where would the fun be in that? Tenzin has always loved chaos, and she loves watching the carnage the team is causing even more. There isn’t much blood until Samson gets involved, and then things really heat up. Literally. Once Sela slips through the new girl’s person-shaped hole, Tenzin knows it’s her time to shine. She can see more guards coming toward them, and she darts to the front, following behind Sela. Her hands are clutching her favorite knives, not a single worry for her own safety entering her mind as she moves brazenly towards the men built like those pro wrestlers on television. Both arms stretch out to her sides, her fingertips gripping the sharp tips of the blades. Then quicker than anyone can blink, they’re flying through the air, not stopping until they hit the flesh of two guard’s throats. Her ability may have been a vocal one, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t train and take great pleasure in killing people the normal way. “Cover your ears,” she shouts over her shoulder to the others. Looking towards the other 3 guards, she smirks, then says, loudly and clearly, “a little birdie told me that you fight to the death.”
Isobel has to look away from the carnage. Suddenly she doesn’t want to be there anymore; she wants to go home and not to Xaviers. She was mad she was ever put in this position. She doesn’t want people to die. She wants to get rid of her power, crawl under some covers, and not leave. She’s not cut out for this, and she probably would never have been asked if it hadn’t been for her powers. All they did was cause her trouble. Slow breathing in and out like she had been taught helped make the flames disappear. Levi was right; they didn’t want a beacon. Isobel tried to keep up with the rest of the group, adrenaline running high. She wondered if she could disappear, leave, and if anyone would even care she disappeared or if they’d come after her, and it would be ten times worse. Covering her ears, Isobel flinched at the men now fighting each other to the death.
They’re three layers deep into Essex’s defenses. If Samson had his wits about him, he’d think it was too easy. But he doesn’t. There’s just enough of him left to cover his ears when Tenzin says so. That stops him from falling prey to her ability, but it also only serves to streak some of that guard’s face across the side of his face like morbid war paint. From now on: there’s no reasoning with Samson. He only won’t attack those on his side out of loyalty if they don’t pose a danger to him.
Three guards begin fighting to the death as Tenzin asks. It’s brutal. All fists and boots. One even draws out their gun. That commotion only sets off more guards. Or, as far as Samson is concerned, more prey. No longer lingering at the back, Samson charges forward. A deep guttural growl as he leaps onto the next guard coming at them, the guard shouting for the others, for those fighting, it doesn’t matter, it’s just noise to Samson. Noise he needs to stop.
This time he does go for the gun first. Twisting the guy’s arm till it snaps. More claws. More teeth. Overkill could nearly be an understatement with the amount of blood between his teeth.
Another round is fired: grazing Sam’s shoulder. It doesn’t hurt. Just a scratch that has Samson snapping to attention and moving on to the next guy without hesitation.
It all devolves so quickly, and Levi isn’t necessarily surprised—but he does wonder if he should be concerned. They’d known stealth would only get them so far, considering Essex security, and after that, it was up to brute force. Thankfully, they’ve got both the brute and the force.
Levi does his best to keep himself between Riley and the guards as much as possible, not because he doesn’t think he can handle himself but because he can’t help but be protective. He knows Riley’s just as excited to be on the front lines with the rest of them, so he won’t ruin all of his fun—but he will keep close. Tenzin’s warning is quickly heeded, and Levi claps his hands over his ears and pauses just long enough to watch the guards tear into each other. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, casting one more quick glance to Riley with an impressed look before he darts in.
While the guards are distracted by bloodying each other, it’s easy for Levi to get a swift couple more kills.
The chaos begins, and Sela can’t help but smile. Her team each takes off to do what they do best—there’s a certain pride that wells deep in the cavity of her chest as she watches each of them carve their way through the throng of guards.
A tranquilizer bullet whizzed by her head, missing her by a few inches. She regains her focus and charges at the would-be assailant, drawing a large dagger from its sheath on her thigh. Another guard tries to ambush her off of her path, but she holds an ungloved hand up and pushes him away via his face. His transformation to stone completes as he falls to the ground, causing the stone to shatter. She makes it to the guard that shot at her, and as she comes to a stop before her, she doesn’t hesitate to lift her knife and slit the woman’s throat, sending a spray of blood over her dark suit.
Riley can’t help the spark that appears in his eyes at the destruction and chaos. This is more than just a wish for the whole world to burn; this is vengeance; this feels like the first step towards freedom as well as satisfaction from being part of a mission that, above all, is trying to help out fellow mutants. He only has the time to cover his ears before his eyes set on the now three fighting guards, a chuckle making its way out of his throat; before he looks around observing his surroundings, he notices a cut in Samson, but figures out it is not deep enough and not worth solving know (especially when Samson is doing such a great job at wiping out those guards), he watches Sela and the remains of what he assumes was once a human shattered on the floor, and he only has the time to give Levi one last look, before he is moving towards Isobel.
Maybe he is not the first choice when choosing more effective members in a fight; Riley is not going to back down. He can be useful in this mission and at least make sure that everyone is not about to lose their minds (besides, he owes it to all of the new recruits, they got Levi out of prison after all). However, before he can reach his destination, he feels someone trip him, and before he can do anything about it, he is on the floor, rolling out of the way of some guard’s gun and pulling him by the ankles. He might not know much about fighting, but he can play dirty too. That’s when he rises to his feet and takes a knife out from near his ankle.
Isobel hears the thud and turns to see Riley on the ground. While she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, the mission would be compromised if she didn’t take a few liberties here and there, or at least that was what she kept telling herself, so she didn’t freak out too much. “Wait!” Isobel shouted at the guard to throw him off, distracting him for only a second before she put out her hands’ flames like a flame thrower shooting out towards him. She had a flash of the burns her parents sustained from her flames before she shook her head, trying to focus on helping Riley. They were close to catching up with the others, and all she wanted was an easy mission. Once they got close, there were already so many bodies of guards on the floor—she knew they represented terrible people and ideologies, but she never wanted to kill anyone. It just wasn’t in her.
Levi doesn’t notice immediately as Riley goes down, but the flash of Isobel’s fire is impossible to ignore. He twists away from a guard’s widely swung baton and darts in their direction, barking out a “hey!” as another guard makes a move towards Riley, pistol at the ready. Levi’s clasped hands come down hard on the man’s wrists, forcing him to drop the gun.
Levi also doesn’t notice the change when his ability disappears. He just assumes he didn’t make any skin contact, so with an uttered curse, he reaches for the guard’s chin with his bare hand and grabs.
Nothing happens.
They stare at each other for a moment, stunned, but the Essex guard recovers first: he draws a tactical dagger, and Levi doesn’t have enough of a chance to pull away before the blade buries in his shoulder. He bites out a pained cry and puts just enough space between them to wind up and kick the man square in the stomach, driving him back and to the ground.
“What the fuck!” He calls out unhelpfully to anyone who’ll listen.
Nothing hurts like this. The shot that grazed his arm only served to heighten his rage. He continues his rampage, enjoys the coppery taste of blood between his teeth, and enjoys the shouts and cries. Mowing down guards like they’re nothing.
Samson hits the ground without warning. A wave passing through: heart racing, his teeth flattened, smooth and harmless, claws gone, and worst of all, the violent wave of pain as every nerve ending lights up. With the sharp shock of it all; his eyes roll back, and he falls. Thought returns—it was all too easy, the final obstacle hits him harder than the others. Faintly, he remembers a similar feeling when his mutation was ‘turned off by that other mutant. It’s the only reason he can even begin to comprehend what’s happening.
Until the first kick lands, Samson howls out in pain. Struggles to get up, his forearm pressed into the ground. Another hit lands. The butt of a weapon between his shoulder blades.
She’s watching the guards tear into each other, following her simple yet effective command. There’s blood splattering everywhere, and the sound of bones breaking as boots and fists connect with faces and ribs. Guns are firing, and honestly, it’s like music to her ears. Nothing is as beautiful as the cries of people in pain. Especially when she’s the reason for it. Her eyes follow Samson, who is literally like a rabid dog. It really is quite attractive, and she makes a mental note to visit the Veil in a couple of days.
Suddenly, everything changes. She feels different. The guards stop fighting each other. Levi is yelling, and Samson is on the floor, howling in pain. Something has gone wrong. “I didn’t say you could stop fighting!” Tenzin yells. Bad idea. Now there are eyes on her, guards running toward her. “Fight to the death!” she ordered, but nothing happened. They didn’t take their focus off her. A gun is being fired in her direction, then there’s a searing pain in her thigh, and she drops to the ground. She’s been stabbed before, but it didn’t feel half as intense as this. She can’t even comprehend what’s happening as she tries to crawl back towards the fence they came through, blood seeping through the material of her pants. “I can’t make them stop,” she says to anyone who happens to hear her.
Sela smiles as more stone chunks crumble at her feet. It’s a feeling she’ll never get over; the excitement—the thrill—of watching the light leave her victim’s eyes. That split second of realization as their bodies turns to stone. She’s about to move towards the guard she’s clocked as her next victim when a high-pitched whirring cuts through the chaos of battle and catches her attention. It’s a sound that shouldn’t be there, so she latches onto it, swiveling her head until she finds its source, moving closer to Tenzin for cover.
Close to the main structure, she thinks she finds what she’s looking for: a large piece of unmanned machinery facing their impromptu battlefield. She can’t see many details from where she currently stands—save for the Essex branding on the side. Still, she knows it’s charging up for something if the steady increase in the whirring’s volume meant anything. The machine reaches its crescendo before Sela has the time to warn her team before she has time to properly brace herself. She sees the machine recoil as it, she presumes, shoots—but nothing happens. Nothing tangible, anyway. There’s no spray of bullets, no laser beam of some kind. For a moment, Sela thinks the machine is a dud that’s failed its master—a sign that their mission is some kind of divine quest that can’t be stopped, no matter what Essex throws at them.
And then she hears Samson’s roars of pain.
She hears Levi’s confusion and watches as Tenzin’s orders go disobeyed.
Tenzin’s shot and Sela jumps to action, rushing the closest guard. With a swift and hard kick to their wrist, she knocks their gun down to the ground, then brings her ungloved hand up and whips it across their face with a loud—smack! The guard is left stunned, but still human. Sela’s eyes widen at them, then—smack!—as she slaps their other cheek. The guard gives her an angry but smug look and raises their fists. She nearly doesn’t duck in time, still fixated on the brief moment of warmth she’d felt on her hand.
Knife still in hand, she slashes at the guard’s legs, then jabs the dagger through their throat as they fall to the ground. She yanks the knife out as the whirring suddenly starts low and slow again. Recharging. Taking a chance, she brings her hand down hard onto the guard’s face again—within milliseconds, the blood stops pooling on the grass, and the guard finally turns to stone.
Sela stands, her face tight with a mix of anger and focus, and she yells to her team as loud as she can, “Now!” She jumps at another guard.
Riley is breathless, he should have been expecting this kind of welcome, yet this is the first mission he has ever been on, and stories of other members pale in comparison to the real thing. It doesn’t take away his excitement, but it also makes him more aware that something wrong might have happened, but fortunately, both Isobel and Levi come to the rescue just in time, and finally, he is able to get moving. “C’mon, we can’t stop,” he encourages Isobel; he can see the fear in her eyes as she takes in her surroundings. For a moment, he wishes he could comfort her, but unfortunately, there is no time for that, especially not when Riley hears the sound of Levi shouting in the middle of all the chaos; his head immediately turns to see him bleeding from his shoulder, not understanding how it happened until his eyes scan the whole perimeter. 
Samson is on the ground, squirming, hurt, his mutation nowhere to be seen, which makes Riley frown, but it’s only when he hears Tenzin saying that she is unable to make them stop that he understands that something is actually incredibly wrong. He can only assume it is due to the machine they brought in. There is no time, however, for Riley to think too much about what is happening when he hears Sela’s “Now!” he spares one look at Isobel before he is on the move; he probably only has a few minutes until his mutation disappears again, he needs to help as many as he can. He is moving towards Levi but fails to notice the guard coming up at him, hitting him right in the ribs; the pain shoots through Riley’s body in a second, but he holds onto that guard, making an effort to twist the knife deep into his stomach, before letting go. He is in pain, but it doesn’t seem like anything is broken yet, so with whatever is left of his mutation, he uses it to heal Levi’s shoulder. “You need to help me with Samson; I don’t know if I’ll be able to help him.” Riley was even unsure that he would be able to help anyone else, including himself.
’Now!’ Levi hears Sela shout, but unlike the others, hasn’t been nearly so savvy as to figure out the source of their missing powers. He doesn’t even really understand the meaning of the ‘now’ until Riley appears beside him, the familiar warmth and relief of his healing spreading through Levi’s shoulder. He grabs Riley’s shirt like a lifeline, only briefly ignoring the chaos around them.
“Yeah,” he replies quickly and shakily, distracted, trying to see if Riley is okay at a glance. “Yeah, we—”
Before Levi can finish the thought, guards are descending on them again; at least now, they drop like they’re supposed to when Levi touches them. What the fuck? Blood drips from his sleeve even as the wound in his shoulder has healed, and Levi does his best to keep between Riley and harm’s way as he searches for Samson in the chaos.
He can’t find any rage with a mouthful of dirt, barely clinging onto consciousness. Only fear. More blows land, and for the first time, he feels each one. Sharp and bruising, maybe even breaking. Samson begins to push himself up. He is ready to retreat, ready for the inevitable collapse when he’s out of range of whatever is disabling his mutation.
Blindly, he throws out an arm. Knocks one guard by the knees and over. Finally standing, ready to run, the wave passes. His eyes roll back. The world goes dark. Heart pumping slow. Teeth are no longer smooth and harmless. Nails that are closer to claws. But still, he drops.
Even as the guards are both confused and shocked, a beast they had seen rip into their throats is knocked out cold, and they know better than to ignore good fortune. The beating continues. Covering round of fire aimed at the rest of the mutant attackers.
Samson, slowly coming too, is only conscious enough for the animal fear and panic to hit as hands grab him and begin to drag him in closer to the building.
Isobel wants to cover her ears and curl up in the fetal position right there on the ground amongst the chaos and the blood. She then realizes that she doesn’t want to go back to Xavier’s and doesn’t want to go back to the Brotherhood. She wants to go home. She wants to see her parents and Cy, and she doesn’t want to choose between the two sides. Isobel helps with the guards, but as she goes to throw flames, nothing comes out, and she’s surprised because when emotions are high, she’s usually a ball of flames, a walking human torch. “I can’t—” she started to say, but she doesn’t see a guard grab her, to her surprise. Isobel isn’t strong like the rest of them. She knows basic hand-to-hand combat, and a swift kick to the man’s groin does the trick of letting her go. She feels like they’re way in over their heads. Isobel runs, she wants to run the other way, but instead, she runs towards Samson. They have him, and even she knows the Essex group is against everything she stands for. She’s not sure what she can do, but she jumps on the back of one of the guards.
Samson and Isobel and the grouping of guards, leave a trail of statues in her wake. Once she’s close enough, she hurls the sharp chunk of a face at one of the others trying to steal Samson. It strikes its target, though not where she had wanted it to. The rock slices the man’s cheek open, causing him to let his bounty go and stagger back in pain.
The noise from the machine is louder and higher in pitch now—she knows she doesn’t have long before the next wave is released. Sela yells for Levi and Riley to help Isobel and get Samson back as they’re closer and turns to head back to Tenzin—only when she does, she’s face to face with a guard and a sharp, stinging pain bursts from her side. She looks down at the knife she’d stabbed her with, then angrily back up at the woman’s face. She lifts her hand and slaps her, leaving nothing behind but a red mark on her pale skin. The guard smirks, and Sela curses, annoyed at how little time she’d been given between waves. Bracing herself, she yanks the knife out with a pained grunt and, in one quick movement, jabs the knife into the neck of the guard, who falls with a yelp.
The chaos ensues once more, but there’s something different about the guards’ attacks. They know what to wait for—and now who to avoid before the next wave of… whatever it is that machine keeps pumping out that nullifies their powers. A small group of guards tried to keep just out of reach of Sela, but she was lighter on her feet. She jumps in the middle of a throuple, grabs a one-armed hand, and redirects it before the guard has time to aim and shoot. He shoots his tranq at his colleague, and they fall to the ground with a solid thud.
Meanwhile, she covers the guard’s bare hand with her own, and he turns into a statue made of obsidian—one of her new personal advancements. She brings her knee up hard, a move she knows she’ll regret once the bruise starts forming and the stone arm breaks free from the rest of the statue. The statue, now off balance, falls and shatters into sharp, shiny shards. The gun rendered useless, still stuck to the immobile arm, Sela turns the arm and thrusts the shiny, jagged end into the stomach of her last guard, who falls onto the ground clutching her makeshift weapon.
Sela takes this precious moment to look for her team to ensure they’re all alright after the blip in their abilities. What she finds isn’t very encouraging. Riley and Levi seem to be rallying, as they usually do when they’re in tough situations together. But Tenzin’s hurt, and so is Samson.
She freezes. He wasn’t where she’d last seen him, and she couldn’t hear him anymore. Almost frantically, she scans the battlefield until she finds him. And the guards try their damnedest to drag him to the main structure.
White-hot rage sets her jaw. She will not lose a member of her team to Essex. So, as Isobel jumps onto the back of one of the would-be—kidnapper’s backs, she scoops up a large, jagged chunk of the obsidian still at her feet—judging from the nose still attached to it, it’s a chunk of the guard’s fractured face—and takes off. She runs towards
She covers the gaping wound with a hand and pushes herself to get back to Tenzin. Freehand, still wielding the stolen knife, she helps deal with a couple of the guards attempting to swarm the lone member of her team. Once they’re dealt with, and after a quick evaluation of her own and Tenzin’s injuries, Sela hangs her head briefly, then turns up and lets out a frustrated and pained roar of her own towards the sky. Another wave of guards was rushing them, sent from inside the building. And with their power blips—Sela shook her head, angry and disappointed.
They couldn’t do it. Not without all of them dying—or worse. And it was her decision to make, consequences be damned.
She had to call it.
She brought her fingers to her mouth and blew three short high-pitched whistles, then one prolonged one. The call to fall back.
To retreat.
“Get ready,” she looked at Tenzin, the mixed anger clear on her face. “When our abilities come back, give us a distraction, and then get your ass back out the fence. Make sure it’s clear there too.” Her tone implied heavily that she would come with the rest of the team—or not at all.
The sounds of screams, gunshots, and bones being broken are so loud in her ears, but all she can focus on is the pain in her thigh. Her eyes are on Samson, though, trying to find a way to get him out of his situation. Then the new girl is on his back, and Sela is yelling for the others to help. Her eyes are watery, but she refuses to cry. She hasn’t done it since she was a child, and she’ll be damned if she’s giving in to the urge now. However, she thinks it would be out of frustration rather than the gunshot wound. She’s never been powerless before. She hates how weak it makes her feel. So vulnerable and small.
She’s watching Sela come towards her and tries to warn her about the guard, but she’s too late. “Fuck,” she yells out, dragging herself up onto her feet. The movement makes her feel woozy, but she doesn’t have time to think about it. Not when there’s so much going on. A guard is on her, and she grabs their wrist, snapping it in a quick motion and taking their gun. Shots are fired wildly, but she hits her targets. Missing her mark isn’t her style. Three guards are dead now, meaning they have less to deal with. But… she’s out of bullets. Could this get any worse?
“Sela… Your side. We need—” Tenzin doesn’t need to finish her sentence. Their leader has already made the right choice. She nods, pulling a knife out of her shoulder. It didn’t hurt. In fact, she’s only just noticed it’s rammed in there. Her adrenaline must’ve been kicking in. “I’ve got this,” she promises, but she slightly doubts herself. What if her power won’t work? What if the machine broke her?
The beep sounds and Tenzin inhales sharply. Turns her head to make sure the team is ready to bolt. “Ears!” she yells, then looks forward, back straightening as she screams, “A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME THAT EVERY GUARD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKING HELL HOLE SHOOTS THEMSELVES RIGHT… NOW!” She’s not giving the machine a chance to render her order useless halfway through this time. A silence falls, then all that can be heard is the sickening sound of ringing gunshots and bodies hitting the ground. Tenzin takes one last look before retreating through the fence, waiting on the other side until she’s sure Sela is out.
Levi barely even hears the order to help Samson because he’s already seeing what’s happening and he’s already seeing red. This is the only time he’ll let himself lose sight of Riley, a furious growl scraping up his throat, strengthening into a yell over the chaos as he starts clawing tooth and nail through the thick of guards between him and those around Samson. They continue to drop like dominoes, but not forever—Levi’s barely reached the group Isobel is already with when his hand connects with someone’s skin, and nothing happens.
It doesn’t stop him. Levi draws a butterfly knife from his boot and takes to doing things the old-fashioned way, slicing and stabbing at anything in a uniform and, unfortunately, getting almost as good as he gives in his rage. He shrugs off every cut and every punch, leaning into the adrenaline as some distant part of his brain hopes that every guard he bleeds on will drop as soon as the power dampening ends.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.
Tenzin’s voice is the one ringing out over the cacophony now, furious and to the point; Levi throws his arms up around his head, cradling it between them, and half-crouches as a symphony of gunshots ring out. For a moment, he simply stands there, quietly stunned, then the sight of Samson’s unmoving, bloodied body and additional shouts and alarms coming from the compound spur him back into action.
“Come on!” Levi shouts desperately at Isobel and Riley, grasping for one of Samson’s arms to drag over his shoulders, ignoring the cuts and bruises screaming through his body.
There is not much left for Riley to do; only one goal is present on his mind: they all need to get together and prevent this from becoming worse than it already is, which, unfortunately, will be no easy task. It’s hard to see where they are going, they are ridiculously outnumbered, and it feels like no matter how many guards drop dead to the floor, there will always be more coming for them; however, he doesn’t allow himself to panic and simply runs towards Samson.
It seems like nothing is going according to plan. Three guards rush in, and while Riley is able to evade one of them, the other two grab him making it impossible for him to do anything but watch Levi and Isobel trying to get to Samson. The first punch to his face is nothing compared to the beating he is about to get, fear taking over his body as he realizes that he is once again not healing, not like he used to. He tries to squirm away, shout, do anything, but it’s useless, and against his own will, he falls to the floor, not even understanding which weapons they are using to beat him up. He can only feel how his ribs suddenly break due to its force. The air leaves his lungs at once, and when he already thinks that there is no fight left in him, a choir of shooting noises damages his ears, and suddenly all the guards drop to the floor.
He doesn’t get up immediately. He can’t, his body hurts, and Riley is not used to this kind of pain. Levi shouts, yet Riley can’t even seem to hear him. Only a faint ringing remains from all the noise he just heard, a streak of blood coming out from one of his ears as he curls into a ball, hands near his ribs as he takes faint little breaths.
It takes everything in him to be able to stand up, the pain blurring his vision slightly as he limps back towards the three of them, weakly dragging Samson’s other arm and putting it over his shoulders with a grunt. They need to get out of here and fast.
Isobel doesn’t have to be told twice to get the hell out of there. She helps with Samson putting his other arm around her tiny shoulders to help out as best she can. She can feel the bruise forming on her cheek, already burning from the elbow to the face she received, trying to free Samson. She ignores it and pushes as fast as her skinny legs will take her. Looking at the team, beaten and broken, Isobel realizes she’s standing in front of the driver’s side and would be in better shape than most of them to drive. She slides in, nervous hands gripping the steering wheel. They need to get out of here fast, and she doubts the others bother to put on their seatbelt, but it’s out of cautious habit that she checks her mirrors and puts on her seatbelt, hearing the click before she shifts into drive. She doesn’t drive fast. She doesn’t want to be suspicious; she drives the speed limit, carefully watching her mirrors to ensure they aren’t being followed. She’s sure everyone breathes a sigh of relief when they’re not. There’s too much chaos left in their wake. Isobel stays quiet because she doesn’t even know what to say.
AFTERMATH: Unbeknownst to the troupe, Eurynome and Nemesis (on behalf of the Xavier Institute) stood on a hill with a sightline of the Essex House, watching the tragic scene unfold as several Brotherhood members fail to breach the outer perimeter of the property.
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dindjarindiaries · 2 years
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Molly im losing my shit. Last night me and my bf went to see Sonic 2 and when we got there there were a lot of people outside behind those metal fence things and extra security? But we were late so we just went right in. Anyways after the movie we asked a security guard what was going on, AND APPARENTLY PEDRO (AND NICK CAGE) HAD VISITED FOR A BIT TO PROMOTE THEIR NEW MOVIE. AND I MISSED THEM CUZ I WAS WATCHING S O N I C 2!!! (This was in the Essex Regal in NYC) AAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
OH NOOOOOOOOOO BESTIE I would’ve been on the floor shaking sobbing 😭 I didn’t know there was an NYC screening last night and if I had known I would’ve made the trip to the city because that’s mY STATE!!!!
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Fencing Brentwood
With over 30 years of experience, Met Concrete Supplies have become one of the leading suppliers of Fencing in Brentwood.
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Fencing Supplies Brentwood- Trust The Experts, Trust Met Concrete Supplies
Met Concrete Supplies have been supplying fencing to the Brentwood region for over 30 years in the manufacturing and erection of all aspects of domestic, commercial and bespoke fencing products. It can be easily assumed how the knowledge they are in this stream of business from their experience. If you are in Brentwood and need fencing supplies, you need to contact Met Concrete Supplies for the best fencing supplies in Brentwood. Contact them today for top-quality fencing supplies in Brentwood, today.
We pride ourselves on being a local business and providing fantastic products, quality prices, and great customer service. With great customer service comes great responsibility. Responsibility for consistent quality maintenance of fencing supplies in Brentwood is number one and next the brand image is important for us too.  
Our aim is to become the most trusted fencing supplier with the best quality fencing supplies for both domestic and commercial use in Brentwood. 
Trust the experts, trust Met Concrete Suppliers. 
The Leading Fence Company In Brentwood
Pro Fence Supplies In London
Affordable Price
100% Satisfaction
We have an in-house supply of premium quality materials and our warehouse is fully stocked year-round from corner posts to gravel boards. Due to our in-house supply, you shall experience no delay in our delivery and get work done on time, every time. As one of the best fencing suppliers in Brentwood, MET concrete supplies provide you with the best fencing materials in Brentwood. And they are the best fencing supplies in Brentwood, because they are experts and well-skilled in this domain of fencing construction and supplies.
How It Works
Step 1
First of all, our team of fencing supplies Brentwood will need to take some measurements and details from you in order to produce you a quote. 
If necessary, we will come on site to quote you. 
Step 2
Next we will design and develop your fencing based on your measurements and quotation provided. If you have a design of your own choice, you can share that with us, and we would love to provide the exact or modify it according to your need before beginning the work.
This will be completely bespoke if necessary. 
Step 3
Once we have designed and constructed your fence to the specifications, you are free to come pick it up or quest us to drop it off. 
However, if you need it installed, we would be happy to offer a friendly hand!
Why Choose Us As Your Fencing Suppliers In Brentwood?
30+ Years Experience
We have over 30 years of experience within the fencing industry in Brentwood meaning that we have the knowledge and expertise to help you with all aspects of your project, commercial or domestic. 
At Met Concrete, we pride ourselves on our knowledge and are always happy to provide our expert opinion when needed. 
So if you are looking for expert fencing suppliers in Brentwood, feel free to get in contact to to have an outstanding fencing design from fencing supplies Brentwood for your residential or commercial building. 
Quick Turnaround Time
Our turnaround time within the industry is second to none. If you place an order with us, whether it’s big or small, as long as we have all the products in stock, we will make sure that it can be turned around within the hour if needed. 
This has meant that we have become recognised as the leading fencing supplies in Brentwood and further afield. 
If you need a trusted fencing supplier with a quick turnaround time, trust Met Concrete Supplies. 
Great Customer Service
Our customer service within the industry is second to none. 
Due to our 30+ years of experience and our superior product knowledge, we can provide you with fantastic customer service that won’t be beaten anywhere. Our reputation is the main reason behind our 5-star rating on google. We build our reputation by providing excellent quality work to our customers. Our reputation is not the result of a one-day work but of 30 years of experience, which we try our best to hold on to. Our client’s satisfaction is more important than the money we charge for the work. That’s why we provide premium quality service at an affordable rate. We are always there for our customers, and they can contact us for consultation if they are planning to build a fence. As leading fencing supplies Brentwood, we will be happy to help and guide them.
If you are looking for advice and a fencing supplier in Brentwood that won’t be beaten in terms of customer service, then look no further than Met Concrete Supplies. 
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mystacoceti · 2 years
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Preliminary Glance at an American Landscape by John A. Kouwenhoven
From the Blister-Dome of the Wabash Railway’s Blue Bird, en route from St. Louis to Chicago, the spring landscape of central Illinois is one of wide, level horizons with now and then a clump of leafed-out willows or a brief row of maples or elms which have budded enough to look hazy. It is a land of pale coffee-colored fields, darkened in irregular blotches where shadows lie and in strips where a tractor-drawn disc harrow has recently passed. A lone man driving a tractor is the only human being you are likely to see for miles, but there are many other living things: cattle—black, or black and white, and still winter-fuzzy—standing or lying in the unplowed fields; pigs and sheep whose young scamper away from the fenced railroad track when the train passes, though their elders are accustomed and remain still; and quite often a pheasant, green neck feathers shining in the sun, standing close to the track, always with is back turned to the passing train, looking over his shoulder at it but not otherwise disturbed.
The only city you go through is Decatur, a momentary collection of factories, warehouses, and handsome grain elevators, and a business district with some stone buildings of modest dimensions. Most of the towns you go through are small and irregularly square, with streets at right angles to the railroad, many of which do not cross the track but stop short at earth mounds partly covered with grass. Each town has a corrugated sheet-metal grain elevator and a Quonset warehouse or two near the wooden station. The houses are wood, with fruit trees blooming in their board-fenced yards. But there are almost no people in sight, just a few cars moving in the streets or parked at the curbs. And in less than a minute your are out on the prairie again.
Occasionally the level fields are studded with shining ponds, and now and then you see small streams whose flashing surfaces are almost flush with the fields they flow through, or shallow gullies banked with tin cans and bottles which glitter in the sun. Running alongside the track all the way, three tiers of shining wires dip from and rise to the crossbars on the telegraph poles—each of the three crossbars with room for ten bright insulators, some missing, leaving gaps like broken rake teeth. Sometimes the ground bordering the track also dips and rises where the right of way has been sliced down to grade through long, flowing swells of land. But the only real break in the general flatness is a huge eroded mesa, man-made from the waste of what may be strip-mining operations, which stretches along west of the track for miles, somewhere near Reddick or Essex judging by the timetable.
Most of the time there is just the wide, flat landscape of harrow-smoothed earth, ruled into squares by lines of wire fence strung on thin metal posts (not split wooden posts, as in New England), and along the fences there is a fringe of the dry, blond husks of last year’s uncut grass, with now and then a large, unaccountable sheet of wilted brown paper caught on the wire barbs. Once in a huge, immaculate field near Symerton, roughly forty-seven miles out of Chicago, I saw a rock. It was about the size and shape of a dented watermelon, but no one had bothered to move it; the parallel harrow tracks in the smooth dirt diverged to avoid it, then came together again.
Once in a while you see white roads taped across the landscape, and if they cross the track the diesel honks at them. Once in a while you see a lonely schoolhouse, usually of wood, with a flag flying briskly from a pole in front and a yellow bus standing in the grassless yard. Once in a while a field is dotted with round metal grain bins with cone-shaped roofs, looking like a battery of stumpy, unlaunchable rockets. And once in a while, too, near one of the clumps of trees, you see a white farmhouse, with red or white barns—big barns, with ventilators on their roofs looking like little barns straddling the ridgepoles of the big ones. Near the houses tall windmills stand on spindly iron legs, mostly with broken blades in their fans, and almost every farm has a gawky television antenna in the yard as tall as, or taller than, the windmill.
This is a landscape which a century ago looked to a Chicago newspaperman like “the untilled and almost untrodden pastures of God.” Standing with a group of excursionists in the middle of the rolling prairies, the reporter, Benjamin F. Taylor, felt as if he were in the center of a tremendous dish.
Not a tree nor a living thing in sight; not a sign that man had ever been an occupant of the planet . . . The great blue sky was set down exactly upon the edge of the dish, like the cover of a tureen, and there we were, pitifully belittled.
A century later the pastures of God are well-tilled and much trodden. The prairie has become, in fact, a technological landscape: subdivided by wire fences, smoothed by tractors, tied to the urban-industrial world by wires, roads, rails, and by the invisible pulses felt in the lofty antennas. The height of those antennas measures the strength of the city’s pull. As you leave St. Louis they grow taller and taller until, in central Illinois they outtop and almost outnumber the trees. As you approach Chicago they grow shorter until, when you reach the suburban landscape of supermarkets, drive-ins, and rows of little square houses with little square lawns, they need be only small, solicitous bundles of branching wire rods attached to the house chimneys.
The prairie landscape no longer belittles man. It is still vast, and you see very few people as you watch from a train window. But man’s technology has modified everything from the texture of the earth itself to the stance of the pheasants.
This landscape, through which I last traveled three years ago, came freshly to my mind as I began to assemble and revise the essays in this book. It did so, I think, because it embodies a number of the forms and patterns which seem to me to be characteristic of a civilization based as ours is upon a distinctive blend of technology and a somewhat untidy but dynamic form of democracy. And it is with some of these characteristic forms and patterns, and the indigenous energies they express, that these essays are primarily concerned.
There are other American landscapes, some of which embody forms and patterns that seem to have little in common with those of the prairies: the landscape of Maryland’s trim and cultivated Eastern Shore: the barbaric splendor of the Southwest’s mesas and canyons; the grim and powerful landscape of River Rouge; and—more like the prairies than it first appears—the New York Skyline.
The most endearing and comfortable landscape, to me, is in Vermont, where I spend the summers on a farm which lies like a large green saddle blanket on the small of the back of a mountainous ridge along the western border of the state. Eastward from the farm you can look down in the domesticated Vermont valleys of Pawlet and Dorset, with pasture clearings running well up the enclosing slopes. Westward you look out over a widening, open-ended valley where the tree-hidden village of Rupert lies, where dogs bark distantly in the evening, and where an occasional light blinks through the trees after dark. At the far, open end of the valley the D & H Railroad comes down from the north and curves westward into New York State toward the Hudson and the Susquehanna. You cannot see the trains but when the wind is right—when rain is coming—you can hear the imitation steam-whistle which the railroad, in tune with the new industrial sentimentality, has substituted for barking horns on its diesels. And beyond the valley’s open end the continent rolls gently westward through the Mohawk Valley and then invisibly onward past the Great Lakes, lifting easily across the prairies and plains. You can believe that if the atmosphere were glass-clear and the earth did not curve you could see two thirds of the way to the Pacific, for there is nothing high enough to block the view till you come to the Laramie Range and the Big Horns. Closed and friendly to the east, open and inviting to the west, it is a likable landscape.
It is, I suppose, the landscape of this eastward-and-westward-looking Vermont farm, superimposed upon the landscape of New York’s skyline, which controls the point of view from which I have looked at America. But the characteristic landscape of the America I have looked at in these essays seems to me to be the “interminable and stately prairies,” as Walt Whitman called them, ruled off by roads and fences into mathematical grid. They have become, as Whitman thought they would become, the home of “America’s distinctive ideas and distinctive realities.” They produced Abraham Lincoln and the city of Chicago—both of which are ideas as well as realities and both of which seem to me, at least, to be distinctively American.
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lachlanxmcleod · 2 years
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memories: au!never went to essex
Had Lachlan never gone to Essex, he would have played college football, for sure. Got his degree in business like he always thought he would, and moved to Maine. He would have started a business— landscaping —and had a family. He would have lived that ideal white picket fence, nuclear family life that his parents had given him. Clean cut, no scars, no torture or fear or paranoia. He'd just be your average guy living in a small suburban town. And, how he wishes he could have been so inconsequential.
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How High Pressure Cleaning Can Improve Your Home's Curb Appeal
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The quality of your home is constantly up against a legion of issues: dirt, grime, airborne pollutants, mildew and mould. These compromise curb appeal and harm the condition of your house.
Bacteria counts in Greenwood Creek are above EPA standards at Route 133/Old Essex Road and decrease further downstream. This indicates that an upstream source is contaminating CNR. To know more about High Pressure Cleaning, visit the A Clean House Washing website or call 0419778863.
Whether you’re preparing your home for sale or just looking to improve your curb appeal, residential high pressure cleaning is an effective way to get the job done. The process uses water sprays to remove dirt, grime, mildew and loose paint from exterior and interior surfaces. It can also help protect your family’s health by removing allergy triggers like pollen, dust mites, and mould spores.
Hiring bond cleaners in Ipswich to pressure wash your home’s exterior is an excellent idea if you want to improve your home’s value. Dirty and stained walls will look unappealing to potential buyers, and can cause them to lose interest in your property. Regular washing will keep your home’s surface in good condition, prolonging its lifespan and enhancing its curb appeal.
In addition to making your property look cleaner, high pressure washing can also eliminate oil stains from driveways and carparks. It can also be used to remove slippery moss and algae from pathways and patios.
When you have a shopfront, office building, restaurant or warehouse that gets covered in dirt, grime and pollutants, high pressure cleaning can help. It’s particularly useful for removing stubborn stains like paint, oil, grease and chewing gum from concrete surfaces.
Using chemicals in conjunction with high-pressure water can also be very effective for some surfaces. This can kill moss, mildew and algae down to the roots, so they don’t return as quickly.
A dirty roof can be unattractive, but it can also reduce energy efficiency and increase your cooling costs. A regular high-pressure clean by a licensed Ipswich professional can keep your roof looking good, improve its longevity and reduce the need for replacement.
However, using too much pressure can cause damage, so it’s important to hire a qualified and experienced Ipswich high pressure cleaner who uses contractor grade cleaners and the right amount of pressure. They’ll know which areas need gentle cleaning and which require more power.
For industrial properties, a high pressure cleaning service is an effective way to remove moss, mildew and other organic growth. This not only looks bad, but it can also damage the surfaces and leave them vulnerable to water damage. Regular cleaning with a professional high pressure cleaning company will prevent this and protect your building, save you money and improve health & safety standards.
Using a jet or pressure washer without the correct knowledge and skill can lead to disastrous results. Not only can it be difficult to find the right pressure to use, but there are a number of different types of surfaces that require different techniques and nozzles. Some surfaces, such as brick or stucco, are delicate and can be damaged by excessive water pressure. Others, such as painted fences and concrete surfaces require lower PSI levels to avoid damaging the surface. The key to success with these surfaces is the use of chemicals, which kill bacteria at their source and keep them from returning.
The tanks at your commercial property or industrial site can quickly start to look scruffy if moss, grime and dirt build up. A professional cleaning service can clean your tanks on a schedule to keep them looking good and shielded from the elements and potential damage.
For businesses linked to hospitality a regular high pressure washing service can help eliminate harmful bacteria and keep the area odour free and safe for employees and customers. The experts can also apply animal friendly chemicals that do not leave odours or residue. To know more about High Pressure Cleaning, visit the A Clean House Washing website or call 0419778863.
It is very easy to rent or buy DIY pressure washing gadgets but a knowledgeable expert knows how to adjust the water PSI level and the type of chemical cleaner required for different surfaces. Using the wrong chemicals or the wrong water pressure can blast off exterior rendering and plaster, strip weather proofing sealant and etch brickwork and concrete. The experts will also have the proper safety equipment and experience to work safely up high.
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aslanproperty · 2 days
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Enhancing Curb Appeal: DIY Projects for Property Maintenance in Essex
In the vibrant county of Essex, where homeowners take pride in their properties, enhancing curb appeal is more than just a cosmetic endeavor—it's an investment in your home's value and aesthetic charm. While professional services offer convenience, there's a sense of accomplishment and cost-effectiveness in tackling do-it-yourself (DIY) projects. From simple enhancements to more elaborate transformations, here's a comprehensive guide to DIY projects for property maintenance in Essex that will elevate your home's curb appeal.
1. Landscaping Revamp:
Introduction to low-maintenance plants suitable for Essex's climate.
DIY tips for lawn care, including mowing, edging, and fertilizing.
Creating inviting flower beds and borders with seasonal blooms.
2. Exterior Painting and Maintenance:
Choosing weather-resistant paints for Essex's unpredictable climate.
A step-by-step guide to refreshing exterior paintwork and trim.
Repairing and repainting fences, gates, and outdoor structures.
3. Driveway and Pathway Refurbishment:
Cleaning and sealing concrete or paved driveways.
DIY techniques for repairing cracks and potholes.
Adding decorative touches with gravel or brick edging.
4. Porch and Entryway Upgrades:
Enhancing the front porch with new lighting fixtures and seating.
DIY projects for reviving or replacing worn-out doors and hardware.
Adding character with personalized house numbers and welcome mats.
5. Window and Siding Maintenance:
Cleaning and restoring the exterior of windows and frames.
Repairing damaged siding and giving it a fresh coat of paint.
Installing window boxes or shutters for added charm.
Conclusion:
Enhancing curb appeal through DIY projects is a rewarding and proactive approach to property maintenance in Essex. By investing time and effort into these projects, homeowners can boost their homes' visual appeal and increase their resale value and pride of ownership. The possibilities for DIY property maintenance are endless, from revitalizing landscaping to refreshing exterior features. So, roll up your sleeves, gather your tools, and embark on a journey to transform your Essex home into a picturesque haven that exudes charm and elegance from the curb. With dedication and creativity, you can achieve remarkable results that will leave your neighbors in awe and make your home the envy of the neighborhood. To learn more about enhancing your property's curb appeal through DIY projects in Essex, please get in touch with us for personalized advice and assistance. We're here to help you transform your home into a stunning showcase of beauty and charm.
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