#9. Valuables security

[adeelseo]

Safety Deposit Box

# Outline : Safety Deposit Box

1. **Introduction**

   - Definition of a safety deposit box

   - Importance of safeguarding valuables

2. **History of Safety Deposit Boxes**

   - Origins of protection deposit packing containers

   - Evolution of security features

3. **Types of Safety Deposit Boxes**

   - Bank vaults

   - Private vault facilities

4. **Benefits of Safety Deposit Boxes**

   - Secure storage

   - Protection from theft and natural failures

5. **Choosing a Safety Deposit Box**

   - Factors to take into account

   - Comparison between bank vaults and private vault facilities

6. **How to Rent a Safety Deposit Box**

   - Process of renting

   - Necessary documentation

7. **Items Suitable for Storage**

   - Valuables to preserve in a protection deposit container

   - Items not advocated for garage

8. **Safety Deposit Box Regulations**

   - Legal aspects and policies

   - Responsibilities of the container owner

9. **Maintaining Privacy and Confidentiality**

   - Confidentiality regulations of vault centers

   - Personal privacy issues

10. **Accessing Your Safety Deposit Box**

    - Authorized get admission to methods

    - Emergency access protocols

11. **Insurance for Safety Deposit Boxes**

    - Understanding coverage coverage

    - Additional security measures

12. **Costs Associated with Safety Deposit Boxes**

    - Rental prices

    - Additional costs and concerns

13. **Alternatives to Safety Deposit Boxes**

    - Home safes

    - Digital garage options

14. **Security Tips for Using Safety Deposit Boxes**

    - Best practices for safety

    - Regular preservation and assessments

15. **Conclusion**

    - Recap of the significance of protection deposit bins

    - Final thoughts on safeguarding valuables

---

# **Safety Deposit Boxes: A Comprehensive Guide**

Safeguarding your valuables has become more critical in a state-of-the-art, unpredictable global world. One of the most dependable methods of protection is safety deposit bins. These stable storage devices provide peace of thoughts by imparting a fortified area to keep essential documents, valuable heirlooms, and valuables.

## **History of Safety Deposit Boxes**

Safety deposit packing containers have rich records dating back to when people sought secure places to save their assets. The idea has advanced over centuries, with banks and private entities enhancing security measures to satisfy the growing demand for secure storage solutions.

Read More: Pinterest

## **Types of Deposit Boxes**

There are commonly two types of protection deposit boxes: the ones housed inside financial institution vaults and people provided by personal vault centers. Bank vaults are usually handy during everyday banking hours, while private vault centers may also offer prolonged admission to hours and extra facilities.

## **Benefits of Safety Deposit Boxes**

The number one gain of protection deposit packing containers is their exceptional protection. These containers are designed to face theft, fireplaces, and herbal disasters, offering a haven for your most treasured possessions.

## **Choosing a Safety Deposit Box**

When choosing a protection deposit box, it's essential to remember elements such as size, accessibility, and price. Conducting thorough studies and comparing alternatives will ensure you discover the right match for your desires.

## **How to Rent a Safety Deposit Box**

Renting a safety deposit container is a truthful procedure that usually requires legitimate identification and a condominium settlement. Once rented, you may be granted exceptional right of entry to the field and its contents.

## **Items Suitable for Storage**

Safety deposit containers are best for storing files, wills, deeds, insurance regulations, rings, uncommon collectibles, and other valuable items. However, certain objects, such as perishable items and dangerous materials, aren't appropriate for the garage in these packing containers.

## **Safety Deposit Box Regulations**

Various policies govern the usage of protection deposit boxes, ensure compliance with legal requirements, and shield the pastimes of both box proprietors and vault facilities.

## **Maintaining Privacy and Confidentiality**

Vault facilities prioritize customer confidentiality, employing strict privacy guidelines to guard the identities and possessions of field proprietors.

## **Accessing Your Safety Deposit Box**

The authorized right of entry to a protection deposit container is usually granted upon presentation of legitimate identity and adherence to installed safety protocols. In case of emergencies, designated approaches make specific prompts to gain admission to the field contents.

## **Insurance for Safety Deposit Boxes**

While safety deposit packing containers offer exceptional safety, obtaining coverage insurance adds further protection against unforeseen situations such as theft, damage, or loss.

## **Costs Associated with Safety Deposit Boxes**

The cost of renting a protection deposit container varies depending on elements, including extra services provided by the vault facility. Budgeting for apartment expenses and any associated prices is essential to ensure you get the right of entry to your container.

## **Alternatives to Safety Boxes**

For those looking for alternative storage solutions, domestic safes and virtual garage alternatives provide feasible options to standard safety deposit containers.

## **Security Tips for Using Deposit Boxes**

To maximize the security of your protection deposit box, adhere to satisfactory practices with ordinary inventory exams, update the right of entry to protocols, and maintain confidentiality concerning box contents.

### **Conclusion**

In conclusion, protection deposit packing containers are fundamental equipment for protecting valuables in an increasingly uncertain world. Whether housed within financial institution vaults or private centers, those steady garage devices offer peace of mind and safety against capacity threats.

---

### **FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)**

1. **Can everyone get entry to my safety deposit container?**

   - No, Access to your protection deposit field is restricted to authorized people precisely by you.

2. **Are safety deposit boxes insured?**

   - While safety boxes are not insured, you could reap insurance for the contents stored inside them.

Three. **What takes place if I lose the vital thing to my safety deposit container?**

   - In the event of a misplaced key, vault centers have protocols to assist you in accessing your box.

Four. **Can I get admission to my protection deposit container after banking hours?**

   - Access to safety deposit packing containers housed within financial institution vaults is usually restricted to banking hours, even as private vault centers may additionally provide extended entry to alternatives.

5. **Are there any objects prohibited from being saved in a protection deposit container?**

   - Positive objects, including perishable items, firearms, and hazardous materials, are typically prohibited from the garage in protection deposit containers.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - March 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles! I’m almost finished with February’s doodles, sorry for the delay

1. Charles Darwin saw this Galápagos bird on Floreana Island in 1835, then it wasn't seen again for almost 200 years

“The Galápagos rail […] had been deemed locally extinct – and due for reintroduction from other Galápagos islands – until it was seen during recent fieldwork. [… “R]emove the invasive threats, and native species can recover in remarkable ways,” says Island Conservation’s Paula Castaño.”

2. Bill supporting free student meals passes through Utah legislature

“[The bill] would move thousands of students who qualify for reduced-cost school meals into eligibility for free breakfasts and lunch. […] H.B. 100 secures $2.5 million from the state’s education budget to help students from families who do not qualify for federal aid like SNAP or TANF.”

3. Indigenous leaders sign landmark carbon deal in Philippines

“[The deal establishes] the country’s first locally owned forest carbon project. The project, which places a monetary value on the potentially climate-warming carbon stored in trees, aims to halt deforestation through the sale of carbon credits — effectively making the forest more valuable alive than cut down.”

4. Powerful Speeches From Trans Dems Flip 29 Republicans, Anti-Trans Bills Die In Montana

“Transgender Reps Zooey Zephyr and SJ Howell delivered powerful speeches on the Montana House floor on Thursday. Republicans defected en masse to join them in voting against anti-trans bills. […] One Republican even took the floor to deliver a scathing rebuke of the bill’s sponsor.”

5. Illinois proves states have a lot of power to advance clean energy

“[Two new bills] aim to evaluate the state’s current power grid, make it easier to expand the transmission system, and add a ton of new battery storage[…. Illinois already] has one of the cleanest grids in the nation thanks to bountiful nuclear power.“

6. ‘I feel real hope’: historic beaver release marks conservation milestone in England

“”We are visibly, measurably recovering nature and that is so exciting[….]” [… In] recent years, beavers have been returning to our waterways via licensed releases into enclosures and some illegal releases. […] Last week, the government announced that, with a licence, it is now legal for conservationists to release beavers into the wild, with no enclosures necessary.”

7. One of South Dakota’s largest wind farms just got the green light

“Invenergy says the new South Dakota wind farm will pump $78 million into landowner payments over the next 30 years, while local governments will see $38 million in property tax revenue. [… T]he project is expected to create 243 construction jobs and support eight long-term operational roles.”

8. The Antarctic ozone hole is healing, thanks to global reduction of CFCs

“[The] new study is the first to show, with high statistical confidence, that this recovery is due primarily to the reduction of ozone-depleting substances, versus other influences such as natural weather variability[….] "By something like 2035, we might see a year when there's no ozone hole depletion at all in the Antarctic.””

9. Monarch butterflies wintering in Mexico rebound this year

“The number of monarch butterflies wintering in the mountains west of Mexico City [doubled] in 2024 despite the stresses of climate change and habitat loss[….] Tavera Alonso credited ongoing efforts to increase the number of plants the butterflies rely on for sustenance and reproduction along their flyway.”

10. Pip in final egg means bald eagles Jackie and Shadow should soon be parents of triplets

“Triplets would be unprecedented for the eagles in a decade of observation. […] The [third] eaglet is "actively working on getting out of the egg." […] The two already-hatched chicks, who will be named by the public in the days to come, are "looking much stronger than they were even yesterday[….]””

February 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[astrofaeology]

Chrion in the Signs

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me and commenting your chiron placement. Chiron (2060) is a generational asteroid which defines your inner wounds, learning where your chrion is can help you find peace within yourself.

0º is the degree which doesn't have a coresponding sign assigned to it. It's a fresh new degree and will amplify the themes of the sign that it's in

Aries (1,13,25º) The wound lies in identity, courage, and self-worth. People with Chiron in Aries often feel they must constantly prove themselves, yet struggle with deep insecurity about their right to exist as they are. Their pain may center around not being seen or validated for their individuality. Healing comes through reclaiming self-confidence, asserting themselves unapologetically, and realizing they don’t need to earn the right to take up space.

Taurus (2, 14, 26°) This wound is rooted in self-worth, security, and material stability. There may be fears of scarcity or not being “enough”—not valuable, lovable, or secure. Individuals may cling to comfort, possessions, or routines out of fear of loss. Healing involves learning that self-worth isn’t determined by external validation or possessions, and discovering inner richness and peace beyond the material world.

Gemini (3, 15, 27°) This wound is rooted in self-worth, security, and material stability. There may be fears of scarcity or not being “enough”—not valuable, lovable, or secure. Individuals may cling to comfort, possessions, or routines out of fear of loss. Healing involves learning that self-worth isn’t determined by external validation or possessions, and discovering inner richness and peace beyond the material world.

Cancer (4, 16, 28°) The wound touches on emotional safety, nurturing, and belonging. People with this placement often struggle with issues around family, home, or feeling emotionally supported. They may have been the caregiver too early or felt unprotected. Healing arises from nurturing themselves, setting boundaries, and learning that vulnerability is strength—not weakness.

Leo (5, 17, 29°) This placement wounds the inner child and sense of self-expression. There may be pain around being ignored, rejected, or not feeling special or good enough. These individuals may fear being seen, yet crave recognition. Healing is found through creative expression, playful joy, and embracing their inner light without needing approval.

Virgo (6, 18° ) The wound lies in perfectionism, self-criticism, and the pressure to fix everything. Individuals may struggle with chronic feelings of inadequacy or obsessive tendencies around being useful or “good enough.” They often put others’ needs before their own. Healing comes through accepting imperfection, finding peace in service without self-erasure, and recognizing the sacred in the flawed.

Libra (7, 19°) This wound is about relationships, fairness, and self-sacrifice. These individuals often feel unlovable unless they maintain harmony, even at their own expense. They may struggle with codependency or fear conflict. Healing comes through balancing the scales—honoring their own needs while staying connected—and realizing they are worthy of love as their whole, authentic selves.

Scorpio( 8, 20°) Here, the wound centers on trust, power, and emotional depth. There may be early experiences of betrayal, loss, or emotional trauma. These individuals may guard themselves intensely, fearing vulnerability. Healing involves facing the darkness within, learning to trust again, and using their pain as a source of profound transformation and emotional resilience.

Sagittarius (9, 21°) The pain here is philosophical—rooted in beliefs, freedom, and truth. There may be a fear of being wrong or a sense of disillusionment with systems, teachers, or truth itself. They may struggle with faith or feel like outsiders in their quest for meaning. Healing comes through forging their own spiritual path and embracing curiosity over dogma.

Capricorn (10, 22º) The wound lies in authority, responsibility, and achievement. These individuals often feel they must earn love through success or that failure defines their worth. They may carry a deep sense of duty or guilt. Healing involves redefining success, embracing vulnerability, and allowing themselves to rest without shame.

Aquarius (11, 23°) This wound is social—centered on feeling different, excluded, or misunderstood. People with Chiron in Aquarius may feel alienated or disconnected from groups or society. They often crave belonging while fearing conformity. Healing arises from embracing their uniqueness and finding or creating communities that honor their visionary nature.

Pisces (12, 24°) The pain here is spiritual and existential. Individuals may carry a vague, all-encompassing sorrow or feel overwhelmed by the suffering of the world. They may struggle with boundaries or escapism. Healing comes through spiritual connection, creative flow, and learning to hold compassion without losing themselves in others’ pain.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

@astrofaeology private services 2025 all rights reserved

[walkswithmyfather]

1 Peter 1:3-9 (NIV). [3] “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, [4] and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, [5] who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. [6] In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. [7] These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. [8] Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, [9] for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

“The Source of Hope” by In Touch Ministries:

“Because of Jesus, we have an eternal home in heaven and help for everything we face now.”

Hope can be defined as the expectation and desire for something good. And Jesus is the greatest source of hope—He alone always knows what’s best and has the power to secure its fulfillment.

When life on earth is like a storm-tossed sea, Christ—our anchor—encourages us with the promise of an imperishable inheritance in heaven (1 Pet. 1:3-4). Yet that ultimate security can seem far away when pain is present and there’s no relief in sight. So how do we endure trials here and now? One way is through hope, which anticipates a change of circumstances for the better.

But what about those times when our situation isn’t improving—then what is God doing that’s “better”? Peter tells us He is refining our faith, which will result in praise and glory when Jesus returns (vv. 6-7). This will prove more valuable than gold or even relief from our distress. The difficulties that cause some to lose hope are the very tools God can use to increase His children’s faith in Him.

Christ promises us hope not only for eternity but also for this life. If God does not deliver us from difficulty, we can rest in the knowledge that He is doing a greater work. When we finally reach our eternal home, we’ll see the immeasurable value of the faith He produced in us as we continued to trust in Him.”

[Photo thanks to ImágenesIAcristianas at Pixabay]

[im-not-a-ghost]

The way you make me feel ~

Images found on Pinterest. Deck used : golden thread tarot. Reading written from their POV.

Group 1

Hermit, Temperance, Queen of pentacles, The Magician, knight of pentacles, ace of pentacles

You make me feel safe. Cared for. Loved in ways I never thought were possible. Nurtured. Understood. Appreciated, not only because of my work or my wealth but solely for who I am as a person. You make me feel strong. Like the world is at the tip of my fingers and all I got to do is to reach further to make my wildest dreams come true. You make me feel strong. Determined. Wise. With you, everything seems so simple. So bright and warm. You make me feel like time has stopped and it's just the two of us. I feel like I am in a bubble. A cozy cocoon that was made just for me. I feel like I belong somewhere. Like finally, after so many trials and errors, I get to be rewarded. I feel so blessed to have you in my life. I still wonder how all of this is possible. You make me want to believe in magic again. I feel like I'm walking on a line, perfectly balanced and at peace with myself, reassured by the thought that whatever I decide to do, whichever way I decide to go, you'll be there to catch me if I fall. Like you'll always follow me and never leave my side. I feel so happy I could cry. You make me feel like everything is possible and nothing can stop me from my success. I feel invicible with you by my side. You make me want to believe in myself and move forward with my head held high, slowly but surely, at my own pace, on my own terms. With you I feel secure, confident in my ability to create a life I can be proud of, to embody a person that people can look up to with respect in their eyes. You make me feel grand, so much bigger than I am. You bring so much in my life that I don't know how I could ever thank you. In your presence, I feel like I am given a second chance at life. Like my time has come and I can be born again.

Group 2

10 of swords, 4 of wands, Temperance, 9 of pentacles, Hanged man, ace of wands

You make me feel puzzled. I don't know if I should be mad at you or adore you. You get on my nerves and yet you make me so proud. With you I feel like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don't feel as lonely as I used to be. I feel like I can hope for a better future than what I've been handed so far. I feel like I can overcome my fears and face any obstacle coming my way. Like I am worthy of love and interest. I feel alive again. I feel hopeful about the future and inspired to move forward. My creativity has rocketed. I feel triggered. Like everything I thought I knew is complete BS and that honestly shakes me and upsets me in a way. I feel like I have to start all over again, like my work wasn't enough and as good as I thought it was. You make me feel like focusing on myself and taking care of my own goals isn't as bad as it sounds. That I too am capable of creating a reality I can be proud of. Like my unique perception of life and lonely nature can actually be an asset and a driving force. You give me the courage to face my demons and be a better person. You make me feel like I can tip the scales in my favor and change the course of action. Like life isn't as harsh and bad as I thought it was. Like I can be whole again and enjoy the pleasures this world has to offer. You make me feel bold and curious again. You make me want to celebrate and have fun, to shift my perspective and learn. You challenge me. And as much as that confuses me that also sets me free. I'm not sure why or how you do this but I thank you for the clarity you bring into my life.

Group 3

Empress, 8 of pentacles, 8 of cups, High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 10 of swords

You make me feel whole. Worthy of love and attention. Beautiful. Valuable. You make me feel powerful and important. Like all the worries in the world are nothing for I am stronger than this. With you I feel like there will never be a day where I feel sad again. Like I can tackle anything and turn dust into gold. You make me feel fearless. With you, the dark and sorrow don't sound as scary as they once were. You make me feel like my despair is over. Like my prayers have finally been answered. But I also feel scared. Scared that my depth and darkness will have a repelling effect on you. I fear that the more I grow, the more chances I have of losing you. You make me feel attractive. You make me want to love myself more and work harder to be a version of myself I will adore. You make me feel human. For the first time in my life I feel like I don't have to apologize for who I am. You make me feel understood, seen and appreciated. With you I feel protected. I feel like sadness can no longer hold me down. You make me want to reach higher heights and set higher goals, to prove everyone how wrong they were of underestimating me. You make me want to fight. You make me feel like I can own the world. Like I can finally stand in my power and embrace the entirety of my being without shame nor fear. You make me feel brand new, like I am reborn, like I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. You make me want to go beyond my limits and transform my being, to heal my wounds and move on once and for all from my past. I can't find the words to describe how much this means to me.

[camirawrites]

still logged in.

tw: doxxing, bullying, mild swearing

fem!reader

word count: 1303

part2

★ yandere!hacker who used to be that kid everyone called a genius, the one who solved logic puzzles for fun and finished coding bootcamps before puberty, but all that ever got him was jealousy and resentment. kids shoved him around in school hallways, told him he talked too much about things no one cared about, his teachers hated the way he made them look dumb. his parents didn’t understand, they thought he just needed to try harder to fit in.

★ yandere!hacker who got into the most prestigious college in his country, only to find out that he constantly felt understimulated. by semester three, he stopped showing up. by semester four, no one noticed he was gone.

★ yandere!hacker who stopped going outside altogether and learned how to disappear instead. the world made more sense from behind a monitor, where he could build his own version of reality, one with rules he understood and people he didn’t have to talk to.

★ yandere!hacker who only left his house for college exams and passed with flying colors. after graduating he didn't feel like becoming a corporate slave, waking up daily at 5 a.m just to reach office at 9 a.m and return home at 7 p.m if he was lucky. he didn't take well to authority, hr, the whole shtick. after all, they're all bullies who claw their way to the top of the corporate ladder, crushing any competition in their path, keeping the worker ants in their place and squashing anyone who dares defy their authority. he'd prefer doing something independent.

★ yandere!hacker who gets a sick kind of adrenaline rush every time he breaks a firewall, finds a forgotten backdoor, and when a secure server folds under his hands like wet paper. the deeper he digs, the more he starts to realize how valuable the things people try to hide really are. he becomes his own ecosystem, a one-man black market, hoarding stolen data and selling them like he's a merchant on the silk road. he doesn't ask who the buyers are or what they want to do with the information. he doesn't care. you want data? he'll sell it to you. for the right price. everyone pays, eventually.

★ yandere!hacker who wasn’t looking for anything in particular that night, just scrolling through a streaming site, hoping to kill some time, until he stumbled across a small stream with soft lighting and a laugh that made his chest ache. you were sitting there with your silly overlay and your chat full of inside jokes he didn’t get, and still, he couldn’t look away. your smile feels like static on his skin, something about your voice made him feel like there was more to life than codes and numbers, and he stayed for the whole stream without even realizing it.

★ yandere!hacker who starts watching every time you go live, even when his eyes burn from lack of sleep and he hasn’t eaten since yesterday. you talk to your chat like they’re your friends, like every username is a real person you care about, and he starts to wonder what it would feel like to have you say his name in that same tone. he clips every time you laugh, every time you thank a donor, every time you look just slightly off-camera. he stores the clips on his pc, replaying them every time you log off.

★ yandere!hacker who finds it adorable the way you call your fans "lovelies." you say it with that little sparkle in your voice. so bright, so warm, so damn cute.

★ yandere!hacker who creates a profile and starts sending cute little donations during your streams, just enough to be noticed, never enough to seem obsessive. he draws fanart too, even though his hands shake when he works on them, and he spends hours perfecting every detail, trying to emulate your favourite art style. when you react on stream, your face lighting up with surprise, he covers his mouth and nearly cries. you said his username out loud. you smiled at it. you said thank you.

★ yandere!hacker who starts sending more fanart, each piece improving upon the last. seeing your wide, bright eyes every time you see his gifts is enough to make his day. he sends you one extra special piece. you open it without much thought, without knowing it contains the key to your online space. it’s a banner art for your channel, in high quality, completely free to use. his message reads: “for my favorite lovely lady💌.” you gasp aloud, covering your mouth with your hands as you try to stop the tiny tears of gratitude from falling down your face. "thank you, ilovenekogirls420. it's... beautiful," you manage to say, trying your best to not laugh at the cringe username.

★ yandere!hacker whose breath hitches as you say his username. he finds it endearing, the way you try to keep your composure. but he's even happier that you let him walk right into your life. he can hear your breathing. your laughs. your hair as it brushes against your headphones.

you gave him the key.

you didn’t even know it.

★ yandere!hacker who knows your lock screen wallpaper now, hears the music you play when you're cleaning, watches the way you curl up on the bed to answer emails after a long stream. you cry sometimes when you think no one’s at home, rub your eyes with the heel of your hand, look so tired and so alone that it makes his throat tighten and fists shake with rage.

★ yandere!hacker who starts starts checking your inbox, your DM drafts, the brand messages that never get replies. he sees it all: the missed payments, the eviction notice, the sponsorship brand who ghosted you, the rude pr agent who brushes you off in the emails. he grits his teeth, enraged. those fuckers used you. they dared to mistreat the one person who he has grown fond of. there will be hell to pay.

★ yandere!hacker who snaps. he hacks into the sponsor’s internal communications system. he finds spreadsheets, payroll records, contracts. he reads their internal emails, their petty office complaints, their careless jokes about how easy it is to take advantage of small creators.

★ yandere!hacker who gets to work with an ice-cold demeanor. he publishes the ceo's address, phone number, social security number for the whole world to see. he posts anonymous leaks. he sends a whistleblower document to every major news outlet he can think of. even if he gets caught from being too sloppy, he doesn't care. he's doing it all for you. he wants justice for you.

★ yandere!hacker who grins as the company panics after a few days. he watches with amusement as they email you, offering to pay you back triple of what they owed, plus a huge bonus. it would be enough to cover living expenses for a whole year.

★ yandere!hacker who watches you cry on stream the next day, overwhelmed and grateful and stunned that someone, somewhere, had your back. you thank whoever helped you, call them your guardian angel. he stares at the screen for hours after the stream ends, hands shaking, whispering that he’d do it all over again if it meant you’d smile like that.

★ yandere!hacker who, for now, is content with how he handled the situation. the way he rewrote your reality from the shadows makes him feel useful, like he has a purpose again. he doesn’t need recognition, not yet. still, he hopes to break the digital boundary with you someday. he imagines what your voice would sound like in the same room, not filtered through a screen. he imagines reaching out, not through your phone, but with his actual hand. would you flinch? would you scream? would you understand?

only time will tell.

[astroxrion]

How to Invest Based on the Planet in your 2ND House:

1. Sun in 2nd House – Invest in personal branding, leadership roles, gold, creative ventures, luxury goods, or high-status assets.

2. Moon in 2nd House – Invest in real estate, food industry, family businesses, emotional-driven markets, fluctuating assets, or savings for security.

3. Mercury in 2nd House – Invest in communication, tech, education, writing, trading, intellectual property, or diverse, fast-moving markets.

4. Venus in 2nd House – Invest in art, fashion, beauty industry, luxury goods, relationships, passive income, or aesthetically valuable assets.

5. Mars in 2nd House – Invest aggressively in business, startups, physical assets, high-risk ventures, action-driven markets, or competitive industries.

6. Jupiter in 2nd House – Invest in education, travel, international markets, publishing, philanthropy, expansive assets, or lucky long-term ventures.

7. Saturn in 2nd House – Invest conservatively in long-term assets, retirement funds, real estate, stable businesses, disciplined savings, or structured investments.

8. Uranus in 2nd House – Invest in tech, unconventional markets, cryptocurrency, innovative startups, sudden opportunities, or futuristic industries.

9. Neptune in 2nd House – Invest in creative fields, spirituality, film, music, intangible assets, philanthropy, or passive income sources.

10. Pluto in 2nd House – Invest in transformative industries, power-driven markets, hidden assets, real estate, wealth management, or high-stakes opportunities.

[pedrito-friskito]

// track 9 - the prophecy //

-> can I write a fic about din djarin without piling on the exposition? absolutely not. also bonus, this is my submission/entry/funtime for @prolix-yuy’s #bangathon2024! the wheel bestowed upon me the placid embrace, and I embraced the HELL out of it. fair warning this is unedited, I’m squeaking under the bangathon deadline here, but I had an idea and I ran with it! hope y’all enjoy 🤍

word count: 8.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence (a bit bloodier), possibly slightly OOC din djarin, descriptions of female body, unprotected p-in-v (wrap your shit in space too ok), din has a lot of feelings and has zero idea what they mean, the helmet comes off, reader is a seer/has visions, still not sure if I love the ending but here goes nothing!

He just can’t seem to catch a break.

“I don’t have the parts,” the smith is telling him, looking at Din’s broken vambrace with a pinched brow. “I can order ‘em in, but it’ll take a day or so to get ‘em here, another day or two to fix it. You gonna be here in four days?”

He takes the hunk of metal back, sliding his hand through the opening with a shake of his helmet, securing it back around his wrist. “Thank you for your time.”

The market is bustling with people. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he was on Batuu, but Black Spire Outpost is the same as it was the last time he touched the Crest down for repairs and refuelling. Except this time, there’s a tracking fob at his hip, a puck detailing his current bounty tucked into one of the pockets on his belt. The fob has been beeping slowly since he disembarked at the port, reluctantly paying the obscene amount of credits it cost to leave his ship for a day.

Not that it matters — the amount he’ll make on this job more than covers it. Two times over and then some. Once he delivers, he can go back to Nevarro, get his armour fixed, and onto the next one. The cycle continues, such is the life of a bounty hunter.

It’s not the life he would have picked for himself, he muses as he makes his way through the Outpost. But then, he wonders how many people in this galaxy have the lives they would have chosen, given the chance. Even the one he’s hunting.

Especially the one he’s hunting.

Din had been half-listening to Karga’s regular spiel about the bounty, but his ears perked up at the number of credits waiting for him at the finish line. “The ones who ordered the bounty, what planet are they from?”

“Savareen,” Karga had replied with a slight shudder. “Some backwater place on the Kessel Run. Don’t know how this coven got their hands on enough credits for something like this, but I know better than to ask questions. And the bounty isn’t on Savareen. She escaped and made it to Batuu somehow; I’m fuzzy on the details. All I know is the intel we have has her there still, and she killed both the fighters the witches sent after her. Feisty thing.”

“They didn’t give you anything else?”

“Only that she’s very valuable and they need her back before the next full moon.”

He’d slid the bounty puck across the table to Din then, the hologram flickering to life as he did. The face before him was too young, too innocent. You’d killed two fighters? Looking at you, Din wondered if you knew which end of the blaster to hold. But he held his tongue; he’d judged other bounties too quickly in the past, and had the scars to prove it.

Continuing through Black Spire, Din keeps his head down, but his eyes peeled. The fob is still beeping slowly, but as he turns down an alley, away from the busy market, the noise picks up. He keeps going, coming to a stop ahead of a small group of people. He lingers back, not making himself obvious as he observes. 

An elderly man with a thick beard stares up at the sky, murmuring under his breath while two younger people seem to hang on his every word, holding his arms up for him. More people sit on the ground before the man, all staring at him intently.

The cloaked figure hanging at the edge of the group, hood obscuring their face, catches his attention. Their stance is tight, nervous, feet shuffling in the dirt with every word the elderly man says. To an untrained eye, they would look no different than Din himself, observing the group, lingering at the edge. But Din knows better.

The figure takes off as he takes a single step forward, hand resting on his blaster. In a flutter of dark fabric, he takes off after them, dodging the enthralled people on the ground, careful not to knock anyone over as he darts up the alleyway.

The fob is beeping rapidly now, quickening with every inch he gains on the cloaked figure, on you.

He grunts beneath his helmet, arms pumping as he runs, legs burning with exertion. He can’t remember the last time he sprinted after a bounty.

You’re relentless, taking hard lefts and rights any chance you get, but your scared movements are predictable, and Din finds it too easy to follow you, despite his racing heart and the sweat gathering on the back of his neck beneath his helmet. But your constant turning leads the chase back into the heart of the Outpost, and you’re moving too fast to stop from sliding into the large cart that pulls out suddenly into your path.

Din winces at the crash, your body crumpling to the ground and the cart’s contents pouring over your head. The merchant pushing the cart tries to help you up, but Din is quicker, hiding his heaving chest by straightening his shoulders, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” the merchant starts, and Din lifts a hand, silencing him as he pulls a set of cuffs from his belt and slaps one around your wrist. You don’t fight him, surprisingly, offering your other wrist for him to clasp the cuff around. He’s grateful you can’t see his expression, the mix of confusion and surprise that has his brows shooting up beneath the helmet.

Strange.

He flicks the merchant a credit. “Did half the job for me,” he says, and grabs you by the shoulder, maneuvering around the stalled cart and back in the direction of the Razor Crest.

You don’t protest, keeping pace beside him, the corner of your mouth twitching as you walk. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

+

The visions started when you were small.

They’ve always been a part of you, long as you can remember, and before you knew their true purpose, you thought them dreams, blips of darkness that occasionally came to call, taking you over and leaving you with knowledge that, most of the time, you didn’t want.

You were only seven when your family gave you to the coven. Your parents — scared of you, scared of the truths that spilled from your lips, truths you had no right knowing — sent you off without a second thought, assured by the coven’s leader that they would do right by you, that you’d grow to control your gifts, and could someday return home to Naboo a different girl. 

But the control never came. The visions only grew more sporadic when you were under the coven’s care. They cared for you, that much was true — they fed and clothed you, gave you a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in. Someone watched you constantly, and anytime a vision struck, you were to immediately relay what you saw, provide as many details as you could, and on life would go.

Twenty years later, and still your control has not surfaced. But something changed.

The visions showed you the truth. You don’t know what gods are watching over you, if the Maker has any hand in it, but you know what you saw.

From the moment you had been handed over to the coven’s care, they had been poisoning you. Your drinking water sullied with a rare toxin from plants only native to Savareen. The toxin blocked out any control you might have over the visions, leaving you at their mercy. And you weren’t the first — they’d done it to a hundred seers before you. You just happened to have lasted the longest.

Anything you saw that was of use, names you couldn’t make sense of or planets you’d never been to, was cross-referenced across the coven’s expansive database of knowledge, created by the seers’ visions. And anything of true import was fed directly to the Empire. 

And if you revealed what you knew, the truth of their game unraveled, they’d sacrifice you in the name of their god, as they had with every seer come before you.

When the vision finally released you, your warden of the day ready to record what you’d seen, you spat out a lie. A pretty one, with as much detail as you could muster that wouldn’t sound suspicious. The lakes on Naboo you once swam in, cool water warmed by the sun, the glint of sunlight off metal. A dream you’d had many times. Your warden seemed to believe it, scribbling away in a journal before sending you on your way. 

It was obvious, what needed to be done. If you wanted to live, you needed to leave.

Easier said than done, unfortunately. The coven lived in a commune deep in the Savareen forests. Far from any marketplaces or spaceports. You would be travelling for days just to get away from them, and days longer until you came upon anything of use.

So it became a process — quietly gathering what supplies you could, explaining it away when your warden questioned you, sneaking around in the night while the coven slept. The first time an opportunity presented itself, you grabbed your things and ran, ducking away under the cover of dark.

More than a week, you walked. You rationed the food you’d taken, slept on the hard ground with a knife in your hand. You only slept a few hours at a time, forcing yourself to your feet and travelling another few hours before allowing yourself more rest. The further you got, the better.

You drank only fresh water from the streams, boiled over a fire to make it safe, and as you travelled, something akin to control settled over you like a blanket. The visions still surfaced, peeling away the edges of your mind, but they were easier to push back, easier to hold at bay until you had a moment to entertain them, to watch with a keen eye rather than a startled one.

You saw him on your fifth night. Stopped at the edge of the forest, the desert spread out before you, you rested. The coven elders rarely let anyone past the commune’s borders, though you knew they’d send someone after you. But that night, your visions promised peace, a good night’s sleep beside your small fire, the blanket of stars and moons above you standing vigil.

So you let the vision take over. You saw a helmeted man, his armour having seen better days. Your mind recalled the style of the armour, a holo-pads the coven used to educate you about the galaxy as you grew — or to make your visions more potent, you wondered now.

A Mandalorian.

A torn cloak fluttered behind him, a rifle strapped to his back. As you watched, he held out one gloved hand to you, the other lifting his helmet just enough to expose his mouth — unfairly full lips and a patchy beard. His name whispered on the wind, a voice that sounded like your own.

Din Djarin.

He stepped toward you, hand still outstretched, closer and closer until the warmth of his palm cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping your cheek.

“Safe,” he whispered, the word sinking into your chest with a warmth you couldn’t quite understand.

And then the vision faded. You came back to yourself, to your small fire and your blanket of stars, and without another thought, you slept. 

The moment you reached the spaceport — if you could even call it that — you snuck onto the first cargo ship you spotted, tucked yourself in with the crates and hid the best you could. It didn’t matter where it was headed, you just needed out.

The cargo ship brought you to Jabiim, and it was safe, for a time. You stole when you needed to, found the odd merchant willing to pay you for a day’s work, sold the few things you’d taken from the coven for credits. You holed up in a boarding house, flexing your control over your visions like training a muscle.

You waited for your Mandalorian to appear.

He didn’t, but two of the coven’s warriors did.

They couldn’t have known the visions had warned you. Couldn’t have known that you’d booby-trapped every inch of your room in the boarding house. They didn’t know you’d seen not only that they’d come for you, but the how and the when, that you knew how you’d keep yourself alive.

It was bloody business, and had you slipping out the back door before morning came, hiding on the next cargo ship that left the spaceport.

And the cycle continued, until you landed yourself on Batuu.

You haven’t been here long. Black Spire is the biggest outpost you’ve ever seen — not that you’ve seen many to compare it to — and it works to your advantage at first, offering a plethora of trails to lose your pursuer. You know it’s him, knew it was him the moment he stepped up to the group of people listening to that old man preaching about the stories in the stars. The tinted armour, each piece damaged in some way, the pristine helmet. The way he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall was familiar to you, and your chest fluttered with the word he’d murmured to you in your vision.

Safe.

Except, you’re anything but. You can hear the beeping, see the way his hand hovers over his blaster. As soon as you see an opening, you take it, and it’s almost enough.

Until that cart comes out of nowhere — you didn’t see that in any vision — and knocks you on your ass. You give your hands over willingly to the Mandalorian when he hauls you to your feet, letting him cuff you, start to drag you off through the Outpost.

You try to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips. “You took longer than I thought you would, Mandalorian.”

He seems to balk at your claim, his shoulders going tight, not that you can see his expression. But you can imagine those full lips clear as day, the patchy beard, the bare spots the perfect size for your thumb to fit into. 

Strength and a certain kind of ferocity seems to roll off of him, pushing every person out of your way as he leads you back toward his ship. Your head throbs with every step, your tongue numb where it got caught between your teeth when the cart hit you. It makes your blanket of control waver, a hole appearing in your armour, and your pulse quickens.

The Mandalorian all but pushes you up the ramp and into his ship. It’s nothing fancy, full of spare parts and rusted metal, but when he steers you toward the back of the ship, you see the carbonite chamber, people of every species encased in black, their expressions pained. Your heart is in your throat, rioting around, making your palms sweat.

“Go,” he tells you, gesturing at the empty platform in front of you, the chamber’s tubes steaming as he flicks a switch.

“P-please,” you manage to squeak out. Your control is gone, replaced with fear and anxiety. You pull against the cuffs, trying to turn your body away from the machine, but it’s too late.

The vision takes over, and everything goes dark.

+

Din catches you before you hit the ground.

In an instant, you shift from every other pleading bounty he’s shoved into the carbonite chamber, into something more. Your eyes roll back in your head, your body going limp, and it’s a miracle he manages to grab you before your head cracks off the metal. But he does it, grunting with the effort, wincing when he feels the jab of your shoulder in the crook of his elbow.

And he freezes.

Something in his chest goes tight, a taut string that has his ribs in a vice. It whispers that he knows you, that he’s seen your face a million times before even though this is the first day he’s ever set eyes on you. Like a part of his heart calls for yours.

It makes him stumble back a step, jostling you, your body leaning more fully into his. He’s enveloped in your warmth, the scent of you sneaking beneath his helmet, tormenting him.

I know you I know you I know you.

His gloved hand shakes as he brushes the hair from your forehead, looking at your face more fully. He studies you, the slope of your nose and the fan of your lashes. He has half a mind to take his gloves off, to feel your hair slip between his knuckles. The blood in the corner of your mouth makes something like panic shoot through him and he slips his other arm behind your knees, lifting you up and off the ground.

It takes some maneuvering, using his elbow to jab the button that lifts the door to his bed. He lays you out carefully, reaching for the medkit he keeps stashed near his pillow. He pushes back the strange feeling, focusing on the task at hand. He’s dealt with his fair share of head injuries, knows how precarious they can be. And he’s figured it out, over time — the best place to put the bacta patches, what mednog helps more than it hinders. 

Din places the last of four patches behind your ear, right along the curve of your neck. You let out a quiet hum, arching your head into his palm, and he inhales deeply.

“I know you,” he murmurs, and doesn’t quite realize he’s said the words out loud until your lashes flutter, eyes shooting open and your body following suit. “Easy,” he commands, grabbing your shoulders, making you flinch. “You’re alright, just don’t move too fast.”

Your breath comes in short bursts, and Din realizes there are tears lining your eyes, one single drop sliding down your cheek. His fingers itch to brush them away, but he resists the urge, releasing you and curling them into fists instead.

Your eyes finally land on him, and the corner of your mouth twitches, like it had in the Outpost.

“Who are you?” he asks. You know her, his mind counters.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you retort, rubbing a hand across the back of your neck. You must find the bacta patch, because your brow furrows. “You…helped me?”

“Don’t think much of it,” he tells you, bracing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up off the cot. “I’m taking you back to Savareen.”

He sees the fear cover you like a veil, watches it pinch at your eyes and tug at your lips. The feeling rears its head, screaming at him that he’s doing wrong, but he beats it back.

“Please,” you say again, the same squeak you’d let out before you passed out in the carbonite chamber. “Please don’t take me back. They’re going to kill me, they’ll—”

“They’re paying me a ridiculous amount of credits to bring you back,” Din answers, cutting you off and turning his back on you. “And I’m gonna do just that.”

“At least listen to my side of the story,” you call after him. You pause a beat, and then— “Din Djarin.”

He can’t remember the last time he heard his name on a woman’s lips. Hearing it on yours is something else entirely.

His mind is at war with itself as he whirls. “How did you—?”

“Let me tell my side,” you reiterate, holding your hands up, surrendering. “And if you still want to take my back and collect your bounty, fine.”

He doesn’t say a word, but leans back on one foot, crossing his arms over his chest. You take it as a yes, leaning back slightly, straightening your back. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and Din clenches his teeth.

“I’m a seer,” you say slowly, eyes darting everywhere except his helmet. “I have visions. Always have, long as I can remember. I was born on Naboo, but my family gave me over to the Savareen coven when I was seven. They raised me, and it was all well and good until my visions told me the truth.”

You don’t continue right away, eyes finally landing on Din’s visor. “What truth?” he prompts.

“They were poisoning me,” you said, your voice shaking. “And the poison took away my control of the visions. A seer should be able to allow the visions to come when they wish, not be constantly at their mercy. They wanted me to see as much as I could, and everything I saw, the elders ran through their databases. Anything useful they fed to the Empire.”

The mention of the Empire makes him jump.

“And I’m not the first. They’ve done this to a hundred seers before me, and killed them all as soon as they figured out the truth. It’s a cycle, one I played into the moment I escaped. They know that I know the truth, and they’ll kill me for it and tell the rest of the coven that I was a willing sacrifice, for the safety of the rest of them.”

A sad laugh passes your lips, and Din’s chest feels hollow.

“And the worst part is: they’ll all believe them. The people that raised me, my friends, if you can call them that. They’ll believe I died willingly, for the greater good.”

You drop your face into your hands and everything in him begs him to comfort you, hold you, keep you safe.

No good will come of this, the rational part of him says. He could ruin his reputation with the Guild, and where would that leave him? Bounty hunting has always been his trade, his talent. He would go back to the Covert, ashamed.

But the sound of your voice has him quickly grasping for compromise. A final kindness, to please the beast in his chest.

“I’ll give you one thing,” he says, and your head shoots up. “One last…wish, I guess. Before I take you back.”

Din swears there are stars in your eyes. “A wish?”

He nods the helmet slightly. “Name it,” he says, “and don’t say setting you free.”

You think for a moment, a million emotions crossing your face before you seem to make your decision. “Naboo,” you say, your expression calm, almost serene. “Take me back to Naboo. I want to swim in the lake, like I did as a child. One last time, before I die.”

+

You think he’s going to fight you on it. You studied galactic maps with the coven, part of the studies they allowed, and you know just how far it is from Batuu to Naboo — you know it’s about the same distance as Batuu is from Savareen, in the complete opposite direction.

You wait for the no to reach your ears, for the disappointment and acceptance of your lot to settle in. But instead, he just nods again, turns on his heel and disappears from the ship’s hold, leaving you alone, still sitting on the edge of the Mandalorian’s bed.

A moment later, you hear the tell-tale hum of the ship’s engine. Another beat, and his voice sounds through the intercom beside the cot. “Get up here and strap yourself in. Don’t need you getting thrown around down there.”

Swallowing hard, you get to your feet and walking slowly toward the ladder he’d disappeared up. The rungs are cold beneath your hands, a reminder that this isn’t all a dream, or one of your visions.

He doesn’t turn his head when you step into the ship’s cockpit, doesn’t say a word as you settle into the chair in the corner of the space. You fumble with the belt straps, tightening them around you as his gloved hands move across the ship’s dashboard, pressing buttons and turning dials. The engine grows louder as the ship starts to hover, and you brace your hands on the armrests of your seat.

You’re both silent, the entire trip. After the initial jolt through hyperspace, you find the movement relaxing, and you don’t realize you’ve nodded off until you feel a warm hand on your ankle, the Mandalorian having reached for your outstretched foot to nudge you awake.

“The drop out of hyperspace can get a bit rocky around this sector.”

You nod at the warning, ignoring the sharp tug in your stomach at the rumble of his voice through his helmet. Adjusting yourself in the seat, you find yourself staring at the back of his helmet, the curve of the metal. When he turns his head to speak to you, you catch a glimpse of his chin, dipping as he talks.

“Hold on tight.”

The jolt makes you shut your eyes, gripping the armrests as tight as you can. The ship wavers and dips, the hull shaking and groaning with the effort and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Almost there.”

You don’t open your eyes until the ship has stopped completely, the sound of the engine whirring into shutdown making your breath come easier. When you open them, you’re met with a lush forest, a clearing just large enough for the ship to touch down in.

Naboo.

You’re out of your seat in the flash, nearly tumbling down the ladder back into the hold, desperate to be out and breathing in the fresh air so close you think you could taste it. The Mandalorian follows at a slower pace, reaching around your bouncing form to activate the ramp and open the door.

“Don’t go far,” he tells you, warning lacing his tone. “If you—”

“I won’t leave your sight, Din Djarin,” you tell him, quietly revelling in the way his entire form stills at your use of his name. “I promise, you won’t need to chase after me.”

You leave him to ponder your words, and step out and into the sunlight. 

+

He stands on the Crest’s ramp longer than he should, watching you step out into the clearing. He found a good spot to land, forest wrapping around, a large lake sprawled out before you. The air is warm, fresh, invading his senses.

He watches you take off toward the water, shedding your cloak and top as you go, tossing the fabric aside. The bare expanse of your skin makes his throat go tight, makes the waist of his flight suit feel tighter than normal. As you reach the water’s edge, you crouch to pull off your shoes, straighten to shuck your pants down your legs.

Din only gets a brief glimpse at your bare lower half before you’re sprinting into the water, your laughter loud enough to send birds to the skies, disturbed from their homes in the trees. Beneath the helmet, he smiles.

You swim for hours. Din lets you take your time, your excitement getting the better of him. He tracks your head along the surface of the lake, turns his gaze to the ground when you float on your back. Din calls you back when the sun starts to set, finds something resembling dinner from the crates and boxes in the Crest’s hold. He leaves a blanket at the water’s edge as you swim back, and you eat sitting side by side on the ship’s ramp, your warm body inches from his.

A million questions dance on his tongue, the heat gathering beneath his helmet spurred by the way you lick your fingers clean when you’re done eating, sucking the juice of the fruit he found off your thumb.

How did you know his name?

Why does he feel the way that he does?

Why does he know you?

The sun dips lower, painting the sky a brilliant array of colours, orange into yellow into lavender and back again. The air is still warm, but a cold breeze blows, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Or maybe it’s the way you rise from your seat, the blanket draped around your shoulders, the way the sun covers you in a glow. He watches you make your way back to the water’s edge, but when you’re halfway there, he stands and follows you.

Din pauses when you reach the shore, the blanket dropping into a puddle of fabric near your clothes. You’re backlit by the sun, a silhouette he wants to trace again and again. “You could join me,” you call over your shoulder, stepping further and further into the water. “The water’s warmer than the air, you know.”

“Helmet takes too long to dry out,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I—”

“You could take it off,” you tell him, and his blood spikes. He wants to.

He knows you.

Din looks at you, and you meet him eyes through the visor, whether you know it or not. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers, “I don’t—”

“I know what you are, Din Djarin,” you answer, and he wants to record the sound of your voice saying his name, play it on a loop over and over until he has it memorized. “But I’ll be dead this time tomorrow.” You wade out further into the water, until it laps against your chin. “The secret of your face dies with me.”

You turn away from him, disappearing beneath the surface and reappearing further out. The sun is nearly gone, the last dregs of the sunset fading from the sky, the stars and planets taking their rightful place. The water still has a certain glow about it, the sounds of frogs and other night creatures filling the silence of the clearing.

Before he can second-guess himself, he hooks his fingers in the edge of the helmet and takes it off.

“Don’t turn around,” he calls out, reaching up to release the clips holding his cloak to his shoulders. It slips to the ground and he leans down to set the helmet atop it. One by one, he sheds each piece of his armour. The chill in the air makes him shiver, goosebumps rising on his skin as he slides down the zipper on his flight suit. He’s acutely aware of his nakedness, his eyes glued to the back of your head, bobbing in the water.

You listen; you don’t turn around.

He can’t stop his sigh when he steps into the water. You weren’t lying — it’s warmer in the water than out, and he steps quickly, feeling the ground slope beneath his feet as the water rises to his knees, his waist, his chest. Then it evens out, and he realizes you’re standing on tiptoe in the middle of the lake, your arms floating at your sides, head tilted back as you stare up at the sky.

“I’ve seen so many things,” you murmur as he comes to a halt behind you, leaving a good few feet between your body and his. If he lets his eyes dip, he can make out your slightly blurred figure beneath the water’s surface, but he keeps his gaze on the crown of your head, your face upturned to the stars. “So many places and people in the furthest corners of the galaxy. Things I’ll never truly see, but I’ve seen them just the same.” You take a deep breath, raising your arms just enough that your hands break the surface of the water. “And yet, I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the skies on Naboo. I remember swimming in a lake like this, as a child. Before they sent me away. I remember the stars looking just like this.” Your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you, for bringing me here. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. A better one than you allow the galaxy to believe.”

“How did you know my name?” he asks, the words spilling past his tongue before he can stop them. “How do you know my name?”

“I dreamt of you,” you say simply, as if it’s the most normal thing. You push your hands through your wet hair, and Din’s fingers long to copy you. “A long time ago, if we’re telling truths. Your face has come to me often —first when I was small, when we both were. I saw the destruction of your home world, though I didn’t know what I was seeing. I saw you pledge yourself to the Mandalorians, saw you earn your armour in the Covert. I dreamt of you long before I started running for my life. I always knew you’d be the one to find me, Din. The one to save me.”

It’s guilt, he realizes, that pools in his stomach, propels him forward until there’s barely any space between you. Until you’re close enough that he can hear your sharp inhale as he lifts his hand from the water, lets his dripping fingers trail up the curve of your shoulder, follow the curve of your neck to the space behind your ear, where he’d placed the bacta patch earlier. He’s so close he can feel the shiver that runs like a current through your body.

“Close your eyes,” he tells you, his voice a low rumble, “and keep them closed.”

You nod your head slightly, and he waits a beat before letting his fingers hook around your chin, using that leverage to turn you to face him. Your lips part gently, your breath warm on his skin. He drags the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, presses softly as you release another shaky exhale.

Din hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time. Longer than he cares to admit, and nervousness replaces his guilt as he tilts your face toward his. His hand rounds your head, cupping your skull in his palm, and your hair slides like wet silk through his knuckles.

The first kiss he gives you is soft. It’s tentative, your bottom lip captured between his, a quiet sound rising in your throat as he pulls away. Your lashes flutter slightly, but your eyes don’t open, and your hand reaches up, curling around the back off his neck and pulling him back down to you.

He grunts at the second kiss, your body inching closer to his beneath the water. His other hand finds purchase on your hip, digging his fingers into your flesh, and he swallows your groan, leaning deeper into your kiss, tightening his grip on your hair.

You give as much as you take, your free hand flattening against his ribs, your fingers fit in the spaces between his bones. The kiss is so familiar and so new, all at once. He’s done this a million times, and has never once done it before now.

I know you I know you I know you.

Pleasure shoots through him when your teeth scrape at his lip, your tongue darting out to soothe the ache you’ve left behind. It’s a welcome ache, and his hand drops from your hip to your thigh, hooking around the back of your knee and dragging your thigh over his waist. The sound you let out goes straight to his cock and he drops his lips from yours only to close his mouth around your pulse. You lean into him, both hands around his shoulders now, more soft noises of pleasure meeting his ears as he kisses a line up to the shell of your ear.

“When you dreamt of me,” he murmurs, your head leaning into the sound of his voice, “did you dream of all the ways I’d touch you?”

He accompanies his question with his fingers along the inside of your thigh, toward where he can feel you burning hot, your body warmer than the water that surrounds you both. Your lashes flutter again as you moan, digging your nails into his skin hard enough he’s sure you’ll leave little half-moon marks behind.

“This is better than anything I could ever dream up,” you whisper back, using your grip on him to pull your body flush to his. “I knew you’d find me, but I didn’t know you’d want me, that I’d want you.”

He pulls away, heart racing in his chest. Rejection flickers across your face, pinching your brow, but he grabs your hand beneath the water, squeezing. “Come with me.”

Din leads you out of the water, his grip tight on your hand. You still don’t open your eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as he wraps you in the blanket and then leads you back toward the Crest. He brings you inside, back to his bed, and pushes at your shoulder until you’re sat at the edge.

“Don’t move.”

He head back out into the night, the sun now long gone, and collects his armour and your clothes. His body hums with need, leaving his armour on top of a crate, your clothes and his flight suit tossed into the fresher to deal with later. He closes the ramp, locks the door to the hold, and returns to where you’re still sat, the blanket tucked around you.

“Move back,” he tells you, and you obey instantly, letting the blanket fall away as you slide back on the mattress. Electricity shoots through him at the sight of you, the dim light above his bed a meagre replica of the sunset. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, dragging his hand up the centre of your body until he reaches your chest. He cups the weight of your breast in his palm, swipes his thumb over your nipple and revels in the way it peaks at his touch, the way you shiver as he does it again and again.

“Din,” you murmur, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head.

“Say it again.”

“Din.”

He leans over you, plants a hand on either side of your body as you lean back, your head resting on his pillow. Still, you don’t open your eyes.

He kisses you again, angles his head so his nose brushes along yours. You arch up into him as he settles some of his weight against you, making a home between your spread legs. He can feel how wet you are, the heat nearly radiating against his cock, and he can’t stop himself from rutting against you, burying his face in your neck and fitting his mouth to your pulse once more.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmurs, and your nod is nearly frantic.

“Please.”

Din lifts himself off you, leaning back to kneel between your legs. His palms ride the curve of your spread thighs, thumbs swiping at the crease of your hip. It makes your whole body twitch, and he swipes a finger along your cunt, the wetness coating his finger, and your back arches up off the mattress.

He sucks his finger clean. “Sweet,” he whispers, and you let out a soft whine, a whimper.

Hands dragging down your legs again, he curls his fingers around your calves and lifts your legs until your knees are hooked around his hips. He feels your ankles cross at the small of his back and leans forward slightly, taking his hard cock in hand, shuddering at his own touch.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you, hearing the hitch in your breath as he drags his tip through your wetness, “the moment I’m inside you. You understand?”

You don’t answer at first, writing against the blankets, but when he taps his cock lightly against your clit, you shudder. “I understand.”

Dragging down through your folds, he notches his cock at your entrance, pleasure making sparks shoot across his vision as he moves his hips ever so slightly. He reaches beneath you, both hands at your lower back, and lifts your hips off the mattress, holding you aloft as he drives into you.

+

Your eyes shoot open, and you see his face. His whole face.

And Gods above, he’s more handsome than you ever could have imagined.

Every moment since you stepped off the ship has been more than you could have dreamed, but seeing his face, studying those dark eyes as he pushes himself inside you, it’s everything.

His brows knit together as he forces himself deeper. Your body jolts with the movement and you bear down, tightening yourself around him. It makes him tip forward slightly, close enough that you can wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his dark hair.

The lips you remember, the patchy beard that scratches your skin when he turns his head and places a kiss against your wrist. His nose is different than you pictured, more hawkish with a scar cutting across the bridge. There are other scars too, littered across his chest and shoulders, a few even snaking down his front. You want to trace them all, memorize every ridge and dip.

He gives you a particularly hard thrust, and your vision goes white with pleasure. Your thighs quake with the intensity of it, feeling him drag against that sweet spot deep inside you. You tighten your grip on him, clenching your legs around his waist and keeping him where you want him.

“You feel…” he trails off, his lips parting as his hips roll into you over and over and over again. “I can’t…”

His groan spurs you on, lifting your hips off the mattress to meet his thrusts. The friction between your bodies grows more and more intense, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in a perfect rhythm. You can feel the pleasure growing, coiling at the base of your spine, and when he drops his head to your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple, you’re done for.

Your release rattles through you, seeming to draw Din’s from him. You shudder together, feeling the warmth of him spread through the deepest parts of you. He plants his head on your chest, hot breath fanned across your skin as you both move through it, limbs twitching and soft moans filling the air. He tries to pull himself from you too soon and you whine, refusing to loosen your hold on him.

Eventually, you let him go, instantly regretting your decision when the welcome weight of him moves off of you. He disappears for a time, but returns with a damp cloth from the fresher, and cleans between your legs before letting you move. 

He doesn’t tell you to close your eyes again. You leave to use the fresher and when you return, he’s laid out on the cot, laying slightly to the side so there’s space for you. His eyes lock on yours as you slide into the bed, watching as he lifts the blankets for you and tucks you against his side.

Sleep seems to come easily for Din; you aren’t so lucky.

+

He wakes to an empty bed.

The hum of the night echoes through the hold, and Din scrambles out of bed when he realizes the door is open, that the cool night air is pouring in, and that you’re gone.

A million different possibilities flit through his mind; have you seen what happens? he wonders.

He pulls his underclothes on and finds his blaster, stepping slowly onto the Crest’s ramp. The clearing is the same as you left it, the only difference is the water is now as still as anything, the moon perfectly reflected in the surface.

You’ve left an obvious trail, and he tracks you easily through the forest. It’s a good distance from the ship, and when he finally finds you — and the altar before you — he hides in the brush, listening.

He doesn’t know what gods the carvings in the stone depict, and he wonders if you do, or if you’re just talking to anyone who might be listening.

“It’s not fair,” you say, your voice loud enough that he can hear the waver in it. You sink to your knees before the carvings, your hands dragging on the stone as you stare up at the sky. “I can’t see what comes next now. I don’t know what he’ll choose. I never asked for this!”

Din holds his breath, wondering if the sky might cloud over at your shouting, that thunder might rumble in response to your plea.

“Why lead me to him only to put my fate directly into his hands? Why allow him to bring me to life, only to snuff me out?”

The guilt returns, turning his blood black, making his mouth run dry.

“Is anybody even listening to me? Does anyone even care?”

I care, he nearly shouts in response, but the guilt ties his tongue in knots.

“I don’t want to die!”

Your hands curl into fists, slamming against the stone wall, flattening and your nails dragging along the carvings. Your shoulders shake with sobs, and half of him wants to run to you, the other half wants to disappear.

He returns to the Crest, the guilt crawling up into his chest and making a home there, a rival to the beast that demands he keep you close. They spar between his ribs, demanding to be heard.

Only he can decide which one he’ll listen to.

+

Din is right where you left him, when you return to the ship. Sprawled on his back, his arm outstretched where you’d laid your head. You close the ramp and the door, press the buttons you’d watch him press to lock the ship, and climb carefully back into the bed. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks as you fit yourself against his side. His arm curls around you, holding you closer, and fresh tears fall.

You wake up alone. Your body aches in a good way, your limbs groaning as you find your clothes. The ship hums, and it takes you a moment to realizes you’re moving. Not through hyperspace, just flying.

When you climb into the cockpit, he’s sat in his chair, all his armour back in place. He doesn’t acknowledge as you sink down into the same seat. You force your eyes to move away from his helmet, to the world outside the ship, and your heart feels as though it may shatter in your chest.

Savareen.

It’s good to know, in a way, that Din Djarin is a man of his word. You misjudged him, it’s true, but you can’t fault him. He’s doing his job. He hasn’t seen what you’ve seen.

Maybe not all your visions come true.

The spot where he lands the ship is not one you recognize. You’re far from the coven’s commune, that much you know for sure. As the engine’s hums die out, Din comes and stands before you, the same cuffs he’d used on you on Batuu in his hands.

You give your hands to him willingly. You won’t fight him, if this is your fate.

You don’t know what comes next; you haven’t seen it.

He’s silent as he leads you out of the ship and onto the planet’s surface. The air is that same cloying heat you remember, clinging to your skin and making it crawl.

As you descend the ramp, you see a familiar face — one of the coven’s elders, flanked by two of the same warriors who had come for you on Jabiim. The same man who had come to collect you from your family on Naboo, all those years ago. Who lied to your family and said you’d be in good hands. Who lied to you your entire life, forcing you to be at the mercy of your visions.

Bile rises in your throat as you draw closer, Din’s hand tight on your shoulder, your bound hands limp in front of you. “So good to see you again, my dear,” the elder starts, and everything in you screams at you to run away, but you never get the chance.

And you don’t need to.

As the elder reaches for you, Din draws his blaster and fires a single shot. The man drops to the cracked desert floor, a smoking scorch mark in the middle of his forehead. The warriors lunge forward, drawing their swords, but Din produces another blaster and moves in front of you, his stance protective, both barrels aimed at the warriors.

“Take another step, and you die,” he nearly growls, and your fingers curl around the fabric of his cloak. The warriors’ weapons clatter to the dirt. “Go back to your coven, and give your elders this warning: if they do not stop harming the seers, they will all share the same fate as him. She leaves with me, and if they send anyone after her, they share the same fate as him.”

With a nod, the warriors turn tail, sprinting off into the desert, leaving you alone with your Mandalorian. He turns to you, unlocks the cuffs from around your wrists. Your mind reels, trying to catch up with what’s happened, what it all implies.

“You…”

Din removes his helmet, holds it against his hip as he leans in, two fingers beneath your chin as he leans in to kiss you. You sink into it, elation seeping through your body, cupping his scruffy jaw in your hands, your thumbs fitting into the patches in his beard.

The kiss feels like a promise, like an oath.

“I’ll take you back to Naboo,” he tells you when you break apart only to breathe. “You can go back to your family, back to—”

“What if I want to stay with you?”

The corner of his lips twitch, and you lean in to kiss it. “Then you’ll stay with me.”

+

The moment you step foot back on the Crest, you freeze. Your gaze goes out of focus, your body a lead weight against his. Fear floods Din’s body and he grabs you, worrying you’re going to pass out again, that he didn’t do enough with the bacta, that you’re—

You come back to yourself quickly, blinking hard and gulping down air. “Nevarro,” you tell him, your voice tight. “We need to go to Nevarro, to the Guild.”

“I can’t do that,” he tells you. “I just broke my contract by not delivering you to them. They won’t—”

“Shh,” you hush him, two fingers pressed against his lips. “Listen to me, Din. We need to go to Nevarro. Karga will believe you when you tell him what happened, and he has a new bounty for you. An important one.”

His brows lift. “You had a vision? You saw Karga?”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I saw much more than Karga,” you reply, your breath slowing. “I saw your son.”

the end

// TTWD track list //

[boneapplet]

A Love Born in Blood pt.12

Relationship: Angron x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: minor description of killing, minor background character death, implied forced sex work

Word Count: 1282

Requested Tags for All Works: @beckyninja @runin64

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17

They took her in chains, away from the planet she’d been born to, from the people she had come to know, from the man who’d come to own her heart. A pleasure slave turned rebel consort—too dangerous to kill, too valuable to waste. To the slavers of House Verrakai, she was exotic, infamous, scarred in all the right ways.

Now, she serves under a softer name. Not in silk and incense like before, but in quiet halls of administrative shadow—an indentured ‘attendant’ on Gheltor Secundus, a minor world known for its mining yields and discreet vice markets.

Officially, she is employed. In truth, she is kept. They don’t let her speak much. Her reputation precedes her. Some whisper she seduced a demigod, led a rebellion, whispered into the ear of a monster who became a king of corpses.

The handlers who keep her at arm’s length don’t know her real name. Just her title: The Red Concubine. But she remembers her real name. Evara. She remembers Angron—not as the thing she’s heard them whisper that he’s become, but as the man she knew. She thinks of him often. Wonders if he survived, if he escaped this ‘Emperor’, if he remembers.

Sometimes, when she’s alone, she takes out one item she still has from before this place: a shred of her shawl, ripped and dirty, that had fallen to the sand when the guards tore her from his side. She clutches it like a relic. She had wept once. Now, she doesn't. She listens.

In the whispered newsfeeds and hushed talk from traders that filters through the halls of the pleasure vaults, she hears of a Legion gone mad, of blood-mad giants, of a red god walking worlds into ruin. Sometimes she dreams of him—not the warlord in red, but the man who stood barefoot on the sand, daring to fight without chains.

She presses her fingers to her lips and murmurs his name. “Angron.”

Those in this place say his name like a curse. Evara wonders—what have they done to him?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The war is brutal and relentless. A world split between two broken Hive-states, both ground to powder beneath the boot of compliance. The World Eaters don’t secure, they slaughter. Angron leads from the front, a crimson blur. His warriors surge around him like a tide of brass and blood, screaming with the Nails’ song.

Beside them, another Legion joins the assault—more measured, more precise. Their strikes are clean, surgical. Their Primarch watches from the high ridges, helm removed, jaw clenched. Corvus Corax.

The Raven Guard descend like shadows, efficient and silent, their methods at odds with the carnage erupting below. Corax lands hard beside Angron as the final bastion falls. What greets him is horror: mutilated corpses, ruined structures, Legionaries panting like animals over still-twitching prey. Angron’s blade is slick, eyes burning. The Nails throb in his skull. He watches for a moment as a group of civilians is dragged from a collapsed bunker by snarling World Eaters. No trials. No surrender. Just a blur of chainblades.

Stepping forward. “That’s enough.”

Angron turns at the voice. He’s smeared with gore, eyes lit by the Nails, heart hammering. He doesn’t speak yet. Just breathes.

Corax continues “You know what this looks like. What they’ll say. What it is.”

“Victory,” Angron snarls.

“Slaughter.”

“They’re the same thing now.”

Corax shakes his head. “No. You’ve made them the same. You’ve given them the Nails. You’re feeding them your pain.”

Angron’s jaw tightens. “I gave them freedom.”

Corax steps closer. “You gave them chains. You made them like you.”

That strikes deep. For a moment, Angron doesn’t respond. He breathes hard. The blood on his hands is still warm.

“You butchered civilians. You gave no terms.”

“They didn’t ask for terms. They screamed. That was enough.”

Corax steps forward. “You’re losing control. Your Legion is—you are becoming something else.”

Angron’s voice drops to a growl. “You know nothing about control. About what it takes to keep men fighting after their souls break.”

“I know what it means to lead men who choose loyalty, not madness.”

Angron’s fist clenches. “Spare me your virtue.”

Corax glances around at the carnage. “The others will hear of this. You can’t keep hiding what you’re doing to them. What you’ve done to yourself.”

Angron steps close, towering, the Nails screaming. “Let them come. Let them try to stop me. I bled in chains while they lived as princes. I make my own legion now.”

Corax doesn’t flinch, though there is grief in his eyes. “You could’ve been more than this.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy with everything neither has ever said.

Turning away, Angron grits out “Go back to your shadows, Corax.”

Corax does but not before looking back—at the red tide, at the butchered silence—and knowing that whatever comes next, they are already losing him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Above Bodt, the stars shift. They feel it before they see it—the way the world goes still. Vox-traffic falters. Storms die. The red skies of Bodt open like a wound, and something impossible bleeds through. The Emperor of Mankind arrives.

He does not come with fanfare. No choir, no banners. Only silence and golden light that seems to hush the war-bred screams in every skull. Even the Butcher’s Nails whimper.

Angron is brought before him. Not summoned—dragged by circumstance and threat. He enters the Reclusium half-dressed in gore-streaked armor, eyes wild, mouth dry. The Emperor stands alone, radiant and terrible, the storm contained in flesh. His voice does not echo—it overwrites the room.

“You have forgotten your purpose.”

Angron’s laughter is like broken glass “I was never given one.”

“You were given brothers. A Legion. My trust.”

“You gave me chains,” Angron growls. “And when I broke them, you replaced them with iron dreams.”

The Emperor steps closer. “You are not beyond my will.”

With a flicker of thought, he proves it. The Butcher’s Nails go silent. Shut down like extinguished stars. Angron falls to his knees, eyes wide in the sudden quiet. It is worse than the pain—this hollow, vacant absence. This silence.

“I spared you from death,” the Emperor says coldly. “I let you lead. But if you turn your sons into monsters, I will end them. And then you.”

He turns to leave. “Remember who made you.”

The Nails return. Not by command—but by Angron’s own will. The scream that follows rattles the brass halls of Bodt for miles.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evara moves carefully these days. Having learned to be invisible—to drift without drawing attention, to navigate the whispered corridors of vice without catching hungry eyes. Lately, something has been wrong. At first it was a tightness in her chest. Then dizziness. A faint taste of metal behind her tongue. Nothing unusual in her life—until it didn’t stop. Until her dreams returned: not of pain or escape, but of him. Of Angron.

Holding the torn shawl in her hands that night, sitting in the dim flicker of a low-heat furnace. Her pulse is erratic, her breath shallow. Nausea faintly rises again. She closes her eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. A colleague—older, shrewder, kind beneath the mask of apathy—watches her across the corridor.

“You need to see the medicae,” the woman says softly.

Evara opens her eyes. “Why?”

“You know why.”

The silence stretches. Later that week, alone in a maintenance stall after shift, Evara opens a stolen dataslate. Basic biometric scan. Non-invasive. Limited. The result flashes: Genetic divergence detected – positive for gestational anomaly. She doesn't breathe, doesn’t move.

Staring at the dataslate as she whispers—half hope, half disbelief “…you left something behind.”

[thebramblewood]

When your witchy, scatterbrained grandmother secures you a possibly condemned old manor and forgets to send the cleaning service ahead.

Beginning / Previous / Next

Micah: Time to bust the dust.

Naomi: Ugh, gross. Good luck with that. I still say we should book a hotel.

-

[Text of email]

From: Netherworld Department of Death

To: Naomi Uchiyama

Subject: Greetings Grimterns!

Dear Grimterns,

We once again extend a hearty welcome to this year’s cohort! Your grimternships begin Monday at 9:00 am. Scythes and robes will be provided. The Head Reaper has kindly made himself available for day one orientation. As you can imagine, his time is valuable; do not waste it.

Once you have proven your mettle, you will be expected at NWDD five days a week. Each morning, you will be assigned your daily duties at the Scrying Bowl. While field assignments are always top priority, you may also be asked to perform tasks of a more clerical nature...

-

Naomi: [grumbling] Why did I let Grandma sign me up for this shit?

Micah: Because you're a penniless, couch-surfing burnout with no real prospects in life?

Naomi: You're one to talk, sis. You're hardly making a fortune on obituaries. Meanwhile, that San Myshuno Times best-selling novel won't write itself.

-

Pizza Delivery Person: Whoa, you're actually going to live here? This place has been abandoned for years.

Naomi: On account of the creeping mist and other eerie shit, I presume?

Pizza Delivery Person: Yep! Good luck!

Micah: [dry heaves] Do I even want to know how old that fruitcake is?

Naomi: Lookin' snazzy in here!

Micah: Yeah, no thanks to you.

Naomi: Hey, I picked up those groceries!

Micah: Only because you needed more cigarettes.

Naomi: I ordered the pizza!

Micah: And sat there watching me while you wolfed half of it down.

-

Micah: This is good pizza. I should really take a shower, though.

Naomi: You might actually want to burn those clothes. Better safe than sorry.

[girlactionfigure]

1 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - The Development of Multiscale Models for Complex Chemical Systems

2 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - Quasiperiodic Crystals

3 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - Decoding the Structure and The Function of The Ribosome

4 Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences - Repeated Games

5 Nobel Prize in Chemistry – Ubiquitin, Deciding the Fate of Defective Proteins in Living Cells

6 Nobel Prize in Economics - Human Judgment and Decision-Making Under Uncertainty

7 Fields Medal Award in Mathematics

8 Turing Award - Machine Reasoning Under Uncertainty

9 Turing Award - Nondeterministic Decision-Making

10 Turing Award - The Development of Interactive Zero-Knowledge Proofs

11 Turing Award - Developing New Tools for Systems Verification

12 Vine Seeds Discovered from The Byzantine Period

13 The World’s Most Ancient Hebrew Inscription

14 Ancient Golden Treasure Found at Foot of Temple Mount

15 Sniffphone - Mobile Disease Diagnostics

16 Discovering the Gene Responsible for Fingerprints Formation

17 Pillcam - For Diagnosing and Monitoring Diseases in The Digestive System

18 Technological Application of The Molecular Recognition and Assembly Mechanisms Behind Degenerative Disorders

19 Exelon – A Drug for The Treatment of Dementia

20 Azilect - Drug for Parkinson’s Disease

21 Nano Ghosts - A “Magic Bullet” For Fighting Cancer

22 Doxil (Caelyx) For Cancer Treatment

23 The Genetics of Hearing

24 Copaxone - Drug for The Treatment of Multiple Sclerosis

25 Preserving the Dead Sea Scrolls

26 Developing the Biotechnologies of Valuable Products from Red Marine Microalgae

27 A New Method for Recruiting Immune Cells to Fight Cancer

28 Study of Bacterial Mechanisms for Coping with Temperature Change

29 Steering with The Bats 30 Transmitting Voice Conversations Via the Internet

31 Rewalk – An Exoskeleton That Enables Paraplegics to Walk Again

32 Intelligent Computer Systems

33 Muon Detectors in The World's Largest Scientific Experiment

34 Renaissance Robot for Spine and Brain Surgery

35 Mobileye Accident Prevention System

36 Firewall for Computer Network Security

37 Waze – Outsmarting Traffic, Together

38 Diskonkey - USB Flash Drive

39 Venμs Environmental Research Satellite

40 Iron Dome – Rocket and Mortar Air Defense System

41 Gridon - Preventing Power Outages in High Voltage Grids

42 The First Israeli Nanosatellite

43 Intel's New Generation Processors

44 Electroink - The World’s First Electronic Ink for Commercial Printing

45 Development of A Commercial Membrane for Desalination

46 Developing Modern Wine from Vines of The Bible

47 New Varieties of Seedless Grapes

48 Long-Keeping Regular and Cherry Tomatoes

49 Adapting Citrus Cultivation to Desert Conditions

50 Rhopalaea Idoneta - A New Ascidian Species from The Gulf of Eilat

51 Life in The Dead Sea - Various Fungi Discovered in The Brine

52 Drip Technology - The Irrigation Method That Revolutionized Agriculture

53 Repair of Heart Tissues from Algae

54 Proof of The Existence of Imaginary Particles, Which Could Be Used in Quantum Computers

55 Flying in Peace with The Birds

56 Self-Organization of Bacteria Colonies Sheds Light on The Behaviour of Cancer Cells

57 The First Israeli Astronaut, Colonel Ilan Ramon

58 Dr. Chaim Weizmann - Scientist and Statesman, The First President of Israel, One of The Founders of The Modern Field of Biotechnology

59 Aaron Aaronsohn Botanist, Agronomist, Entrepreneur, Zionist Leader, and Head of The Nili Underground Organization

60 Albert Einstein - Founding Father of The Theory of Relativity, Co-Founder of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem

61 Maimonides - Doctor and Philosopher

Source

@TheMossadIL

[goldenherc9]

A Golden Exploration: Part 2

With their mission a success, the trio prepared to transport their findings back to their ship. The abandoned station, once a mystery, now held new promise under the guidance of these golden-suited explorers.

As they began the transfer, the station's lights flickered, and a distant rumble echoed through the halls. “Warning,” the AI announced, “structural integrity compromised. Evacuation recommended.” The team sprang into action, moving swiftly yet efficiently to secure the valuable equipment and data. Ambrose worked quickly to stabilize the station’s core while Brody and Blake coordinated the extraction.

As they hurried to the docking bay, the station began to tremble, debris falling around them. With seconds to spare, they managed to board their ship, launching into the safety of space just as Nebula-9 collapsed into itself.

Breathing heavily, the three men watched the implosion from their viewport. Despite the harrowing escape, they couldn’t help but feel triumphant. They had not only unearthed ground-breaking technology but also solidified their bond as a team. However, as they secured the cargo, Daniel noticed a small, sleek object—a mysterious rubber polo-drone—that had quietly boarded their ship during the chaos. Its purpose was unknown, but its presence hinted at secrets yet to be discovered. The adventure on Nebula-9 had ended, but a new mystery had just begun.

Is this the start of the Polo-Drones or is there something else happening..find out in Part 3 which is coming soon...

Part 1 below

------------------------------------------------------

Come join the Golden Army and Polo-Drones today and be transformed into the best version of a new you! Message @brodygold @polo-drone-001 or @goldenherc9 for your transformation!

------------------------------------------------------

[contemplatingoutlander]

"The Judges, both of the supreme and inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behaviour, and shall, at stated Times, receive for their Services, a Compensation, which shall not be diminished during their Continuance in Office." (Article III, Section 1) [emphasis added]

Alexander Hamilton would be outraged to know that the current Supreme Court justices assume the Constitution gives them lifetime appointments — regardless of their behavior. He wouldn’t understand how any justice could overlook Article III, Section I that states that judges and justices “shall hold their Offices during good Behaviour.”

In the above commentary, Jack Jordan makes an excellent case that the Founders' intentions regarding the tenure of federal justices and judges has been grossly misinterpreted--and by justices who claim to be "originalists." Below are some excerpts:

A favorite falsehood by fake originalists (including those on SCOTUS) is that federal judges have “life tenure” or “lifetime appointments” (essentially the right to employment for life). Nothing explicitly or implicitly in our Constitution supports that myth. Often, so-called originalists who assert such falsehoods are lying to us about our Constitution.  [...] Our Constitution (Article III) strongly and clearly emphasized that all federal “Judges,” i.e., “of the supreme [court] and [all] inferior Courts shall” (and may) “hold their Offices” only “during good Behaviour.” This particular principle was discussed repeatedly and in multiple respects during the debates over whether the people should ratify our Constitution. Such discussions are evidence of what the people actually did ratify. Such discussions are evidence of what the people (including Federalists and Antifederalists) understood our Constitution meant. Some of the most obvious and emphatic statements were by Alexander Hamilton in The Federalist No. 78. Hamilton emphasized that some state “constitutions” already “established GOOD BEHAVIOR as the tenure of their judicial offices” and our Constitution “would have been inexcusably defective, if it had [failed to include] this important feature of good government.” “The standard of good behavior for the continuance in office of the judicial magistracy” was carefully (and repeatedly) chosen to be “one of the most valuable of the modern improvements in the practice of government.” [color/ emphasis added]

______________ Alexander Hamilton image was AI generated by Shutterstock.

[See more excerpts below the cut.]

[...] Hamilton also emphasized that judges are “servant[s]” or “representative[s]” of “the people.” We the People used our Constitution (Article III) to impose the “standard of good behavior” on judges as an “excellent barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of [all our] representative[s]” and “to secure a steady, upright, and impartial administration of the laws” by all our public servants. [...] Repeatedly, Hamilton and James Madison emphasized similar principles. Ours is “a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally responsible for his behavior in office.”  The Federalist No. 70 (Hamilton).  Having “courts composed of judges holding their offices” only “during good behavior” is a “powerful means” for ensuring “the excellences of republican government may be retained and its imperfections lessened or avoided.”  The Federalist No. 9 (Hamilton).  “The tenure by which the judges are to hold their places, is, as it unquestionably ought to be, that of good behavior.”  The Federalist No. 39 (James Madison).  Only “judges” who “behave properly, will be secured in their places for life.”  The Federalist No. 79 (Hamilton). In The Federalist No. 81 (Hamilton) also addressed a particular form of bad judicial behavior that is remarkably common among some SCOTUS justices: “judges” committing “deliberate usurpations” of “authority” that was not delegated to them by our Constitution. Hamilton also emphasized “the important constitutional check which the power of instituting impeachments” (by the House of Representatives) “and of determining upon them” (in a trial by the Senate) “would give to” Congress as “the means of punishing [the] presumption” of judges usurping powers that the Constitution did not give judges or courts (or to Congress, which creates all federal courts below SCOTUS). [color/ emphasis added]

So the Founders expected federal judges and justices who were not showing "good behavior" to be removed.

This also suggests that they would have expected the Supreme Court to develop a code of ethics that had actual teeth, in addition to the institutional check against bad judicial behavior that they put in place by allowing Congress to impeach corrupt justices.

Unfortunately, the Founders didn't expect that in the future one party in Congress (the Republicans) would be so corrupt that there is no way they would ever impeach the equally corrupt right-wing "politicians in robes" on the current Supreme Court.

Still, anytime a justice asserts that they have tenure for life in an interview, the interviewer might want to remind them about that "good behavior" stipulation in Article III, and ask them how they are making sure they are fulfilling that requirement for their continued tenure.

[misfitwashere]

ROBERT REICH

MAR 21

Friends,

There are two huge national security questions at the heart of the Trump regime. 

The first is whether Elon Musk is working, at least in part, for China’s Xi Jinping. Consider:

(1) China is the location of Musk’s largest Tesla factory in the world in which China invested $2.8 billion. The state-of-the-art facility was built in Shanghai with special permission from the Chinese government, and now accounts for more than half of Tesla’s global deliveries. 

(2) China is the world’s biggest market for Teslas and is the only electronic vehicle market where Tesla sales are continuing to grow.

(3) Chinese investors have been funneling money into Musk’s other businesses.

(4) China is a hotbed of other technologies that Musk would like to get his hands on. 

(5) In 2022, Musk told The Financial Times that China should be given some control over Taiwan by making a “special administrative zone for Taiwan that is reasonably palatable.” 

(6) In 2023, at a tech conference, he called Taiwan “an integral part of China that is arbitrarily not part of China,” and compared the Taiwan-China situation to Hawaii and the United States.

(7) On X, the social platform he owns, Musk has long used his account to praise China, encouraging more people to visit the country.

(8) One of the Pentagon’s biggest worries is that China has developed a suite of weapons capable of attacking U.S. military and non-military satellites.

(9) The Pentagon now relies heavily on Musk’s SpaceX Starlink satellite communications network for military personnel to transmit data worldwide.

(10) SpaceX launches most of the Pentagon’s military satellites on its Falcon 9 rockets, which take off from launchpads SpaceX has set up at military bases in Florida and California.

(11) SpaceX has become so valuable to the Pentagon that the Chinese government has said it considers SpaceX to be an extension of the U.S. military.

(12) The Pentagon has hired Musk’s Space X to build it a new constellation of low-earth orbit satellites to spy on China, Russia and other threats.

(13) Perceived missile threats from China — nuclear weapons or hypersonic missiles or cruise missiles — have led Trump to sign an executive order instructing the Pentagon to start work on “Golden Dome,” a space-based missile defense system, in which Musk’s Space X would almost surely be involved for rocket launches, satellite structures, and space-based data communications systems.

(14) Musk and his SpaceX have repeatedly failed to comply with federal reporting protocols aimed at protecting U.S. secrets, including by not providing some details of his meetings with foreign leaders — leading to at least three federal reviews, including one by the Defense Department’s Office of Inspector General and another by the Air Force and the Pentagon’s Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence and Security. 

So … is Musk working for Trump, for the United States, for China, or for himself — or for all of the above?

The question of Musk’s allegiance becomes more weighty by the day. 

This morning, for example, he met with Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and other Pentagon brass. According to the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal, the meeting had been arranged at Musk’s request to give Musk details about America’s preparations for war with China — the most sensitive and secret information anyone can receive. 

It appears that after the scheduled meeting and its subject matter were reported yesterday, the meeting mysteriously morphed into something more innocent. Apparently, Trump decided Musk shouldn’t be briefed on war preparations with China. 

Musk arrived shortly before 9 a.m. and left about 90 minutes later. When a reporter asked what Hegseth and Musk discussed, Musk shot back: “Why should I tell you?” Trump and Hegseth deny China was even mentioned. 

The underlying question is whether Musk can be trusted. 

Not even his position in the Trump regime is clear. Congress has not confirmed him for any role. He hasn’t been “vetted” by the FBI, as are all senior appointments. His finances haven’t been reviewed by anyone; they certainly haven’t been made public. He hasn’t even taken the oath of office, pledging his allegiance to the United States and the Constitution. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention Musk’s connection to Putin. According to the Wall Street Journal, Musk has been in regular contact with the Russian President —a close partner of China, which has supported Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine. 

Which raises the second huge national security concern at the heart of the Trump regime: Is Trump working for Putin? I don’t have to list all the evidence that prompts the question. That evidence also keeps mounting by the day. 

Trump and Musk: Manchurian heads of the United States?

[ash-says]

I think your page speaks volumes about the way you’ve perceived and endured life and I’m sorry you haven’t had the time or opportunity to soak up the good things that are all around you, I hope you develop skills that allow your success to be built off of things that are good and pure and not cheap manipulation tactics and lies

Devil may care: A guide on being unbothered.

Okay, and??

Sweetheart, I really appreciate your unwanted sympathies and illusionary sensitivity directed towards me. In our culture when someone is being sweet, kind and helpful (even if fake) we make sure that we pay them back with something valuable. Here's a small guide curated for you that will help you in being self secure so you won't feel threatened by other people's success and opinions.

1) Have a life:

Nothing screams idle to me more than this. Like you have time to be offended by someone's post and comments which you might just scroll by and ignore?? On top of that going above and beyond to let that person know. Okay, Sushma. Now log off and do the pending coursework.

2) Build genuine confidence:

Ladies, fake it till you make it can only go this far. You have to work on your underlying issues and address them. If you don't you are susceptible to triggering even by a mere stranger. Confident people don't need to go above and beyond to prove other people. They embody it.

3) Self awareness:

It's tiring to explain this. Just Google it at this point. This word is thrown like a football everywhere. You know it. Do the homework.

4) Practice self compassion and boundaries:

Negative feedback is part and parcel of life. Accept it, analyse and if it applies adopt or otherwise ignore. Boundaries are important to understand the difference between constructive criticism and disrespect.

If disrespected don't be afraid to put a bitch in place. Until then shut your mouth and concentrate on your goals.

5) Opinions are subjective:

Everyone has their own life experiences and opinions are formed based on those. Your Roman Empire might be different from your friends but does it mean it's invalid? No. Develop empathy and open-mindedness. Not everyone has the same views. It's okay.

6) Develop a thick skin:

You can't survive in this world if you are triggered by the tiniest of things. You have to be comfortable in being painted both as a hero and as a villain. Don't let others opinion get to your head. Owe to yourself that I will stand in my truth thou glory or disgrace.

7) Reflect a rbf stance:

When someone tries to belittle you, try to put you down, talk shit about you. Your body language should be cold and reserved with a rbf that screams intimidation but all you are going to say is Okay, and??

8) Master Sarcasm:

I have said this before and I will say it again. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Sarcasm is the ice in it. Ladies learn sarcasm. It's the one way ticket to put people in their place in a humorous way.

9) Be classy. Be polite. BE UNTOUCHABLE.

Who do you think will be named as the crazy one? The one who is screaming and belittling someone or the one who is still being polite but discreetly showing the person where they belong. Never resort to screaming and shouting. That's dumb. Second never go out of your way to prove how you are relevant. Take it or leave it mentality.

10) Seek professional help:

Even after all of this you are not able to practice being unbothered. I think a therapist is the best solution for you.

P.S. :Ladies, this is what I mean when I say leverage the fuck out of your connections and opportunities. This is how you turn a negative into a positive.

Plus I am petty enough to not let this disrespect slide but thought it would be a good content idea for my posts, isn't it??

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[lxgentlefolkcomic]

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Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

(n/a)

Panel 2

Watson (offscreen): I knew you’d want to investigate, so I told Mrs. Hudson not to clean anything up until you got here.

Holmes: Thank you, Watson.

Panel 3

Holmes: Well, Mrs. Norton, it looks like you were right. These prints are identical to those I spotted outside Lord Godalming’s window.

Panel 4

Sound effect: Screech

Panel 5

Mrs. Hudson: Oh, Mr. Holmes, it’s you! Sorry about the chair, it was the best I could think of to keep the door secure.

Panel 6

Mrs. Hudson (offscreen): Nothing valuable was taken as far as I can figure.

Panel 7

Mrs. Hudson: I never even saw who it was! They must have heard me coming and taken fright.

Panel 8

Holmes: No…

Panel 9

Holmes (offscreen): …He already got what he wanted.