#Firefighting Strategies

[wachinyeya]

https://ktla.com/news/california/goats-unleashed-by-san-manuel-tribe-as-part-of-fire-prevention-strategy/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaaJJAE-Kl55wk4vm1cYc0zjGRUEv8w6ps0HX0z-rxwwa7YXnTDCsgIU2vs_aem_0djT-2NoD-E87Ic6UeeqGw

Firefighting goats have been deployed by the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians to protect tribal land and neighboring property from potentially devastating brush fires.

The goats are unleashed by the San Manuel Fire Department to eat up dry brush and grass that would normally be ideal fuel for fires — a recent fire was actually partially stopped once it reached an area cleared by the caprine crew earlier this year.

The herd, officials said, is about 400-strong and is made up of generations of goat families.

On Tuesday, the goats were treated to a feast of fruit before being sent on their brush-eating mission.

The goats will spend the next several months trimming and thinning out vegetation on the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians Reservation and nearby properties in San Bernardino.

Tribal officials said the brush that covers the hillsides in and around San Manuel property is thriving and diverse, boosted by the recent history-making rainy season. The plant life is an ideal food source because goats prefer food that’s at their eye level.

The Tribe has used goats as a natural, environmentally friendly fire preventative tool since 2019; the plants get trimmed in a sustainable fashion, which allows them to survive and recover naturally overtime unlike most chemical sprays.

Tribal officials called the practice an extension of the Tribe’s “culture of lands stewardship.”

“Caring for the land is a sacred duty of the Tribe,” said Lynn Valbuena, chairwoman of the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians. “Stewardship is a responsibility given to our people by the Creator. No matter who owns the land.”

San Bernardino County residents shouldn’t be surprised to see the goats in the mountains fulfilling this divine task from now through the end of fire season.

[hedgehog-moss]

The text updates I was sending a friend while at the protest in Paris yesterday are kind of tragically funny, it goes from "the cops are staying away and as a result everything's going well, they clearly received better orders today, I'm glad" to "wait, no, forget that"

1. "Everything's going well, there are a couple of small fires but no one cares, the crowd calmly avoids them, some people stop to warm their hands over them, it's very civilised. I don't think the people who set stuff on fire are the problem, when the cops stay away everything goes smoothly"

2. "There are groups of CRS with batons and shields in the side streets but they stay very discreet compared with the other protests and weirdly enough this one is calmer!"

3. My friend : "Maybe they received different orders today"

Me "Yeah it's a miracle, someone made a sensible decision"

4. "We just passed another side street full of cops and I heard someone said "last time they started charging us, we had no idea why" so yeah they clearly received different instructions today"

Less than 10min later: "never mind we're being tear gassed"

Then: "Never mind they just charged us several times we have no idea why"

"I arrived at the end point of the march, looked back and there was a fresh new cloud of tear gas over the (very calm, many elderly people) groups in the middle of the march. More police cars + a water cannon are arriving"

Can't overstate how calm the protest was, just people (100K to 300K according to estimates) walking from point A to point B while holding signs. There were a few trash fires but if they'd sent firefighters to extinguish them people would have let them through... I had friends who walked in the middle of the march to avoid any trouble or gas and they still got tear gassed without knowing why. Even supposing there were people ahead of me I couldn't see who were being more antagonistic towards the CRS, surely the hundreds of cops present could have somehow dealt with that without charging and bludgeoning peaceful protesters and tear gassing thousands of people? Right now it's not possible for French citizens to peacefully assemble without getting systematically gassed by police.

Here's a video of when they first charged the front of the march, the people they're hitting can't move back any faster (I was somewhere in the compact crowd behind wondering (cause I'm not tall I couldn't see anything 😭) why we were suddenly being pushed back when things had been calm and fun until then. People who had been there before were coaching others like 'don't try to run, you'll make the people behind panic, just walk fast'). I counted five or six tear gas grenades going off

From what I've heard from people who were at the protest, the ones who didn't get gassed are the ones who were at the back of the march and left early without completing the march (some left because they saw the cloud of gas ahead). I've also seen people at other protests in various cities yesterday describing a similar situation : peaceful crowd getting separated in two by a charge, gassed and soaked with water cannons, most people having no idea why. If I had to describe this in terms of police strategy it would be, gas as many people as possible to dissuade your average peaceful protester from completing the march and showing up next time, and be aggressive towards the front of the march to rile them up and get nice images of youth burning things or throwing stuff at cops to show on the evening news and turn public opinion against protesters.

(Note that the society of journalists working for France Télévision (public TV, like the French BBC) have published a statement decrying the poor framing of the protests on the national news, saying too much emphasis was placed on the small amount of people destroying stuff and almost nothing on police brutality and the record numbers of (peaceful) protesters in the streets.) (Read this if you're French and have been wondering why some people around you still don't think the situation is worrying...)

Anyway, I'm glad I went. It was good to see so many people just as angry as I am about what's happening to this country and guillotine-chan was in attendance, and many people had very fun signs and I liked this angry flag:

[tevanbegins]

So this is absolutely silly, but I was thinking about Tommy getting embroiled in some kind of a hilarious tug-of-war between the 118 firefighters and their partners. Something like...

Maybe there's a 118 spouse club comprising Athena, Maddie, and Karen, them secretly meeting up for lunch once a month to gossip about their partners' crazy on-duty shenanigans and also bond in general over other stuff. After Buck and Tommy's relationship gets serious, Maddie invites Tommy to join them going forward. But the ladies do have one condition — none of their partners is supposed to know about these meet-ups, so Tommy isn't allowed to tell Buck and also never reveal any of their gossips to him, because that would mean breaking the primary rule of the club.

Intimidated yet excited at the prospect of hanging out with these badass ladies, Tommy agrees. He thinks it wouldn't be much of a hassle keeping it a secret. Except he doesn't know how deep his boyfriend's curiousity can run, and what he can do to get to the bottom of anything suspicious.

But while Tommy can understand the emotional highs and lows of being in love with a firefighter, he is a firefighter himself too. So whenever the 118 come up with off-duty plans to hang out and chill, they made sure to include Tommy and he was always happy to oblige them as well.

Except there's this one time, his plans with the 118 and the spouse club are coinciding and Tommy can't decide which gang to ditch and what excuse to give. He asks the spouse club if they could reschedule their lunch but they say it's already been more than a month since they'd last met and aligning their schedules might take another month. They say they can cancel lunch if he wants to go with the 118 because they didn't want to meet without all four of them present, because Tommy has become that important to them.

Tommy feels guilty. So now he tries to come up with some excuse to get out of the 118's trekking plans, and Buck grows suspicious when Tommy is unable to give convincing reasons for not coming. When Tommy refuses to give the real reason why he doesn't want to come, Buck makes his puppy dog face and is almost on the verge of tears, dramatically whining that Tommy is bored of him and doesn't love him anymore.

Tommy of course loses the battle to Buck and ends up revealing the existence of the spouse club to him, telling him not to tell the others at the 118 about it or else the trio of Maddie-Athena-Karen would kick his ass for betraying them. Buck promises he wouldn't, but on one condition — he wants to know all the gossip they discuss. Tommy says he won't be doing that because it's ridiculous and unfair and defeats the whole purpose of the club.

Buck doesn't argue further and sticks to his promise for a good time, but he tries using his sexual prowess to get the gossip out of him. Unfortunately for Buck, Tommy holds his resolve, albeit with a lot of difficulty. Even the reverse strategy of withholding sex doesn't work, mainly because Buck himself is unable to go a day without jumping Tommy.

Buck is annoyed with all the secrecy and decides to resort to a sneaky way to expose the spouse club without breaking his verbal promise to Tommy. He somehow finds out the venue where the spouse club is meeting next, when he luckily chances upon some lock screen message notifications on Tommy's phone from the spouse club chat group while Tommy was showering.

Buck sneakily makes lunch plans with the 118 at the same place at the same time, not telling them where they were going in case any of them told their partners about the venue and the spouse club changed their plans. And then the spouse club is busted when the 118 show up, and everyone is taken by surprise. The spouse club members are all shocked to see the 118 over there, who confront them about this secret party. They in turn ask how the 118 managed to pick such a rare spot that's so out of the way and that it was too much of a coincidence that they came here at the same time.

Buck finally blurts out that he has known about their meetings for a long time and the spouse club ladies turn to Tommy and call him a traitor. Tommy is too stunned, he says he told Buck about the club under duress but he never revealed where they were meeting. Buck remains silent, feeling a bit guilty. The 118 also call Tommy a traitor for not revealing the existence of this spouse club all the times they hung out together.

And that's how Tommy gets caught and becomes the centrepiece of this argument between both gangs, and he looks like he is about to have a nervous breakdown. Buck suddenly gets all protective and scolds both gangs for stressing his poor boyfriend out, and they are all left flabbergasted as Buck takes Tommy out for a walk and says they'd return after a bit, saying that he hoped the others would get a grip on themselves by then.

Although everyone stops bickering eventually and they sit down together at one big table to have lunch together, Bobby, Chimney, and Hen continue to give their respective partners — Athena, Maddie, and Karen — judgy looks for a while. Buck is busy being his cutest self trying to get Tommy to forgive him for getting him into trouble with both the gangs. He knows Tommy can't stay mad at him too long! (He has his ways 😏)

Meanwhile, Eddie — hitherto a silent spectator to all this chaotic drama — bursts out laughing looking at all of them and says he's never been happier to be single!

[dandylovesturtles]

we aren't allowed to tie with 2AL/SLAU :c but here's some propaganda anyway. I'm super busy with RL stuff and I don't have time for a lot so sorry this is kinda short haha

as always Firefight is owned by @remedyturtles, 2AL is owned by @intotheelliwoods, and SLAU is owned by @separatedleoau/@dianagj-art

@tmntaucompetition

-----

"Geez, what happened to them?" asks one of their opponents the moment they get there.

And Leo can understand the question. The other Leo has finally come out of his shell, and the picture is not pretty. Since he poked his head out, he and the other Donnie have been impossible to pry apart, and they haven't tried. Leo's old transport chair isn't big enough for two, but they're crammed into it anyway, letting Raph wheel them around. He just seems content to be useful.

"The Krang," says Donnie flatly, when the other two offer absolutely no answer for that. They aren't really paying attention, but the other Donnie must have filled his in on the situation at some point. He keeps calling them "Leo Beta and Donnie Beta" like some kind of nerd.

"Oh," says the older Leo sympathetically. "Do you think... I can talk to them?"

"Knock yourself out," Leo says, and the older Leo nods and approaches the two in the wheelchair, kneeling to talk to them in a low voice. Leo decides not to listen in.

"Hey," says the other Leo his age, the one with only one arm, "didn't we meet before?"

Recognition dawns. "Oh yeah, we did! Right back at the start."

The one-armed Leo grins wide. "Cool! Well, you can call me Poptart, I guess. That one's Sprout," he indicates the older Leo, "and this guy is One." He tosses his arm around One at the introduction, and One wrinkles his snout but doesn't pull away.

"Man, this sucks," he says. "I was hoping for a real challenge this time."

Leo tenses. "Uh, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't it obvious what it means?" One gestures at the twins in the wheelchair. "Those guys are half-dead, and you're-" He stops short, glancing at Poptart.

Leo can feel the preemptive rage rolling of Donnie, but he wheels his chair forward a bit before he can say anything. "I'm what?"

"You were probably trained to fight by that rat too, that's all," One goes with, looking irritated by the whole exchange.

"Heh. You don't look tough." Leo grins wide. "I could beat you sitting down."

(Beside him, Donnie's rage gives way to irritation.)

This gets One's hackles up. "Okay, fine. We'll show you guys!" He turns to leave. "Come on, Poptart, let's go talk strategy."

"No way!" Poptart doesn't make a move. "I want to stay and hang out! We can talk before the match."

"Don't fraternize with the enemy!"

"You're being so dramatic," says Poptart, and without missing a beat he slings his arm around One's shoulder's again, pulling him into a hug that's more of a headlock. One makes a series of furious noises, sounding remarkably like an angry cat, but can't dislodge himself, and Poptart manages to drag him over to join the group.

"Come on! Let's find a spot to sit!"

"These two could do with some more hydration too, I think," said Sprout, standing up and taking Raph's place behind the wheelchair.

"Great!" says Poptart. "Let's visit the snack bar!"

"Sounds great to me!" Leo sings, falling in beside Poptart. He can't help but snicker at the struggling One. "But, uh, is he gonna be okay?"

"Oh, he'll be fine once he gets a snack."

"No!? Don't eat with the enemy!" yells One.

"He's just a little grumpy," Poptart adds, giving him a pout.

"Heh, well, we can fix that!"

"Stop! Let me go! Auuuugh!"

[reality-detective]

A well written explanation involving Lithium Ion Batteries. 👇

Understanding Thermal Runaway in Lithium Ion Battery Fires. Thermal Runaway Explained:

Thermal runaway is a chain reaction within a lithium-ion battery that can lead to catastrophic failure, resulting in fires or explosions. Here’s a step-by-step breakdown of what happens during thermal runaway:

1. Initial Trigger: Thermal runaway can be initiated by several factors, such as physical damage (e.g., puncturing or crushing), overcharging, manufacturing defects, or exposure to extreme heat.

2. Internal Heating: Once triggered, a part of the battery starts to overheat. This can be due to an internal short circuit or a chemical reaction within the battery.

3. Chain Reaction: The heat generated from the initial trigger increases the temperature inside the battery. This heat can cause other parts of the battery to react, generating even more heat.

4. Rapid Temperature Rise: As the temperature rises, the electrolyte inside the battery—a flammable liquid—starts to vaporize and decompose, producing gases. This further increases the internal pressure and temperature.

5. Gas Release and Ignition: The increasing pressure can cause the battery casing to rupture, releasing flammable gases. These gases can then ignite, leading to a fire or explosion.

6. Propagation: If the battery is part of a larger battery pack, the heat and flames can spread to adjacent cells, causing them to undergo thermal runaway as well. This can result in a large, intense fire that is difficult to control.

Key Points: - Difficult to Extinguish: Thermal runaway fires require massive amounts of water to cool the batteries and stop the chain reaction. Traditional fire extinguishers are often ineffective.

- Toxic Gases: Burning lithium-ion batteries release toxic gases such as hydrogen fluoride, which can be harmful if inhaled.

- Reignition Risk: Even after the fire appears to be extinguished, there is a risk of reignition. The battery cells can remain hot and unstable for hours or even days.

Safety Measures:

- Distance: Establishing safety distances to keep people away from the danger zone.

- Continuous Monitoring: Using thermal imaging to monitor for any signs of reignition.

- Specialized Response: Firefighters need to use specialized techniques and equipment to handle lithium-ion battery fires safely.

Understanding thermal runaway helps in appreciating the complexity and danger of lithium-ion battery fires, highlighting the importance of safety precautions and effective response strategies. 🤔

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

*steps on stage nervously*

Uhh.. umm. Uhhhhh

Spidey Academy AU!!

Like Xavier's School for Gifted Children, Miguel - a Spider-person fond of kids, opened a Spidey-Science Academy, for the Spidey-people of the universe

It's not like a high school. There's five years and the years are not really sorted by age - but by experience.

So Hobie would be a year 3 - a middleclass-man

Pavitr is a year 1 - a freshman

And the classes, are all based on honing your Spider-powers and senses.

There's assignments, things you have to take home and do.

They're give you a fake evil Doc Ock chip and have you decode it and make it good again (like Peter in No Way Home).

Or they ask you to stop a petty robbery without using your webs. You have to bring in the Daily Bugles article on you the next day and they grade you on that.

(Hey say what you want but Jonah reports the facts he just talks a lot of shit)

Any class a Spider-person needs, they have.

You name it-

Home Ec? No. Sewing and Suit Repair Class

Gym? No. Swinging & Strength Endurance

Science? ALL ADVANCED. Freshmen's take Advanced Spider-biology and have to learn ALL the different Spider-variations and illnesses Spider-people can get. Multiversal Physics.

All of the honor classes are FULL.

There's also other helpful ones like Firefighting Training and Sign Language (both mandatory), hence how Insomniac!Miles is completely fluent in ASL.

Oh - also. Because Miguel is such a tight-ass -

UNIFORMS. Sweater vests over pants or shorts. (No skirts cause they still be upsidedown and shit)

You have to bring your mask everyday. It's like your ID card

y'all ever had that? Like y'all needed an ID to get into school and if you didn't have it they charged you? Like money? My school did that we also had metal detectors like the airport I'm so deadass this was just a normal public school - I'm getting distracted, anyway-

Of COURSE Ms.Jessica Drew is Assistant Principal. OF COURSE she also teaches Advanced Combat and Strategies class.

And YES she's a hard-ass grader. Has never given a 100% in her life. On some 'This was the best thing I've read in my entire teaching career but you forgot to indent on paragraph 5 so 99%'

She doesn't give a fuck about your GPA!!!

Unlike Mr.Peter B. Parker.

He makes people call him 'Professor PB'. He wants to be the cool teacher.

His classroom is SO FUN during lunch time. Probably runs the anime and manga club. He's that really nerdy teacher that you don't expect to be like "I know what anime is! I grew up on Dragon Ball 😁

His class are always fun but SO chaotic. Still wears sweatpants sometimes. He's the Science teacher.

And every year they take class photos and there's a Spidey homecoming where everyone parties on the walls in cute outfits.

CAN YOU SEE IT?

Swinging Team instead of Track and Field???

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT?

MIGUEL AS PRINCIPAL???

LYLA BEING THE LOUD SPEAKER ANNOUNCER?

[firehose118]

i want it all

rated M | 1k | bucktommy

Tommy kisses him and his first thought isn’t I don’t understand what I’m feeling. His first thought is oh, this feeling is being attracted to men. I know this feeling very well. It hits him hard. All at once he understands why, in the early days of firefighting, in his Buck 1.0 era, after a hard session at the West Hollywood gym he'd joined when he first moved to the city, surrounded by some of LA’s hottest men—working out and eyeing him in a way that Buck had thought at the time was purely competitive, purely comparing bodies and workout strategies and their effects—why he would be on Tinder, his hands shaking with desperation as he swiped right indiscriminately, before he even left the locker room; so pent up with what he thought was adrenaline but was actually lust, honest-to-god sexual frustration from watching these hot men get hotter; from watching them flex their big muscles and pant open-mouthed and loud as they ran on the treadmill and seeing them sweat through their clothing that then clung tight to their ripped bodies and catching a wink from them as they grunted and dropped weights on the floor in front of him.

{read on ao3 or below}

He gets why he never felt like he could cool down in the open showers afterward; watching through the steam as other men ran soap over their toned naked bodies and made eye contact with him, looking him up and down and letting him know in no uncertain terms that they liked what they saw; that it wasn’t a nod of appreciation from them for all the hard work he’d put in but more of a come hither, a come get this, a come and see what else our bodies can do together. He knows now why those looks would rush through his body and go right to his dick and fuel him the next day as he lifted and stretched and ran; why he felt such a deep craving to attract more and more looks from these other men.

He recognizes now that he’d leave the gym with more energy than he’d arrived with because he’d spend the whole workout in a deep haze of homoerotic tension, pushing himself harder and faster and lifting more weight just to see how many eyes he could get on him, how many winks and whistles and damns he could direct his way; how much admiration he could get from these hot guys, how much envy he could invoke in them; as measured, of course, by how many numbers he could get from guys asking to be gym buddies. It was never less than three a day. His record was ten. His phone was filled with the numbers of men he’d never called because he didn’t know at the time what it was they’d really both wanted from each other.

He can understand, now, that he never left the gym without a making sure he had a hookup with a woman lined up directly after because what he really wanted to do after marinating in overwhelming lust for an hour was fuck those gorgeous, sweaty men at the gym who looked at him like they wanted to eat him and flirted with him and got into his space and adjusted themselves in their shorts as they spotted him on the weight bench and slowly jerked themselves off in the shower across from him and asked to see him outside of the gym. He wanted that so badly and it's not like he was ever dissatisfied with the sex he had with those Tinder women—it was always good, always amazing, though never as bone-deep great as the intimacy he shared once he settled down into monogamy was—but he knows now why it never felt like it satisfied the itch he was trying to scratch.

He knows this feeling. 

He knows this feeling not just from years ago; not just from Buck 1.0 but also from before that and from Buck 2.0 and 3.0 and 4.0 and whatever he was the first time he set eyes on Tommy. He knows that feeling from the butterflies in his stomach when Tommy made fake mouth static at the fire chief; from the way he couldn't let himself look at Tommy too much while he gave him the tour of the 217, even though there was nothing in that whole hangar more worth looking at than Tommy's face; from the way he felt his breathing speed up when Tommy offered him flying lessons and his first thought was I have to spend more time alone with this guy; from the way he felt himself flush and smile when Tommy said his name and gave him a fist bump and showed off his strong arms in that cutoff sweatshirt; from the way he went all hot and sweaty in a way that had nothing to do with the heat or the exercise when he slammed his huge body into Tommy's while they played basketball and Tommy didn't even flinch, just looked at him like is that all you got?

He recognizes what it is now. Tommy kisses him and he gets it. He might be new to kissing men but he’s not new to this feeling.

It’s nothing but an absolute relief to understand where to put it after all of these years; how to categorize it and what it means about him that he feels it. He’s not secretly aggressive, he’s not overly competitive: he’s just really, really, deeply bisexual.

His eyes are all-the-way open for the first time in his life. He has a date with Tommy and he can’t wait to find out what he’s been missing out on.

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Date Night

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,237

Summary: Dating a vigilante is hard, but worth it. Early on their relationship, she has to face that.

Masterlist

--------

On an early autumn night they strolled across Robinson park. Actors in Elizabethan costume were prancing around the low concrete stage, doing some warm-up crowd work. Jason’s arm was slung over her shoulder, and her dog Marlow trotted happily alongside them. 

They weren’t great at the actual Dating aspect of dating just yet. It was still early days, and they had sidled into being together by following the same trajectory as their friendship, now with sex. They supported and trusted each other, they were both loyal and committed. They had already had two years to figure all that out. 

Romantic nights out had been planned, postponed, and cancelled. Andy had eaten alone at a restaurant booked for two, not to know until later that Jason was fighting Killer Croc in a cage match. The week after he was blowing up an exotic animal trafficking ring before the major players could flee to south america. 

He was apologetic and self recriminating. She could already see the barbed little seeds of ‘can this even work?’ trying to take root in his mind. 

But she wasn’t a quitter. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to stand her up. It wasn’t even in the first five, and she’d long since made her peace with it. It just felt more calamitous because now it was called a date. 

It wasn’t a big deal, she decided. If other people could make it work, the partners of firefighters, nurses, other on-call professionals, then Wonder Woman help her, she could too. 

Despite telling herself it wasn’t a big deal and she wasn’t worried, when Friday night swung around: bright, warm, and dry she let out an audible sigh of relief. 

The light was swiftly dying but the park was surprisingly busy. It was the last Shakespeare in the Park of the year, and there were food trucks and little battery-powered candles for sale. Families and couples of all ages milled about looking for good spots. A polite group of children came over and asked if they could pet their dog, to said dog’s eternal happiness. 

“I propose a strategy,” Andy said.

“Hit me.” 

“We split up to look for clues, and by clues I mean the best food trucks. That yellow one has empanadas, and we passed a flag before that said something about paella.”

He nodded seriously. “You take Marlow, I’ll take the backpack, and we’ll meet back here in ten.” 

They broke off like fighter jets zooming away, and roughly ten minutes later they returned with arms full of delicious smelling cardboard boxes. They set up their picnic blanket on the slope some distance from the stage where they had a good view of the whole area. They’d arrived at the perfect time, because the park was filling up. 

They sat on the ground and laid out the spoils of their hunt, just as the show was starting. 

The empanadas were sold out, but they had choripan instead, which Andy picked up for Jason. The paella was with shrimp and mussels, and was absolutely delicious, if a little small. Jason had found Korean fried chicken, and little skewered things called tteokkochi that neither were familiar with but were excited to try. 

It was a confused and messy dinner that they dove into with relish, and some negotiations over final bites. 

Getting the choripan was a strategic move on her part, because Jason was a sucker for anything in the neighbourhood of a hotdog. The fried chicken was the perfect counter, he knew her weaknesses. The tteokkochi turned out to be deep fried rice cakes slathered in sweet and tangy hot sauce, that had them both licking sticky fingers and promising to try them again some time. 

Up on stage a short performance of the play within a play from Midsummer Night’s Dream was finishing up. 

Next up, and the main show for the night, was an abridged version of Much ado Nothing. Jason scrunched up their food packages and lobbed it into the nearby trash can, and Andy got out the thermos of non-alcoholic mulled wine from the backpack for them to share. 

They relaxed together on the slope, leaning back on their hands, with Marlow sitting up next to them on look out. 

Jason glanced away for a moment. 

“Hey, can I borrow your scarf?” he asked. 

“Yeah, sure.” She handed it over without questioning the strange request. 

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek then wrapped it around his neck so he could pull it up and hide his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

He snuck away through the crowd. 

The play continued, the actors hamming it up appropriately. The night had set in properly now, and large lights beamed down onto the stage leaving the rest of them in darkness. The audience around her laughed at the jokes and gags. 

She leaned against her dog. 

The night was getting cooler.  

Why did it hurt more now than it had when they were just friends?

She’d had no expectation of him then, she supposed. She hadn’t wanted him to be hers.

No. That wasn’t true, she had wanted him badly for some time, but squished it all deep down inside of her. Now it was out, with promises made and claims staked, it was hard to keep that once contained desire on a leash. 

He would give his life for her if the situation demanded it. She knew that, with the same confidence she knew tomorrow would follow today. 

But he would give his life for just about anyone if the situation demanded it. He was never going to change. She wouldn’t want him to.

She looked at the silhouettes of people in the dark around her, an elderly couple on camping chairs to her side, and ahead of her a family with two children who were fast asleep on a blanket. Not very long ago this park was so dangerous people rarely came here during the day. 

She looked at her things around her, and thought about what she would need to do if he didn’t come back tonight. She would take a taxi home and bring his stuff with her, hold onto it for him until he could come to her place to pick it up. It could be in two weeks, it could be tomorrow. 

This was going to be her life, forever. 

She pulled in deep breath and leaned her forehead on Marlow’s neck.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Okay.” 

About twenty minutes after Jason left, Marlow looked up and to the side. She followed his sight line and she saw Jason returning through the crowd. He dropped something into the trash can with such a casual air it took a few moments for her to recognise it as a disassembled pistol. Nobody else noticed him at all.

He stretched out on the blanket behind her and gently pulled her back against him, his hands around her waist. He returned her scarf, wrapping it loosely around her neck. The knuckles of his right hand were grazed. He drew no attention to it, acting for all the world as though nothing had happened and nothing was ever going to happen. He definitely hadn’t just disarmed whatever dangerous hooligan had been planning to do something terrible. 

She loved this man so much it hurt.

“What’d I miss?” he said in her ear.

“Not much.” She leaned back against him. “But I’m starting to think this Benedick guy doesn’t actually dislike Beatrice after all.” 

He snorted a laugh. They settled in for the long haul.

Next>>

[usnatarchives]

Fire Safety in the U.S.: The Story Behind the Posters 🔥🧯

Fire safety in the United States caught fire (not literally!) after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. This event prompted the creation of the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA) in 1896, laying the groundwork for fire safety regulations.

However, it wasn't until the mid-20th century that federal agencies really stoked the flames of fire safety education. During World War II, the U.S. Forest Service, in collaboration with the Ad Council, introduced Smokey Bear, whose "Only you can prevent forest fires" message would later become iconic.

So, why posters? Well, they're a visually striking way to catch people's attention and convey important messages succinctly. They use a combination of strong imagery and memorable slogans to imprint key safety messages into the public consciousness. These images and words, once seen, can be recalled in crucial moments, aiding in both fire prevention and appropriate response.

Through the years, the government and various organizations have leveraged the power of posters to reinforce fire safety principles. From the 1970s' "Learn Not to Burn" program by NFPA aimed at children, to modern campaigns focusing on smoke alarms and fire escape plans, posters have been instrumental in these educational drives.

The history of fire safety programs in the U.S. is a testament to the power of public education. And the posters? They're the colorful champions, the unsung heroes, carrying the vital messages of these programs to the public eye. Because, after all, prevention is the best firefighting strategy!

[three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat]

What would happen if the Gotoro Empire invaded Stardew Valley?

In the background Lore of Stardew Valley, there is a war going on between the Ferngill Republic, which Stardew is in, and the Gotoro Empire, in which Kent spent a long time as a prisoner of war. Well, what if the war went badly for Ferngill, and the Gotoro Empire ends up landing on the mainland?

Imagine Stardew Valley being chosen as a place for the D-Day invasion, and the top generals of Ferngill are just bracing for the impending invasion, but the army just... stopped. They can't get past this tiny town on their coast. They don't know what's happening, only that a hell of a firefight is going on in Pelican Town.

The Farmer is essentially an eldritch being, disguised in a mortal body, I'm sure through various contacts, such as Mr Qi, they could find out about the invasion of Stardew Valley. And they would be fucking prepared. Kent knows what the Gotoro Empire is like, and he canonically still has an entire armada of explosives and I'm assuming firearms stashed in his shed. He was a soldier, he would know at least some basic strategies to slow them down, and knowing Kent, he wouldn't just let them walk into his town and take over.

There's a small army of dwarves and shadow people living underground in the valley, if they were able to be convinced to help, they would provide substantial stopping force. Rasmodius, I'm sure, would have a few tricks up his sleeve.

Everyone loves living in the magical world of Stardew Valley, and they aren't going down without a fight. Kent would rig the beaches with explosives, and if he had enough ammunition, would probably be waiting with a small force from the town and local areas. Rasmodius definitely has a few tricks up his sleeve that would ruin the invader's day, and Mr Qi would probably plan some surprises that would be monumentally disastrous for the Gotoro soldiers.

And then there's the farmer.

Hopped up on Triple Shot Espresso and Magic Rock Candy, armed with Explosive ammo and wielding a Sword that can cut through stone with one swing, they would be a literal demon in a straw hat. The Rock Candy gives a +5 luck buff, bullets ain't gonna hit them. They'll all just curve around them, because the farmer isn't going to fucking die to some puny bullets. Stories would be told in the Gotoro Camp of a wraith sent upon them in the name of Yoba, literally untouchable by their weapons, and faster than the speed of sound. A banshee with bad taste in clothing and a sword covered in the blood of their friends and allies, they would be absolutely petrified.

And because it's Stardew Valley, the most hidden place in the world, no one outside of the Valley would have any clue what's going on. The Generals of Ferngill would never know, only that they had been saved.

I honestly love this idea so much and if this gets any interaction I'm absolutely writing a story about it.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 21

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, light angst, Din being an overprotective man, eventual fluff, kiss and make up vibes

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: This chapter overlaps heavily with the events of the season 2 episode "Chapter 16: The Rescue." You will notice borrowed dialogue and synced plot points.

---

Lieutenant Elia Kane liked to consider herself the type of officer who remained cool under pressure. However, she would be lying if she said that the holotransmission she just received didn’t have her stomach sinking in her abdomen. It wasn’t the content of the message itself, really, but rather that she knew that even as the chief communications officer, this was not a message she could field on her own. She was going to have to show it to the Moff, and he was going to be furious.

Kane did not often find herself on the receiving end of the Moff’s ire, and that was very much by design on her part. The man was terrifying when angered, cold and biting in a way that seemed to suck all of the life out of a room. She had found that the best way to keep in his good graces was to learn how to anticipate his needs before he had them, to know what orders he would give and what questions he would ask before they ever passed his lips. So far, that strategy had been successful, and she was loathe to be the one to deliver him news that he would find…unsettling.

But. Such was her duty. And a good officer of the Empire did their duty even when it was unpleasant.

Striding onto the bridge with a confidence she wasn’t certain she felt, she squared her shoulders and leveled a calm, even look at Moff Gideon, his face turned away from her as he stared out the front viewport.

“Sir.” He cocked his head slightly and turned around to meet her gaze. “You should see this.”

Without further preamble, she thumbed the holoprojector in the center of the bridge, and the transmission flared to life. Just above the surface of the projector, the pale blue, translucent frame of the Mandalorian Din Djarin now hovered, staring daggers at the Moff even across an untold number of lightyears, and Lieutenant Kane watched with lead in her gut as her commanding officer’s face darkened into a glower.

“Moff Gideon. You have something I want.”

---

The days that followed the destruction of the rhydonium refinery on Morak passed in a blur for the crew of Boba Fett’s Firespray. Something about that mission – the success of obtaining the coordinates, the firefight, the hurried but victorious departure – seemed to have lit a new fire in everyone’s bellies, one that had been slowly dying in the weeks since Grogu’s abduction. Now, it felt as though everyone awoke each morning hungry for the next task, eager for the next step that would bring you that much closer to bringing him home.

During the narrow window of time that he had been granted access to the internal Imperial terminal, Din had taken the liberty of collecting information on the location of several other assets of interest, including a long-range shuttle that was currently transporting a scientist by the name of Dr. Pershing. Tracking him down and bringing him aboard had been the first order of business after departing Morak, a pursuit which had resulted in a brief shootout between the two ships. The Firespray had, of course, overwhelmed the shuttle rather quickly, and a mere handful of minutes later, another crew member had been added to the ship’s roster.

You knew little about this mysterious doctor, only what Din had shared with you about his previous encounter with the man back when Grogu had been a quarry. The bounty hunter seemed to believe that he might have some information about Moff Gideon’s ship that the team could use to inform the boarding plan. You also learned from Cara that in addition to being a valuable informant for this particular mission, he was also a high-value New Republic target, and after all this was over, she had every intention of ensuring that he was escorted to Coruscant to stand trial.

For those reasons, Dr. Pershing had been dragged aboard in binder cuffs and tucked away in one of the few remaining empty bounty cells. Din took it upon himself to bring him three square meals a day as well as escort him to the ‘fresher at defined intervals, but otherwise, as far as you were concerned, it was as though he wasn’t even there.

Your next stop, not two standard rotations later, was a nowhere planet boasting grassy, temperate plains dotted with large duracrete refineries, the towering exhaust stacks of which belched clouds of steam and opaque white smoke large enough to be visible from orbit. Din had tracked the final prospective members of your assault team there, though what they might be doing in a nameless place such as this, you couldn’t have guessed.

This time, when he left the ship, he took a reluctant Boba Fett along. Watching the two of them descend the ramp in lock-step with one another, in their suits of complimentary armor, had you doing a doubletake. These men may not have known each other for longer than a handful of weeks, but something about the way they moved together called to mind what few interactions you had had with New Republic officers during your time on Chardaan. Like they were brothers-in-arms, separated by time and circumstance but still very much bound to one another, still very much cut from the same cloth. You resolved then that you would be more intentional about getting to know Boba. You had managed to pull Din out of his stoic, reticent shell; perhaps you could do the same with him.

The two were gone so briefly that you and Fennec had barely managed to begin your daily hand-to-hand lesson before the doors to the ramp were sliding back open, and to your surprise, not two but four Mandalorians in full beskar strode up the ramp and into the navigation room.

Smaller in stature but no less intimidating, both of the new figures wore armor that had been painted some combination of black and royal blue, and both of them were armed to the teeth – dual blasters holstered on their hips, explosive rounds attached to their belts, flame throwers in their vambraces, and jetpacks on their backs. You noticed that the visors in their helmets had been modified slightly to appear sharper, thinner, and more feminine that either Din’s or Boba’s, giving their faces an almost bird-like appearance, and one of them even had white embellishments painted on her helmet that reminded you of an owl.

It occurred to you that these were the first Mandalorian women you had ever met, and the thought filled you with a thrill of curiosity. These were the kinds of women that Din had been raised with, that he had come of age with. Other than his mother, who he had lost at such a young age at Aq Vetina, women just like this had been his first impressions of the opposite sex. You couldn’t help but wonder what they might be like.

And what they might think of someone from their culture choosing someone like you as a partner.

The moment the doors slid shut once again, Boba broke away from the party, presumably to fetch Dr. Pershing from his cell so planning could begin. There was a tension in his shoulders that you were unaccustomed to seeing in the man, someone who you had known to carry himself with such confidence and self-assurance that it almost came across as swagger. Something had unsettled him, and just the thought of that being possible was enough to have your hackles raising on instinct. Resisting the urge to go after him, you instead hovered near the edge of the room as Din began introductions.

Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, the one in the painted owl helmet, and her vassal Koska Reeves struck you as a bit formal, a bit standoffish in comparison to the rest of the companions you had accumulated over the last few weeks, though not unpleasant. In a move that appeared rehearsed, they both reach up to remove their helmets simultaneously, tucking them under their arms and settling into an at-ease posture. As you observed them shaking hands with first Cara and then Fennec, you were struck with the notion that although the two women looked nothing alike, they bore such similar facial expressions that you would have known immediately that they were part of a matched set. Sharp, hawk-like eyes, polite smiles, ramrod-straight spines.

“And who’s this?” Bo-Katan asked as they circled around to you.

You offered her a welcoming smile and your hand to shake as Din replied with your name, adding, “Her expertise is in starship engineering and design.”

Both Bo-Katan and Koska quirked an eyebrow at that, and the former narrowed her eyes dubiously. “An interesting choice,” she said, looking you up and down with an appraising gaze. “Just where do you fit into the puzzle?”

You fought back the wave of defensiveness the question elicited and instead wrestled your expression into something you hoped was blandly pleasant. “I’ve spent a significant amount of time studying Imperial ship schematics – internal systems, security, weapons capability, layout. I’ve put together some information that should make infiltration of Moff Gideon’s vessel safer and faster.”

“Have you ever been aboard an Imperial light cruiser?”

Beside you, you felt Din stiffen at the shift in the woman’s tone, but this wasn’t the first time you had had your work interrogated – it had practically been a daily experience when you had first started working in the shipyards at 18, young and green and a woman to boot.

“Not personally, no,” you admitted evenly, refusing to allow your feathers to be ruffled. “But I’m intimately familiar with the design.”

The two women exchanged a look, Koska all but rolling her eyes, while Bo-Katan at least had the decency to remain impassive, if a bit superior.

“I…appreciate the effort,” she said diplomatically, “but I’m not certain that databases and schematics carry quite the same weight as actual lived experience.”

Ah. So that was how it was going to be.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Din cock his head as he took half a step forward, as though about to protest on your behalf. Before he could form the words, however, you subtly brushed his hand, caressing the bridge of his knuckles over his glove with the backs of your fingers in a calming gesture. You admired his protective nature, but there was no need for him to jump to your defense.

“I understand your concern.” Your voice sounded a bit cool to your own ears, a bit pinched from the tightness of your jaw. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting together a mockup of the ship. Why don’t you take a look? You can tell me how it compares to your…lived experience.”

Bo-Katan shrugged an armored shoulder. “Very well. If you’d like.”

Crossing to the nav console, you pulled up the ship schematic file you had been laboring over, the culmination of all of your own research plus your days of collaboration with Migs Mayfeld. The pale blue projection illuminated the dim room, and you stood aside, gesturing for both of your new companions to step forward and examine it.

Just then, Boba Fett returned from the lower decks, one hand clapped firmly on the hunched shoulder of Dr. Pershing. The doctor was winded and a little pale in the face, clearly unused to the ladder and the change in the ship’s orientation when on the ground, but there was also a look of relief in his eyes at finally being allowed out of his cell. He put up no protest as Boba escorted him to one of the jump seats, and he lowered himself into it with a grateful sigh.

The timing of his arrival couldn’t have been more perfect. Nodding to him in greeting, you turned back to Bo-Katan and Koska and quipped, “You should know, we picked up Dr. Pershing here two rotations ago.” The two women glanced over their shoulders at you, each of them sending assessing looks to the bespectacled man now catching his breath a few feet away. “How long did you spend aboard Moff Gideon’s ship, Dr. Pershing?”

He shifted anxiously in his seat, seeming to sense that he had walked into a charged conversation, but he did not hesitate to reply. “N-Not quite two years.”

“Hm. And what was it you said, when I showed you the mockup this morning?”

Dr. Pershing swallowed thickly. “Almost flawless.”

You smiled at him in thanks, and you thought you might have heard Din release a quiet, astonished breath through his helmet, the sound a shushed crackle in the weighted atmosphere.

“I’m eager to hear the results of your assessment, Lady Kryze,” you said evenly, and the woman leveled you with a look that skirted the line between incredulity and approval. Her vassal, on the other hand, had contempt in her dark eyes, and though she remained silent, you could almost feel the waves of irritation pouring from her from across the room.

Wordlessly, the two Mandalorians returned their attention to the light cruiser mockup, and then Din was at your side, cupping the ball of your shoulder in his warm palm, squeezing you tightly.

“Cyare,” he rasped, concern coloring his tone, and you offered him a wan smile.

“I’m fine, ner kar’ta,” you replied, using the words he had used all those weeks ago the first time he told you he loved you. You felt some of the stiffness in him ease at the sound of the endearment, which in turn eased some tight, clenching thing in you. You could handle yourself, but you didn’t relish the idea of conflict with any of your bounty hunter’s friends. “Though I am wondering what it says about me that on this mission, I made friends with an ex-Imperial prisoner of the New Republic, but I’m already butting heads with the heir apparent to the Mandalorian throne.”

Din let out a breath of a chuckle, shaking his head. “It says that you care not for station or title or bloodline and that you don’t intimidate easily. Your respect is earned. I learned that the first day I met you.” He paused and flicked his gaze up quickly, as though ensuring that your new guests were still occupied out of earshot. Once reassured of your relative privacy, he rasped, “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

I will know you forever.

The last of the tension bled from your limbs at that, a surging warmth filling your chest, spilling over into a fond smile. “I love you, too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Koska turning in your direction, so rather than pulling Din’s forehead down to yours like you wanted in that moment, you chose instead to withdraw. Koska’s dark brown eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you, but if she had any commentary, she did not share it. Instead, she simply said, “Everything appears to be in order. We can use the schematic you’ve provided.”

You kept your face carefully neutral in response. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“When do you wish the start the journey?” she asked, the question directed at Din.

“Tomorrow morning, local time,” he replied. “Provided Gideon’s ship continues to patrol the same sector it has been, the hyperspace trip will be short. We should make the jump prepared to engage the enemy quickly, and this crew needs rest.”

Koska nodded once. “Very well. Lady Kryze will brief the boarding parties on the infiltration plan. Then we will retire until morning.”

---

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser.”

Bo-Katan had taken a seat at the nav console, the air of a commander settling comfortably over her shoulders. She really was a natural at this, an experienced military leader to her core, and her vested interest in the outcome of the mission had been precisely what Din had been banking on when he approached her to assist. If she was agreeing to help, he had no objection to her setting the strategy.

He had been honest with her when they had spoken in the cantina earlier. Grogu was his only priority. He couldn’t care less who took point during boarding, or what happened to the ship after – as long as he was able to get to the kid and get him out of there safely, he had everything he needed.

“In the old days, it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction of that,” she continued.

From his seat, Dr. Pershing interjected, “Your assessment is misleading.”

“Oh, great.” Cara Dune scoffed, voice thick with sarcasm as she crossed her arms over her chest. “An objective opinion.”

The bespectacled man in binder cuffs shook his head. “This isn’t subterfuge, I assure you.”

Cara looked as though she was about to protest further, but Bo-Katan held up her hand to silence her. “Let him speak.”

“There’s a garrison of Dark Troopers on board. They’re the ones who abducted the child.”

Din recalled the moment on Tython when he realized that Grogu had been taken – the moment he looked up into the sky and watched as the squadron of figures in black armor had flown away with the boy clamped in their clutches. They had struck him as similar to the Storm Troopers he had faced on the ground, and yet somehow, also…not.

“How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?” he asked.

“These are third-generation design. They are no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved.” The Mandalorian felt a cold, sinking feeling take root in the pit of his stomach at the doctor’s words. “They’re droids.”

Ice spilled down his spine at the thought, and he fought back a shudder. Droids. Of course, they were kriffing droids. Suddenly, it was as though he was eight years old again, staring down the barrel of a B-2 battle droid’s wrist blaster from an underground shelter, shaking, tearful, the screams of his people and the shriek of blaster fire echoing in his ears.

History was repeating itself – his kid, his sweet, powerful little boy subdued, stolen by a creation even more fearsome than the B-2 – cold, unfeeling, soulless things built with the sole function of sowing death and destruction wherever they went.

The thought had rage swelling in him, the heat of it burning away the dread, the fear. They would not get away with this. On his life, he would destroy them bolt by bolt.

If the others around him sensed the sudden wave of deadly determination that had taken hold of him, they did not comment on it. Instead, Fennec stepped forward, asking, “Where are they bivouacked?”

Dr. Pershing rose to his feet and stumbled up to the nav console. With awkward, bound hands, he adjusted the projection of the ship’s interior, zooming in on a cargo bay containing two symmetrical rows of storage cells, each of them highlighted in red to indicate power flow. “They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay. They draw too much power to be kept at ready,” he explained.

“How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.”

“Where is the child being held?” Din growled. His hands had tightened into fists down at his sides, the red lights in the schematic blinking at him almost mockingly.

Pershing tapped a few controls on the console once more and shifted the projection to display another room, deeper toward the interior of the ship but not overly far from the cargo bay.

“This is the brig,” he explained. “He’s being held here under armed guard.”

Bo-Katan nodded slowly, digesting that information. “Very well. We split into two parties.”

“I go alone,” Din countered immediately. He worked better with less fanfare, less interference. He had been a one-man team for years, decades really, before any of the people in this room had come into his life, and as much as he respected their skills, he couldn’t help but feel as though he needed to be at the top of his game if this rescue mission was going to be successful. And that meant working alone.

The red-headed woman eyed him sharply, annoyance coloring her tone as she replied, “Fine.” Turning back toward the ship schematic, she continued, “Phase one, Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two – ” She zoomed out on the projection and rotated the ship so that the forward hull was visible. “ – we come in hot and emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune, and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralized the launch bay – ” The projection shifted again, this time expanding and showing a cutaway of the inside of the vessel where several rooms and passageways had been highlighted. “ – we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver.”

“How are you planning to get past the checkpoints?”

The bounty hunter startled at the sound of your voice, and he watched as Bo-Katan’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, visibly aggravated for the first time since stepping aboard the ship.

“What checkpoints?” she asked pointedly, and you stepped forward, making your way to the front of the group so you could access the console yourself.

“The moment blaster fire is detected in the launch bay, bridge personnel will engage the secondary security protocols.” You pointed at the connection points between the highlighted decks, circling them with the tip of one blunt-nailed finger. “At every juncture between those decks, you’ll find sealed doors and no way through except genetic scans and digital chain code verification.”

Bo-Katan exchanged a look with Koska, a silent conversation passing between them in a handful of seconds, and Din felt a surge of gratefulness for your presence, for your diligence, for your refusal to be daunted in the face of this task and the array of unapproachable people that he had drug unceremoniously into your life over the last few weeks. Not that he had ever had any doubt as to your skills – he had seen early on how talented you were – but you were proving to be even more adaptable than he would have given you credit for.

You were insistent that you hadn’t been built for this life, but the longer he spent with you, the more Din was beginning to question whether that was true.

“Then we’ll just have to disable those protocols before they can be engaged,” Koska eventually concluded, but you shook your head.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Unless we already had someone on the bridge before we even dropped out of hyperspace. You’ll have to override the system manually at each juncture.”

Bo-Katan quirked an eyebrow, looking at you as though seeing you for the first time, and something about the expression had dread settling in his bones.

“Can you do it?” she asked.

You answered without hesitation. “Yes, I can.”

“Fine. Then you’ll come with us.”

The words fell on Din’s ears like a death knell, and before he could think better of it, he was surging forward, eating up the scant distant between himself and Bo-Katan in two long strides.

Like hell would you be stepping foot on that manda-forsaken ship – surrounded by enemies, drowning in blaster fire, burning your way through to the bridge on a mission that could just as easily end in your death as it could it your victory. The idea of you being anywhere near Moff Gideon was enough to have panic tightening his chest, wrapping itself around his heart and lungs and squeezing until he gasped for air. The idea of you doing it without him? While he was somewhere else? Unthinkable. Absurd. Too horrifying to even consider.

You couldn’t go – he wouldn’t allow it.

“I don’t think so,” he growled as he loomed over the princess, drawing himself up to his full height. Bo-Katan, however, was completely uncowed by the domineering display. With only an icy glance in his direction, she peered around his shoulder, making eye contact with you directly, and you seemed determined to ignore his outburst.

“Count me in,” you said. You sounded resolved, confident, your mind already made up, and something not unlike terror roiled in his stomach.

“Cyare – ”

You didn’t let him continue. Louder, sharper, as though to drown out his protests, you barked, “What else, Lady Kryze?”

Bo-Katan offered you a solemn nod of silent acceptance, telling you without words that she understood, and then plowed onward, saying, “Our party will be the misdirection. Once we draw a crowd, you – ” She looked sharply up at Din, her proud, pointed chin jutting upward at him in a gesture that dared defiance. “ – you slip through the shadows, get the kid.”

“Those Dark Troopers? They’re gonna be a real skank in the scud pie,” Cara quipped.

Shab, the Dark Troopers. Yet another reason why bringing you aboard was a terrible decision. But it seemed the rest of the group was content to move forward as Fennec mused, “Their bay is on the way to the brig. Can he make it there before they deploy?”

The question was directed at Dr. Pershing, who seemed to weigh his response before replying, “It’s possible.”

“Here.” Fennec produced a silver data stick from a pocket on the inside of her jacket, holding it out to him. “Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else, we can handle.”

Fennec could, no doubt. Cara, too. And of course, Bo-Katan and Koska were Mandalorian-trained. He knew their capabilities as well as he knew his own. Each of them could handle any enemy they encountered – he was certain of it.

But you…

Oblivious to his internal turmoil, Bo-Katan nodded once, seemingly content with the current plan. “We’ll meet at the bridge,” she said, a note of finality ringing through her tone, and Din released a heavy sigh. That was it then. You were going, and no one else was going to protest it.

Glancing back over his shoulder, the bounty hunter met your gaze through his visor. Your jaw was set so hard it was nearly twitching, and your bright eyes burned fiercely in the dim light of the holoprojector. You were livid, and there would be hell to pay the next time the two of you were alone.

---

After finalizing a handful of remaining details, the party scattered, left to their own pursuits until the scheduled rendezvous time the next day. Almost immediately, you jumped back into your sparring session with Fennec, which had been interrupted by the arrival of Bo-Katan and Koska. This left Din with little opportunity to take you aside, to confront the conflict that he was certain was brewing on the horizon, to ask you not to go. He wasn’t discouraged, however. He was certain there would be other occasions for the two of you to talk between then and tomorrow morning.

However, it wasn’t until hours later, when most of the crew had chosen to retire to their bunks for the night, that he was finally able to speak with you in private. All afternoon, you seemed to find task after tasks to keep you occupied – finishing your training with Fennec, chatting with Boba in the cockpit, disappearing down a maintenance hatch for ages (since when was Boba allowing you to work on his ship?), eating dinner in the makeshift mess with Cara, locking yourself in the ‘fresher for a particularly long sonic shower. If Din didn’t know better, he would think you were avoiding him.

When you finally entered your shared bunk, he was there waiting for you. Your hair was long, clean, and loose around your shoulders, and you had left yourself haphazardly dressed for the climb up from the ‘fresher – boilersuit unzipped, boots untied, scarf dangling from one of your rear pockets like a flag in the breeze. The privacy you could achieve on Boba’s Firespray was minimal, but it wasn’t non-existent, and you had clearly gotten comfortable with everyone on board over the last few weeks. Still, you made the effort to shut the bar-crossed cell door behind you when you caught sight of him sitting on the bed, elbows on his thighs.

You did not greet him, did not cross the narrow room to stand between his spread knees, did not pull him into your arms as you had each night since he had started sharing your bed again. Instead, you simply offered him a limp half-smile of acknowledgement and began shedding your outer layers for sleep.

Taking his cue from you, Din stood and removed his breastplate, pauldrons, and thigh armor in silence. It was the compromise you had insisted upon – he could keep his flight suit, his helmet, even his vambraces and gloves. But the armor on the front half of him, the part that would touch your skin as he wrapped his body around yours in sleep, that was to be left on the floor. Had he been traveling alone, he would have been perfectly content to keep his armor on at all hours, even through sleep. Sharing a single-width mattress with another human in full armor had proven challenging, however, so he was willing to concede to your request for the sake of your comfort.

Now, though, based on your behavior, he wondered whether the bed would remain chilly with or without the addition of the beskar.  

Clad in only your breast band and underwear, you slipped into the bed first, sliding under the thin gray blanket, rolling onto your side, and facing the bulkhead. Silent. Cold. Final.

Din sighed as a pang of hurt pulsed through his chest. He had no wish to fight with you. Perhaps…if he could make you understand…

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so that his words would not travel to the other crew members, who were settling in for sleep mere feet away in their own bunks. “Cyar’ika, look at me.”  

“Just come get in bed, Din,” you muttered back, your face still turned to the wall. “We have a big day tomorrow – we need to rest.”

The bounty hunter sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and twisted so he could look at you, even if you refused to turn toward him. His knee pressed into the small of your back like this, his shin cushioned by the plush curve of your ass, and even just that small amount of contact had his heartrate slowing, the ache in his ribs easing. For a man who had gone for so much of his life without touch, he hungered for it with you, and simply having you close made even the dark, looming cloud of this conversation feel more manageable.

Releasing a heavy breath, the sound crackling through his helmet, he rasped, “I don’t like the idea of you joining the boarding party, ner kar’ta.”

You scoffed softly, and the vibration of it traveled into his body through his knee. “I know you don’t. You made that very clear in the navigation room. In front of the whole team.”

“Do you fault me for wanting to keep you safe? After everything that’s happened, everything that’s happened to you when you try to get involved, do you blame me for wanting to keep you away from it all?”

His question was met with silence, then a reluctant sigh. “I don’t fault you for wanting to keep me safe. I fault you for treating me like a child, like someone you’re obligated to look after in front of…” You paused, the words stuck in your throat, voice thick with emotion as it dropped to a whisper that he had to lean in to hear properly. “…in front of all those other women. Your peers. Your friends. How do you think that makes me look to them?”

The Mandalorian paused, a shadow of guilt passing over him at your words. He supposed…he hadn’t thought about it like that. Hadn’t considered it at all. In fact, the idea that you might be comparing yourself to someone like Fennec or Cara, like Bo-Katan or Koska and somehow finding yourself wanting would never have occurred to him. How could it, when you were so singularly brilliant? So effortlessly intelligent, so uncommonly kind?

Gently, tentatively, Din reached out a hand to settle on your bare shoulder. He ran the pad of his thumb across the joint in a soothing gesture. “Cyare – ”

You shook your head, as though his touch had startled you out of your thoughts, and you continued, “It doesn’t matter anyway. The boarding party will never make it past the launch bay if they don’t have someone overriding the security protocols. I have to go. It’s the only way.”

The bounty hunter weighed his words carefully for a moment before responding. “Could you teach Marshal Dune the override sequence? Or Fennec?”

“I could,” you shrugged, jostling his hand, knocking it from your body. “But it’s complex. And if the Imps start modifying the algorithm on the fly to try to lock us out, I’ll have no way to guide them through it. If I stay behind, the second Boba jumps to hyperspace, you all will be on your own. It’s too much of a risk.”

Too much of a risk? What was too much of a risk was you stepping foot on that cruiser. A hot rush of frustration flashed up the back of Din’s neck as he growled, “I don’t think you fully appreciate how dangerous this is going to be.”

That was finally enough to get you to look at him.

Spinning around in a flurry of long hair and tangled blankets, you flipped onto your other side and glared up at him. “Don’t I? We’ve traveled across half the galaxy gathering a crew of some of the most…terrifying people I’ve ever met to take this on,” you hissed. “We’ve got, what…four Mandalorians now? An ex-Rebel dropper? An assassin? I am very well aware of what we’re walking into.”

“And you think you’re ready for that?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, and Din tried not to allow his gaze to drop to the way it propped up your soft, full tits, only barely covered now by your breastband. “Honestly? No, I don’t know that I am! But I do know that this? This is something I can do.” Jabbing a finger at him, poking into his thigh, you added, “And you need me on this one, Din. This is what I’m good at. Plus, Cara and Fennec will be with me, and I know that neither of them would ever let anything happen to me. I guess I don’t know much about Bo-Katan or Koska yet, but…they seem competent?”

He nodded reluctantly. “They are.”

“Okay, then.” Loosing a tense, frustrated sigh, you rolled onto your back, forcing his knee to press into the dip of your waist now as you stared at the ceiling. “You must…trust all of them, right? I don’t think you would have asked them to come on this mission if you didn’t trust them.”

“I do. I trust them with my life.”

“Okay!” With a firm grip, you gathered one of his hands into both of your own, holding onto him in a way that felt like a plea. “Then trust them with mine.”

“Your life is far more precious to me than my own, cyare.”

Your gaze snapped to his, and you hit him with a quirked-brow, deadpan expression. “You’re ridiculous,” you said seriously, and Din couldn’t hold back a gruff burst of laughter. The sound prompted the smallest smirk from you, and then you were joining him in his laughter, your low chuckles mingling with his own in a way that felt deeply intimate in the close, quiet air of the shared bunk.

After a moment of this levity, he threaded his fingers through yours and relented. “Fine. But I still don’t like it.”

You offered him a wry smile and dropped a kiss onto the back of his hand. “You don’t have to like it. But you do have to let me do whatever I can to help get our boy back. I know the risks. You have to trust me to make my own choices.”

Silently, the bounty hunter nodded. You were right, of course. He couldn’t force you to stay behind. And he certainly couldn’t find fault with your desire to do your part to rescue Grogu. Were he in your position, he would do the same. But you were also right in that he didn’t have to like it. He only hoped he would be able to keep his wits about him tomorrow when it came time to execute the plan. You would be boarding separately, fighting separately, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of you and your safety. The stakes were too high; Grogu was counting on him.

Content to leave things as they were for now, Din laid down beside you on the mattress, tucking his arm under the thin pillow and pressing in close. It was the only way for the both of you to sleep on such a narrow surface, but he hardly minded. The two of you had had such little time to enjoy one another, to grow accustomed to your newfound intimacy before your lives had been thrown upside down, and now you spent nearly every minute of every day surrounded by other people. Any opportunity he could take to feel the warmth of your skin, the softness of your body, the strength of your hands – he would take it.

“When this is all over…” he sighed, slipping his hand under the blanket to caress the small of your back, “I want to take you to meet the naur’alor.” You looked up into his visor with a question in your eyes. “She is…or I suppose she was the head of my covert. She’s my Tribe’s armorer, our spiritual leader.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Of course. I’d be honored.” There was surprise in your voice, as well as a note of reverence that had his heart clenching behind his ribs.

If he had ever been uncertain, if he had ever questioned, those words were enough to quell his doubts, and you didn’t even understand the significance of what you had just agreed to. You simply wished to know him, to understand his culture, his roots, the people in his life that were important to him. To you, it was a pure thing, an easy thing, and it made Din’s heart swell with love for you.

“I plan to ask for her blessing. I…want you to be mine in truth.”

Under his palm, he felt your breathing stop for a moment, felt your fingers dig into the fabric of his flight suit.

“Din. What are you saying?” you whispered.

With slow, gentle precision, he dragged his hand from the small of your back to the curve of your cheek. He brushed your hair back from your face, mourning the barrier of his leather gloves between you, wishing he could feel the texture of the strands beneath his fingertips, and then he cupped your jaw in his palm to bring your forehead to his.

“I would have you wear the sigil of my clan so that everyone we meet will know that you are under my protection,” he explained. “Other Mandalorians would no longer see you as aruetti. You would be Mando’ad – a child of Mandalore, like me. Like Grogu.”

You were trembling now, little tremors traveling from your body to his. “You want me to…be Mandalorian?”

“I want you to be my riduur. My…wife.”

All of the air in your lungs seemed to leave you in a rush, and Din watched as your eyes began to glisten in the low light. Tears welled along your lash line, the tip of his thumb there to brush them away before they could fall.

“Really?” you asked, the sound strained and tight with emotion.

He was certain you would be able to hear the smile in his voice, feel the softness of his gaze even with his helmet between you. His own heart racing, he nodded. “Not right away. I want to take my time with you, court you properly. After I have…proven myself a worthy partner, I’ll ask you to take the riduurok – the marriage agreement. And at that time, you can tell me whether you wish to spend your life with me at your side.”

Pressing yourself as close to him as you could manage, you nodded urgently. The bridge of your nose knocked into the bottom edge of his helmet as you whimpered, “Din, I already know my answer.” More tears spilled over your cheeks and tracked toward the pillow tucked under your head.

The bounty hunter dropped his hand from your cheek and instead pressed his index finger against your plump, trembling lips. Stars, you were so beautiful, he could scarcely stand it. “Don’t say it yet, mesh’la.” His voice was closer to a growl now as he desperately tried to keep himself quiet, not ready for his words to travel any further than the slip of air between his face and yours. “Taylir bic o’r gar kar’ta. Hold it in your heart. So that when I ask, you know for certain.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, “okay” whispered in the quiet, so faint that he could barely hear it. With a little whine, you pressed your forehead harder against his, this time smushing your nose against his visor in a move that startled a chuckle out of him. It was like you were trying to press your way through the beskar, as if you could phase through the layers of metal and electronics if you simply tried hard enough.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you murmured, and Din couldn’t hold back his laughter. Had he ever met anyone as sweet as you? You made him yearn for a life he never thought he would have – a soft life, a comfortable life, a life filled with gentle touches and bright laughter, witty banter and hot kisses.

“I wish I could kiss you, too, cyar’ika.”

“You sure you can’t take your helmet off here?” You dropped a kiss, just a single press of your lips, onto his visor, and the sight of your mouth so near had Din digging his fingers into your hips. “You can blindfold me again, I don’t mind.”

With another breathy burst of laughter, the bounty hunter tucked his face into the crook of your neck. “I know. I promise, ner kar’ta. The minute it’s safe, you’ll get as many kisses as you can handle.”

“Good.” Arms snaking around his neck, your hands came up to cradle the back of his helmet, palms pressed flat to the reflective surface. “I’ll hold you to that.”

---

Note: Right now, this is looking like it will shake out to be about 25-ish chapters in total, so we are nearing the end, friends! I hope you enjoy getting to see how this saga comes to a close!

[cheatsru]

Counter Strike 2 Hacks

Counter Strike 2 Hacks offer a tantalizing glimpse into an alternative gaming experience, where pixels dance to the rhythm of precision and unpredictability. As players seek that edge in intense firefights, utilizing these hacks can fundamentally alter how one interacts with the game. Imagine landing a perfect headshot or maneuvering through the map with pixel-perfect accuracy—these enhancements make it possible for even average players to stand toe-to-toe with veterans.

However, it's crucial to navigate this realm with prudence. While hacks can elevate gameplay momentarily, they risk tainting your overall journey through Counter Strike 2. The thrill of mastering skills organically is irreplaceable and fosters genuine camaraderie within the community. Integrating hacks may provide short-term gains but understanding the game's mechanics and developing strategies yield lasting satisfaction that every true gamer craves. Ultimately, one must balance tech-savvy shortcuts with skillful play for a truly rewarding adventure in Counter Strike 2’s dynamic landscape.

[old-school-butch]

How are you feeling about Israel's rescue mission where they killed over 200 civilians while disguised as humanitarian aid?

People who hold hostages, by international law, are war criminals not civilians. In all instances documented so far, the hostages have been held in these 'civilian' homes, with the entire family still present, moved from one family to another over time, and surrounded by other families living in the residential neighborhoods. Hamas appears to assign entire companies to guard the hostages (approx. 100 men), so it's not like people nearby are unaware of what's happening.

From the body cam footage (released by the IDF) they appeared to come under counter-fire that included the use of grenade launchers and RPGs aimed at street level, which of course would be quite destructive in a residential area.

I have not seen footage that the IDF was in disguise, although that would be a good surprise strategy. Please send any such footage if you have it. Everything I've seen has the IDF in uniform.

Hostage rescues often don't end well, in many cases the hostages get killed in the cross fire or are killed by their guards if they are tipped off about an incoming raid. When hostages are rescued alive, it usually means the guards have been successfully surprised and killed, so I suspect the death toll is both somewhat smaller than stated and mostly comprised of the Hamas companies guarding the buildings. However, given the environment of the firefight that broke out, I wouldn't be surprised if there were civilian casualties involved.

You've inferred that the deaths were all civilians, but even Hamas doesn't claim that, it just announces deaths without distinguishing civilian and combatants, and their numbers are not independently verified. The IDF says the death toll was around 100, also not independently verified. Several IDF soldiers were wounded in the raid as well, and the commander of the raid was killed by counter-fire.

So the lesson here is:

a) don't take hostages

b) don't hold hostages in residential areas

c) don't stay in a residential area where a Hamas company is stationed because they are probably guarding hostages, thus turning your apartment building into a military installation in a combat zone.

[patricia-taxxon]

Spirit Island has this fucking delectable hierarchy of incentives that opens up to you as you play. Like initially it might seem like a Pandemic-esque firefighting game where you kill invaders or defend the land before the invaders ravage, but then you realize that successfully stopping a build *also* stops the ravage that land would take in the next turn, and stopping an explore stops both the subsequent builds AND ravages. The potential benefit of nipping those actions in the bud is outweighed by the amount of foresight you have for each, stopping an exploration is a high level strategy because you don't know where the invaders will be exploring until they do it & you need to cardcount or plan around multiple contingencies, and this is much harder when theres potentially up to eight lands per player that have awful shit happening RIGHT NOW.

im an art bitch and have been speaking mostly abt the flavor/lore but let it be known that the mechanical puzzle is also exactly my shit

[manawari]

Solo Leveling werewolf AU!

If we have AUs such as Mafia and Vampire, why not Werewolf AU?

Other ideas are greatly appreciated!<3

SHADOW BLOODHOUNDS

> led by Sung Il-hwan, the Alpha.

> werewolves with black fur are rare, so it's no surprise that Sung Il-hwan soon became the leader of the pack.

> the name "Shadow Bloodhounds" was originated from a family of werewolves, who had dark reddish-brown fur, and the shadow term came from how the members frequently lurked in the shadows for surprise attacks. And since Sung Il-hwan became the Alpha, plus his wolf form being a black wolf, the name became stronger and prominent.

> Sung Il-hwan's son, Sung Jin-woo, is the Beta. Like his father, his wolf form also has a black fur. This became a big shock to the entire pack, especially when they saw their Alpha's son transform for the first time.

> before becoming the Beta when he reached 20, Sung Jin-woo had to fight the former Beta — as per tradition among all wolf packs. Despite being the "weakest" due to his birth, Jin-woo managed to win by sheer determination and since he became his father's second-in-command, he became stronger overtime.

> if he's not doing any werewolf duties, Sung Il-hwan runs a fire department, which he also works as a firefighter. He also holds urgent meetings in the station once everyone else is out. Sung Jin-woo, however, has chosen to be a detective rather than a firefighter like his father.

> Jin-woo is secretly the only member in the pack who has killed a human. Although, he never tells it to anyone.

> known members: Park Kyung-hye, Sung Jin-ah, Yoo Jin-ho, Yoo Soo-hyun, Lee Ju-hee, Han Song-yi, Kang Tae-shik, and Kim Sang-shik.

CRIMSON FANGS

> led by Choi Jong-in, the Alpha.

> unlike Sung Il-hwan, Choi Jong-in came from a heritage of Alphas and Betas. His father was an Alpha and his mother was a Beta. Thus, they led the pack together, as well as running a law firm, which soon fell into Jong-in's hands when he took his rightful place in the pack.

> for his Beta, Jong-in chose Cha Hae-in, who is his close friend since childhood. But not only that, she's also the fastest wolf in the pack and has the strongest smell, so it'll make sense of why he picked her of all strong werewolves in the pack.

> even though a werewolf's eyesight is sharp, Jong-in wears his glasses to shape himself into being a human. But when he's in his wolf cycle, his eyeglasses are taken off as they might break during his transformation.

> when there's a wolf cycle, it's also hunting season for the werewolf packs. Jong-in and Hae-in plot the strategy and divide their pack into two, sometimes three if their target is a larger herd.

> known members: Song Chi-yul, Son Ki-hoon, Gina, Seo Ji-woo, Lee Bora, and Han Se-mi.

RAVEN HOWLERS

> led by Lim Tae-gyu, the Alpha.

> usually, whenever there's a large flock of ravens, all of the Raven Howlers are gathered. Ravens also serve as the Eagle Eye of the pack, alerting the Alpha if anything dire happens.

> Ma Dong-wook used to be the Alpha, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, he stepped down and switched places with Lim Tae-gyu, who was the Beta at that time.

> during the wolf cycle, the entire pack will howl under the bright full moon whilst the ravens swirl in the air. It is a tradition for summoning more luck in the pack.

> while most wolves don't like to have birds resting on them, Tae-gyu happily lets the ravens rest on his fur however as they want, especially in winter.

> Tae-gyu also relies on Eun-seok, who serves as his "back-up" since he's quick to lunge into action or if someone is going to attack the Alpha from behind.

> known members: Eun-seok, Jung Ye-rim, Lee Min-sung, and Park Jong-soo.

BERSERK CLAWS

> led by Baek Yoon-ho, the Alpha.

> some believed that Yoon-ho came from a lineage that bore strong connection to Rakan.

> Yoon-ho is a fierce werewolf, lethal in his heavy claws. He's one of the biggest werewolves when transformed, but even in his human form, he can crush a head with his own bare hands.

> Park Hee-jin is his chosen Beta. She's a she-wolf with an impeccable sense for danger, she reads the situation quick and carefully, and her guts are as sharp as her mind. She's able to tell when a situation is not good and informs her leader firsthand before forming her own strategy.

> Min Byung-gyu, Yoon-ho's best friend, had once been offered for the rank of the Beta. However, he rejects it as he doesn't think leadership is his forte. And even then, he's one of the strongest wolves and protects his fellow members.

> Yoon-ho has a reputation of killing his own kind, making him fearsome that even some of his members are cowering on him.

> while the rest work in teams, Yoon-ho usually hunts alone as his strength is merely for taking down large animals.

> known members: Kim Chul and Ahn Sang-min.

CRESCENT GUARDIANS

> led by Go Gun-hee, the Alpha.

> Woo Jin-chul is his second-in-command.

> like black-furred werewolves, white-furred werewolves are also rare. And Go Gun-hee is the oldest living white-furred wolf, as well as the oldest active Alpha when most would retire before reaching his age.

> Go Gun-hee doesn't always go for action, mainly because he's looking after his strength, so he relies on his Beta for the task.

> Go Gun-hee is the most respected Alpha besides Sung Il-hwan.

> they're the only pack who has been recognized by other packs outside the country.

> Woo Jin-chul once took down an entire group of rogues, showing his formidability after they attempted to raid the pack.

> known members: ��———

Other notes:

— pack wars are a thing, though not as frequent unlike decades ago.

— it is believed that Rakan, a beast entity who can turn into a human, had started the race by cursing several humans to continue his legacy and increase population.

— there are werewolves called 'Rogues' — it's when a werewolf is banished from their pack.

— there are certain outfits/fabrics that don't get ripped apart when shifting, rather they just disappear in the process.

— during the wolf cycle, all packs run to the mountains for camping — some build their own little houses deep in the woods, far from the human civilization. It is a coincidence if they stumble upon other packs.