#Foundation Sinking Repair

[nirvanabuilders]

Detecting Foundation Problems Early: What Homeowners Should Look For

Foundation issues can cause significant damage to your home if left unchecked. Early detection is key to preventing costly repairs and protecting your home’s structural integrity. By learning how to spot potential problems, you can address them before they escalate. Here’s what to watch for when identifying foundation problems in their early stages.

1. Cracks in Walls, Ceilings, or Floors

Cracks are one of the most common and visible signs of foundation trouble. Hairline cracks may not always be a cause for concern, but large, widening cracks or those forming in unusual patterns—such as stair-step cracks on brick walls—should be taken seriously. Pay attention to cracks near windows and doors, as these can indicate foundation shifting.

2. Uneven or Bouncy Floors

If your floors feel uneven, sloped, or bouncy when you walk, this could be a warning sign of foundation problems. Shifts in the foundation can cause parts of the floor to settle unevenly, leading to noticeable dips or sagging. Ignoring this issue may result in further damage to your home’s structure.

3. Doors and Windows Misalignment

Foundation problems can cause your home’s frame to shift, making doors and windows difficult to open or close properly. If you notice gaps around door frames, sticking windows, or doors that no longer latch, your foundation may be moving. These misalignments are often an early indicator of trouble beneath the surface.

4. Gaps Between Walls, Ceilings, and Floors

As the foundation shifts, it can cause separation between walls and ceilings or walls and floors. If you see gaps or spaces forming, it’s a sign that the structure of your home is being affected by foundation movement. These gaps can widen over time, leading to more serious structural issues.

5. Water in the Basement or Crawl Space

Excess water around your foundation can weaken the soil and cause shifting, which leads to foundation problems. If you notice standing water or dampness in your basement or crawl space, it could be a sign that your foundation is at risk. Ensuring proper drainage around your home is essential to maintaining a stable foundation.

6. Exterior Cracks and Shifting

Visible cracks or shifts in the exterior foundation or walls are another key sign of potential foundation issues. If you notice any large cracks or bulging areas in your home’s exterior, especially around the foundation, it’s important to seek a professional inspection. These cracks can worsen over time if not addressed promptly.

7. Leaning Chimney or Walls

A chimney or exterior wall that appears to be leaning or pulling away from the house is a major red flag for foundation problems. This could indicate significant movement in the foundation, which may lead to serious structural damage if not repaired quickly.

Conclusion

Identifying foundation problems before they worsen is crucial to maintaining the safety and value of your home. By keeping an eye out for early warning signs like cracks, uneven floors, and misaligned doors or windows, you can catch foundation issues early and prevent more extensive damage. If you suspect any problems, don’t hesitate to consult with a foundation repair specialist for a thorough inspection.

[seattlefoundat]

Seattle Foundation Repair: Addressing Door & Window Problems with Expert House Foundation Specialists

Dealing with door and window issues in Seattle, WA? Our skilled residential foundation repair contractors can help. We specialize in resolving these problems by focusing on the root cause—your home's foundation. At Seattle Foundation Repair, we offer expert solutions to ensure your doors and windows function smoothly by securing and repairing your foundation. Contact us today for reliable and professional repair services.

for more information visit our website https://seattlefoundationrepairs.com/

USER NAME  Noah Smith 

NUMBER   (206) 752-2991

[liftingspecialist]

Underpinning Specialists in Australia

The stability of a building’s foundation is crucial for its overall integrity and longevity. Underpinning plays a pivotal role in ensuring that structures remain safe and secure, especially in regions like Australia where soil conditions can vary significantly. Let's dive into the world of underpinning and explore why it’s so important, how it works, and how to find the best specialists in Australia.

What is Underpinning? Underpinning is a process used to strengthen and stabilize the foundation of an existing building. It involves extending the foundation depth or distributing its load across a greater area to support the structure better. Historically, underpinning has been used since ancient times, evolving significantly with modern engineering techniques.

Signs Your Building Needs Underpinning If you’re noticing any of these signs, it might be time to consider underpinning:

Cracks in Walls: Vertical, horizontal, or zigzag cracks in your walls can indicate foundation issues. Uneven Floors: Sloping or uneven floors are a telltale sign of foundation movement. Doors and Windows Misalignment: Difficulty in opening or closing doors and windows can be due to foundation settlement. Sinking Foundation: Visible sinking or settlement of the building’s base is a clear indicator of foundation problems. Common Causes of Foundation Problems Understanding the root causes of foundation problems can help in choosing the right underpinning method:

Soil Movement: Expansive soils that swell when wet and shrink when dry can cause foundations to move. Poor Construction: Subpar construction practices can lead to inadequate foundation support. Water Damage: Excessive moisture from poor drainage or plumbing leaks can weaken the soil supporting the foundation. Tree Roots: Roots from nearby trees can absorb moisture from the soil, causing it to shift and destabilize the foundation. Types of Underpinning Methods There are several underpinning methods used to address foundation issues:

https://www.theliftingspecialists.com.au/underpinning/

Mass Concrete Underpinning: The traditional method involves excavating sections below the foundation and filling them with concrete. Beam and Base Method: This method uses beams to transfer the building load to a new foundation base. Mini-Piled Underpinning: Suitable for deep foundations or where access is restricted, mini-piles are used to support the load. Piled Raft Underpinning: Combines piles and a reinforced concrete raft to spread the load over a larger area. Choosing the Right Underpinning Method Selecting the appropriate underpinning method depends on various factors:

Soil Type Considerations: The nature of the soil determines the best underpinning technique. Building Structure: The design and condition of the building influence the choice of method. Budget Constraints: Cost can be a significant factor, as different methods vary in expense. Benefits of Professional Underpinning Opting for professional underpinning services offers numerous benefits:

Increased Structural Integrity: Ensures the building remains safe and stable. Property Value Enhancement: A stable foundation can increase the market value of the property. Long-term Cost Efficiency: Proper underpinning prevents future costly repairs. The Underpinning Process Here’s a step-by-step look at the underpinning process:

Initial Assessment: Experts evaluate the foundation issues and determine the best approach. Planning and Design: Detailed plans and designs are created based on the assessment. Execution and Monitoring: The underpinning work is carried out with continuous monitoring to ensure quality and safety. Finding Underpinning Specialists in Australia When looking for underpinning specialists, consider the following:

Qualifications and Certifications: Ensure the specialists are certified and qualified to perform underpinning work. Experience and Expertise: Look for companies with extensive experience and a proven track record. Customer Reviews and Testimonials: Reviews and testimonials can provide insights into the quality of service. Cost of Underpinning in Australia The cost of underpinning can vary widely based on several factors:

Factors Influencing Cost: Type of underpinning method, extent of foundation damage, and site accessibility. Average Cost Estimates: Generally, underpinning costs can range from AUD 15,000 to AUD 30,000, depending on the project specifics. Underpinning Regulations in Australia Compliance with regulations is crucial for underpinning projects:

Building Codes and Standards: Ensure the work adheres to the Australian building codes and standards. Permits and Approvals: Obtain necessary permits and approvals from local authorities before commencing work. DIY vs. Professional Underpinning While DIY underpinning might seem cost-effective, it comes with risks:

Risks of DIY Underpinning: Lack of expertise can lead to improper execution and further damage. Advantages of Hiring Professionals: Professionals bring experience, proper tools, and adherence to safety standards. Case Studies Looking at successful underpinning projects can offer valuable insights:

Successful Underpinning Projects: Highlighting a few projects where underpinning resolved significant foundation issues. Lessons Learned: Understanding what worked well and what challenges were encountered. Maintaining Your Foundation Post-Underpinning After underpinning, regular maintenance is essential:

Regular Inspections: Periodic checks can help identify and address issues early. Preventative Measures: Implementing measures like proper drainage and moisture control to prevent future problems.

Conclusion In conclusion, underpinning is a critical process for ensuring the stability and safety of buildings. Choosing the right specialists and method is essential for the success of the project. By understanding the underpinning process and its benefits, you can make informed decisions to protect your property.

[practicalsolarpunk]

Hi, I've only just got into solarpunk and find it really cool.

I was wondering, what sort of simple lifestyle changes would you suggest to start with when trying to live in a more solarpunk/sustainable way?

Hi! So glad you're getting into solarpunk! We think it's pretty cool, too, and we're happy you're looking for ways to integrate it into your life. Since you haven't included anything specific about your situation or what you're interested in, this list is pretty general - if you want more specific ideas, feel free to send in another ask!

In the meantime, here are a few recommendations for getting started:

Grow something. Depending on your situation, you may not be able to put in a huge outdoor garden. But there are many plants that will be perfectly happy in a pot on a windowsill, and still others that are happy to grow in low-light situations. Find something that works for your space and get some hands-on experience with growing things. (If you have a window, I highly recommend herbs - many of them are happy in pots and there's something incredibly satisfying about eating things you've grown.)

Compost. Unless your space is extremely tiny, you probably have room for a small composting system. Some can even go under a sink or in a closet. See this post for a general discussion, this post for vermicomposting ideas, and this one for info on bokashi composting. Also check out our #compost tag.

Mending. Mending is a great skill to have. The life of most clothing (and a lot of non-clothing fabric items) can be extended dramatically with some basic sewing skills. I've made entire dresses and quilts and I still find most of my sewing is repairing and mending other stuff. We have a mending tag, but I also love YouTube for this. Searching "how to mend X" (e.g. "how to mend hole in crotch of jeans") gives you a bunch of awesome tutorials. You can get even more use out of things if you're willing to embrace visible mending.

Reduce energy use. Try to use natural light where you can. Set your thermostat high in summer and low in winter and use the principle "heat/cool the person, not the space." Flush the toliet with graywater by removing the p-trap from your sink and dumping the collected wash water into your toilet tank (or directly into the bowl if you have an American-style greedy cup siphon toilet). Experiment with solar energy. What you can do depends on your situation, but see what kind of options you have.

Integrate the 7 R's: There are more R's to sustainable living than just "Reduce Reuse Recycle". See this post for a primer.

Build community: One of the foundations of solarpunk is that it's about community. Even if you start out doing it by yourself, eventually you need a community to do bigger things. My favorite way to start is by meeting the neighbors. Taking over some food (cookies are great) and introducing yourself is a great way to open a relationship. We also have a community building tag for more ideas.

You can find even more ideas in these tags, depending on what you specifically want to do:

#apartment solarpunk

#dorms and small spaces

#community building

#activism

#fiber crafts

#diy

There's also some additional tips in this post and this post, which are earlier responses to similar asks.

I hope this helps! Followers, feel free to chime in with your best tips!

- Mod J

[lonestarbattleship]

July 10, 2024 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"BATTLESHIP TEXAS UPDATE

Battleship Texas in Galveston, Texas, undergoing repairs.

The ship is currently moored at Pier D in Gulf Copper Shipyard where it will continue to undergo repairs and preparations to become a museum ship once again.

Navy Blue 5-N has been applied to the forward sections of the ship.

STEEL DECK REPAIRS: The ship’s steel deck has been sandblasted and primed while repairs are ongoing.

Looking down on the bow of Battleship Texas. Steel deck repairs are ongoing while workers prepare the area for a new pine deck.

Comparison of Navy Blue 5-N (top) and Deck Blue 20-B (bottom). The ship's pine deck will be painted Deck Blue 20-B.

The ship is being painted Navy Blue 5-N.

PINE DECK REPAIRS: Workers have already begun fitting the margin planks to the ship’s deck. These planks are cut to length, fitted to the area of the deck they are going, and primed.

New deck studs (for holding the deck planking down) is being installed on the ship's bow.

A fresh coat of Navy Blue 5-N has been applied around the ship's superstructure deck and signal bridge.

Pictured is the Signal Records Room.

Pictured is the Navigation Office.

For more history on the deck of Battleship Texas visit: link

MAIN MAST: The ship's main mast continues to be blasted and primed following repairs. The radar top mast, along with its SG and SK, will be reinstalled.

The ship's main mast is being sandblasted and primed before a coat of Navy Blue 5-N is applied.

IFF antennas await installation on both the fore and main masts.

The ship's main mast is being sandblasted and primed before a coat of Navy Blue 5-N is applied.

The ship's main mast is being sandblasted and primed before a coat of Navy Blue 5-N is applied.

BARREL STORAGE TUBES: Storage tubes that once held spare barrels for the ship’s 20mm anti-aircraft guns have been fabricated and reinstalled. Not every tube will be installed at this time, but it is one more step to presenting the ship in its 1945 appearance.

FLOATER NET BASKETS: Several floater net baskets have been added in a few areas aboard. These baskets held nets which were designed to free float if a ship were to sink and provide sailors something to hold on to until they were rescued.

Antenna mounts have been fabricated and installed. Small details like these help bring the ship back into its 1945 appearance.

Ladders are being installed into the correct positions on a clipping room. Small details like these help bring the ship back into its 1945 appearance.

UPCOMING EVENTS:

July 20, 2024 - Join us for a ceremony to welcome the return of the Battleship Texas steel that was flown over France during the 80th Anniversary of D-Day! The Battleship Texas Foundation would like to welcome you to join us on this special occasion. For more information visit: battleshiptexas.org/return-ceremony

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WHAT’S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard while the ship’s new home in Galveston, Texas, is prepared. Additional steel work, replacement of the ship’s deck, further restoration, and painting will be done during this time.

Structural repairs are being made to the ship's cranes.

Brackets are installed which will hold the ship's siren and whistle. Both will be made to work again.

Workers lift parts of the ship's siren for a test fit of the newly installed brackets.

The ship's siren is being fitted to the smokestack.

TOURING? - The Battleship Texas Foundation will be offering touring options while the ship is in the shipyard. Participants will be able to view ongoing work and restoration or learn all about how the ship operated during its service career. An announcement will be made once touring options become available.

Looking forward from underneath the main mast aboard Battleship Texas.

REOPENING? - There is a lot to be done before the ship is ready for touring at its new home in Galveston, Texas. Reopening is projected to happen in the later half of 2025.

MISSING GUNS? - The ship's anti-aircraft guns are currently undergoing restoration. The guns and gun directors will be replaced once their restoration is complete.

Come on Texas!

To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store.battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Facebook page: link

[ofdragonsdeep]

11: Surrogate

One that takes the place of another.

(Dawntrail spoilers up until ~lv98 MSQ)

Ar'telan speaks with a knight.

The ruins of Alexandria were a strange place to be.

If anything, the effect was chilling not for being in the empty streets, but for what they represented. The impact site, a crackling pool of levin, still seethed in what had once been bustling city streets. The water of the lake seeped into the streets, foundations sinking lower with no-one to maintain them. Some of the houses had been collapsed by the bombardments, some by being dismantled to build Everkeep and the Outskirts - it was clear which was which. Feral constructs and levin-sick creatures roamed where people had once walked.

And nobody cared.

Ar'telan had kept his dislike of the Regulators to himself since arriving in Heritage Found, not wanting to cause a scene when it was important that they flew under the radar long enough to find Zoraal Ja. But though they could not directly erase the memory of a concept, they had still eroded it - the people who had cared for the streets that now lay barren gone to dust, the memories of that care slowly scrubbed away. How could you remember a love that came from someone that never existed?

Everkeep had cannibalised Alexandria for parts. Queen Sphene declared her love for Alexandria.

Zoraal Ja suited this place.

They had spent the evening with Gulool Ja, thanks to Ar'telan's efforts in tracking him through the ruins. He had almost refused to do so, after how disastrously his last attempt to track a child had gone, with Meteion, but the situation was different. Thankfully, he had not been given cause to regret it so far.

Ar'telan liked Gulool Ja. He had understood the boy's reticence to speak all too well, and had been pleasantly surprised to learn that he was very sensible when he ran away from the bright lights of Everkeep. Oblivion hadn't taught him that. They had given him a space to exist, but hadn't known how to give him much more - they weren't built to give him more than that, they had made that clear in how Cahcuia and Erenville acted around each other. All business, little family.

Otis, meanwhile, had taught him a great deal.

The others had begun the walk back to Everkeep now, Gulool Ja in tow. Ar'telan, meanwhile, sat with Otis.

"You've been most pensieve this eve," the man remarked, the queer echo of his processed voice still odd to hear. Ar'telan frowned.

"He doesn't wear a Regulator," he remarked. Otis tilted his head. Ar'telan wondered if it was possible for the construct to blink. "I wondered if you influenced him, but you couldn't exist without one, could you?"

"Oh, I am a very unusual case!" Otis disagreed. "My transference came long before the Regulators became commonplace. I was a trailblazer!" He did not have a mouth to beam with, but Ar'telan could imagine it all the same, from the energy in his voice.

"But he knows you couldn't exist without the technology. And Zoraal Ja wears a Regulator."

The temperature in the air cooled a little at Ar'telan's sign of the King's name. The motions had changed since they had come to Heritage Found, and not in the man's favour. Otis clearly shared the sentiment.

"I will confess I never thought to ask him," Otis admitted. "It never seemed important. One wages a constant battle against time and the elements out here in the city, after all." Ar'telan's frown deepened.

"Does he know, then? That your… your body. It's old, and there are none left to repair it for you?"

"I should imagine he does, though we have never directly talked about it."

Ar'telan made a thoughtful noise at that. It was easy to paint Gulool Ja's knowledge of electrope as a survival skill, but he had to know. Otis was the only person he trusted in the entirety of Everkeep, it seemed. He existed in an anxious haze around Oblivion, seeking the safety their under-the-radar existence provided, but in Otis he had a home.

Ar'telan couldn't help but be reminded of being offered a safe harbour after the attempt on Nanamo's life. He thought about the graveyard on the edge of Alexandria, and the man who maintained it in thankless vigil, his activities a secret from his colleagues.

"If Wuk Lamat helps to set things right in the city, so it's less scary for Gulool Ja, would you go back with him?" he asked. "I know you've been alive a long time, but there would be a place in the city for you, I think."

Otis cast his eyes towards Everkeep - or his optical sensors, if they truly were in those little green lights that lit up what passed for his face. There was a moment of quiet, and Ar'telan was struck by the soft sound of Otis's body humming from the mechanisms that powered it.

"Nay, I do not think so," he said eventually, his tone quiet. The tinny echo felt forlorn in the silence. "It has been my honour to guard the young Prince so far, but I am a relic of an age long past." The lights on his faceplate flickered. "I am a Knight of Alexandria, and in Alexandria I shall remain."

Ar'telan wanted to ask if the city could be restored, but he knew the answer without having to utter the words. It could, but none would want to. Alexandria faced forwards, and refused to do anything but scavenge scraps from the city which had nurtured it. It had no choice. Only Sphene still remembered the place it once had been, and Ar'telan had no way of knowing if it was even a memory she treasured.

Unease twisted in his stomach, the source hard to pinpoint. It all felt off, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

"Heritage Found… Alexandria has been merged with the Source now, in almost every sense," he said, choosing his words carefully. "The dome protects Everkeep from the harsh atmosphere of your original world, but now you are removed from it, could the dome come down?"

"A curious question," Otis said. The melancholy had immediately left his voice, replaced once more by the upbeat cheer that so characterised him. "I should think it could, but it would put Everkeep in quite an unusual position. The electrope from which everything was built requires the unique atmosphere of our world to function. Without it, I would imagine the city would struggle quite significantly."

"But there are… There are children dying slowly, because of this lightning," Ar'telan said. "Is it worth it?"

"A question best posed to the residents, I would say." Otis turned to regard him then. "All of these are questions you could have asked before, my quiet friend. Why wait until now? Why ask them of me?"

"I don't think the Queen would answer," Ar'telan replied. "And I'm not…" He paused, considering the words. "I'm here for Wuk Lamat. To protect the people of Tural, yes, but because Wuk Lamat needs my support to do that. These questions… they're mine, not hers. And the answers don't really matter, in the grand scheme of things."

"But they matter to you!" Otis disagreed. "I should say that is very important. Young Gulool Ja does not speak too much, but I have always encouraged him to voice his thoughts where he feels safe to do so. I find it most tragic that Tural's loyal… retainer? Companion? Cannot do the same."

"Mentor, I think," Ar'telan offered. "It's not that I don't feel safe. It's that she's already shouldering so much, and has so much left to shoulder. Zoraal Ja is her brother, and she loves him. She loves Gulool Ja, too, even though she has barely had chance to know him. She's like that." He smiled slightly at that. "I think, a few years ago, I wouldn't have voiced the thoughts at all. But now I'm just saving them for a better time. And of everyone here in Heritage Found, I think you've been the most amenable to them. I appreciate that."

"I have spent many a long decade devoted to Alexandria," Otis said, his face once more regarding Everkeep. Ar'telan supposed it was the closest thing the nation had to a palace for its rulers, now, and Otis knew that well. "It will always be my dearest pleasure to teach people of my beloved country, and its beloved Queen."

"Still, I owe you thanks," Ar'telan replied. "For listening, even if you think it a forgone conclusion. I hope… I hope we can settle things between our nations without too much bloodshed."

"Zoraal Ja may be King, but I swore fealty to none but my Queen," Otis replied, fervour in his voice. "I can only pray that the people are left unscathed by what has to ensue."

Ar'telan wondered what it would feel like to the Alexandrians. They had been tormented by Zoraal Ja, if the discomfort of all but the army was any indication, for near thirty years. When he died, they would immeidately forget that he had ever existed. How would the wound look? Would they remember a King had led them to war, but not his face, not his name, not his motives? Or would the ache take formless shape, unanswerable for the rest of their lives?

Ar'telan could not even fathom the wound of forgetting the dead.

"As will I," he answered, keeping the rest to himself. "Thank you, Otis. I hope we can speak again soon."

"As do I, my new friend!"

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

From Michigan

* * * *

Another good day!

August 8, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

The effort of Democrats to use Project 2025 as a millstone to sink Trump's presidential ambitions has Republicans running for the hills. On Wednesday, Trump's longtime evil minion Stephen Miller appeared on Ari Melber’s show on MSNBC to unequivocally deny any connection between Trump and Project 2025. (Miller was Trump's speechwriter who drafted Trump's “American Carnage” inaugural address in 2017.)

Miller claimed that Trump “is his own man” and “he alone decides what policies he will follow.” Miller explained that the near-perfect overlap between Project 2025’s policy goals and Trump's campaign promises is pure coincidence.

Ha! Good one! Who says MAGA extremists don’t have a sense of humor? For Trump to “set his own policies,” the following improbable conditions would need to exist simultaneously: (a) Trump would have to understand the differences in competing policies; (b) he would have to care about policies that did not affect his personal power and wealth; and (c) he would have to do the work of promoting and implementing those policies. Yeah, right! That didn’t happen in Trump's first term, and he has told us that the only policies of his hoped-for second term will be vengeance and retribution.

Ari Melber was having none of Stephen Miller’s disinformation. But Miller was running from Project 2025 as fast as he could. For good reason. Focus group testing has shown that when Republican and Independent voters hear about the substance of Project 2025, they oppose it overwhelmingly.

Republicans know this and are trying to repair the damage of having published their plot to end democracy. See Navigator Research, Focus Group Report: Project 2025. (“After participants viewed clips of the Wall Street Journal video detailing Project 2025, disdain for the plan grew.”)

The problem (for Republicans) is that Democrats have done a great job of identifying Trump as the prime beneficiary of Project 2025. Indeed, on its website, Project 2025 is described as a “Presidential Transition Project.” Since the project was drafted by Trump administration alumni, the “presidential transition” was for Trump, not Biden (now Harris).

Republicans are in full panic mode. JD Vance wrote the forward to a book by Project 2025’s author Eric Roberts, “Dawn’s Early Light,” which summarizes Project 2025. The book was scheduled to be published this month (August 2024) but has now been mysteriously delayed until after the election. See Media Matters for America, Delayed publication of Heritage president's book reflects Project 2025 shell game. Unfortunately for JD Vance and Trump, Media Matters has obtained a galley copy of Eric Roberts’ book and is willing to share!

But it gets worse (for Trump). In 2022, Trump shared a private jet ride with Kevin Roberts on the way to a Heritage Foundation conference. (Heritage Foundation is the sponsor and funder of Project 2025). At the Heritage Foundation conference,

Trump delivered a keynote address that gestured to Heritage’s forthcoming policy proposals. “They’re going to lay the groundwork and detail plans for exactly what our movement will do.” Separately, Roberts told The Washington Post in an interview in April of this year that he had previously discussed Project 2025 with Trump as part of offering briefings to all presidential candidates. “I personally have talked to President Trump about Project 2025,”

See Washington Post, Trump took a private flight with Project 2025 leader in 2022. (This article is accessible to all.)

Given that Kevin Roberts said he briefed Trump on Project 2025 and Trump told Heritage that the project “lay[s] the groundwork and detail plans for exactly what our movement will do,” Trump's claim last month that “Have no idea who is in charge of it” is a blatant lie. Although Trump claims that he and Kevin Roberts did not discuss the project on the flight, Trump's comments at the Heritage Foundation conference make clear that Trump knows exactly what Project 2025 is.

The Trump campaign’s release of Project 2025 was an act of hubris and overconfidence it now regrets, just like its effort to drive Joe Biden out of the race.

Here's the point: Trump has been caught with his hand in Project 2025 cookie jar and we must continue to tie Trump and Vance to the project and make clear that they are lying about their lack of involvement in the project.

On the campaign trail with Kamala Harris and Tim Walz

Kamala Harris and Tim Walz have managed to continue the momentum and enthusiasm of the Harris campaign. Trump was missing in action from the campaign trail, while JD Vance stalked Harris and Walz, drawing paltry crowds while showing flashes of anger and arrogance. JD Vance is turning out the be an “anti-candidate” who is a drag on the ticket.

At a rally in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, Harris and Walz drew a crowd of 10,000, while a rally in Detroit drew 15,000. Per reports, the interest in the rallies far exceeded the capacity of the venues. See The Guardian, ‘We’re not going back’: thousands rally for Harris and Walz in Wisconsin and Michigan.

A simultaneous appearance by JD Vance in Michigan (Shelby Township) drew a crowd so small it was outnumbered by the press contingent covering the event. See video embedded here. See Newsweek, Liz Cheney Takes New Dig at JD Vance's Rally Sizes. Per Newsweek,

A video of the event shared to X by Michigan political reporter Maggie George suggests that the small number of people attending the Vance speech in support of the candidate was rivaled by the press covering the event.

The small crowd is an indication of the lack of coordination and ground game by the Trump campaign—a lack of focus that starts at the top with Trump. Per reports, Trump is spending more time blaming advisers and complaining about his campaign’s problems than campaigning. See WaPo, Trump complains about campaign as advisers try to focus on attacking Harris. (This article is behind a paywall.)

JD Vance did Trump no favors on Wednesday when he gave a sour response to a reporter’s question about Vance being “joyless” and angry:

Reporter: You have been criticized as being a little too serious, a little angry sometimes. What makes you smile? What makes you happy? JD Vance: Well, I smile at a lot of things, including bogus questions from the media, Dan. A-HAHA-Heh-heh. .  . .But, look, sometimes you got to take the good with the bad. And right now, I am angry about what Kamala Harris has done to this country and done to the American southern border.

After insulting the reporter and describing himself as “angry,” Vance then acknowledged that Trump “loves to . . . make fun of everybody that’s out there.” See Trump VP Pick Laughs as Reporter Asks 'What Makes You SMILE?

The stark contrast between the well-executed, enthusiastic, joyful campaign of Harris and Walz is dramatic. And it is encouraging. See Salon, "Bringing back the joy": Kamala Harris' rally blows away JD Vance's weird appearance across town | Salon.com

But the race remains tight (tied?) despite positive signs in almost every new poll that suggest a strong trend in favor of Harris and Walz. 

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 4

In the wake of the events of the Thanned coup, in an attempt not to fall apart, Yennefer falls into Jaskier's arms.

cw for twn canon and mentions of canon injury and assumed gory character death

It had taken only hours for Thanned to be rent to pieces but would take days, maybe weeks to repair the damages. To knit the fragile protective wards back together and force the very foundations of the island not to sink into the sea. To recover magical artifacts from the rubble, praying that none had been made unstable in the desctruction, would not ignite fresh fires and cause more casualties.

It would take several days to bury the dead.

Yennefer pushed on for hours through the trembling of her limbs and aching hunger, her body and mind the wobbly sort of stretched thin that warned of too many incantations used far too close together. Too much more and her very being may rattle apart. Nothing left to give to the veins of power she called on than her own marrow made dust.

It was not some selfless, newly-awakened devotion to her sisters that drove her on. If she did not rest, did not slow, her mind could not return to the myriad of ways she had failed the ones she loved.

If she stopped even more a moment, she could hear only the deafening concussion of Tor Lara.

There was a harsh whistling and buzzing in her ear when she reached for Ciri's presence and found–

Echoing again and again, the telepathic whisper from Triss about the state she had found Geralt's body, all but a corpse, her message interrupted by hysteric weeping, and then silence as they vanished.

Yennefer could not think about those things or she would fray to pieces whether or not she overtaxed herself magically. She would sink into the sea that churned against Thanned's broken cliffs and dissolve.

By the tenth hour, Keira Metz grabbed her by the elbow and swore colorfully in her face, spittle flying, until she sat down and had a cup of tea in an undamaged alcove that still smelled sweet with domestic magic. 

She and Keira had not been friends before this, not really, but they leaned their exhausted bodies together and for a moment, Yennefer's thoughts drifted back to–

She stood abruptly, turned to thank Keira and found her dozing against a column, dusty tear tracks drying on her face. 

If she had not run into Geralt's bard not long after, she may have thrown herself back into the thick of salvage and repair, but she encountered the man in a dingy hallway traipsing about picking up side tables and setting decorative vases back atop them with great care, as though such a thing were as vitally important as dragging their dead from the ruins.

Hours and hours ago, they had embraced in the rubble and she had told him what she knew and tried not to collapse in his warm arms and sob and she had thought he'd be gone by now, returned to Gors Velen with the other minstrels and unfortunate outsiders from the banquet who had been caught up in the deadly affair. 

She watched Jaskier clumsily try to set a fallen chair to rights only to find several of its legs charred to nothing and then flounder over what to do with the thing, and in that moment, Yennefer found him so pleasantly foolish and human and wonderful that her tired limbs at last gave out. 

He caught her, voice pitched high, and then he dragged her up in his arms. Yennefer must have been a babe the last time she was carried in someone's arms. She felt weightless in his iron grip, one arm curled tight under her bent legs and the other around her shoulders. The long spill of her hair swayed. 

He carried her so easily, even while he moaned about the weight. The chatter of his teeth betrayed his fear as he complained casually, lips against her hair, about the roles they were supposed to play in this story. That she was meant to carry him like a bride from the wreckage, not the other way around. 

Yennefer lost track of reality. She thought of Geralt, milk-white hair stained bloodied red even as the tide rose and washed it away. She thought of Ciri. Wondered how they would bury her if the explosion of the portal had reduced her body to a fine mist of viscera lost to the air above the island. Atom by atom?

She woke on a bed in a dark room, buzzing with the acrid burn of healing magic. Jaskier sprawled beside her, their hands clasped tight. 

He woke when she did, eyes catching with a glassy shine in the dark, and he told her she'd apparently nearly unraveled her own cellular structure. He called her an idiot. He pushed back the curtain of her hair.

Yennefer kissed him, full and thorough. 

Maybe she had thought about kissing him before this, had admired the narrow dip of his waist and imagined fitting her hands there, had been struck by the full pout of his lips and wondered how he would taste, but the right time had ever evaded them. 

This was the wrong time. 

The grief crescendoed, as though it was her body that had been splintered and broken and reduced to a cloud of ash.

Jaskier kissed her like he knew what she was thinking. She knew what he was thinking, caught by his feeble human anxieties of feeling like something very small standing in the midst of a hurricane. 

His grief stood in miniature beside hers, his little sigh of an attempt to help fix something, anything, to help hold Yennefer's fracturing pieces in his hands and clutch them tight enough that she did not spill like sand between his fingers. 

When their bodies fit themselves together, rocking sweetly in each other's arms, she felt the sore echo in her thighs of her love-making with Geralt and ached through her whole body with the wish that he were there instead and then ached with the guilt of that thought and clung to Jaskier and held his weeping face in her hands and kissed away the spill of tears.

In the stillness after, she did not weep, but she pressed her cheek against the softness of his chest and imagined that they could have been lovers in another life. 

She, a humble peasant girl and he, a travelling minstrel. Dancing around the bonfires at a village festival, kissing under the stars, eloping at dawn with a new life in mind. No monsters or magic. No blood-stained prophecies. 

He asked what she was thinking, long fingers tiptoeing along her temple, and she asked him to marry her and he laughed a wheeze against her scalp and she held her face to his breast and imagined another life. How ugly their filthy peasant children would look, how they would argue and argue, how she would waste away one day of consumption or dysentary and he would remarry but visit her barrow in the woods and lay down soft sprigs of chamomile.

Yennefer tried her very best and her very hardest not to shake wholly to pieces in his arms.

[longwindedbore]

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Buildings on a shoreline are in a marine environment which is highly corrosive. Sinking deep foundations for high rises into ground with saltwater penetration is designing in catastrophic failure.

Developers and HOAs fought for ‘the American Way’ in Florida: deferring inspection and maintenance of structures because the legislature could be pressured to hold off on regulations.

[orthopunkfox]

The Restoration of Slavic Orthodoxy in the Foothills of Appalachia

Belle Valley is a small village nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains on the Eastern boarder of Ohio. The village with a current population of 201 (as of 2020), was originally settled in 1875 as a railroad and mining town. The laborers and their families who carved their living in steel and coal came from Eastern Europe, from Russia, Ukraine, Serbia, Romania, and other slavic nations. The mountains of Appalachia would've been comforting to them, reminding them of the Carpathian and Balkan mountains that wound their way through these settlers' homelands.

It is recorded that those first immigrants worshipped in whatever buildings were available to them, calling a Russian Orthodox priest from the nearby settlement of Robins, Ohio. In January of 1914, construction on a permanent parish began and in 1915, Elevation of the Holy Cross Russian Orthodox Church was consecrated.

Although under the authority of the Patriarch of Moscow, it seems that the Orthodox Christians of the Appalachian foothills in Ohio found a home there no matter what their country of origin. This is especially interesting considering the vast amount of political and social turmoil that wracked the Russian Orthodox Church throughout the 20th century. Yet, by the grace of Almighty God, slavs from Serbia, Russia, Yugoslavia, Romania, Ukraine, Slovania (Yugoslavia), and Latvia were all able to gather together in peace and worship together. With the mining and railroad work dwindling and population moving from small villages to urban centers, the faithful of the parish dwindled and the church was closed in 1967. I found rumors that a Greek Catholic funeral service was held in the parish in the early 1990s but have found no evidence to support this. Either way, weekly divine liturgies ceased and the building fell into acute disrepair.

However in 2020, descendants of the original Belle Valley immigrants (now part of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church) formed the Belle Valley Historical Preservation Society for the express purpose of restoring the church. Tired of commuting to various Orthodox churches in the surrounding area, the Orthodox citizens of Belle Valley have registered the parish on the National Historic Register as Holy Cross Ukrainian Orthodox Church and begun the restoration process. As of 2024, they have repaired foundational issues (the parish was sinking and beginning to slide down the steep hill), fixed the onion dome (which will also stop water damage in the interior), replaced the entryway doors, and restored several Orthodox gravestones in the accompanying Saint Michael's cemetery.

The Belle Valley Orthodox community has a priest who visits them to celebrate a monthly Divine Liturgy (held at the community center) and hopes to celebrate the first Divine Liturgy in the partially restored building for Pascha 2025. The Historic Preservation Society will continue restoration projects as funds become available. Their tenacity and indomitability reveal the heart of the Appalachian people and their love of the tradition of their ancestors is a central characteristic of Appalachian culture.

Photos: The no-longer abandoned Holy Cross Ukrainian Orthodox Church. Founded as Elevation of the Holy Cross Russian Orthodox Church in 1914/15, the decedents of the original faithful are working to restore this gem of the Appalachia foothills to its former glory

[coarsely]

Find the word tag

Many thanks to @borisyvain for tagging me! My words were never, dog, burn and either!

For never, we visit Imperator V, who misses his Catholicism Assigned Chastity Belt™ dearly.

It has only been two weeks since he left the Temple of Eden and with it his Imperator’s mask, Imperator’s regalia, Imperator’s weaponry. They’d even taken off the mouthguard that kept him from eating anything unsanctioned, the belt that made it awkward to use the bathroom but kept him from committing any sins of the flesh, were he to be so tempted. It’s the longest time he’s ever spent out of it, and the absence is still felt keenly along his groin and hips, where it ought to be, a phantom of what he is, what awaits him when he returns to his city. He looks forward to the return. He feels too exposed, in this half-mask that leaves the bridge of his nose and his eyes exposed and digs a little too tight into his cheekbones, exposed without the thing of metal to keep him chaste. It was never a risk that he would be anything other than chaste, but the confirmation of the belt was comforting. The only other times before when it was taken off had been the standard resizing that had to be done as he grew from adolescence into an adult, and the occasional times for health checkups that every Imperator dreaded but knew was necessary to keep them in fighting standard.

Dog was weirdly hard to find, but I found one in a Diomede snippet.

For a moment, the two stand there, lonely inky shapes in a mostly-unseen basin of partial marsh-land. Nothing to hear but wind, and distant sounds of man and steed breathing in heavy synchronisation. Clearer, the howl comes. It’s a sound he knows well, but never before have the echoes of wolves and wild dogs in the distance made something like dread drop into his stomach. Goosebumps prickle like a rash across his arms and back. The leather strap he holds digs into his palm, becoming warm and clammy with his sweat.

Burn comes again from another Imperator V snippet, of course from the car that explodes, although funnily enough its use here isn't for the car.

Sharply coming into view, he can start to see the sparks of flame licking all around the vehicle, engulfed, the pockets of embers that fly around like passengers throwing themselves off a sinking ship. The air is so frigid that his lungs burn from exertion far easier than they would normally, but V doesn’t slow down, not even when his ill-fitting mask starts to become dislodged from his face, a second skin starting to shed. He only starts to slow when he is mere feet away, as glass that shattered from the windows crunches underfoot, staring at the warped chassis of metal from the impact it had, somehow having partially overturned.

Either comes from an area of the world I haven't spoken on here too much, featuring Nicolau and the rest of the Shimmerfolk, the cyborgs/androids of Nod.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her. He does. Implicitly. They had to trust in each other, because they could trust nobody else. It was the foundation on which their people worked. Trust, blind faith in one another. It’s not that he doesn’t trust himself, either. He knows his body, or most of it–the micro-cables that run through his body in place of blood vessels, the titanium skeleton that mimics human bones, the processors in his cranium and ribcage where organs might be, the synthetic plastic wrap simulating soft organic flesh that covers these and hides them from sight. He knows the reinforced joints along his kneecaps, capable of drops up to 175 feet. He knows his body will automatically run a self-repair protocol if the fall exceeds that. He knows that death is not a certainty but a suggestion for him, that even if his body cannot self-repair sufficiently, so long as he stays out of the moss his body can be recovered and fixed.

I'm tagging @bebewrites, @words-after-midnight, @spideronthesun, @moonandris, @elvain and @digital-chance, as well as you! If you want to 😉 Your words are require, fasten, debris and humid. Bonus points if you have archaic in there!

[seattlefoundat]

Top Foundation Challenges in Seattle, WA: Identifying and Solving Common Issues

Discover the essential insights into managing foundation issues with our comprehensive guide on the top foundation challenges in Seattle, WA. This resource provides homeowners with valuable information on identifying and addressing common foundation problems, such as ceiling cracks and basement cracks. Learn about the typical signs of foundation distress, including structural shifts and water infiltration, and understand the importance of timely Seattle foundation inspections.

[mandowifey]

Helloo if i may, i'd like to request the ethan char assigning 👉🏻👈🏻 People usually calls me Alvin and i goes by any pronouns, but i mainly use She/Her. Im an Androgyne who is significantly short ( less than 5 feet lol). I p much love to explore new places and nature especially mountain and beach. My love language is basically teasing and being mischief JABDAJJAJAJ. I think that's all 💖💖

(THIS TOOK ME AGES I AM SO SORRY AND HOPE YOU'RE AROUND...)

But seriously, thank you for waiting so long for your piece. I cheated a little and checked out your profile. (Oops) So that being said, I assign you...

Arthur Harrow.

Arthur Harrow x GN!Reader

Warnings: Fully SFW, Implications of manipulation, heights, reader has amnesia. This was also not proof-read!

• • •

Amidst the town tucked inside the Austrian Alps, you had found your home.

The people had welcomed you with open arms, and you had quickly adapted to this new life. It was difficult for you to discern how you ended up here to begin with, as your memories grew fuzzy whenever you attempted to recall your life outside of the compound. Regardless you trusted them, and Arthur especially, as your new family. Anything that existed before coming there no longer mattered to you as you had let it go some time ago.

A series of gasps tugged you out of your thoughts.

At some point you had decided to scale the bell tower in the middle of town and situate yourself at the top. This spot was one of your favorites as it was the highest platform in the little community which granted you a 360 degree view of the mountains and planes surrounding you. The problem with this location wasn't the fact it was over 30 feet off the ground, but in fact that it was so old. With a sinking foundation and old wooden support beams, this tower was overdue for repair. Arthur had scolded you the first time you'd been caught climbing it, warning you that one wrong move could collapse the entire structure with you under it.

This was why you couldn't understand how you found yourself perched at the top once again.

"Y/N," Came Arthur's firm voice from down below.

Looking down amidst the crowd of concerned faces, you spot the leader of the flock staring up at you. His expression from this height was difficult to read, though you knew he was displeased. Arthur stood at the front with his hands resting on the cane in front of him, his brows vexed. He knew you had a penchant for exploring and roaming where you could, but he had warned you about this particular place.

"Can you come down? It's quite dangerous up there." He called again, though his voice never reached the intensity of a shout. Arthur had been handling business when a few concerned followers had come to him, alarmed that you were back on the tower and in danger of falling. Seeing you there once again irked him, though he figured with your amnesia from the accident you couldn't be faulted. Your spirit lasted even while your memories did not.

Embarrassment lights your cheeks in reds and pinks. You had caused a scene without ever intending to. Carefully, you descend the tower and mind your footing, even more aware of yourself than before. As you ease down to the ground, a sigh of relief washes amongst the crowd. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn instinctively into Arthur's chest, your small arms winding around him and holding tight.

"I'm sorry."

Warmth encompasses you as Arthur holds you into his broad chest. He's warm and smells of tea, a scent that has been a comfort to you for some time now. As you sink into his chest and breathe him in, he rumbles like thunder. "We are going to have to find a safer way to satiate that explorer's appetite of yours, little one." A smile tugs your lips, and you press more into him.

"Perhaps we can take you for hikes along the trails, hmm?" His hand drifts from your back to pet along your neck, then up into your hair. He caresses you, squeezing gently and reassuringly. Arthur was not angry, and you knew, though you always felt uncomfortable at the notion of disappointing him. "What about your feet?" You look up towards him, eyes round and doe like. The man smiled down at you and breathed out a soft chuckle.

"I would not offer if I could not handle it." He promised, leaning down to press his lips to the center of your forehead. Warmth blooms under your skin, and you tilt, wanting to catch his mouth with your own - but he pulls back before you two can connect. "Let's head back." His hand pulls from your scalp, and he begins to limp towards the trail that leads to your shared home.

Arthur had a habit of leaving you hungry. Hungry for his affection and hungrier for his approval. He was good at leaving you on the edge, baited, and ready to spring. You smile and jog a few steps to close the widening gap between you. "Maybe we can go tomorrow?" You offer, eyes twinkling in the late day sun. The wind rustles the tall grass, lining the ascending hills towards your building.

"Tomorrow it is." The older man chuckled softly. "So long as I do not need to coax you down from anymore towers," There was a playful lilt to his words as he tossed you an amused glance. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile broadens. "No more towers, pinky promise!"

You lift your hand and offer your pinky towards him. Arthur comes to a stop to look, and his smile stiffens. It was something you did often and upheld with the highest of regards. He couldn't wrap his head around the notion that pinkies meant anything more than digits on a hand, but he knew what it meant to you. Offering his own, the two of you curl your fingers together, and your head nods affirmatively.

"No more towers." He reiterates, breaking the connection finally and putting his free arm around you. You smile and lean into his side, taking in the view that you never grew tired of and noticing a large tree in the distance. You wonder briefly how difficult it would be to climb.

[kazscrows]

Six of Crows Reread🪶

Chapter 44: Jesper

Jesper has no idea that Nina altered Wylan to look like Kuwei

Kuwei seemed friendly enough, but his Kerch was rough, and he didn’t seem to like to talk much. Sometimes he’d just appear on deck at night and stand silently beside Jesper, staring out at the waves. It was a little unnerving.

Cry laughing because he doesn’t know it’s actually Wylan—

Only Inej wanted to chat with anyone, and that was because she seemed to have developed a consuming interest in all things nautical. She spent most of her time with Specht and Rotty, learning knots and how to rig sails.

I had forgotten this small detail

She’s already reaching to act on her new dream

What’s that Tangled quote? “Go. Live your dream”

And then Kaz is Flynn saying he will and wanting to be buried in piles of money “Not you. Your dream stinks-”

Jesper worried about Nina, but thinking about her made him feel guilty. When they’d boarded the schooner and Kuwei explained parem, a tiny voice inside him said he should offer to take the drug as well. Even though he was a Fabrikator without training, maybe he could have helped to draw the parem out of Nina’s system and set her free. But that was a hero’s voice, and Jesper had long since stopped thinking he had the makings of a hero.

Woah poor Jesper 🥺

But even if he had helped then he’d be the one suffering withdrawals…

I wish I could hug him

“Does the Council know the scientist is dead?”

“I put it all in my note to Van Eck,” Kaz said. “I told him Bo Yul-Bayur is dead, but that his son is alive and was working on jurda parem for the Fjerdans.”

“…Did he haggle?”

“Not in the note. He expressed his ‘deep concern’, but didn’t mention anything about price. We did our job. We’ll see if he tries to bargain us down when we get to Vellgeluk.”

HA—

He’ll do a lot worse than haggle—

A lot worse…

“Where’s the other longboat?” Jesper asked as he, Kaz, Matthias, Inej, and Kuwei rowed out from the Ferolind with Rotty.”

“Repairs,” said Kaz.

Jesper really is quite observant

Actually Jes, Kaz is lying, the longboat already left with one Kuwei, Nina, and Spect?

The island was less than a mile wide, a barren patch of sand and rock distinguished only by the wrecked foundation of an old tower used by the Council of Tides.Smugglers called it Vellgeluk, ‘good luck’

How ironic

“All right,” Kaz said. “Let’s go get rich.”

“No mourners,” Rotty said, settling down to wait with the longboat.

“No funerals,” they replied.

Kaz thinking of the reward before offering good luck

Rotty offers it actually

So it’s definitely a Dregs thing and not just a Crows thing

Two men lugged a heavy trunk between them, staggering slightly with its weight.

“So that’s what thirty million kruge looks like,” said Kaz.

Jesper gave a low whistle. “Hopefully, the longboat won’t sink.”

Imagine they pulled off that whole heist just to drown because their reward weighed too much….

I’m having lots of thoughts so I’ll just include this scene and butt in when necessary

Van Eck smiled. “I will confess I am surprised, Mister Brekker. Surprised but delighted.”

“You didn’t think we’d succeed.”

“Let’s say I thought you were a longshot.”

“Is that why you hedged your bets?”

“Ah, so you’ve spoken to Pekka Rollins.”

“He’s quite a talker when you get him in the right frame of mind,” said Kaz, and Jesper remembered the blood on Kaz’s shirt at the prison. “He said you contracted him and the Dime Lions to go after Yul-Bayur for the Merchant Council as well.”

With a niggle of unease, Jesper wondered what else Rollins might have told Kaz.

Huh… this is kind of an odd thought

I’m pretty sure Jesper didn’t realize he had outed their location when they first were leaving for the heist so he shouldn’t be feeling guilty for that right?

Or am I just remembering wrong…

Either way, Jesper is definitely a little afraid of Kaz

Which is kind of sad but also fair

Any sane person should be a little afraid of Kaz Brekker

Van Eck shrugged. “It was best to be safe.”

“And why should you care if a bunch of canal rats blow each other to bits in pursuit of a prize?”

“We knew the odds of either team succeeding were small. As a gambler, I hope you can understand.”

But Jesper had never thought of Kaz as a gambler.

Gamblers left something to chance.

Kaz Brekker always has a plan

Kaz Brekker is careful. He thinks of every possible interaction and result

For the most part

Jesper could see the stacks of bills in palest Kerch purple, emblazoned with the three flying fish, row after row of them

I forgot their money is purple in Ketterdam

Matthias thinks it’s odd too

Aaaaannd here comes the chaos—

Jesper reached for his revolvers. Hadn’t he wanted something to shoot at? I guess this place is good luck, he thought with a rush of anticipation. Looks like I’m about to get my wish.

Of course Jes would think of the coming fight as good luck

First | Previous | Next

[lonestarbattleship]

June 13, 2024 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"Like everyday, a lot of work went on the ship today.

- The bow and forward turrets are beginning to get painted (after being abrasive blasted).

- the water sheds are coming off turret 4 for repair

- floater net baskets and 20 mm barrel stowage tubes are going on turret 4 (the have already gone on turret 2)

- 20mm mount foundation rings are being welded out in the main mast (for future mounts)

- work continues on the ships cranes

- and new wood is being prepped for installation on the bow in a couple of weeks."

Portside and Starboardside bow looking aft. All the black primer will cover up with beautiful Navy Blue. The primer on the deck will get covered with new wood decking.

Turret 4’s left water shed on the deck. The water shed prevents water from entering the ship between the barbette (that rusty flat spot that is 12” of armor) and the turret.

Turret 4’s right water shed on the deck (barely visible). The water shed prevents water from entering the ship between the barbette (that rusty flat spot that is 12” of armor) and the turret.

A hardworking team from Gulf Copper manhandling a 200lb , 10’ long floater net basket in place on the left side of turret 4. Floater nets were basically cargo nets with balsa floaties on them. They sat in these open top baskets so if the ship sank they would float clear of the wreckage. Aside from life jackets, floater nets were the primary means of life saving on most Navy ships during WWII in case of sinking.

20mm mount foundation rings in the Main Mast -eventually these will hold reproduction 20mm mounts.

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Facebook page: link

[davnittbraes]

The Fourth Step - Chapter Twenty-Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but the series as a whole)

Word Count: 4400

Warnings, etc.: absolutely ridiculous banter that I had way too much fun writing, ANGST I mean these two have had it pretty good lately so let’s not get too comfortable, negative self-talk (love yourselves bbys please,) references to past trauma, Peli Motto comes with her own warning, an OC makes an appearance

Notes: AND WE’RE BACK to regularly scheduled programming, sorry for the delay on this one, I hope it’s worth the wait 🤞. Also, I’m making stuff up about eopies here. Also also, I couldn’t figure out the plural of eopie - is it eopie? Eopies? Whatever I picked one and went with it. Come at me, SW fandom. Also also also, ten points to anyone who gets the pop culture references in the first scene.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

It’s all just so pleasantly, unremarkably domestic. 

As if the couple months since you left Pax have always been your life, this routine of casual activities and quiet simplicities. Going to market together, smoothly trading responsibilities, discussing minor repairs for the Razor Crest and jointly caring for a child while bantering about the likelihood of said child being too stuffed full of treats to eat supper later.

As if you’ve tucked a child into bed after a long day a thousand times, stroking the skin between drowsy eyes and murmuring gentle goodnights and sleep wells, half-listening to the muted movements of another as he tidies up your shared living space, thoughts turning to the much-anticipated moments when you will be alone with him, nestled away from the world in the quiet of night. 

As if it’s normal for you to sink into the arms of another who pulls you close, sharing murmured words and caresses and soft kisses that grow heated in the dark. To wake up the next morning, warm and secure in a firm embrace, and to go through the motions of getting a household up and ready for the day. 

It’s all just so vividly, poignantly domestic. 

And it shakes the very foundation of your self-understanding to realize that you like it. 

Not so long ago, you had adamantly sought solitude, snubbed personal relationships, avoided any connection deeper than a tight smile and a quick nod. Life had been experienced through a filter of distrust and fear, everyone and everything a potential threat to the freedom you didn’t earn, this existence that you had only due to a random happenstance that let you escape.

It’s a bit unbelievable, that you’re here, now. Sitting in the cockpit of a starship, a child dozing in your lap after a morning of play, trading teasing barbs with a man who’s name has become embedded in that warm bright thing in your chest. 

You chew your bottom lip, narrowing your eyes at the back of his helmet as he leans over the ship’s control console, reading some kind of diagnostic report. “As the Stars Burn?”

The helmet tilts. “No.”

“All My Younglings?”

“No again.”

“General Medbay. That one’s insanely popular, you have to know that one.”

“Never heard of it.”

You slump back in your chair, sighing in defeat, the kid grumbling softly at the movement. “I still don’t believe you. There’s no way someone as well-travelled as you has never - oh! Sex and Cloud City.”

The helmet turns, black visor meeting your gaze. “You made that one up.”

“I swear, it’s an actual show on the HoloNet.” You can’t hold back the bubble of laughter at the absolute incredulity in his voice, and the kid grumbles again as he’s jostled with the movement. Gently, you pick him up and set him in his pod, floating next to you. “It’s nominated for a bunch of awards this year.”

A soft snort filters through the modulator. “Not for its subtle writing, I assume.”

“People like what they like.” Leaning forward, you squint at the navigation map, the image just far enough away that it’s too blurry to make out. “Where are we? The Trailing Sectors?”

“Why don’t you come here and see for yourself?” His voice is deceptively light, casual suggestion lilting his words. 

You recoil back into your chair, fingers gripping the seat tight. “Nope. Nuh uh. Me and my mechanical curse will stay right here, thank you.”

He turns to face you fully, beskar glinting in the blue-white light of hyperspace. “You’re more than capable of piloting this ship.”

“How did we get from looking at the nav map to piloting the ship? That’s the exact opposite direction this conversation should be going in.”

He goes quiet, still. Unseen gaze studying you from behind the black visor. The silence suddenly thickens, your skin itching with it but your limbs stay frozen, unable to move, pinned to your chair. 

Your heartbeat stutters. 

He’s assessing you. Determining his next move. 

Well, doesn’t matter, there’s nothing he can say that will get you in that pilot’s chair. 

His pauldrons shift as he rests his gloved hands on his thighs, looking far too relaxed and confident for your liking. “You’re smart, intuitive. Your reflexes are sharp. You’re good with your hands.”

An anxiousness floods your chest, pushing you to deflect from his compliments, throw him an exaggerated wink. “Good with my hands? Well, I guess you would have some experience with that.”

The helmet shakes once, a sigh of exasperation and amusement sifting through the modulator. “And I know you don’t truly believe in some sort of curse that damages mechanical equipment when you’re around it.”

“Until I see more evidence to the contrary, that’s the most reasonable explanation.” Ok good, you can manage this. His insistent but gentle prodding to convince you to learn to fly is something you’ve become used to over the last few months. Just hold your ground and -

“What if I’m not here and the kid is in danger?”

Pfassk. 

Clever bastard. 

He doesn’t even flinch when you glare at him. Just sits there looking smug - it doesn’t matter that you can’t see his face, you can tell. 

Sighing dramatically, you raise your hands on defeat. “Fine. You got me. But if something explodes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Nothing is going to explode.” He stands, holding the chair steady as you settle into it. 

Your fingers clench, digging into your thighs as you look down at the control console. Anxiety rumbles beneath the surface of your thoughts, quieting when a strong, gloved hand rests on the back of your neck. 

He believes you can do this. At least give it a try. 

His thumb strokes the curve of your neck, soothing. “So the first thing you have to remember is to breathe.”

A shaky huff of laughter triggers your lungs into working again. “Forget HoloNet dramas. You’re obviously obsessed with comedies.”

He chuckles softly. “Now that you’re closer, you can read the nav map and see where we are.”

Right, you know how to do that. Peering down at the small screen, you note the bold white lines, the positional beacon of the ship’s location. “So we are still in the Trailing Sectors. On the Triellus Trade Run.”

“Just passed Naboo, yes.” His free hand moves over the console, hovering above each group of buttons, switches and levers as he passes it. “This is the hyperdrive engine status, fuel gauges, proximity alert, autopilot sequencing, weapons.”

“Yep, got it, stay away from that part right there.” You eye the last group of controls cautiously. 

“For now. Let’s start with the basics.” He steps back, folding his arms across his chest. “Take hold of the steering.”

Your gaze flies to his, nervousness spiking hot through the pit of your stomach. “While we’re in hyperspace?”

“You’re not going to do anything. Just grip the steering.”

Taking a deep breath, you face the console. “One final time, for record - if we blow up, it’s your fault.”

He doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently, watching you. 

Fine. Ok. It’s just holding the steering. Nothing is going to happen. 

Slowly, you lift your hands, curl your fingers around the side-sticks, slotting them into the ergonomic grooves. The grips are well-worn but still comfortable, a faint vibration of the engines buzzing against your palm. 

You hold your breath, watching the various lights and screens carefully, waiting. 

Nothing. 

He breaks the silence, words gently teasing. “No explosions yet.”

Releasing your breath on a rush, you throw him a mock-glare. “‘Yet’ being the key word, there. Now what?”

He slips behind you again, gloved hand returning to its place on the back of your neck. “We’re not going to do anything while in hyperspace, but we can -“

A shrill beeping cuts through the air. 

You instantly let go of the steering, jumping out of the chair and taking a step back as he takes your place, reaching over the console to pull up the system status. The alarm shuts off, last of it echoing through your thoughts in time with the pounding of your heart. 

He flips another switch, sighing. “Coolant line sprung a leak. We’ll have to land to repair it.”

The lack of urgency in his voice calms your anxiety, relief washing through you. “How far can we make it?”

“Not far.” He turns to the navigation map. “Tatooine is our best bet. I know a mechanic there.”

You sink into your chair, glancing at the kid, who’s sitting up, nap forgotten, ears perked with curiosity. “Great, my curse not only damaged the ship, it also forced me back to the Galaxy’s Dustbin.”

The helmet turns to look back at you, tilting slightly. “You’re not cursed, tionas.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tell that to the coolant line.”

*****

The twin suns are high above Mos Eisley as the Razor Crest dips into the hangar bay, creating a puff of dust that hasn’t quite settled as the crew door slides open, twitching your nose with the urge to sneeze. 

Kriffing Tatooine. 

Blinking against the bright sunlight, you barely get to take in your surroundings before a shrill voice pierces the air. 

“Mando! What’s wrong with this hunk of junk now?”

The kid babbles cheerfully, shifting around to stand up in his pod with arms outstretched and Din grabs him before he loses his balance. 

A short, curly-haired woman wearing coveralls strides up to the ramp, her deep scowl quickly shifting to a smile as she reaches for the kid. “Well hello there, bright eyes! Did you miss me?”

Din shifts the kid into her arms. “Coolant line is leaking.”

She turns a shrewd gaze in his direction. “Surprised it didn’t blow completely, the way you run the poor girl. Well, that won’t be cheap, as you know pre-Empire parts are hard to come by.” 

That gaze shifts to you, assessing, even though she’s clearly still talking to him. “I thought you said you weren’t a taxi service, but here you are taking on passengers.”

Her words should be rude, condescending. You should be offended, you know that. But there’s something about her, an undiluted forthrightness that makes you like her instantly. 

Din clears his throat, slipping a gloved hand around your waist to rest in the small of your back. “She’s not a passenger. She’s with me.”

Oh. 

You’d never really talked about it, how he would introduce you to others. Actually, you’d never even given it much thought, so rarely did you come into contact with people that he knew. 

So you weren’t prepared for the spark of heat to flare up your spine from the warmth of his hand, or the thrill that skittered along your heartbeat as his words sunk in. 

Her gaze darts down your frame, sizing you up with absolutely no reservation or subtlety. “Interesting. Not who I expected you’d end up with. Anyway, don’t touch anything.”

Then she’s spinning around and striding away, cooing to the kid in her arms about getting him a snack. 

The helmet flashes in the sunlight, black visor turning to look at you. “She didn’t mean… Peli can be…”

“Blunt?” You watch her feed the kid what looks like a piece of roasted meat, obviously delighting in how quickly he wolfs it down. “Honestly, it’s refreshing. I know exactly where I stand with her, and that’s somewhere between your romantic interest and a potential annoyance.”

“My ‘romantic interest?’” His voice lifts in amusement. 

It takes every effort not to smile as you meet the black visor’s gaze. “Yeah, you know. Like on those HoloNet dramas you love.”

Still, it’s not enough to hold back your laughter as his exasperated sigh filters through the modulator. 

*****

After the kid had been fed to Peli’s satisfaction, she wasted no time diving into the Razor Crest, coming up with an extensive list of parts needed to repair the coolant leak. If it had been anyone else, you would have suspected manipulation, a specialist trying to take advantage of people who don’t know as much as they do about something, but Din trusts her, so you do, too. 

Which is all well and good, but trust won’t buy starship parts. 

And unfortunately, credits are running low between you and Din, who, of course, immediately insisted on going to find work to pay for the repairs. But as you so effectively argued, you were more likely to find work that didn’t include putting yourself in mortal danger than he was, so here you are now, roaming the streets of Mos Eisley in search of a job. 

You squint against the sunlight, stepping around a group of Rodians pulling a large cart full of crates, and scan the storefronts for opportunities. Your best bet is probably a cantina, where word always gets around when people were looking for help, but sometimes you luck out by finding a shop owner in need of an extra hand -

Something big and lanky suddenly stumbles across your path, throwing you off balance. Your instincts take over and you grab the loose reins trailing after the creature, dig your boots into the dirt to pull it to a stop. 

The creature honks in protest and your senses catch up. 

An eopie.

You give the reins a quick tug, a sharp movement that pulls its short, trunk-like snout downward, directing its gaze to the ground, and slowly reach out to stroke along its flank, pitching your voice low. “Hey now, it’s ok, calm down, you’re ok.”

The eopie gives a honk in protest, tries to swing its head around but you tug the reins again, keeping it facing down, the crowds of the street out of its eyeline, and it heaves a sigh of relief, a tremor running along its wrinkled skin as it calms.

A voice calls from somewhere over your shoulder. “Kriff, are you alright?”

Keeping your hand on the eopie so you can feel if it tries to bolt again, you turn to see a man jogging toward you, leading a line of eopies connected by a transport rein. 

You pat the eopie gently, throwing the man a friendly smile. “I’m fine, poor thing just got spooked.”

He pulls to a stop, glancing back to make sure the eopies behind him fall into line before turning back to you, gaze sweeping over your form. “She broke the lead, took off before I could grab her. You sure you’re alright?”

“Really, no harm done.” Handing the reins to him, you look down the line of eopies, curious. “She probably wouldn’t have gone much farther, anyway. They don’t like to stray too far from their herd.”

He smiles, and your stomach dips sharply - after the chaos of the last few moments you’re only just now realizing he’s… very attractive. The kind of handsome you would have eyed from across the bar in your younger days, but probably wouldn’t have worked up the nerve to approach. 

He’s tall, with long, lean limbs and a trim build, defined muscles peaking through the low collar of his shirt. And there’s an openness to his features, a sweet and gentle kindness in the soft angles and warm gaze that instantly puts you at ease. 

Dank farrik, he definitely breaks hearts with those eyes. Probably unintentionally, but still. 

Right now, though, those eyes are fixed intently on you, bringing your focus back to the conversation. 

He clears his throat gently. “Are you… busy, right now?” You blink, thrown off by the question, and he ducks his head sheepishly. “Sorry, let me explain. I run an eopie breeding business, and both of my employees are away - two brothers, their sister just had a baby in Anchorhead.”

One of the eopies shakes its head, tugging at the lead as if beckoning him to get on with it, and he chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Anyway, I’m trying to get five dozen eopies to transports around the city by the end of the day for shipment to the outposts. If you can help me out, I can pay you what I would have paid the two of them combined.”

The little laugh of incredulity that slips from your lips obviously takes him back, and you lift a hand in apology. “I’m actually looking for work for a couple days.”

His features shift into a delight that’s so endearing you can’t help but smile. “Well, guess we’re both lucky today.”

“Guess so.” You gesture toward the eopies. “Where are these guys going?”

“Transport Hub 68, on the north side.” He holds out his hand. “Should probably give my name, if we’re going to spend a couple days together. Mikresh Bhan.”

You take his hand and shake it firmly, pulling a name from the running list you keep in your head. Something short, unremarkable, an abbreviation of any number of similar names in multiple languages. “Call me Kas. Let’s get these to 68, then.”

*****

After an afternoon of leading eopies around Mos Eisley, you can confirm that the biggest problem isn’t getting the eopies to go where you want, it’s getting other people to move out of the kriffing way. 

You glare after a woman who walked right toward you, without even attempting to go around the eopies, forcing you to guide them around her at the last minute. “Unbelievable. People are so self-absorbed and oblivious.” You pause. “Actually, that’s very believable, what am I saying.”

Mikresh laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile automatically. “Especially in Mos Eisley. Everyone seems to have blinders on.”

“And something shoved up their ass.” You catch yourself, glancing back at him. “Sorry if that was rude. The path between my thoughts and my mouth is frustratingly short sometimes. And all the time, when it comes to talking about this scud-hole of a city.”

“No apology needed.” He looks around the crowd. “Everyone here keeps their cards close to their chest, always listening for someone else to slip up so they can use it to their advantage. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone who just spoke their mind.”

“You do seem a bit too honest to be living in Mos Eisley.” You turn a corner, giving a wide enough berth to the merchant stalls lining this part of the street that the eopies won’t get distracted by the bartering customers.

He laughs again. “Yeah, wasn’t my first choice. But we go where the work takes us, right?”

You open your mouth to agree, but the words stop up on your tongue, feeling odd and out of place. 

Mikresh assumed you were one of those people drifting from planet to planet, picking up odd jobs as they went, and you hadn’t said anything to correct him. It was best if he thought you were unattached, with no true goals or commitments beyond finding the next job. 

Which was true, for most of your life. You didn’t “come from” anywhere, or call any particular place home. 

But now? 

Now you had a child who had you entirely wrapped around his tiny green claw, and a man who made you forget every bad thing that had ever happened to you with a simple murmur of the nickname he’d given you against your skin. 

Now you had a -

Something stops that line of thought, abrupt, a sharp jagged tear through the warm bright thing in your chest. 

A deep-rooted shadow, crawling from the depths of your mind, dormant for the last few months but still there. 

Always there. 

It latches on, spreads over your thoughts, twists your stomach until it hurts.

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, hard enough to sting. 

Stupid girl. 

You let some mushy emotions blind you to reality.

The time you’ve spent with Din and the kid, the moments of vulnerability, the secrets you’ve shared - it doesn’t change who you really are. 

You’re exactly who Mikresh thinks you are. 

A drifter, a nobody. Someone who jumps from planet to planet, identity to identity. Running from a past that you’ll never truly escape, can only hope to stay one step ahead of. 

This life, this existence of comfort and safety and trust -

It’s all temporary. It always has been, and always will be. 

Eventually, the kid will go to the Jedi. A society known for its strict adherence to rules that ban emotional attachments. 

You’ll never see him again. 

Eventually, Din will find his people. A people who he has sworn to protect, warriors who prize bravery and strength and purity of their culture above all else. 

You’re no Mandalorian. You, with scars that prove you bowed to others. 

And eventually, your past will find you, and you’ll have to run again. Keep moving, never settle.

Because that’s your life. 

Not those sweet moments of domesticity, or beautiful intimacy found in the dark, or playful banter about things that don’t really matter.

You will always end up alone, running, afraid. No amount of loving embraces and calm statements of relationship to strangers and soft words full of emotion you don’t want to name will change that. 

“There they are, the buyers are just down the street, see them?” 

Mikresh’s voice shatters your inward focus, yanking you back into the moment. You look in the direction he’s pointing, see the two Bothans watching you expectantly. 

Blinking back the shadows creeping along the edges of your vision, you force your attention to the job at hand. You’ll find time to parse through those realizations later. “Yep, I see them. How many more after this?”

“Just two more.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw him a smile. “Next time, it’s your turn to dodge oblivious assholes.”

*****

Loud banging echoes through the hangar as you walk in, interspersed with muffled cursing you can only partially make out. Moving around to the other side of the Razor Crest, you see why - Peli is half-hanging out of a hole in the ship, legs kicking with each bang as she obviously swings some kind of tool at whatever it is she cursing out inside the ship. 

You pause, taking in the scene. Parts are scattered about the yard, durasteel panels and other unidentifiables. There’s a general air of frustration that you can feel as you get closer, the kind that builds after one too many things go wrong. 

A flash of silver - Din, standing next to Peli, holding a mess of hoses and wires out of her way. He looks up, black visor finding you immediately, and your heartbeat flutters at the sensation of his unseen gaze on you. 

The kid’s cheerful babble pulls your gaze to where he’s perched on top of a discarded pile of tools. 

The warm bright thing in your chest squeezes, then the dark thing in your mind clutches tight. Your instinctual smile at the kid fades, but you force yourself to reach out, brush a fingertip along the top of his ear as you pass him. 

Peli hits whatever it is she’s assaulting, shouting in triumph when there’s a subsequent crash. She pulls herself out of the ship, glaring at Din. “Damn thing finally let go. You know, this entire system needs a complete overhaul - half the components are rusted. I don’t even know how that happens with durasteel. Just your luck, I guess.”

She catches sight of you, then glances up at the sky. “Dosh, sunset already? I’ve got to finish up, new neighbours have been complaining about the noise at night lately - what kind of moof-milker moves next to a hangar if they’re fussy about noise?”

She strides away, grumbling under her breath, grabbing tools that are scattered throughout the yard and tossing them into various crates. 

You avoid her path of vexation, making your way to Din as he lets go of the hoses and wires. “I almost don’t want to ask, but I’m curious enough to risk it - how’s it going?”

His sigh filters heavily through the modulator. “It’s not just a coolant line, it’s the whole system.”

Your stomach twists with unease. “That sounds expensive.”

“It’s… not cheap. Peli got a below-market price on parts, but they’re still an unexpected cost.” He leans back against the ship, resting his hands on his belt. “More credits than we have right now.”

“Maybe not.” Digging into the pocket of your jacket, you pull out the envelope Mikresh had given you when you’d parted ways. “Will this cover it? If that’s not enough, I have work lined up for the same amount tomorrow, and I might be able to get another day of it.”

The helmet tilts, black visor looking at the envelope in your hand, but he doesn’t move to take it, words coming slow and uncertain. “I’ve been thinking… I know we’ve been sharing costs for food and supplies when needed, but… this is different.”

That knot of anxiety you’ve been trying to ignore all day twists and turns, digging painfully under your ribs, pulled tighter by the dark thing in your mind. 

You swallow hard, try to keep your voice steady against the tremor that threatens to shake your hand, still outstretched toward him. “How is it different?”

“It’s my ship. My responsibility. I’ll find a way to make credits to pay for the repairs.”

A loud crash startles you, and Din strides toward the sound - the kid, looking up from the pile of parts he just knocked over, ears drooping and big eyes wide. 

Din scoops him up smoothly, patting his back soothingly while shaking his head in disappointment. “You have to be careful, kid, you could have hurt yourself or someone else.”

The kid coos quietly, curling his tiny claws into Din’s cowl. 

That knot under your ribs unravels, spreads throughout your body, pulling muscles tight. 

It’s his ship. 

Not yours. 

Just as the kid is his. You have no true connection to him. 

To either of them. 

Din shifts the kid into the crook of his arm like he’s done countless times, starts to help Peli clean up. 

The dying sunlight bounces off his pauldron, illuminating the signet in a flash that pierces right through your heart. 

They’re a clan. Even when they part ways, they’ll always have that - a bond of shared experiences you’ll never truly understand, a sense of belonging they will carry with them for the rest of their life. 

You don’t really belong anywhere. 

You never have. And you never will.  *****

Mando’a translations

tionas - question

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter