#Mobile blasting services

[foulchaoswonderland]

Mobile Sandblasting- An Adaptable Approach to Surface Restoration and Cleaning

A strong method for preparing, cleaning, and restoring surfaces in a variety of sectors is mobile sandblasting. This technique efficiently removes paint, corrosion, and impurities from surfaces by using high-pressure air to push sand or other abrasive materials onto them. Because of its mobility, which enables on-site services, it is becoming a more desirable option for residential and commercial projects. We'll explore the definition of mobile sandblasting, its advantages, its uses, and important factors for anyone considering this service in this blog.

Convenience On-Site With Quicker Turnaround

The on-site ease of mobile blasting services is one of its biggest time-saving benefits. It can be time-consuming and logistically difficult to transfer goods to a fixed site for traditional sandblasting. In addition, mobile sandblasting offers a quicker turnaround than conventional techniques. There is no need to wait for objects to be delivered, blasted, and returned because the process is done right on the spot.

The end effect is a more efficient procedure that speeds up project completion and minimises downtime. Mobile sandblasting Melbourne guarantees that your project keeps on schedule without needless delays, regardless of whether you have a tight deadline or just need a fast patch.

By bringing the equipment to you, onsite sandblasting removes the need for transport and enables the project to start nearly right away. For huge or immovable items, like industrial machinery or large structures, whose relocation would be impractical, this on-site convenience is especially beneficial.

Dust Control and Surface Compatibility With Safety Measures

Make sure the mobile sandblasting technique is appropriate for the material being treated before moving forward. To prevent damage, some surfaces might need to be handled more gently. Significant dust and debris can be produced during sandblasting. Using appropriate containment techniques, like water misting or a vacuum system, can reduce airborne particles and increase safety.

To guarantee safety throughout the blasting process, operators should wear the proper personal protective equipment (PPE), such as respirators, goggles, and protective clothes. Consult with knowledgeable experts who can help you navigate the procedure and guarantee the best outcomes catered to your unique requirements if you're thinking of using mobile sandblasting for your upcoming project.

Source

[allaroundmobilebasting]

Discover the Perks of Mobile Blasting for Your Needs

In a world where efficiency and precision are paramount, mobile blasting has emerged as a game-changing solution for a wide range of industrial and surface preparation needs. Whether you’re in construction, automotive restoration, manufacturing, or any industry that requires surface cleaning, preparation, or paint removal, mobile blasting offers a plethora of perks that can revolutionize your workflow and improve the quality of your projects.

Gone are the days of labor-intensive and time-consuming methods; mobile blasting brings the power of abrasive blasting directly to your doorstep, providing unmatched convenience, flexibility, and effectiveness.

So in this article, we will delve into the myriad advantages of mobile blasting services and how it can be the key to unlocking enhanced productivity and superior results for your specific requirements.

[prostripsandblasting]

Mobile Sandblasting Services in Melbourne: A Convenient Solution for Your Needs.

Mobile sandblasting is the modern solution for cleaning and restoring surfaces at your location in Melbourne. This service offers a range of benefits, from convenience to quality results. Here’s why you should choose mobile sandblasting:

Mobility: The equipment comes directly to your location, saving time and money.

Quick Turnaround: The process is faster than traditional methods, allowing for faster project completion.

Professional Results: Mobile sandblasting ensures top-quality results with minimal disruption.

Flexible Options: It can be used for a variety of surfaces, including vehicles, buildings, and industrial machinery.

Reduced Downtime: Since it’s done onsite, there’s less waiting around for transportation or processing.

Conclusion: Mobile sandblasting in Melbourne is a convenient, efficient solution that can help you get the job done without the hassle. Its mobility and versatility make it a must-have for various projects.

[minutemenmobile]

Minutemen Mobile Blasting offers top-notch paint stripping services for all your paint removal needs. Our expert team provides efficient and safe paint stripping solutions for various surfaces. Trust Minutemen Mobile Blasting for professional paint removal services. Get a quote for paint stripping services now!

[kingthunder]

I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

[rebeliz7]

The Transporter

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Count: 2262

… 

You were screwed. 

You had two rules, two unbreakable rules. Two rules that have allowed you to survive for as long as you have in your line of work. 

The first one was to never ask any unnecessary questions. Your job was simple. You transported packages, no matter what it was, no matter how far you had to go or how long it’d take you to get it to its destination. 

You’ve gained quite a reputation because of that first rule, and you were never short on job offers because of it. People valued your work policy, because they valued their privacy.  

You were, what the kids would call these days, a delivery person and that was the essence of what you did, only you mobilized very expensive and more often than not dangerous packages.

Your clients--were not good people, but that was not your problem. Of course you suspected it but to be quite honest, you never expected to be caught by the Avengers on your way back home after a well done job. 

Long story short, they did catch you and they dropped you in a dark cell for months, and that was alright, you weren’t afraid because you didn’t know anything besides the addresses where you dropped off your packages. 

You knew nothing about the packages you delivered, you never peaked and the only question that always interested you when a new job came along was, where do I take it?

“You ready to talk?” The Captain asks from across the table, and you grin at her. They’ve been doing this everyday for the last couple of months. 

Each morning you’re taken to an interrogation room, where a new avenger is always waiting for you.

“What do you want to talk about today, love?” You ask her, and she pins you down with a hard stare. 

This one lacks patience, but after months of answering the same questions with the truth and nothing but the truth, you do try to spice things up a bit every once and awhile. If only to keep yourself sharp. 

“You do realize that you’re never getting out of here if you don’t give us something, right?” She asks, and you lean back to rest against the back of the chair. 

“What do you want to know?” You ask her, if only to keep the conversation flowing. Every answer that you could have provided, you already have and they must know it too. 

“Who hired you to pick up the suitcase from the airport?”

Oh, the infamous suitcase! 

You knew that job was way too easy to be a good thing. It took you an hour to get it done. Easiest and fastest two million you’ve ever made. 

“I got a text. I told them my fee. I got a deposit and I asked where I needed to take the suitcase. I dropped the suitcase, and that was it.” You recite the same thing that you always recite, and she glares harder.

“You didn’t ask who was hiring you? Or why did they need the suitcase at that building?”

“Rule number one: Don’t ask questions that don’t concern me.” You tell her and her glare intensifies, if that’s even possible. 

“You know that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re an accomplice in a terrorist attack, right?”

That damned suitcase.

“I offer a service. I deliver packages. That’s all I do. Would you call the pizza guy that delivered in the same building before me an accomplice too?”

Her fists glow with dangerous intensity then, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself being pushed against the wall after she hits you with a blast. 

��

You wake up in your cell hours later with a massive headache and every inch of your body hurting, so you quickly close your eyes again. 

You refuse to fully wake up when you’re in this much pain.

…

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of your door being opened, and you sit up slowly. Your hand flies to your side as a stabbing pain makes you wince when you move, and you curse under your breath. 

They’ve never laid a finger on you before, and you wonder if they’re finally about to try to beat the answers out of you, not that you have any.  

“You pissed off the Captain.” A guard shakes his head, a mocking grin on his face as he looks at you. “Aren’t you tired? Just give them what they want.”

“Are you supposed to be talking to me?” You ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders before handing you a fresh towel and a change of clothes. 

“Shower. You’re in for a new session in twenty.”

He leaves and with a lot of trouble, you do as he says.

…

The moment you enter the interrogation room you feel like you might pass out again, which reminds you of your second rule. 

Rule number two: Never fall for someone involved in the deliveries. This rule applies, of course, to the Avengers who apprehended you too. 

“You okay?” Wanda Maximoff asks, as an involuntary groan leaves your lips when you sit down. 

You kind of like it when she’s the one in charge of your interrogation for the day, but today you feel like dying and not fully up to appreciate her company.  

“Of course.” You smile, as you press your hand against your bruised ribs and you struggle to find a comfortable position to sit in. God, you feel like you’re not getting enough air into your lungs. 

“What did Carol do?” She asks you with a frown on her forehead, and you try to smile again. 

She’s attractive even when she’s frowning, which is totally unfair and completely distracting. 

“Broke a few laws, I’m sure.” You can’t breathe properly and you swallow, if only to try to mask the pain you’re currently in. 

“Does anything feel broken? Were you taken to medical?” She asks, as she stands up and you close your eyes. 

“I don’t know.” You answer and when you try to move, the pain that envelops you is so massive that you become dizzy where you sit. 

“Not even a painkiller.” You hear her murmur, before you stop fighting against so much pain and tiredness. 

You fall to the ground, the hit making the pain you were already feeling a hundred times worse. 

Wanda raises her voice and while she rushes to your side, you surrender to the darkness.   

… 

The next time you wake up, you do it in a slightier more comfortable bed than the one in your cell. 

“I didn’t even touch her!” You hear the unmistakable voice of Carol Danvers yell, and you’re tempted to huff, but you know that would only make you cry out in pain. No, she didn’t need to touch you to almost break you. 

“Her ribs are bruised. She passed out because of excruciating pain!” Wanda exclaims back, and you finally open your eyes. 

You’re in the medical-bay and your eyes immediately fall on Wanda’s furious little face. Still attractive, that one. 

“She’s a criminal,” Carol argues and you watch as Wanda’s fists begin to glow red with the midst of her powers. 

“She’s a human being and you crossed a line.” Wanda tells her, and you’re caught staring at her face again. 

She looks positively pissed, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen a woman more beautiful than she is. 

“I agree,” Steve Rogers says as he walks inside the room as well. “Did you notice she’s awake?” He asks, his eyes trained on you. 

“Hey, hi.” You smile and Wanda rushes to your side, or you think that she does. 

God! You feel so woozy and nothing really hurts, and you think that maybe you’re a little bit high on painkillers. Just maybe. 

“How you feeling?” Wanda asks you and you look at her, and you can’t help but---but feel. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur and her eyes widen. “Really, you are.”

She blushes and her eyes show nothing but panic as she looks at Steve, who is smiling goofily before letting out a breath. 

“Painkillers?” He asks, and Wanda nods. 

“Maybe something to help her sleep?” Wanda asks the doctor in the room, and when a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips, you smile back. 

So beautiful. 

…

You wake up with a start and a sharpening pain on your side. You’re in a much different room than the last one. You’re not in your cell, and you’re not in the medical bay either. 

No, this is a much nicer room with a big fluffy bed and a huge flat screen hanging on the wall. 

You’re about to stand up when someone knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” you confusedly call out and the door opens slowly to reveal Wanda on the other side. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” She asks and you nod, still confused. “You should be laying down. Minimal physical effort. Doctor’s orders.”

You nod, now feeling a little suspicious but you take her advice and lay down again. At least you can breathe a bit better now, and the pain isn’t as blinding as it was the last time you woke up. 

“Care to explain?” You ask, as you struggle to grab the blanket. 

“Here, let me.” She takes the blanket, and pulls it over your body before sitting down on the edge of the mattress, close to your legs. 

She’s wearing an oversized light blue sweater that makes her look all kinds of comfy and you’re caught staring at her. 

God! She really is the most adorable superhero ever. The most attractive one too. 

“What Carol did was wrong,” she says and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“I was being an ass. I shouldn’t have provoked her like that. ”

“She crossed a line. We don’t hit people in our interrogation rooms. We don’t torture prisoners. That’s not what we stand for.”

“I’ve been telling you guys the truth from the beginning. I know nothing about the packages I delivered. My lack of interest in the content of those packages is what kept me in business for so long in the first place.”

“I know,” she says it so casually that you instantly become suspicious. “We don’t make it a habit of reading people’s minds either. That being said, I did read yours yesterday when you were unconscious.”

You chuckle nervously, and immediately wince at the slight pain that it shoots through you with the action. If she was in your head---then she knows you’ve been crushing on her for a while now. 

“I only did it because an idea occurred to us and we needed to be sure that you were telling the truth, before we did anything.”

“They call you the Scarlet Witch, y’know?” You tell her, and she grins at you. 

You’re distracted, your mind is still trying to process the fact that she read your mind and she probably knows every single thing about you, and your attraction towards her.

“I know,” she softly says and your eyes stray towards her lips. God! It’s so unfair how attractive she is and how easily she can distract you with just  her face.   

“Natasha has been studying your profile,” she continues. “You do more than just deliver.”

“Natasha Romanoff?” You ask with a start, and she nods. “She’s been studying my profile?” 

Natasha Romanoff is a legend, to put it simply, but she never interrogated you. Not once.  

You’ve admired her since forever, and every single fighting stance that you’ve mastered, you’ve done it because you spent the majority of your free time studying footage of her fights caught on camera. 

“She’s impressed,” Wanda tells you. “She believes that you have potential, and so do I.”

Sometimes trouble follows you and the packages, that’s why you’re always prepared, that’s why you know how to stand you own in a fight. 

“Are you offering me a job?” You ask her jokingly but she doesn’t laugh, instead she gives you a look that leaves you breathless. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“I was a prisoner yesterday.” You remind her and she nods, an open and stupidly alluring grin tugging at her lips. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve been in your head, remember?” She tells you, and you feel your cheeks heating up with a blush. 

“That’s a total violation, y’know?”

“It is and I’m sorry for doing it.” She apologizes, and you frown. 

She’s good. Too good. 

“So you know about my deep desire to quit the delivering world, and join the side of good?”

“I do.” She nods, perhaps amused. 

“And you also know that I’ve been crushing on you since the day we met?”

“About that,” she apologetically starts and you panic. 

“What?”

“You were really high on painkillers, and you might have exposed yourself about that in front of the Captains.”

“What?” You panic and when you rush to move, the pain shooting through you forces you to lay down again. 

“Easy,” she tells you kindly. “For now you just have to focus on getting better. Carol will drop by to apologize. For the record, she was not having a good day that day.”

“Neither were my ribs,” you tell her and she laughs. 

“There will be a meeting when you can leave this bed. A new life awaits you.”

“About the crushing thing?” You ask when she stands up to leave, and the smile she sends your way makes you smile in a daze, because she’s just so beautiful. 

“We can talk about that too when you’re feeling better.”

You’re still smiling after she’s gone. You only had two rules to do your job, and the first one might have ended up saving you from a lifetime in prison, but the second one? You never stood a chance against the second one. 

… 

Feedback is much appreciated. 

[utilitycaster]

As someone who is still learning mechanics and hoping to improve, what would you say makes Travis and Aabria specifically brilliant at them vs storytelling?

So to clarify I think Travis and Aabria are also both excellent storytellers. I was distinguishing them from players like Sam or Ally who are solid but mechanically unexceptional, but are good enough at understanding what makes for a story beat that it doesn't matter. A lot of Sam's credit is for seizing dramatic moments confidently while doing a very reasonable move; a lot of Ally's is for their willingness to bet on a nat 20 at the table; and both of them are good at embracing failure without hesitation.

Travis and Aabria are specifically strong mechanically in terms of being able to optimize a character to be able to do specific things. Laerryn's build is an excellent example: the Eldritch Adept feat with armor of shadows recharges her arcane ward, which along with the tough feat makes her much, well, tougher than your average wizard; she also made spell choices that would specifically give her, as a wizard, a chance against Mage-Slayer Cerrit. Fjord, meanwhile, manages to combine a pretty high dose of utility (disguise/illusion as well as later, healing); damage at pretty much any standard distance (from melee range to eldritch blast range); tanking, particularly while Yasha isn't present and Beau is at lower levels (high CON, half-orc, later the tough feat, armor of agathys) and short-distance teleportation and mobility to truly make him able to deliver a smite no matter where you are on the battlefield.

I also think that while I am a big supporter of being willing to take a small hit to your efficacy or making suboptimal choices in the service of character - which Sam does - Travis and Aabria are very good at marrying beneficial mechanics with character decisions, like Fjord's Mask of Many Faces being emblematic of his whole character arc, or Suvi picking up Inflict Wounds after spending time in the company of Witches.

My point here is very much that a character or player doesn't have to be mechanically brilliant nor complex (and some mechanically good characters do not have a complex build; Keyleth is a great example of that because Circle of the Moon Druid is simply so good that there's not much to add to it) to be a very good D&D player if they understand how to use the mechanics to dramatic effect and are collaborative and generous. Indeed, you should try to be those things first (and Travis and Aabria are) and then complicated, optimized mechanics are just icing on the cake.

[saphronethaleph]

Palpy Had A Bad Day Some Time Ago

“...I see,” the Chancellor said, with a nod. “You’re certain?”

“Fairly sure,” Mara Skywalker replied. “They declared that… there would be no peace with us while we continued to make use of our foul technology, and that we were all infidels as we did not believe in their gods.”

She rolled her arm, wincing. “I lost a few of my men and women getting out of that.”

The Chancellor frowned.

“I understand your loss, Mara,” she said. “Are you injured?”

“Not seriously,” Mara replied. “Do you have further need of me? I haven’t seen my husband or our son in weeks.”

“I’m… afraid we’ll need you for a bit longer, Mara,” Grand Master Windu said. “You’re the one with the most experience with these aliens. The future has been clouded recently… any insight you can give is valuable, even if they are strangely invisible to the Force.”

“All right,” Mara conceded, leaning back, and frowned.

While Mara thought, Chancellor Mothma turned her attention to the others present in the meeting.

“Admiral Pellaeon?” she said. “The status of the Fleet?”

“Could be better,” Pellaeon said, unflinchingly. “The active squadrons are ready, but it’s going to take a few months to activate the Reserve. That’s partly training time for the new recruits we’d need. It would go faster if we called up all the Clone pensioners, though.”

“We are certainly going to call up the pensioners,” Mothma answered. “Unless, that is, the Senate is entirely worse than it has been throughout my entire tenure… the Hutt Wars were less clear-cut than this, by far.”

She glanced up at Mara. “Speaking of which, Mara – do you have any information about their ships?”

“Their ships…” Mara repeated, closing her eyes and focusing.

Everyone present knew what she was doing. It was an old Jedi trick, paying more attention to her own memory, focusing on it as precisely as she could and allowing her to gain information she hadn’t noticed at the time.

“Their fighters are odd,” she said. “No shields, but our shots didn’t connect when they should have done – the laser blasts arced.”

“You were firing?” Fey’lya asked.

“They shot first, if you’re wondering,” Mara replied, dryly. “Firing high temperature objects, stronger than our own fighter guns, and the shields had trouble with the projectiles but I was able to shoot them down as they came in. There was… I think there’s some kind of gravity effect involved, but I don’t have enough information to be sure. But the reports are true – all their technology that we saw is organic.”

“Organic spacecraft?” Pellaeon said.

“Coral, I think,” Mara replied. “Thinking about it now, it looks right, and there was far too much variance within the same squadron for it to be a ship class manufactured in ways we’re used to. As for their larger vessels…”

She went silent again, thinking. “They had several different sizes of ships, and some of them were as much as ten kilometres in diameter – roughly disc shaped. I didn’t get more information than that.”

“Then we’re dealing with a sizeable fleet threat,” Pellaeon said. “Chancellor, this is going to mean more than just a mobilization of the Reserve.”

“I understand,” Mothma agreed, heavily. “And if they have come to invade, they are going to be trying to invade our worlds as well.”

She looked up at the final member of the cabinet. “Marshal?”

Marshal Harek – CC-11380 – nodded to her in reply.

“You’re asking about mobilization, I take it?” he asked, continuing as soon as Mothma had confirmed it. “The recall of pensioned clones is technically a volunteer matter, but all indications I’ve ever seen are that we’ll get back functionally all of them. With ten years of reserve status after a five year career, that means we’re looking at… call it seventeen million, after allowing for losses during service over the last fifteen years.

“Not exactly enough to fight an intergalactic war,” Pellaeon said. “If that is what’s going on.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Harek replied. “It’s what we’ve got among the regular army, though. Chancellor, it is my professional opinion that some kind of nat-born mobilization is needed… if these aliens are targeting the Jedi, then a lot of our manpower is going to be needed keeping them safe.”

“I agree with you,” Mothma agreed. “I do not want to enact conscription. Indeed, I would like to be able to offer all currently serving clones the option of terminating their contracts early. The system is set up with the understanding that clones serve five years in something close to peace.”

“Chancellor… my brothers would see it as an insult,” Harek replied, quietly. “As a formal announcement, anyway. I’ll see about making it quietly known, and there might be a few hundred who take it up, but I wouldn’t expect more than that.”

Mothma nodded, and was silent for a long moment.

“Master Windu?” she asked.

“The Jedi will protect the Republic,” the old Jedi replied. “That has always been the deal.”

“I know,” Mothma said, quietly. “But I remember a time you were nearly destroyed by it.”

“If the loss of the Jedi leads to the survival of the Republic, it’s worth it,” Mara declared. “I certainly hope it wouldn’t, but… how could we place so few sapients over so many worlds?”

Mothma met Mara’s gaze, then closed her eyes in understanding.

“Very well, then,” she said. “Minister Fey’lya? Do you see any issues that would result with a prompt shift to a war footing?”

The bothan frowned, ears twitching as he thought.

“Have we considered the old droid armies?” he asked.

“You’re not suggesting we fight alongside a droid army, are you?” Harek said.

“He has a point,” Mara volunteered. “If you didn’t see it… you don’t realize how much these aliens hate droids.”

Harek made to reply, then stopped himself.

“...I guess,” he conceded, reluctantly. “It just doesn’t feel right, clones fighting alongside droids.”

He glanced at Fey’lya. “And I know you’re planning on using this to get gratitude from the great merchant houses.”

“We need as many troops as possible, as quickly as possible,” Fey’lya said. “We are all part of the Republic… it has been long enough that the high leadership of the great merchant houses was not even born during the Separatist Crisis.”

“And you didn’t deny it,” Harek said, then sighed. “Well, Master Windu – Chancellor – it’s up to you. I’m just a simple soldier.”

“Hardly that, Marshal,” Windu replied, quietly. “I understand your reluctance. In truth, I feel it myself… but this is a war to defend the Republic. If there are measures we will be forced into by war, then if a droid army is the worst I will count myself a happy man.”

“All right,” Mothma decided. “I believe I have a sense of what we will be doing… Borsk, if you could draft a declaration of war and the mobilization acts? Gilad, Marshal, any groundwork you need before the official mobilization – please, begin as soon as possible.”

She sighed. “Master Jedi…”

“I’ll have members of the Jedi Council discuss things with the shipbuilding houses,” Windu said. “While there are limits, Chancellor… we are at your service.”

“Thank you,” Mon Mothma nodded. “And Mara… you should go and see your husband and son. It’s the least I can offer you.”

[ogradyfilm]

Saw this compilation movie (comprising the first few episodes of an upcoming television series) on a whim today and had a blast with it! I certainly wasn’t expecting an alternate timeline twist on the original Mobile Suit Gundam, in which one early divergence propels the plot into a hypothetical future where the space fascists essentially achieved something akin to a Pyrrhic victory—really more of a stalemate that left both sides of the conflict dissatisfied.

Solid premise that deemphasizes the franchise’s political themes without totally discarding them (the scene in which a pair of military police robots carelessly demolish a refugee camp while pursing a fleeing suspect is particularly relevant), a gorgeous art style that elegantly evokes that old school anime aesthetic (with a modern coat of paint) before gradually developing its own visual identity, and fan service that actually feels purposeful and narratively justified (when you get right down to it, the story revolves entirely around what a cool and appealing character Char Aznable is)—this will definitely be a show worth following!

[mareislandfoundation]

Industrial Powerhouse

In the decade prior to 1940, America's shipyards launched only 23 ships. In the five years after 1940, American shipyards launched 4,600 ships. San Francisco Bay Area shipbuilders produced 20 percent of warship tonnage and almost 45 percent of all the cargo shipping tonnage built in the entire nation during World War II. The war lasted 1,365 days. In that span of time Bay Area shipyards built 1,400 vessels--a ship a day, on average. In addition, ships arrived constantly for maintenance and repair, sometimes scheduled, but often battle damaged and in urgent need of repair. This incredible industrial effort depended on a combination of shipyards and workers that had not existed prior to the outbreak of war.

One astounding example was due to the U.S. Maritime Commission’s dire need for cargo ships, San Francisco’s Bechtel Company was approached on March 2, 1942, and asked to propose a new shipyard location that could be operational within a year. Bechtel proposed building a shipyard with 6 building ways in Sausalito and the site was approved on March 12, 10 days later. Six days after that dirt was being blasted and moved to construct what became Marinship. Construction of Liberty ships on the building ways began in parallel with construction of the ways. Keel blocks were added as every foot of the ways was built extending inland from Richardson Bay. Similar feats took place around the San Francisco Bay Area as shipyards sprung up in Alameda, Richmond, Napa, South San Francisco, Oakland, and Antioch, while at the same time Mare Island and Hunters Point Naval Shipyard facilities doubled and tripled in size.

Tens of thousands of workers of every type were required to support the construction and repair activities resulting in a huge influx of workers from around the country. That workforce overwhelmed the existing housing stock in the Bay Area. In 1942 Mare Island officials decried the fact that workers were quitting as fast as new ones could be hired to due to the lack of housing. Federal agencies and local governments mobilized and together found innovative ways to rapidly create the housing needed for the burgeoning workforce. Those agencies accomplished so much so fast because of unprecedented cooperation amongst them, readily available funds and the dearth of regulation.

San Francisco grew from a city of 634,000 residents in 1940 to 774,821 by 1950. In Contra Costa County, the little towns of Walnut Creek, Orinda and Concord saw their populations double, then double again. In Vallejo housing units were constructed by the Public Buildings Administration, the Farm Security Administration, and the newly formed Vallejo Housing Authority. Incredibly, during a time of war and scarce personnel and construction resources, housing developments in Vallejo were generally completed within 6 months of contract award and would eventually provide housing for over 27,000 people. But even that was not enough, Mare Island Naval Shipyard's workforce had swollen to over 40,000 workers that simply could not all be housed within Vallejo. That problem was solved with an around-the-clock bus Service that brought 14,000 workers to and from Mare Island from as much as 75 miles away 7 days a week. Those buses would travel the equivalent distance of the circumference of the earth every day.

The enabler for this incredible productivity was the existence of total war involving the entire economic, industrial, and scientific capabilities of our country. That threat to our freedom created a unity our nation had never experienced before or since. The San Francisco Bay Area with its over 30 shipyards, large and small, and scores of machine shops, and metal and wood fabricators joined together to create the world's largest combined shipbuilding complex. In all, 244,000 people worked in Bay Area shipyards and prefabricated components were shipped by rail to Mare Island Naval Shipyard from construction shops across the nation. The output from San Francisco Bay Area joined the stream of material pouring out of shipyards and factories throughout the country providing the force behind Franklin Roosevelt’s use of the slogan “America as the Great Arsenal of Democracy.” This was all accomplished with no satellites, no internet, no computers, and no cell phones.

Dennis Kelly

[technicontrastron]

This may sound stupid but how do I turn off blazeable on my blogs?

And how is this bad? Again, I don't wanna sound stupid or rude. Thank you for the heads up :]

Hi! No worries, you're not the only one with these questions.

On how to turn off the option to get blazed:

On desktop you can turn it off at this link: https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/#blaze It looks something like this

On mobile it's in the account settings menu, there's a lof of screenshots in the additions to my other post like here (i haven't updated since i got a funny little bug that lets me add polls in reblogs of other people's posts so i can't screenshot anything).

Alternatively you can also log into Tumblr in your phone's browser and use the link above there. Don't forget to do it on sideblogs that you don't want to get blazed as well! You can also change the settings per-post in the post menu. I've actually enabled it for my complaint post that's circulating because it would be really funny :D

On how it is bad:

With the way it is set up, people can blaze your posts without active consent. This can be used to bully people, by digging out old or not-adapted posts that were not meant for a wider audience and putting them on blast. This can include vent posts, opinions you might have changed since then, selfies, niche things many people might think are cringe (like 2014 self-insert omegaverse fanfics and the likes ... idk if you've seen the drama that resulted from someone blazing their fic, it wasn't pretty), posts that were only meant to circulate in your carefully curated audience, and more.

Since Blaze's are registered in many minds as advertisement many people will react negatively to them so this opens up a way to bully a lot of people. As usual, people of colour, trans people, and other vulnerable groups will get the worst of it, many are already getting deactivated regularly because of coordinated reporting harassment and since people donate hate organizations all the time they will definitely use the option to make the life of a person they're targeting living hell for 10$.

Staff thought of some safeguards but there are several fallacies:

The option to cancel a blaze before it goes live: Not everyone has access to the internet every day, and staff might accept the blaze while you're asleep / at work / on a trip / in the hospital / on hiatus. Then when you're coming back to tumblr your notes will have turned into a nightmare.

The guarantee that staff will check every Blaze manually to prevent harassment: Let's take the case in which someone's old fic get blazed against their will. How can staff know whether it was blazed with friendly intent (to promote a friend's work) or ill intent (to get people to point and laugh)? They can't as long as it's not against the Terms of Service. In general there will be many false positives (Blazes that get rejected by staff despite being innocent) and false negatives (Blazes that get accepted by staff despite being malicious). After all, the people working at tumblr are only human too. But in this case, false negatives will have devastating consequences - and extinguishing a blaze after it's live will be too late.

Many people don't follow @staff, so many people don't know about this change. In fact many people on that other post commented that they didn't know what Blazes are at all! I think i've read that they will add a login banner to tell you and check your settings, but iirc they had banners like that for the original Blaze function announcement so i don't have faith this will prevent anything.

I should clarify that i don't think the feature itself is bad at all, but it should be opt-in so only people who want to participate get blazed (e.g. art blogs). Or add an active mandatory confirmation by OP instead of a veto option, this would prevent the issues above as well, i think that would be the best option - that way people could leave the option on. I know staff are currently getting bombarded with support requests / flames (please be civil to them guys!) (also sorry. but not sorry. i didn't expect my post to blow up but also i think these are legitimately troubling concerns and i won't make the other post unrebloggable). They're aware of these issues so i hope they will change to one of these options - if they add active mandatory confirmation by OP i would enable to option globally as well (Hint hint this means more money for you, @tumblr, because otherwise many people have and will turn this feature off completely) A bit more time between announcement and go-live (4/20 iirc) would have been helpful as well.

Here's the original announcement by the way:

And since i'm gonna pin the post as long as the other post is circulating: Listen to goatbed guys!

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[cerastes]

Brothels should advertise like garbage mobile games do.

If I’m walking out on the street and passing by a brothel and a scantily clad bodacious dame of the night blasted out of the wall while blocking the fist of a massive adversary, locked eyes with me, reached out invitingly with her hand, conveniently posing in a way that reveals her boobs and ass at the same time at the cost of her spine, and yelled “we are under FUCKING attack”, yeah, I would defeat mighty foes alongside her and then peruse the brothel’s services as manner of celebration. It’s money they are just leaving on the table.

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[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 33

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Are you here to do what they cannot?”

AO3

The elevator came to a rolling stop, and the door parted to reveal a large tunnel ahead, chiseled out of the surrounding bedrock. Hanging fluorescents lit the way, bracketed by pipes and wires that must lead to a separate power generator and cooling systems. You were so far beneath the facility that it had to be isolated from the site’s power and water grid.

A squad of five soldiers waited once the doors parted, and they weren’t any standard security you’d ever seen. In fact, upon looking closer, you saw the Mobile Task Force logo etched into the arm bands of their uniforms.

What was the MTF doing here? Their whole purpose, their advantage, was mobilization to where they were needed, but you’d never heard of them being kept on-site before.

The Site Director offered no commentary or explanation, simply gave a nod, and the Site-20 guards handed you off to the MTFs. They were ridiculously overpowered in their tactical suits compared to your knee-length nightgown, of which did you no service in keeping you warm so deep underground.

Walking no more than five minutes, your group arrived at a massive door at least 10 meters tall, thick enough to sustain a bomb blast by the looks of it. But what drew your eye was a familiar face, already there to greet you.

“I don’t recall inviting you, Amin,” Leahy drawled. Dr. Puli stood straighter, his frown the most severe you’ve seen it yet.

“This isn’t right, Geoff. I must protest.”

“Noted.”

“When the O5 Council learns what you’re doing—”

“Who do you think authorized this project?”

Dr. Puli’s eyes widened, glancing between you and the Site Director, but his jaw clenched into a stubborn hold.

“They would never allow this.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have the clearance level to know for certain.” Leahy motioned his head down the tunnel, back the way you’d came. “Now, are you going to retreat with your tail between your legs? Or are you going to stay, because despite your weak objections, you wish to know what will happen just as much as I do.”

Dr. Puli met Leahy’s stare, the Site Director’s without any warmth behind his rimmed glasses. Your former boss lost the test of wills, stepping aside and sending you a quick glance before looking away.

Leahy scoffed, taking your arm as he pulled you forward.

“Despite being a psychologist, you’re as predictable as anyone else.”

Leahy walked to a panel and retrieved something from his pocket: a flat, rectangular object, its surface solid black but thicker than a typical keycard, and inserted in into a card reader.

“Open it.” The Site Director gave the order to a technical engineer at a console, and he worked the controls, the massive door sliding upwards at his command. Beyond was a catwalk, leading into darkness so black it seemed to be the end of the known universe.

Leahy wasted no time, pushing you forward before letting go.

“Walk.”

Your feet remained glued to the ground, your legs trembling and refusing to budge.

Leahy went to the console and pulled out what looked like a handheld microphone, the kind that belonged to CB radios. He instructed the engineer which channel to dial before he clicked the microphone on.

“049 containment team? Over.”

A small, tinny voice replied, but it was loud enough for all to hear.

“Standing by. Over.”

“Are you prepared to move the SCP into permanent containment? Over.”

“Affirmative, over.”

Leahy stared at you, not needing to say anything more than that. He had you trapped, and it disgusted you that he knew you well enough to know it would work. You wouldn’t let 049 be punished because the Site Director was a sadist, and you could only hope that if this last test killed you, Leahy would lose interest in 049. Maybe, he would move on when his shiny toy was broken, leaving 049 in peace while he found some new victim to torment.

You turned back to the black void and walked forward. Moving past the door, you stopped and half-turned when it began to slide shut behind you.

“What am I supposed to do!” you yelled to be heard over the humming gears.

“Make physical contact with the anomaly!”

“What else!”

Leahy said nothing, even though he had time before the bottom of the door touch the ground, sealing you inside with a final loud series of locks sliding into place.

Your breathing was too loud in the open space, straining to see in the pitch dark, searching so hard that you flinched when the catwalk lit beneath your feet. Walking lights lined the suspended pathway, revealing you weren’t suspended over nothingness. The bottom curve of the tunnel was roughly ten feet below you, but the ceiling was still high overhead. It didn’t bode well why the Foundation needed such a large tunnel for whatever they were keeping here.

With nothing else to do, you moved forward, guessing that Leahy had some method of monitoring your progress. The tunnel was too large to spot any cameras or other equipment, so you kept going, illuminated by the lights stretching out ahead of you, like a runway guiding your path to take flight.

If only you could.

The rock walls had vanished, though you couldn’t pinpoint when, replaced by rectangular, metallic panels curving around the tunnel, leaving you with the impression you were walking inside a giant conductor of some kind. A low humming noise came from ahead of you, and the hairs on your body stood upright.

The catwalk ended in darkness, and as you approached the last few remaining steps, lights flashed on overhead, forcing you to shield your eyes. When you lowered your hand and opened your eyes, you couldn’t understand what you were seeing. The rectangular panels of the round room were raised and aimed at the center, like an array of solar panels, but they were aimed at no sun. Lit in the middle of the room, illuminated by focused spotlights and hovering in the air, was what had to be the anomaly.

It was a writhing, shifting mass of flesh with a spherical shape, constantly moving and turning. At first, it would coalesce into something that resembled a face, though the muzzle was long and filled with teeth, and then it would disappear again into a twisting mess that hurt the mind to comprehend.

And then you realized it wasn’t shifting; the mass was turning itself inside out, over and over. The muzzle appeared again, and this time, it spoke.

“Have the apes finally found a way to end me?”

You went back a step, halfway raising your hands as if to block out the bone-jarring voice.

“Are you here to do what they cannot?”

Fighting down the bile that threatened to rise in your throat, you stared at the mass and concentrated on the features before they could disappear. A long snout, a greenish mane, and grey scales.

“682?”

The SCP rumbled an affirmation that rattled the panels on the wall.

“But… that’s not possible,” you choked. “You were labeled as neutralized after the Site-19 breach.”

682 rumbled again, this time it was closer to a threatening growl. You took another step backwards.

“I am trapped here… in a constant state of eternal agony, unable to prevent my bones from twisting and my flesh from boiling. This… is as close to neutralized as humanity can achieve.”

Even without any eyes at any given moment, the accusation of his gaze was hot on your skin.

“Though, perhaps that has changed, and my torment will be finished. Come. End it.”

You could only stare at the horrific thing that used to be 682.

“I don’t… understand.”

“What is there to not understand?”

“What did they do to you?”

Though you’d never seen 682 in person, you’d seen photos and video footage. The reptilian anomaly could change his size and composition to fit his environment, but this was something else.

682 was silent, though you could swear you heard… or felt echoes of its screams of agony, especially the longer you were in his presence.

“The humans managed to trap me within another entity,” 682 said, his words dragging out as if with reluctance. “A singularity the size of a speck, but capable of consuming my body just as quickly as I can regenerate. I do not think they meant this room to be my new cell, but per their fashion, the apes can do nothing right. I cannot die, but perhaps for the first time, I wish I could.”

The Hard-to-Destroy Reptile was no longer the menacing, humanity-hating entity he had once been, and you actually felt sorry for him. With how many times he had tried to escape, and how many lives he’d taken, it wasn’t a mystery why Leahy wanted you here, to touch the SCP and stop his healing regeneration and adaptive capabilities.

He wanted you to kill 682 permanently.

“What are you waiting for?” the reptile snarled, his teeth bared for the brief moment his muzzle appeared. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, needing to stall for time, time to think.

“How do you know what I can do to SCPs?”

The monstrous reptile gave an offended snort.

“Even without your Site Director trotting you out like a prized hound, I know you. I would know you anywhere.”

Coincidentally, or to prove his point, one large, slitted eye gazed down on you, malice held in those yellow depths.

“You were sent to do their bidding. I make no illusions, and neither should you. Now, do it. Destroy me.”

“I…” Your mouth was dry. “…I can’t. I can’t kill you.”

682’s roar sent you scrambling backwards, the panels trembling in their positions as bits of dust drifted down from the rounded ceiling.

“Foolish, naïve child! Believing you still make your own choices because you are blind to the leash around your neck! You do not understand your own nature, your ignorance will be an instrument used at their whim. A beast set upon your masters’ enemies!”

682 writhed faster, snarling and biting at the air, his claws lashing at nothing only to disappear inside his twisted body.

“And you dare tote yourself as something better than us, absolving yourself of death even as blood stains your hands. And there will be blood, so much of it. When the leash tightens into a noose, that is when you will be the most dangerous. Your masters are not as foolish as you are. Perhaps, even now, they are building the walls of your containment.”

Your limbs wouldn’t stop shaking; you wanted to run from this horrible place, from the impossible nightmare scene in front of you, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“I don’t… don’t understand. What I am, what you th-think I am. But this is… this is wrong. Cruel.”

“You cannot be cruel to a thing.”

The words were so similar to Leahy’s opinion about 049 that you didn’t doubt he’d said them to 682. You would never understand how a man who despised SCPs had risen to the rank of Site Director.

Another rumble echoed from the twisting mass, this one laden with heaviness.

“If you will not end my suffering, then get out of my sight. I have little use for something like you, clearly in the early stages of infancy. Perhaps with time you would grow to what is needed, but time… is what we both lack.”

You began to back away, your hands no longer curled next to your head but now pressed against your chest.

“I… I don’t know what to do for you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re… sorry?”

The writhing mass twirling and focused on you, pulsing faster.

“I experience a lifetime of suffering within the span of a single moment, and you’re sorry?”

682 roared, and for a moment, his head formed out of the grotesque sphere, cohesive and baring his ancient teeth.

“Your apologies are poison! More insidious than their lies! Make your apologies to 079, and then perhaps your words will amount to more than useless noise!”

The face disappeared back into the mass, giving one last agonizing scream that followed close at your heels as you sprinted back down the catwalk. You slipped and stumbled, your hospital shoes not affording much traction against the surface, but you didn’t stop running until you reached the vaulted door. Trying to catch your breath, you hunched over and braced against your knees, your eyes burning as you alternated between gasping and retching.

They must have known you were there; the door began its arduous slide upwards, guards spilling through the open walkway, half of them aiming their guns at you, the other half moving past you to set their sights down the catwalk. Nothing had followed you, but they clearly weren’t taking any chances.

“Well?”

You raised your head, neck craning as your palms remained on your knees.

“Status report?” Leahy prompted when you didn’t answer.

You wanted to tell him where to show his status report, but instead you said, “It didn’t work.”

Leahy frowned, glancing over you back down the catwalk where you’d come. The MTF no longer had their guns raised, but they weren’t at ease by any means.

“Explain.”

You slowly straightened your spine and stared at him. Your usual mixture of hate and disgust was there, but fear swam under the surface. You wanted to believe that Leahy hadn’t meant to trap 682 in an eternal cycle of suffering, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it either. You were beginning to realize you’d underestimated his capacity for cruel violence.

“I touched him, and nothing happened.”

“The lizard still lives?”

You didn’t bother to correct him that lizards and reptiles weren’t interchangeable terms. All you said was, “Yes.”

Leahy brought up his tablet, swiping over its surface with a frown.

“Disappointing.”

Pressing your lips together, you kept at bay the pleas you wanted to make on behalf of 049, for Leahy not to punish him for your failure. But he didn’t call on 049’s containment team, nor did he make any threats. He merely nodded at the MTF soldiers, and they grabbed you by the arms and led you back down the tunnel.

You looked over your shoulder and watched as the massive door slid into place.

Next Chapter