#National Park Service Tactics

[alleycatallies]

Alley Cat Allies Achieves a Victory in Court, Exposing National Park Service's Underhanded Tactics

SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO: Alley Cat Allies, the leader of the global movement to protect cats and kittens, has achieved a critical legal victory against the National Park Service (NPS) and its plan to eradicate cats from Puerto Rico’s San Juan National Historic Site. The United States District Court for the District of Columbia has denied the NPS’ attempt to transfer the Alley Cat Allies lawsuit to a court in Puerto Rico.

After this failed maneuver, the NPS is now hastening the implementation of its brutal plan before the court can determine its legality. It plans to round up cats on the historic site starting October 1, 2024.

“The NPS tried to delay by transferring the case and, now that the court has seen through its tactic, is acting in bad faith by moving forward in a rush,” said Yonaton Aronoff, a lawyer representing Alley Cat Allies. “Alley Cat Allies insists that the NPS cease any further steps in its deadly plan against Puerto Rico’s cats or we will seek appropriate relief.”

Alley Cat Allies argues that the NPS’s eradication plan violates the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) and is arbitrary and capricious under the Administrative Procedure Act (APA).

The plan, which includes trapping, removing, and “euthanizing” cats, is cruel and ineffective. Removing the cats creates a vacuum, which cats living in San Juan will quickly move into the historic site to fill. The NPS is only setting itself up for an endless cycle of killing rather than supporting humane, effective approaches like Trap-Neuter-Return (TNR).

The court’s decision is an important step forward, and Alley Cat Allies remains committed to holding the NPS accountable and protecting Puerto Rico’s community cats.

The people of Puerto Rico have voiced their opposition to the NPS plan. They, and Alley Cat Allies, recognize the threatened cats as community members who are woven into Puerto Rican culture and history. We call on the NPS to immediately halt its cruel plan and engage in a transparent, accountable process that respects the law, the lives of the cats, and the community’s wishes. Alley Cat Allies will not stop fighting until it does.

About Alley Cat Allies

Alley Cat Allies believes every cat deserves to live out his or her life to the fullest.

Founded in 1990, Alley Cat Allies is the leading advocacy organization for cats with a mission to transform and develop communities to protect and improve the lives of all cats and kittens. Together with our over 1.4 million supporters, we work toward a world where cats are valued and every community has humane and effective programs and policies to defend them.

Through our fearless advocacy, humane care, education and outreach, and law and policy activism, we empower and mobilize citizens, advocates, grassroots groups, shelters, veterinary professionals, and elected officials across the United States and around the world to improve their communities for cats through nonlethal, evidence-based approaches. Our website is www.alleycat.org, and we are active on Facebook, X (Twitter), Instagram, LinkedIn and YouTube.

Content source: https://www.alleycat.org/alley-cat-allies-achieves-a-victory-in-court-exposing-national-park-services-underhanded-tactics/

[darkworkcourier]

You’re doing Ghost!! Can I request an exercise in sharing body heat in cold conditions that turns into *other* forms of exercise? Preferably a non-military female reader if that tickles your fancy. So excited to see you back on tumblr, I loved your RDR2 and FC5 work back in the day 💕💕💕

Hi yes I’d like to apologize that this tiny prompt turned into EIGHT THOUSAND WORDS OF PORN OH GOD

(Also, try and find all the Far Cry 5 references. :3c As a thank you for hanging out with me all this time!)

Reader works for the National Park Service and gets pulled into a mission involving guiding Ghost to go after a (wink) paramilitary organization in (WINK WINK) Montana. Things go awry.

---

“Piss poor excuse for a shortcut, Ranger,” Ghost says to your back.

Your mid-back, actually, since you’re about two feet above him on the hillside which is way steeper than you remember. You could have sworn there was a trail cut through here, or maybe that was a half mile down the ridge, or maybe— Maybe it’s good to not second guess it when you think Ghost’s about a full thirty seconds from ditching you and going off on his own.

“You wanna get shot at?” you ask over your shoulder, voice slightly muffled in your scarf. “Because if you took the main road, that’s what you’d get.”

“I would do just fine,” he replies dryly.

Right, he’s got a tactical vest on. You have a down jacket that would just make for a really interesting display of flying feathers if you got shot. The best defense you have is the handgun he gave you for protection, and a Park Service badge that would elevate the threat of killing a federal employee. Not that Ghost’s targets would care, but it makes you feel better.

The two of you trudge through waist-deep snow, thick even on the incline. You’re practiced enough with winter weather hiking to approach it fairly spryly, but you’re also not lugging an incredible about of gear like he is.

“It’s not that far, anyway,” you tell him, just to make conversation. “It’s this ridge, then the Beaver Dam River, and then the lookout tower.”

“Real walk in the park,” he replies.

“Literally,” you say brightly.

His grunt isn’t very amused.

The biggest problem is the cold. It’s northern Montana in the depths of winter, and every shrieking sickle of wind that cuts through the mountains physically hurts. You’re prepared enough for the temperature drop, but you worry more about what happens after dark, when it goes from tolerable to goddamn polar. If it wasn’t vital for you to be out here, you would have stayed in.

For lack of anything better to do as you finish ascending the ridge, you think on the whole situation. A paramilitary extremist group hiding out in the mountains, some multinational task force you’d never heard of swooping into the park, and you getting swept up into it all and taken on as a guide. It sounds like something straight out of an action movie, but here you are and there Ghost is.

Hell, even his name and whole look makes the reality of all this seem that much out of pocket. He’s dressed in winter tactical gear, white and gray mottled camo, hood pulled down low over the skull-plated balaclava that you’re fairly sure he never takes off. He blends in with his surroundings, but at the same time, he really sticks out.

You get to the top of the ridge, pausing for a moment to take in your surroundings. Sure enough, by your reckoning, you’re about a quarter mile off from the actual trail. It’s easy to remedy, leading Ghost down the relatively level ridge to where the trail appears as a shallow divot in the snow.

Of course, he points it out.

“Got lost, did we?”

You roll your eyes. “Not lost,” you correct. “Just slightly askew on the directions. Everything looks the same in the snow.”

“Thought you knew this place like the back of your hand.”

“I do,” you say, stepping down onto the trail and grimacing when the snow goes up to your hips. Ghost is so damn huge that it probably barely goes over his knees, but you don’t turn around to look. “And I wasn’t too far off!”

“Slightly off is still off,” he retorts.

You really wish they would have sent the nice, happy Scottish guy with you instead.

Once you clear the ridge’s treeline, you see the lookout tower poking above the trees straight ahead of you. Grinning, you point it out to Ghost.

“Affirmative, Ranger. I see it.”

“You can just say ‘yes’.”

You can hear him sigh, and then, “Yes,” said like he’s punching the word out of the air.

The trail crosses over the river, cutting through at its shallowest section for this part of the park. The only problem is that the Beaver Dam River doesn’t freeze, so there’s a very real risk of soaking through your boots and defeating the purpose of having moisture-wicking socks. With any luck, you’ll have some downed trees or rocks to cross over, and the river won’t be too high.

That’s with any luck; the opposite being the luck you currently have, as the river’s clearer than you’ve ever seen it once you reach it. You hiss out a curse under your breath, glancing up and down the banks to see if there’s any easier way to cross.

Nada.

“Shit,” you mutter.

“What’s shit?”

“River’s clear, but it’s... well, it’s fuckin’ cold is what it is,” you say, watching the glacially-fed water happily rush by you.

He shrugs. “Looks shallow enough.”

“It is, except—” You look down at your boots, cringing at the thought of all the fun ways water can get in them.

Beside you, Ghost looks down at them as well. “They’re not waterproof?”

“They are, but probably not for walking through a river.”

“Jesus,” he murmurs, then steps right into the water. You see it course around his ankles, protected by his thick boots that probably cost more than a month of rent back home. Once he’s on the other side, he turns back to you, dark eyes peering out through his mask, making him look like a bizarre death motif hanging out on the banks of a very chilly River Styx.

“Damn it,” you hiss. You’ll have to be quick, not settling long enough for the water to leach into your boots and socks.

It’s probably comical to Ghost to watch you hopping across the river, up until your boot hits something—loose gravel, a slimy rock, or just a pocket of underwater bad luck. Whatever it is, it sends you right on your ass and into the water. The only good thing is that it’s not deep, but that does shit to negate the cold shock that knocks the wind right out of you. Cold pierces right through your clothes, hitting your skin like dozens of tiny knives. You gasp first, then yelp, and finally scramble out of the water and right into Ghost’s arms.

To be fair, in the shock, you didn’t see his sudden movement toward you, so you yelp again—right into his ear—when he scoops you up. His head jerks back, but he holds you steady regardless.

“Jesus fuck!” you gasp, already shivering hard. Parts of you are too numb to register on your brain’s running docket of limbs and appendages, but others hurt like shit.

“You okay?” Ghost asks, sounding a little breathless. His hands are on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Great question; you don’t have a good answer. You nod, but you’re pretty sure the uncontrollable shivering is telling another story.

“Let’s get you to that tower,” he says. His voice takes on the command form you only heard back when you sat in on the task force’s meeting. It’s solid, and strangely comforting to hear him take charge. “Sooner we’re inside, the better.”

“C-couldn’t agree m-m-more,” you manage, crossing your arms and digging your hands into your armpits.

Ghost takes the lead up the trail, which is good because your legs feel pretty damn numb. You don’t think it’s frostbite yet, but you know that’s a very real risk, especially as the clouds overhead start to darken with the oncoming evening. Because of the tower’s high perch, the trail snakes back and forth up the hill—a half hour’s walk in good weather and a steady pace, but longer in your state.

Ghost’s surprisingly patient, purposefully slowing his pace so you can keep up. He looks over his shoulder again and again, like he’s making sure you’re still there and not face-down in a snowbank. On your end, you keep your eyes fixed on his backpack, determined to keep it in your sight.

Halfway up the hill, Ghost decides to change tactics. He stops, shouldering off his backpack, then handing it to you. “Put it on,” he says. “Then get on my back.”

“What?”

“Just do as I say,” he says, brooking no argument in his tone. “It’ll be faster.”

You put on the backpack, not surprised that it weighs a metric ton. At the same time, your vision swims a little, dark shapes appearing in your vision before fizzling out like little firecrackers.

Oh, we’re in trouble, you think.

Ghost makes sure the backpack’s secure before turning around and going down on a knee to give you space to climb up. Non-hypothermic you would find this a great opportunity to make a down-on-one-knee joke, but you’re way too fucking cold to do much more than shiver and hang on to him for dear life. His hands go to the back of your thighs, supporting you while you cling to his neck, pressing your face into the back of his coat.

“You good?”

You nod.

“Need a verbal confirmation, Ranger,” he says, not without a hint of humor.

You manage a stifled, shuddering laugh and say, “Yep.”

“Good enough.”

He carries you up the hill, the incline steep enough to make the backpack feel heavier somehow. You don’t know how he’s managing it as well as he is, except for whatever freakish training they probably do in England. In your swimming, dizzy mind, you imagine Ghost hoisting crates of tea over his head, and that sends you into a giggling fit.

“What’s so funny back there?” he asks. However, you can’t miss the sliver of concern in his voice.

“H-how d’you train in Eng-g-gland?” you ask, the middle syllable briefly caught in the back of your throat.

“How do I what?”

“B-back where-e-ever you come f-from-m-m,” you say, shivering harder even though you can feel his body heat close to your core. “W-what do th-they make you d-d-do?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and all you hear are his boots crunching in the snow and the wind snapping through the trees around you.

“Vigorous biscuit lifts,” he says.

You snort against his coat, and then cling tighter, feeling your limbs prickle in the cold.

You’re silent the rest of the way up the hill, shivering and sniffling as Ghost carries you. Finally, you reach the top, and you glance up to see the lookout tower’s staircase which until now has never looked so fucking tall.

“Sh-shit,” you say.

“Just hang on,” Ghost says. “You’ll be fine.”

“N-n-no, I th-thought I’d l-l-let go,” you joke, but your arms do feel like they’re going to fall off, and you’re starting to lose feeling in your fingertips.

He grunts and adjusts his hold on your thighs, then starts the ascent up the stairs. You really do have to wonder about his physical training regimen, because you’re pretty sure you’d be dead before you reached the top in your state. He’s only panting, breaths coming out in thin clouds in front of his balaclava.

“S’it locked?” he asks.

“No.”

“Good,” he says, letting you down onto your numb feet so he can open the door. He goes in first, hand close to his thigh holster, quickly scoping the single room before letting you in. "Clear.”

Your steps waver a little as you walk in, then quickly fall onto the bed without much ceremony. You’re a shivering mess, every part of you that you can still feel trembling with the cold. It’s not much warmer in the tower, but at least the wind’s blocked out. Ghost walks over and helps you shoulder off the pack, then leaves your line of site, his presence indicated by heavy footsteps, the sound of the backpack’s zipper being opened, and then soft clanking and thumping.

Your consciousness wavers on a very dangerous precipice, and you know you really need to get out of your wet clothes. You’re not at the paradoxical undressing stage of hypothermia, which is a good sign. But that also means you have no strong desire to strip, either.

Somewhere in your half-doze, you hear Ghost working on the potbelly stove, opening it on its whiny hinges, loading its gullet with wood left over from the last restock, then striking a match. It doesn’t take long to hear the throaty crackle of burning wood, and that’s a comfort in of itself.

Ghost is back at your side, gently shaking your shoulder. “Hey, Ranger,” he says. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“Mmn,” is your best response, and not a particularly eloquent one.

“C’mon,” he presses, then manhandles you up into a sitting position. Your muscles give a pretty passionate protest, and you blink wearily up at him as he helps you take off your gloves, then unzips your jacket. His eyes flicker up to yours, assessing you. “You still with me?”

You nod, lifting your stiff arms for him to help you out of your sleeves.

“You know the signs of hypothermia, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut as a fresh rush of pins and needles goes down your right arm.

“Alright, let me know if any of ‘em get worse.” He drops your coat in front of the stove, then gestures to your half-soaked sweater. “Can you get that off by yourself?”

You nod again, then start the suddenly grueling work of getting out of it. It’s heavy wool, designed specifically to be as thick and warm as possible. That also means that it’s a bitch to get out of when your arms feel like cooked pasta. Still, Ghost’s already doing a lot for you, so the least you can do is prove that you’re better at a toddler than taking your clothes off.

Oh. Yeah, there’s that. You’re taking your clothes off in front of Ghost. That’s a whole thing to parse through.

But you manage to get out of the sweater, and that’s a victory. You drop it next to the bed, then start undoing the laces on your boots, fingers fumbling the whole time.

“Need help?” Ghost asks.

You look up at him, and then feel a very welcome heat rush to your face.

He’s ditched his coat on a chair next to the stove, tactical vest laid aside on the lookout’s desk. He’s down to a skin-tight black long-sleeved shirt that does wonders in showing off his musculature, and his hand are— Holy shit, he’s undoing his belt.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you ask. Bonus points for you that you’re not shivering as hard. Lack of bonus points that you’re openly ogling the lieutenant like he’s a prime beef steak (and he is).

He gestures back to you, one boot off, the other half-undone. “Getting undressed,” he says very plainly. “Fastest way to warm you up. You know that.”

You do, is the problem. It’s in every survival manual you’ve read and every class you’ve taken for your job. At the same time, it’s in at least four romance novels you’ve perused. And you’ve spent nearly four full months without coming into contact with any human being for more than an hour at a time; getting naked with a gigantic, musclebound man nearly sends your addled brain into a tailspin.

You quickly undo the other boot, trying to will your hands to stop shaking.

This isn’t the time to get shy, especially as your limbs ache in new and profound ways and you feel like you’re never going to be warm again.

The boot comes off, then you peel your wet socks off and drop them on the floor with a very telling plap sound. Your feet prickle and ache as the chilled air hits them and your shivering renews in spades. The faster you get undressed and under any kind of cover, the better it is for both of you.

Snow pants go next, then your work pants, until you’re down to a t-shirt and long underwear.

And Ghost is—

Fuck.

If there was any blood left in your suffering arms and legs, it must redirect right up to your face, making your head swim in a whole new body of water. Ghost’s stripped down to his boxers and (of course) his balaclava. His back’s to you, but that means it’s on full display as he puts all of his clothing in a semi-neat pile. When he turns back to you, you see his eyes widen a little as he lifts his brows.

“Still wearing too much, Ranger,” he states.

You know that, but there’s a pretty firm disconnect somewhere in your synapses, body firmly resisting any higher command to do literally anything useful.

He seems to register that issue, because he’s at your side in an instant, tugging on the hem of your t-shirt to help you out of it. You squawk in surprise, almost falling back onto the bed. 

If you could read masked expressions a bit better, you might think he’s amused.

“I— I can d-do it m-m-myself,” you stutter out. Fighting down any urge to be bashful in a survival situation, you get out of your t-shirt, then maneuver yourself enough to take off your long johns. At the end, you’re down to just a sports bra and panties. Pointedly, you don’t look up to see Ghost’s reaction.

“Take this side of the bed,” he says, gesturing to the edge you’re sitting on. “It’s closer to the stove.”

You do so, feeling him get on the bed and go over to the far side closest to the window. He pulls up the blanket and quilt, then slips underneath them before holding them up for you.

With your back to him, you lay on your side and shimmy under the cold blankets. Behind you, Ghost grunts in what sounds like irritation.

“Turn around,” he says. 

You swallow hard, worrying that he’d say that. Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. Or, rather, face his chest, which is alarmingly close. And it’s a good chest, all muscle-y and firm, with a fine dusting of light blond hairs on his pectorals. When you look up, he’s still wearing that balaclava. You squint at him.

“H-how come y-y-you’re still wearing th-that?”

“Doesn’t come off, Ranger,” he states, although the corners of his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling.

“Ever?”

“Affirmative.”

You groan and lean your head forward until it touches one of his collarbones. “Just s-say yes-s,” you complain.

He actually laughs this time, a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest, before you feel his arm wrap around you, pulling him close to him. It’s startling, and damn embarrassing, but you definitely can’t argue with the results. Almost immediately, his body heat seeps into your skin, first warming your hands pressed in between your chests. One of his feet brushes over one of yours, causing you to jump, and then settle with your eyes squeezed shut in mortification.

But that mortification gives way to blissful comfort as everything warms up. The stove radiates heat as the wood crackles and shifts, and Ghost is a stove in himself. The little space beneath the blankets is a pocket of glorious heat, and you start to feel the ache in your limbs recede and your head clear of its chilly fog.

You don’t know how long it is before he speaks again, but his voice comes in close to your ear. “You doing alright, Ranger?”

You’re relaxed enough that you nod and smile with your eyes closed. “Yeah,” you say.

“You ever do this in survival training?”

You scrunch up your nose a little. “I read about it. We never actually practiced stripping down and cuddling.”

He snorts. “It’s not cuddling.”

You crack open an eye, looking up into his greasepaint-ringed gaze. Feeling emboldened by the fact you can feel your arms and legs and nothing hurts, you gently shove his chest. “What do you call this, lieutenant?”

“Hypothermia prevention.”

You roll your eyes. “Just say it’s cuddling. It’s easier. Less syllables.”

He doesn’t say a word.

Before long, the crackling of the fire and Ghost’s steady breathing lull you into a doze. You go in and out of sleep, deeper and deeper as the sky darkens outside and causes the fire to make strange shadows around the room. You wake once to find your arm around Ghost’s waist, your chest pressed against his, the crown of your head under his chin. You’re sleepy enough that this doesn’t strike you as odd or something you should remedy. It’s way too easy to fall asleep after that.

You wake again to Ghost moving against you, getting out from under the blankets and crawling across the bed until he steps down on the floor. You groan and roll over to watch him as he crouches in front of the stove, opening the door to add more wood to the fire.

He stands back up and looks down at you, shadows making his face look like an eyeless skull. You admire his body cast in the warm light, more than happy to openly stare at him when he walks back to the bed.

“You feelin’ alright, Ranger?” he asks.

“Mm. I’d be better if you got back in bed,” you say, heart outrunning your mind by leagues.

He lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. “Things that sound better outside of a survival situation,” he says.

As he crawls over you and back under the covers, you do manage to parse that sentence out through the thick haze of sleep. You turn back to face him, looking up into the dark sockets of his mask.

“What does?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“What sounds better?”

He’s silent for a thoughtful moment before he breathes out through his nose. “Nothin’. Forget it.”

Nope. You’re not forgetting it, especially as you wake up a little more and take in the sight of him laying next to you.

Briefly, you think back to the meeting back at the ranger station, when Captain Price outlined the mission to gather intel on the extremist group. You stood across the table from Ghost, watching him as he stared down at the topography map, then at the dossier in front of him. But then he looked up at you, eyes striking in his mask. After that, you felt his eyes on you all afternoon, and again in the morning when you set to head out.

At the time, you thought he was just observant. He needed to know he could trust you to lead him through the wilderness, assessing you in depth and measuring you up against the other rangers at the station.

But now? Well, now you’re not so sure. You could test it, though. Now that you have all your faculties pretty well in check, you’re tempted to see how he would react to you.

Besides, it’s dark and the two of you are isolated in the Montana wilderness. The only bad thing that could come of this is a very awkward morning.

So, in line with Ghost’s whole vibe—go big or go home.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, tucking your fingers up and under the elastic hem of your sports bra. The second you pull your bra up, you hear Ghost’s breath hitch. He doesn’t make a sound as you take your bra off, sighing in relief and dropping it off the side of the bed.

Behind you, Ghost’s voice is a dry, hot rasp. “Feel better?”

Nervousness flutters around in your chest as you shimmy back under the covers, bare chest now just a suggestion in the fabric. You force a smile. “I hate wearing a bra to bed, and you’re not wearing anything.”

“Thought you’d be warmed up enough by now.”

Taking in a breath to steady your nerves, you don’t answer but raise one of your hands to brush over his chest. He doesn’t move back, or seize your wrist. Instead, he holds still, letting your fingers explore the textures of his skin—scarring and all. One particularly rough scar catches your attention, and you run your fingers around its circumference.

“What’s this one?”

You don’t look up, but you feel Ghost’s eyes burning on you. “Bullet wound from an insurgent. 2017. Laid up in hospital for three weeks.”

Your hand goes lower, finding a raised scar as long as a pencil above his navel. “And this one?”

His breathing is steady, but you’re more aware of it now, of the rise and fall of his chest, your shadow cast across his skin. “Hunting knife to the gut from a drug trafficker in London.”

“When?”

“2012.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Two and a half weeks. Most of it was from surgery.”

You nod, getting bold enough to scoot closer until your breasts press against his chest. His breath hitches, which feels like some kind of success. Something you should report back to Captain Price.

Then, one of his hands brushes over your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, down to your hip. Goosebumps rise on your arms and a shiver runs up your spine, thrilling you. His hand goes back up, then follows a line downward over your stomach to a set of small scars on your right side.

“Appendectomy?” he guesses.

You smile. “2019,” you respond. “In the hospital for two whole days.”

“How did you ever survive?”

“Ibuprofen and HBO,” you reply.

You see his mask move with a smile, and then his hand goes up to your chest, following the divot of your sternum. Below his hand, your heart beats deceptively quick, threatening to upend your calmness. Ghost notices, of course, moving his hand to rest over your left breast, your heart threatening to break right out of there like an escaped prisoner.

His voice is like liquid heat in your ears when he says, “Do you want this?”

You could ask him to clarify—play dumb, like you have no idea what you’re insinuating. But the darkness is so all-encompassing, so protective. The world outside doesn’t know about the world in this room, in this bed. You feel safe here, and there’s an opportunity literally laying in front of you.

You smile, and say, “Affirmative.”

He doesn’t jump into action. Instead, his left hand moves down, massive palm covering your breast, pressing gently as he leans his head down close to yours, hard shell of his mask pressing against your forehead.

You look up at him, reaching to tug at the bottom of his balaclava. “Can you take this off?” you ask. “Or at least pull it up over your mouth?”

Another thoughtful silence, and then he does something a little more unexpected. He pulls you close to him, chest to chest, and bodily rolls you over until you’re on the far side of the bed and his back’s to the stove. This way, you can’t see his face, his mask disappearing in his silhouette. You see him reach up and pull the balaclava off, some of his short hair clinging to the fabric before falling away. He sets it down behind him, probably within arm’s reach.

“That better?” he asks, his voice clearer now, hotter, like he’s removed a physical and emotional barrier.

You grin. “Is there anything stronger than ‘affirmative’?” you ask.

“Hard copy,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, then, hard copy, sir.”

And you lean in, pressing your lips to his. In the dark, you miss a little, kissing somewhere closer to his chin; Ghost corrects the approach and kisses you in full. His kiss is like him—strong, solid, an undercurrent of ferocity as he catches your bottom lip with his teeth. Your left hand goes to the side of his face, reeling yourself into him and deepening the kiss. In a word, it’s exhilarating. Maybe it’s in part because of what you’ve gone through today, but you go at him like you crave him, and he returns the favor.

His right hand cups the back of your neck, a gentle but firm pressure. His other hand moves down to your chest, thumb brushing over right nipple, drawing a gasp out of you against his lips. You feel him smile against you, then tweak the nipple again. A small, hot shock of pleasure follows a current down your spine, relaying right into your core and sparking a small fire.

If that’s how he’s going to do it, you’ll do the same.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you bring up one of your knees in between his legs, pressing gently against his crotch and making him bite back a curse. You’re quick to kiss him harder, shutting him up before he can say anything about it. In retaliation, he drops the hand on your neck to palm your other breast, massaging both simultaneously as you moan into his mouth.

Where you were freezing before, it now feels like the room can’t get any hotter. That spark lit by Ghost’s first few touches fans into a fully-fledged flame, threatening to burn right through you. You begin rocking your knee in between his legs—alternating pressure, then no pressure—until his hips begin to move against you, his cock growing hard against your thigh.

You tilt your head back and grin. “Well, isn’t someone an eager beaver?” you tease.

He groans and presses his forehead against yours. “Your pillow talk needs work,” he replies.

Your response to his complaint is to reach down and stroke your fingers over his tented erection, earning a surprised grunt and a hissed, “Shit.”

“What’s shit?” you ask, echoing his words by the river.

His voice is all irritation and arousal in equal parts, “The fact we still have clothes on, that’s what’s shit.”

“Oh. Easy fix.”

Again bypassing ceremony, you curl in on yourself enough to pull your panties off, wiggling out of them before tossing them somewhere in the direction of the stove and hoping they don’t get burnt. Then you hook a leg over his still-clothed hip, grinding against his thigh.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, then forming a half-tight fist so you’re forced to look up at his silhouette. “Now who’s eager?”

“I think it’s a firm tie,” you say, feeling another thrill of victory as Ghost reaches down to shove your leg off and pull down his boxers. Once they’re gone, all the proverbial bets are off. Aside from the shadow he’s wearing like a second mask, he’s completely exposed to you, bare and vulnerable to every touch. It’s like a drug to you, intoxicating and really fucking addicting.

Apparently, Ghost thinks about the same of you. His hand is back on your hip, but trails down to your sex, palming your mons, fingers just brushing over your labia.

You feel him look at you. “Can I?”

No further question from you, especially when your arousal is threatening some serious whiteout conditions in your head. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

One large finger slides against your slit, and you hear yourself, the slick, wet sound audible above anything else in the room. Ghost curses again, drawing his finger back and forth, listening to that sound like he can’t get enough of it.

“Fuck, Ranger. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“You kinda have that effect,” you manage to say, before the pad of his finger brushes over your clit and draws out a moan that you bury in his chest.

But his other hand finds your shoulder, pushing you back, before he nudges up under your chin. “No. It’s just us two out here. I wanna hear you,” he says, his voice so hot, smoldering in your ears.

He rubs your clit again, and there’s nothing to hide behind, no muffler to conceal the gasp and moan that follow. Your pleasure is completely on display, and Ghost seems more than happy to draw it out further, admiring it from every angle. He draws circles around your clit, teasing you, adding more fuel to that particular fire—the irony of feeling this way in a tower meant to watch for fires isn’t lost on you.

His finger goes lower, trailing down to your opening, going back and forth several times. The friction is damn near unbearable, and it takes every iota of self control not to grind on his hand. But your hips roll outside your control, and he catches the movement with another low rumble of a laugh.

“There somethin’ you want?” he asks, index finger running a low, lazy circle around your entrance.

You nod, shuddering when he only just dips the tip of his finger in. “Ghost, please.”

“Please what?”

You hear yourself whine, a sound you never thought to hear coming out of your own damn mouth. This man makes you feel ridiculous. And he also probably gets off on hearing you say stuff like this. “Finger me,” you say, exasperated and aroused. “Please, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s not very pretty,” he teases, and you’re very close to shoving him off the bed. But then he pushes his finger in, and any retort you were set to say or do dies immediately, consumed in the wildfire he’s ignited and fed. He presses his lips to your cheek as you moan, now very unapologetically rolling your hips against his hand as he fingers you, per request. You feel a second finger insinuating against you, and then hear Ghost whisper, “Okay?” against your ear.

“Yes. Oh my God, yes, please.”

“Much prettier,” he says, and the second finger joins the first.

The thought that he’s done this before only just brushes your thoughts as he hooks his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture, sending hot sparks of pleasure running through your body, using your nervous system like an electrical conduit. You rock against his hand, moaning and gasping as Ghost kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your tender skin.

“Good girl,” he says, breath hot over your shoulder, before he presses a kiss against your clavicle. How his kisses can feel so chaste while he relentlessly fingerfucks you is beyond your comprehension. The praise just makes it better, making that hot coil inside of you turn tighter, ready to be sprung on a hair trigger.

Ghost picks up on that, too. He suddenly doubles down on the effort, fingers thrusting into you at a much more rapid pace, the wet sound of his hand against your pussy practically deafening. Only his murmurs of praise against your ear register above that.

You’re reduced to a repetitive litany of ‘god’, ‘fuck, ‘please’, and Ghost’s name. All those months without seeing people and having only your hand to keep you company make this oncoming orgasm all the more vibrant and bright, a flare launched high into the air with a huge charge set to explode.

Your hips arch up, and Ghost hooks his fingers again, saying, “Come for me,” in a firm command tone.

And you are not one to ignore a command.

You come hard, crying out and arching off the bed, toes digging into the mattress, hands grasping for literally anything solid, including Ghost. He fucks you through it, coaxing your release out with the finesse of someone defusing an explosive. You come down in fits and starts, catching on little plateaus of pleasure along the way, moaning all the while. Finally, you go practically boneless on the bed, and only then does Ghost relent and pull his fingers away.

You hear him chuckle, a dry and throaty rasp of sound that makes you feel hot all over.

“What’s so funny?” you say, although your words are slurred as endorphins run relay races through your body.

He holds his hand up so that the firelight catches it, and you very plainly see how wet his whole hand is. To show it off, he presses his fingers together, then spreads them out, showing thin strings bridging between them.

“Oh, God,” you squeak, covering your face with your hands and fighting back a round of giggles. “I am so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he says, clearly pleased. He reaches somewhere behind him, presumably to wipe his hand off on the side of the bed.

And sweetheart. This man is going to kill you, and it has nothing to do with his occupation.

You tilt your head up to kiss him again, sighing against his lips and pressing yourself close. His right hand finds the side of your face, residual dampness from your orgasm still very present. Except he treats it like a trophy, dragging it down to your neck so you can feel it.

It’s also impossible to ignore his arousal prodding against your hip. Not that you intended to ignore it.

Before you can think and reason out an appropriate response, your primal brain takes hold. “Can I ride you?” you ask, and only after it’s said do you feel any kind of horror at outright asking. He purposefully arranged the two of you so you couldn’t see his face, like a Montana wilderness version of Eros and Psyche. Now you’re asking for him to lay on his back, exposed to you in every way.

He’s silent, and you’re about to apologize and suggest spooning or something when he says, “Sure.”

You blink, almost certain you misheard. “Say what?”

“You can, yeah.”

“What about the—”

It’s his turn to kiss you quiet, taking the opportunity to pull you close again and roll on his back. You meet the movement with your own, straddling his hips and feeling his erection press against your sex with insistence. You keep kissing Ghost with your eyes closed, finding his hand next to his head with your own and weaving your fingers together. His grip on your hand is firm—a solid, warm reassurance.

You turn your head, keeping your eyes closed. “I can keep my eyes shut if you want,” you tell him, only to feel his other hand come up and run over your back.

“You can look,” he says.

It feels like a point of no return now. Seeing his face, knowing that a person who this morning was still a stranger with a codename is now going to be very real—you’re almost breathless at the thought.

Slowly, you sit up while astride him, and open your eyes.

He’s— Well, handsome doesn’t seem like a well-rounded enough word. You were more on the mark with the Eros and Psyche metaphor. Firelight and shadow play across sharp features, making him look otherworldly. There’s still greasepaint around his eyes, which makes his gaze all the more intense. But the intensity is mitigated by a plush mouth, a distinctive nose, and a firm jaw. His light hair catches the warm ember-gold hue from the fire. All his features put together make for a face that you want burnt into your memory.

“Jesus, Ghost. You hide this on purpose?” you ask.

He smiles, and it’s only hearing him speak that connects the Ghost you know to the man underneath you. “Yes,” he says. “And it’s Simon.”

You must look owlish, eyes wide, blinking, damn sure you misheard again.

Ghost seems pleased by your reaction, reaching up with his free hand to brush hair out of your face. “That’s my name. My actual name.”

“Simon,” you repeat. A human name to a human face. There’s some poetry in there, but you’re too dazzled to work through it.

“Sounds good when you say it.”

You preen a little, then lean down and kiss him, savoring the sensation for everything it’s worth. And you know he read your name on the dossier, heard it from the other rangers—still, you whisper it into his ear like a secret, and he repeats it back to you in his low voice, accent curling around it perfectly.

Yeah, you’re absolutely going to ride this man until sunrise.

You reach down and take his cock into your hand, stroking it a few times and pressing your thumb up under the exposed head. Ghost—Simon moans and tilts his head back, watching you under half-lidded eyes. Carefully, you go up on your knees and align yourself with him, slowly lowering down and adjusting as needed. He’s big, which you expected from everything else about him. But it’s not a painful fit; if anything, it feels damn good.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand stroking over your hip as he looks to where you’re joined. “You have no idea what you look like right now.”

“Neither do you,” you reply, very much enjoying the angle. He fills you up completely, the strain of him just a pleasurable ache. You moan at the sensation as you experimentally rock on top of him. “Ohhh, I am so glad you got me off first.”

“What can I say? I’m chivalrous,” he replies, although it sounds a little strained as you move your hips again.

“That’s what you call it?”

Another roll, and he looks like he’s seconds from thrusting up into you. But he’s being conscientious, letting you adjust and go at your own pace. His eyes flutter closed, and you almost want to ask him to keep them open so you can enjoy their expressiveness.

“Something, something about being a British gentleman,” he mutters, and you can’t help but laugh. Apparently, that sensation’s pretty good for him; he shudders beneath you and keeps his hand braced on your hip.

Without his mask, you want to put him through the paces of reaction, committing each expression to memory, cataloging them for future use. So you go up on your knees again and come off his cock, then bring yourself back down. You do it a few more times, watching Simon’s expression with enormous interest, the pleasure and arousal doing fabulous things to his face.

He moans your name, and you’re definitely going to use that as fantasy fodder in the future.

Your earlier orgasm gives you plenty of lubrication to work with, and so you start to fuck yourself on him in earnest. In return, you’re rewarded with a low moan and a quiet, “Fuuuuck.”

The friction feels way too goddamn good, setting up another explosive charge inside of you as Simon starts meeting the bounce of your hips with thrusts of his own. Two opposing forces working toward the same goal, and it feels incredible.

You start to rock back on his cock, using his upward thrust as momentum to hit you just right. It’s the perfect angle, apparently for both of you, as Simon’s now breathing heavily, sweat a fine sheen on his skin.

“Yes, Simon, fuck me,” you whisper, beyond turned on at the wet sound of him fucking into you. You can’t tell if it’s hearing his name like that, the command, or both that make him really lean into this, but he’s pushing up hard, groaning and pulling you down so you’re pressed to his chest.

You wonder how long it’s been for him, too—briefly thinking oh god what if he’s got someone back home and I’m a fucking homewrecker before one particular upward thrust makes you cry out, clenching down on him in a way that’s audibly very good for him. You turn your head enough to see your joined hands, and when you squeeze his hand, you don’t feel any rings on his fingers. He does squeeze back, though, and it just feels like another reassurance.

There’s no way to keep track of time, and you really wish this could go on forever. The heat generated between the two of you is scorching, all-encompassing, a forest fire caught on the cusp of the lookout tower and reported to no one but yourselves.

His pace stutters a moment, the first hint that he’s very close. He releases his grip on your hand to grab at your other hip, pushing you up and off of him before you resolutely sit down, taking his cock in full and drawing a sharp gasp out of both of you.

“No,” you pant. “No, I have an IUD. You can— Ah, fuck— You can come inside me, Simon.”

“Oh, bloody fucking Christ,” he breathes, eyes wide and beautiful. “You’re sure?”

In response, you rock back against him, squeezing hard around his cock. “Affirmative,” you say, then lean down and kiss him again. “Very hard copy.”

And that’s enough to tip him right off the edge. He thrusts once, twice, and then he moans against your mouth, one of his hands going up to card through your hair, pressing you so close to him that you can feel his heart beating against your chest. You feel him come inside you, a pulse of heat, a sense of fullness. The room seems to take on new, brighter colors, and when you look at Simon, he looks fucking euphoric. The firelight gives him a look that’s like a touch of divinity, a golden cast over his face and body.

You take your time getting off of him, enjoying the feeling of him inside you too much. That, and there’s no bathroom, no shower—the comedown also means that reality’s a little too close at hand.

Simon catches his breath, hand loosely stroking your hair, and he presses a kiss to your temple before letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “Holy fuck,” he says.

You grin and nod against his shoulder, then slowly pull yourself off his softening cock, causing both of you to groan, albeit far weaker than before. You collapse onto the narrow bed beside him, nuzzling up close to him, hand on his chest, as he pulls the blankets up over you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. Your foreheads touch, and you listen to his breaths even out, his heart rate firm and steady under your hand.

“Probably too late to ask if you have a partner, huh?” you say, smiling as you run your thumb over his skin.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t, and I also feel stupid for not asking.”

You look up at him, the orange line of firelight tracing his features. “I don’t either. You’re good.”

He smiles, and you set that expression in your memory, drawing it in great detail. “My job kind of gets in the way.”

“Mine, too,” you reply, tracing spirals over his chest with your index finger. “It’s hard to get a date when you live out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Didn’t want to go check out the paramilitary extremists next door?”

You grimace and hide your face against his chest, shaking your head. “Gross. No.”

His chest shakes with laughter, and it’s wonderful.

---

Morning comes too quick, dawning cold and gray, reminding you that there’s a whole weird world outside the confines of the lookout tower. You and Simon get up, both aching very pleasantly, exchanging one too-brief kiss before his radio goes off.

“Ghost, how copy?” Price’s voice comes through in a crackle.

“Fuck,” Simon hisses, getting up and crossing the room to his radio. You at least can enjoy that he does so fully nude. He picks up the radio and keys it, scratching at his stubble as he responds, “At location 29-B and holding, Captain,” he says, his voice a dry scratch of sound. “The ranger had a medical issue.”

“Is she alright? Do you need a med evac?”

“Negative,” he replies. “We’re moving in about an hour.”

“Rog’. Keep me posted.”

“Will do, sir.”

An hour. You groan and fall back on the bed, staring up at the bare wood ceiling, decades worth of cobwebs in the corners. Simon falls back into bed beside you, cupping your face and drawing you into another firm kiss. Then, something dawns on you, and you lean back, looking over his handsome face in the morning light.

“When you say we’re moving in an hour, do you mean moving out, or just moving?”

His brows go up, slightly crooked smile on his face. “I think I didn’t specify, Ranger,” he says. “Do you have a preference?”

You laugh, leaning in close and pressing your forehead against his again. “Affirmative,” you say.

Simon laughs and shakes his head. “You could just say yes.”

[bnnuyko]

RPD - Main Hall

Screenshots in-game of the smaller details that authors may be interested in — ♡

TW; blood

Feel free to request any other details you wish to see — ♡

main hall;

The Daily Raccoon RACCOON CITY, 1998 MISSING MAN FOUND DEAD IN RACCOON CITY Body discovered after five days of searching.

'Family looks for missing teen'

RACCOON TIMES June 22, 1998 Horror in Raccoon City ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ More Victims Dead ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ The bodies of a young couple were found early Sunday morning in Victory Park, making Deanne Rusch and Christopher Smith the eighth and ninth victims in the reign of violence that has terrorized the city since mid-May of this year. Both victims, aged 19, were reported as missing by concerned parents late Saturday night and were discovered by police officers on the west bank of Victory Lake at approximately 2 A.M. Although no formal statement has been issued by the police department, witnesses to the discovery confirm that both youths suffered wounds similar to those found on prior victims. Whether or not the attackers were human or animal has yet to be announced. According to friends of the young couple, the two had talked about tracking down the rumored "wild dogs" recently spotted in the heavily forested park and had planned to violate the city-wide curfew in order to see one of the alleged nocturnal creatures. Mayor Harris has scheduled a press conference for this afternoon, and is expected to make an announcement regarding the current crisis, calling for a stricter enforcement of the curfew.

CITYSIDE Raccoon City's #1 Newspaper June 21, 1998 "S.T.A.R.S" SPECIAL TACTICS AND RESCUE SQUAD SENT TO SAVE RACCOON CITY With the reported disappearance of three hikers in Raccoon Forest earlier this week, city officials have finally called for a roadblock on rural Route 6 at the foothills of the Arklay Mountains. Police Chief Brian Irons announced yesterday that the S.T.A.R.S. will participate full-time in the search for the hikers and will also be working closely with the RPD until there is an end to the rash of murders and disappearances that are destroying our community Chief Irons, a former S.T.A.R.S. member himself, said today (in an exclusive Cityside telephone interview) that it is "high time to employ the talents of these dedicated men and women toward the safety of this city. We've had nine brutal murders here in less than two months, and at least five disappearances now-and all of these events have taken place in a close proximity to Raccoon Forest. This leads us to believe that the perpetrators of these crimes may be hiding somewhere in the Victory Lake district, and the S.T.A.R.S have just the kind of experience we need to find them." When asked why the S.T.A.R.S hadn't been assigned to these cases until now, Chief Irons would only say that the S.T.A.R.S. have been assisting the RPD since the beginning and that they would be a "welcoming addition" to the task force currently working on the murders full-time. Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded S.T.A.R.S. organization was originally created as a measure against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military officials and ex-field operatives from both the CIA and FBI. Under the guidance of former NSDA (National Security and Defense Agency) director Marco Palmieri, the group quickly expanded its services to include everything from hostage negotiation and code breaking to riot control. Working with local police agencies, each branch office of the S.T.A.R.S. is designed to work as a complete unit itself. The S.T.A.R.S. set up its Raccoon City branch through the fund-raising efforts of several local businesses in 1972 and is currently led by Captain Albert Wesker, promoted to the position less than six months ago.

Alberto Paque Ramirez David Cockman Katie Chevalier Manuel Trillo Carmona Stefano Ivan Stinga

In loving memory of those who served with the valor of lions, the nobility of unicorns, and whose ultimate sacrifice is as pure as the maidens of old.

Laura Salomon Ugo Ricard Janet Hsu Luca Baldassarre Francis Ishii

[artistic-vixen]

Juniper "Vixen" Parks (Shadow Company au)

Name: Juniper Parks 

Aliases: Shadow 7-13/ Vixen  Nicknames: June, Juni, JuJu 

Nationality: Britian Ethnicity: White  

Age: 28   

DoB: Dec 6th, 1995 

Pronouns: She/her/hers  

Gender: Female  

Sex: Female 

Sexuality: Demisexual 

Height: 5’5 

Languages: British, English, French 

Which CoD universe: Modern Warfare reboot 

Branches of Service: Army/ Marine corps 

Affiliation: Us Army (formerly)/ Shadow company (Currently/ AU) 

Rank: (N/A at this moment) 

Specialties: (N/A at this moment) 

Personality: (N/A at this moment) 

Alignment: (N/A at this moment) 

Backstory: [CLASSIFIED] 

Issues: (N/A at this moment) 

Habits: (N/A at this moment) 

Scars: (N/A at this moment) 

Preferred method of showing care/affection/love language: Food (Baking, cooking candies) and touch 

Preferred way of receiving care/affection: Touch, Food,  

Eye Color: Blue 

Hair description: Thick curly hair with a few strands of sliver throughout, short and barely touches the nape of her neck.  

Clothing description: In uniform: She wears a long sleeve turtle neck, tactical vest, dark denim pants, black boots, knee shoulder and elbow pads, and a black balaclava.  Out of uniform: When she’s out of uniform she likes to wear mostly neutral colors, although purple is her favorite color. She likes long flowy skirts, long sleeve shirts or anything frilly. She also absolutely loves wearing overalls if the weather allows. 

Body description: Vixen is chubby but the athletic kind of chubby. She does have stretch marks on her legs, arms and chest. She has freckles that dapple her face, shoulders, arms, back and legs. She has pale skin, and dark bags under her eyes. 

Favorite activities: (N/A at this moment) 

Blood type: (N/A at this moment) 

Favorite animal(s): Cats, dogs, snakes and jumping spiders 

Favorite food/dessert: (N/A at this moment) 

[ranahan]

Free tactical medicine learning resources

If you want to learn first aid, emergency care or tactical medical care for real, you will need to practice these skills. A lot. Regularly. There’s no way to learn them just from books. But if you’re looking to supplement your training, can’t access hands on training, are a layperson doing research for your writing or otherwise just curious, here are some free resources (some may need a free account to access them).

TCCC

The current gold standard in the field is Tactical Combat Casualty Care (TCCC), developed by the US army but used by militaries around the world. There is also a civilian version of the system called Tactical Emergency Casualty Care (TECC). Training materials, Standards of Care, instructional videos, etc. can be accessed at deployedmedicine.com. You’ll need a free account. This should be your first and possibly only stop.

There’s also an app and a podcast if those are more your thing, although I haven’t personally tried them.

More TCCC (video) resources

STOP THE BLEED® Interactive Course

TCCC-MP Guidelines and Curriculum presentations and training videos

EURMED’s Medical Beginner's Resource List has suggested list of video materials (disclaimer: I haven’t watched the playlists, but I have been trained by nearly all of the linked systems/organisations and can vouch for them)

Tactical Medical Solutions training resource page (requires registration; some of the courses are free)

North American Rescue video downloads

Emergency medicine

WHO-ICRC Basic Emergency Care: approach to the acutely ill and injured — an open-access course workbook for basic emergency care with limited resources

Global Health Emergency Medicine — open-access, evidence-based, peer-reviewed emergency medicine modules designed for teachers and learners in low-resource health setting

AFEM Resources — curricula, lecture bank, reviews, etc.

Global Emergency Medicine Academy Resources (links to more resources)

OpenStax Anatomy and Physiology textbook

Open-access anatomy and physiology learning resources

OpenStax Pharmacology for nurses textbook

Principles of Pharmacology – Study Guide

Multiple Casualty Incidents

Management of Multiple Casualty Incidents lecture

Bombings: Injury Patterns and Care blast injuries course (scroll down on the page)

Borden Institute has medical textbooks about biological, chemical and nuclear threats

Psychological first aid: Guide for field workers

Prolonged field care

When the evac isn’t coming anytime soon.

Prolonged Field Care Basics lecture (requires registration)

Aerie 14th Edition Wilderness Medicine Manual (textbook)

Austere Emergency Medical Support (AEMS) Field Guide (textbook)

Prolonged Casualty Care (PCC) Guidelines

Wilderness Medical Society Clinical Practice Guidelines

Austere Medicine Resources: Practice Guidelines — a great resource of WMS, PFC, TCCC, etc. clinical practice guidelines in one place

The Wilderness and Environmental Medicine Journal (you can read past issues without a membership)

Prolonged Field Care Collective: Resources

National Park Services Emergency Medical Services Resources

Guerilla Medicine: An Introduction to the Concepts of Austere Medicine in Asymmetric Conflicts (article)

Mental health & PTSD

National Center for PTSD

Psychological first aid: Guide for field workers

Combat and Operational Behavioral Health (medical textbook)

Resources for doctors and medical students

Or you know, other curious people who aren’t afraid of medical jargon.

Borden Institute Military Medical Textbooks and Resources — suggestions: start with Fundamentals of Military Medicine; mechanism of injury of conventional weapons; these two volumes on medical aspects of operating in extreme environments; psychosocial aspects of military medicine; or Combat Anesthesia

Emergency War Surgery textbook and lectures

Disaster Health Core Curriculum — online course for health professionals

Médecins Sans Frontières Clinical guidelines

Pocket book of hospital care for children: Second edition — guidelines for the management of common childhood illnesses in low resource settings

Grey’s Quick Reference: Basic Protocols in Paediatrics and Internal Medicine For Resource Limited Settings

The Department of Defense Center of Excellence for Trauma: Trauma Care Resources (links to more resources)

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

As Elon Musk’s Starship — the largest rocket ever manufactured — successfully blasted toward the sky last month, the launch was hailed as a giant leap for SpaceX and the United States’ civilian space program.

Two hours later, once conditions were deemed safe, a team from SpaceX, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and a conservation group began canvassing the fragile migratory bird habitat surrounding the launch site.

The impact was obvious.

The launch had unleashed an enormous burst of mud, stones and fiery debris across the public lands encircling Mr. Musk’s $3 billion space compound. Chunks of sheet metal and insulation were strewn across the sand flats on one side of a state park. Elsewhere, a small fire had ignited, leaving a charred patch of park grasslands — remnants from the blastoff that burned 7.5 million pounds of fuel.

Most disturbing to one member of the entourage was the yellow smear on the soil in the same spot that a bird’s nest lay the day before. None of the nine nests recorded by the nonprofit Coastal Bend Bays & Estuaries Program before the launch had survived intact.

Egg yolk now stained the ground.

“The nests have all been messed up or have eggs missing,” Justin LeClaire, a Coastal Bend wildlife biologist, told a Fish and Wildlife inspector as a New York Times reporter observed nearby.

The outcome was part of a well-documented pattern.

On at least 19 occasions since 2019, SpaceX operations have caused fires, leaks, explosions or other problems associated with the rapid growth of Mr. Musk’s complex in Boca Chica. These incidents have caused environmental damage and reflect a broader debate over how to balance technological and economic progress against protections of delicate ecosystems and local communities.

That natural tension is heightened by Mr. Musk’s influence over American space aspirations. Members of Congress and senior officials in the Biden administration have fretted privately and publicly about the extent of Mr. Musk’s power as the U.S. government increasingly relies on SpaceX for commercial space operations and for its plans to travel to the moon and even Mars.

An examination of Mr. Musk’s tactics in South Texas shows how he exploited the limitations and competing missions of the various agencies most poised to be a check on the ferocious expansion of the industrial complex he calls Starbase. Those charged with protecting the area’s cultural and natural resources — particularly officials from the Interior Department’s Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Park Service — repeatedly lost out to more powerful agencies, including the Federal Aviation Administration, whose goals are intertwined with Mr. Musk’s.

In the end, South Texas’ ecology took a back seat to SpaceX’s — and the country’s — ambitions.

Executives from SpaceX declined repeated requests in person and via email to comment. But Gary Henry, who until this year served as a SpaceX adviser on Pentagon launch programs, said the company was aware of the officials’ complaints about environmental impact and was committed to addressing them.

Kelvin B. Coleman, the top F.A.A. official overseeing space launch licenses, said he was convinced that his agency was doing its duty, which is to foster space travel safely.

“Blowing debris into state parks or national land is not what we prescribed, but the bottom line is no one got hurt, no one got injured,” Mr. Coleman said in an interview. “We certainly don’t want people to feel like they’re bulldozed. But it’s a really important operation that SpaceX is conducting down there. It is really important to our civilian space program.”

[mariacallous]

The April 10 legislative elections in South Korea loom especially large for President Yoon Suk-yeol. After winning his election in March 2022 by the narrowest margin in the country’s history, the conservative Yoon inherited the National Assembly elected in 2020, in which South Korea’s liberals won a historic landslide thanks to the Moon Jae-in administration’s strong response to the COVID-19 pandemic. Out of the legislature’s 300 seats, the liberal coalition won a 180-seat majority, the largest margin of victory in South Korea’s democratic history.

Two years into his five-year presidential term, Yoon has left a mark in areas that are down to the president alone. Yoon made profligate use of presidential decrees, executive orders that don’t require legislative approval. In his first year, Yoon issued 809 presidential decrees, while his two immediate predecessors, Moon and Park Geun-hye, issued 660 and 653 decrees, respectively, in their first years. Yoon also exerted influence through his appointments—most notably Park Min, the new head of the state-owned broadcaster KBS who sacked popular liberal journalists as soon as he took office. In foreign policy, Yoon capitulated to Japan’s demands to sideline World War II-era Korean forced laborers and release wastewater from the failed Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, paving the way for U.S.-Japan-South Korea trilateral cooperation.

But in areas that require legislative assent, Yoon has been stymied. The South Korean Constitution allows the executive branch to directly propose a bill to the legislature. For the first six months of Yoon’s presidency, the National Assembly refused to pass a single bill proposed by the government. Yoon’s campaign pledge of abolishing the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family, pandering to the toxic misogyny rampant among young Korean men and fueling their conservative turn, has not come to pass because a reorganization of cabinet ministries requires passing a law. (Yoon has responded by simply refusing to appoint a gender equality minister.)

Meanwhile, the opposition Democratic Party has leveraged its commanding majority to pass laws that could have been highly damaging to Yoon, such as providing for special prosecutor investigations of the Itaewon Halloween disaster, in which 159 partygoers died in crushing crowds in Seoul’s popular nightlife district, and the alleged stock pump-and-dump scheme on the part of first lady Kim Keon-hee. Each time, Yoon responded by exercising a presidential veto, quickly racking up nine vetoes in the first two years of his presidency—equal to the total number of vetoes exercised by six of his predecessors combined.

Naturally, the Yoon administration and the ruling People Power Party (PPP) are heavily focused on recapturing the legislative majority in elections this month. Yoon was able to win the presidency by flipping a significant part of Seoul from liberal to conservative between 2020 and 2022, by pandering heavily to grievances over rising property tax. The real estate slump since Yoon’s election—Seoul’s condominium prices dipped by more than 7 percent in the past year—threatened to erode that support, as the lower condo price damaged upper-middle-class Seoul residents’ primary investment while the decreased profits and higher interest rate pushed large construction companies to the brink.

In response, South Korea’s Financial Supervisory Service audited banks for charging what the regulators claimed were overly high interest rates, in a move seen as a tactic to pressure banks to extend loans to companies that posed a credit risk. The government also delayed the publication of major economic indicators such as the previous year’s budget deficit and the rising price of consumer goods until after election day on April 10.

For its interim leader in the run-up to the election, the PPP tapped Han Dong-hoon, Yoon’s justice minister and heir apparent. Because of his patrician air and relative youth at 51 years old, Han has been hailed as representing the next generation of conservatives. In the words of conservative columnist Kim Soon-deok of Dong-A Ilbo, Han stands in contrast to Yoon in three ways: “First, he does not drink. Second, he is not a stinky old man. Third, he dresses well and speaks with refined language.” With Han at the center, the conservative party has been able to distance itself from the deeply unpopular president.

The Yoon administration also enjoyed a bump in popularity with its proposal to increase the number of medical students by 2,000—a significant jump from the current level of around 3,000. South Korea has a very low number of doctors, which has resulted in a lack of access to medical care especially outside the Seoul metropolitan area. At just 2.6 doctors per 1,000 people, it’s as low as in the United States, which also has a significant and artificially created shortage, and less than half of the number of most developed countries. Doctors reacted strongly, with more than 90 percent of interns and residents going on strike. Nevertheless, the Yoon administration effectively painted doctors as money-grubbers who wished to artificially restrict the size of their ranks to protect their bottom line. With all these moves, by late February it appeared that Yoon and the conservatives had put themselves in the pole position.

Meanwhile, South Korean liberals have been mired in a civil war. Lee Jae-myung, the leader of the Democratic Party and a former presidential candidate who opposed Yoon, began as a member of the minority faction within his party. As the Democratic Party finalized its slate of candidates in February, the legislators not aligned with Lee found themselves sidelined from running for their seats again. Many of them—including high-ranking members such as Assembly Deputy Speaker Kim Young-joo—quit the party, casting their lot with the PPP or seeking a third-party bid with former Prime Minister Lee Nak-yeon, who lost a bitter presidential primary against Lee in 2021.

But the campaign landscape changed dramatically in March as a new third party, the Rebuilding Korea Party (RKP), took the scene by storm. The RKP was founded by Cho Kuk, who was widely considered to be the heir apparent to Moon as the liberal president’s justice minister. Instead, Cho’s short time in office fueled the rise of Yoon.

As South Korea’s prosecutor general at the time, Yoon conducted a massive investigation campaign against Cho and his family, eventually putting his wife in prison for forging a service certificate that was included in their daughter’s college applications. Yoon’s prosecution of Cho galvanized the conservatives, who saw Cho as a symbol of liberal hypocrisy. Liberals, on the other hand, saw Cho as a martyr whose family was destroyed for the sake of Yoon’s quest for power.

With Yoon’s unpopularity, the latter narrative began to win out. The RKP’s slogan is not subtle: “Three years is too long,” referring to the remaining term of Yoon’s presidency. The new party quickly became the rallying flag for South Korean liberals critical of Yoon but disappointed with the Democratic Party’s internal squabbling. Even moderates began joining the RKP ranks, attracted by the clear message of punishing the Yoon administration. Within weeks of its launch, the RKP became South Korea’s most popular party with approximately 25 percent support.

A major turning point came on March 18, when Yoon made a highly publicized visit to a supermarket—a photo op to show that the president was tending to the wild increase in food prices. In January and February, the cost of food in South Korea increased by 6.7 percent year over year, with popular items like apples rising by as much as 121.9 percent in the same period, resulting in some supermarkets selling a single apple for 19,800 won (about $15).

At the supermarket, Yoon held up a bundle of scallions and said: “I do a lot of grocery shopping, and 875 won for a bundle seems reasonable.” But in most grocery stores around South Korea, a bundle of scallions typically sells for between 4,000 and 7,000 won; the supermarket that Yoon visited just happened to be running a suspiciously well-timed promotion on scallions.

Yoon’s attempt at Potemkin produce, over a household item whose price is common knowledge, instantly became fodder for viral mockery. Especially in the Seoul metropolitan area, where partisanship is relatively weak and election results tend to alternate, support for the conservatives began crashing. Yoon’s gaffe, and the rise of his nemesis Cho, is threatening to reverse the gain that South Korea’s conservatives have made in Seoul in the past two years.

Seeking to recapture the momentum, Yoon took to the bully pulpit on April 1 to exhort the striking doctors to return to work. But the government’s standoff against doctors is now losing popularity, as the public is facing the consequences of a lack of medical care, such as emergency rooms rejecting ambulances and cancer surgeries being delayed indefinitely. The newly elected head of the Korea Medical Association vowed that the doctors would not negotiate unless Yoon apologized and sacked the health minister.

In his April 1 statement, Yoon offered no compromise—a stance that has done little for conservatives as election day approaches. After the president’s address, one unnamed conservative legislator despaired: “I feel like a dinosaur looking up at the oncoming comet, sensing our extinction.”

[falloutcaldera]

“Welcome to the neighborhood!”

Fallout: Caldera is a theoretical post-apocalyptic role-playing fan game inspired by & expanding upon the setting associated with Obsidian Entertainment and published by Bethesda Softworks. While Caldera is neither a direct sequel nor prequel to any of the games, it references many of the events surrounding the era, including cut or outright canceled content & concepts. While the theoretical game would likely make use of a modified Fallout 4 or Fallout 76 engine, its overall tone & themes would likely be more typical of Fallout: New Vegas or earlier titles. The theoretical game is set primarily in a post-apocalyptic Montana, specifically Yellowstone National Park, a Postgame ‘Add-on’ facility, and The Grand Teton 'Add-on' Area.

Setting

The game takes place in 2256, 179 years after the Great War. The events of Fallout: Caldera occur 154 years after Fallout: 76, 95 years after Fallout 1, 59 years after Fallout: Tactics, 48 years after Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel, 15 years after Fallout 2, and 3 years after the canceled Van Buren, which it considers as semi-canon. 

This means it is also 21 years before the events of Fallout 3, 25 years before Fallout: New Vegas, and 31 years before Fallout: 4. Chronologically it is the fifth game in the series after Fallout 2 (though sixth if counting Van Buren).

The game takes place in The Caldera, which is composed of the former Grand Loop of Yellowstone National Park. Much of the main game takes place across various ‘Domesticons’ - planned condominium communities reliant on android ‘Securiunits’ to keep them safe & maintained, along with various campground-based shanty communities, ranger stations, and firewatch towers.

Famous local landmarks like the the Grand Prismatic Spring, Old Faithful Inn, and Fort Yellowstone are included in the game world, though Caldera takes a semi-’procedural’ approach akin to earlier games like Fallout 1 & Fallout 2 - with the majority of the actual mapping focusing on points of interest & landmarks while otherwise pulling from a series of random encounter map tiles designed to fit that area, such as Mountain, Forest, Lake, Road, Ect.

Story

The Homemaker, the player character, arrives in Yellowstone to join a new kind of planned community in Madison, a 'Domestic Condominium', or 'Domesticon', created by an expanding medical company called REGENT. After leaving their bus & interacting with various neighbors or protesters, they meet their assigned 'Securispouse' - a cutting-edge comfort & service android. 

Although the player can decide both the Homemaker & their Securispouses name, gender, and appearance, they are commonly referred to as 'Mx. Nazerov' & 'Daisy Belle' due to these being the names given as default both in-game & in expanded media. Fallout: Caldera briefly begins on October 23, 2077 (the day of the Great War), showing the player arriving at their new home and interacting with their Securispouse before being rushed inside as the bombs drop. After a series of events, they emerge after the Great War to a largely decrepit Madison Domesticon.

The story of Fallout: Caldera guides the player into its world, discovering a series of different factions with varying ideals & conflicts with others, albeit generally being introduced as paired groups.

These include the grungy and patch-job’d Outskirts, continuingly pushing-and-pulling with the large, pristine, and repressive Stepford Domesticon, whose citizens live in a perfect simulacrum of pre-war americana at cost of their sanity & deepening guilt while their Outskirts neighbors grow increasingly disruptive to their illusionary way of life.

Out in the campgrounds, a group of ghoulified tourists and their descendants now known as Caldera Runners chafe against the rules and regulations still-enforced by the Caldera’s Ranger Corps, having ample reason to utilize what many in the Ranger Corps think should be pristine wilderness and virgin pools.

Then there is the Ranger’s sister group, the Firemen, who have grown their own new brand of social structure thanks to the Caldera-strain Super Mutants withins constant fight against both the natural wildfires of the Caldera, and the arsonist tendencies of the flame-worshiping raider group known as the Char - who speak of great calamity, past sins, and strange visions from their psyker oracles and triad of ‘Sears’.

Meanwhile a group known as the Bison Riders has had the differences amongst their two subfactions come to nearly a head, with the Bison Ranchers summer lives differing so much from the Bison Nomads winter movings that both groups can barely recognize the other as the same. Though the player cannot change their minds on the subject, they might be able to influence their hearts. 

All the while, two groups connected-yet-disconnected from the rest of the Caldera are about to be forced to find where they stand, with the strange neolithic Mammoth Men reinventing the wheel when it comes to culture, and the Golden Eagles scouting out if they are fit to be part of everyone's life again properly or not.

Fallout: Caldera has four main endings, one for each reaction to the end event sequence, with variations regarding the choices made involving each of the ten distinct political factions, along with separate ending slides for Recruited Companions.

Add-Ons

REGENTs Crown is a post-game Add-On similar in concept to Fallout 3’s ‘Broken Steel’, split between a winterized post-ending Caldera and the REGENT Headquarters facility, which is designed as a Survival-Exploration-Horror Add-on with puzzle elements. 

Broken prototypes & creeping-flesh mutations roam the halls as you descend into the depths of the still-sealed ruins in an attempt to either reactivate or destroy the almost-eldritch AI construct below, guided by a production master-prototype ‘E.V.E.’ Securiunit named Earth.

Grand Teton is a (canonically post-game spring of 2257) anytime playable Add-on intended for high-level characters still in development, featuring new enemies, in-depth environmental hazards, and ambush gameplay.

[felipeandletizia]

Felipe and Letizia retrospective: November 29th

2004: Lunch offered to the Senegalese President Abdoulaye Wade and his wife, Viviane, at the Royal Palace.

2011: Meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Royal Institute of International and Strategic Studies & Gala dinner for the awardees of “Mariano de Cavia”, “Luca de Tena” and “Mingote” awards

2012: Premios Magisterio 2012& Traveled to Mexico to attend the investiture of new president Enrique Peña Nieto

2013: Attended the exercise of the Mechanized High Availability Tactical Grouping in Zaragoza & Visited El Rastrillo

2016: Visited the Science and Technology Park (UPTEC) at the Porto University during their state visit to Portugal; Visited Lisbon’s City hall during the second day of their state visit to Portugal& Gala dinner at Palacio de las Necesidades during the state visit to Portugal in Lisbon, Portugal

2018: Inauguration of the “40 años de diplomacia en democracia. Una historia de éxito” (40 years of diplomacy in democracy. A success story) exhibition & 40th anniversary of the previous National Employment Institute, current Public Employment Service State (1, 2)

2019: Visited the Operational Headquarters (ESP OHQ) Atalanta and the Marine Corps

2021: Graduation ceremony of the 70th class of the judicial career & Delivery of the 14th Carles Ferrer Salat Awards and Commemorative Medals of Honor for the 250th anniversary of Foment del Treball

2022: Interval exercise of the 12th rotation of the Enhanced Forward Presence in Latvia & 38th Francisco Cerecedo Journalism Awards

F&L Through the Years: 1094/??

[beardedmrbean]

Iranian women are baring their heads to protest government controls. A top official said algorithms can identify anyone flouting dress codes.

So last month when the Islamic Republic said they're reviewing hijab laws, they probably mean make the laws more difficult to break, instead of loosening them.

Submitted by @eggs-n-ham-sam

Most places in the US have dropped any of that stuff, false positives are far too common, not that Iran cares they're just women after all, they're half a man in Islamic court.

But let's dig in. ________________________________

Last month, a young woman went to work at Sarzamineh Shadi, or Land of Happiness, an indoor amusement park east of Iran’s capital, Tehran. After a photo of her without a hijab circulated on social media, the amusement park was closed, according to multiple accounts in Iranian media. Prosecutors in Tehran have reportedly opened an investigation.

Shuttering a business to force compliance with Iran’s strict laws for women’s dress is a familiar tactic to Shaparak Shajarizadeh. She stopped wearing a hijab in 2017 because she views it as a symbol of government suppression, and recalls restaurant owners, fearful of authorities, pressuring her to cover her head.

But Shajarizadeh, who fled to Canada in 2018 after three arrests for flouting hijab law, worries that women like the amusement park worker may now be targeted with face recognition algorithms as well as by conventional police work.

After Iranian lawmakers suggested last year that face recognition should be used to police hijab law, the head of an Iranian government agency that enforces morality law said in a September interview that the technology would be used “to identify inappropriate and unusual movements,” including “failure to observe hijab laws.” Individuals could be identified by checking faces against a national identity database to levy fines and make arrests, he said.

Two weeks later, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman named Jina Mahsa Amini died after being taken into custody by Iran’s morality police for not wearing a hijab tightly enough. Her death sparked historic protests against women's dress rules, resulting in an estimated 19,000 arrests and more than 500 deaths. Shajarizadeh and others monitoring the ongoing outcry have noticed that some people involved in the protests are confronted by police days after an alleged incident—including women cited for not wearing a hijab. “Many people haven't been arrested in the streets,” she says. “They were arrested at their homes one or two days later.”

Although there are other ways women could have been identified, Shajarizadeh and others fear that the pattern indicates face recognition is already in use—perhaps the first known instance of a government using face recognition to impose dress law on women based on religious belief.

Mahsa Alimardani, who researches freedom of expression in Iran at the University of Oxford, has recently heard reports of women in Iran receiving citations in the mail for hijab law violations despite not having had an interaction with a law enforcement officer. Iran’s government has spent years building a digital surveillance apparatus, Alimardani says. The country’s national identity database, built in 2015, includes biometric data like face scans and is used for national ID cards and to identify people considered dissidents by authorities.

Decades ago, Iranian law required women to take off headscarves in line with modernization plans, with police sometimes forcing women to do so. But hijab wearing became compulsory in 1979 when the country became a theocracy.

Iranian president Ebrahim Raisi introduced additional hijab and chastity restrictions in August. Women deemed violators of the law can lose access to banks, public transportation, and other essential government services. Repeat offenders can spend years in jail or in forced morality schooling. A database maintained by the nonprofit United for Iran of more than 5,000 people imprisoned since 2011 indicates it was already not uncommon for violation of hijab rules to lead to years in prison.

Cathryn Grothe, a research analyst at Freedom House, a US government–backed nonprofit that works on human rights, says she has seen a shift in Iran in recent years away from a reliance on informants and physical patrols toward forms of automated digital surveillance to target critics.

Like Alimardani, she has received reports from people using online platforms to organize in Iran who suspect they were somehow recognized and then targeted by authorities offline. Iran’s government has monitored social media to identify opponents of the regime for years, Grothe says, but if government claims about the use of face recognition are true, it’s the first instance she knows of a government using the technology to enforce gender-related dress law.

Face recognition has become a desirable tool for authoritarian regimes around the world as a way to suppress dissent, Grothe says, although many lack the necessary technical infrastructure. “Iran is a case where they have both the governmental will and the physical capability,” she says.

Multiple arms of the Iranian government have access to face recognition technology. Iranian traffic officials started using it in 2020 to issue fines and send women warnings by SMS text about wearing a hijab when inside a vehicle. Mousa Ghazanfarabadi, the head of the country’s parliamentary legal and judicial committee, spoke last year in support of “exclusion from social services and financial fines'' for hijab violations. “The use of face recording cameras can systematically implement this task and reduce the presence of the police, as a result of which there will be no more clashes between the police and citizens,” he told Iranian news outlet Enghelabe Eslami.

Some face recognition in use in Iran today comes from Chinese camera and artificial intelligence company Tiandy. Its dealings in Iran were featured in a December 2021 report from IPVM, a company that tracks the surveillance and security industry.

Tiandy is one of the largest security camera manufacturers in the world, but its sales are largely within China, report author Charles Rollet says, and the company appeared to jump at the opportunity to expand into Iran. IPVM found that the Tiandy Iran website at one time listed the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, police, and a government prison labor organization as customers—agencies Rollet describes as “the kind of places that raise red flags from a sanctions or human rights perspective.” _________________

Of course they're teaming up with china.

My thoughts about turning that whole part of the globe into a smouldering glob a glass are getting more and more frequent.

On a bright note, this tells me the protests are working and the regime is getting a bit concerned by that.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Michael de Adder :: @deAdder :: Nov 1 :: The Toronto Star

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

November 3, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

NOV 4, 2023

Today, Representative Ryan Zinke (R-MT), who was former president Trump’s Interior Secretary until he left under accusations of misconduct, introduced a bill to ban Palestinians from the United States and to revoke any visas issued to Palestinians since October 1 of this year. Although the U.S. has resettled only about 2,000 Palestinians in the last 20 years, ten other far-right members of the House signed onto Zinke’s bill, which draws no distinction between Hamas and Palestinian civilians.

This blanket attack on a vulnerable population echoes Trump’s travel ban of January 27, 2017, just a week after he took office. Executive Order 13769 stopped travel from primarily Muslim countries—Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, and Yemen—for ninety days. The list of countries appeared random—Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, countries from which terrorists have sometimes come directly to the U.S., weren’t on the list—and appeared to fulfill a campaign promise and assert a new view of executive power.

Insisting that immigrants endanger the country is a key tactic of authoritarians. Excluding them is a central principle of those eager to tear down democracy: they insist that immigration destroys a nation’s traditions and undermines native-born Americans. With tensions in the nation mounting over the crisis in the Middle East, this measure, introduced now with inflammatory language, seems designed to whip up violence. 

Representative Greg Landsman (D-OH) called out his Republican colleagues on social media. “Un-American and definitely NOT in the Bible, [Speaker Johnson],” he wrote. “You going to tell them to pull this bill?”

But, far from trying to work across the aisle, Johnson has been throwing red meat to his base. In the last two days, for example, the House has voted to slash 39% of the budget of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and 13% of the budget of the National Park Service. It voted to require the Biden administration to advance oil drilling off the Alaska coast. It has voted on reducing the salary of the EPA administrator, the director of the Bureau of Land Management, and the Secretary of the Interior to $1 each.

Yesterday, Johnson told reporters he considers extremists Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) and Thomas Massie (R-KY) close friends and said “I don’t disagree with them on many issues and principles.”

To direct his communications team, Johnson has tapped Raj Shah, a former executive from the Fox News Corporation, who was a key player in promoting the lie that Trump won the 2020 presidential election. As the head of the “Brand Protection Unit,” Shah demanded that the Fox News Channel continue to lie to viewers who would leave the station if it told the truth. Johnson has hired Shah to be his deputy chief of staff for communications and, according to Alex Isenstadt of Politico, “help run messaging for House Republicans.” 

The extremists are doubling down on Trump and his election lies even as his allies are admitting in court that they are, indeed, lies. Trump’s former chief of staff Mark Meadows is in trouble with the publisher of his memoir after admitting that under oath that the election had been fair. The publisher is suing him for millions in damages for basing his book on the idea that the election had been stolen and representing that “all statements contained in the Work are true.” 

The publisher says it has pulled the book off the market. 

House extremists continue to back Trump even as he is openly calling for an authoritarian second term. In September, former chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley had to take “appropriate measures” for his own security after Trump accused him of disloyalty to him, personally, and suggested that in the past, such “treason” would have been punished with death. 

On Wednesday, Jonathan Swan, Charlie Savage, and Maggie Haberman of the New York Times reported that Trump was frustrated in his first term by lawyers who refused to go along with his wishes, trying to stay within the law, so Trump's allies are making lists of lawyers they believe would be “more aggressive” on issues of immigration, taking over the Department of Justice, and overturning elections. 

They are looking, they say, for “a different type of lawyer” than those supported by the right-wing Federalist Society, one “willing to endure the personal and professional risks of association with Mr. Trump” and “to use theories that more establishment lawyers would reject to advance his cause.” 

John Mitnick, who served in Trump’s first term, told the reporters that “no qualified attorneys with integrity will have any desire to serve as political appointees” in a second Trump term. Instead, the lawyers in a second term would be “opportunists who will rubber-stamp whatever Trump and his senior White House staff want to do.” 

Trump has also made it clear he and his allies want to gut the nonpartisan civil service and fill tens of thousands of government positions with his own loyalists. Led by Russell Vought, who served as Trump’s director of the Office of Management and Budget, Trump’s allies believe that agencies like the Federal Communications Commission, the Federal Trade Commission, and the Securities and Exchange Commission should not be independent but should push the president’s agenda. 

This week, Trump vowed to take over higher education too. In a campaign video, he promised to tax private universities with large endowments to fund a new institution called “American Academy.” The school, which would be online only, would award free degrees and funnel students into jobs with the U.S. government and federal contractors.

“We spend more money on higher education than any other country, and yet they’re turning our students into communists and terrorists and sympathizers of many, many different dimensions,” Trump said. “We can’t let this happen.” In his university, “wokeness or jihadism” would not be allowed, he said.

In admirable understatement, Politico’s Meridith McGraw and Michael Stratford noted: “Using the federal government to create an entirely new educational institution aimed at competing with the thousands of existing schools would drastically reshape American higher education.”

Trump has made no secret of his future plans for the United States of America. 

Meanwhile, Republicans appear determined to push their agenda over the wishes of voters. In Ohio, where voters on Tuesday will decide whether to amend the state constitution to make it a constitutional right to “make and carry out one’s own reproductive decisions,” Republicans first tried to make it harder to amend the state constitution, and then, when voters rejected that attempt, the Republican-dominated state senate began to use an official government website to spread narratives about the constitutional amendment that legal and medical experts called false or misleading. 

Adding reproductive health protections to the state constitution is popular, but In an unusual move, the Republican secretary of state, Frank LaRose, quietly purged more than 26,000 voters from the rolls in late September. LaRose is a staunch opponent of the constitutional amendment and is himself running for a seat in the U.S. Senate. 

In Virginia, where Republicans are hoping to take control of the state legislature to pass new abortion restrictions as well as the rest of Republican governor Glenn Youngkin’s agenda, a study by the Democratic Party of Virginia shows that officials are flagging the mail-in ballots of non-white voters for rejection much more frequently than those of white voters. As of today, 4.82% of ballots cast by Black voters have gotten flagged, while only 2.79% of the ballots of white voters have been flagged.

In Richmond, The Guardian’s Sam Levine reported, city officials flagged more than 11% of ballots returned by Black voters but only about 5.5% of ballots cast by white voters. After the ballots are fixed, or cured, the rate of rejection for Black voters remains more than twice as high as that of white voters. 

Virginia officials also reported last week that they had accidentally removed more than 3,400 eligible voters from the rolls.

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[scotianostra]

John Cairncross WWII intelligence officer and Soviet spy was born on 25th July 1913 in Lesmahagow, Lanarkshire,.

Cairncross's father was the manager of an ironmonger's and his mother a primary school teacher. John Cairncross was one of a family of eight, many of whom had distinguished careers. All three of his brothers became professors. One was the economist Sir Alexander Kirkland Cairncross (a.k.a. Alec Cairncross). The journalist Frances Cairncross is his niece. Cairncross grew up in Lesmahagow attending the town's Academy, before going on to University of Glasgow; the Sorbonne and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he studied French and German.

it was while at Cambridge Cairncross was introduced to Anthony Blunt and Guy Burgess and soon became a Communist working with the Cambridge Spy Ring. Monitored by Soviet agent Samuel Cahan, he received a short course in espionage tactics before taking the Home Office and Foreign Office exams, receiving the highest scores on both.

Cairncross briefly with Donald Maclean at the Foreign Office before the war, he was assigned to Bletchley Park in 1942/43 but unlike in The Film The Imitation game it is highly unlikely he would have met, let alone blackmailed Alan Turing. He did however pass on cases full of intercepted German messages which he transported in the back seat of his car to the Soviet Embassy. Cairncross joined Secret Intelligence Service MI6 in 1944 and continued working for them until 1951 when sensitive documents in Cairncross’ handwriting were found in Guy Burgess apartment after he and Maclean fled to Russia. He was thus fired from his position in the British Treasury department, although he denied being a spy. He turned to scholarly activities and humanitarian efforts for the United Nations.

In 1964, Sir Anthony Blunt confessed to being a Soviet spy and in return for leniency identified Cairncross as another Soviet agent. When confronted with the evidence, Cairncross admitted to his espionage, explaining that he had not spied for several years, saying that he spied only during World War II, when Russia was a British ally.

Soviet defectors later disputed Cairncross statements about his limited involvement in espionage. They claimed that he had turned over countless reams of information.

Fearful of negative publicity and scandal, the British government hushed up his activities, declining to prosecute him for espionage or to expose him to the public. Cairncross, in fact, remained for a time in his job as with the United Nations Food and Agricultural Organization.

He was finally outed as a spy in 1981 but no charges were ever brought against him. Cairncross spent most of his life in exile but returned home in 1995 dying later the same year after a stroke.

[queenofcandynsoda]

Sol Fertilis: Levels of the National Police Service

There are five branches of the National Police Service.

Civilian Police: The Civilian Police is the branch of Sol Fertilis law enforcement that deals with specific areas such as traffic control, parking enforcement, and public safety at events or gatherings. They ensure compliance with regulations related to transportation, public spaces, and crowd management. It consists entirely of Beta Pluses. 

Civic Police: The Civic Police is the branch of Sol Fertilis law enforcement that specializes in maintaining public order, enforcing local laws, and providing general community policing services. They focus on day-to-day law enforcement activities, such as patrolling neighborhoods, responding to emergencies, and conducting investigations into minor offenses. It consists of Delta Minuses and Beta Pluses. 

Elite Police: The Elite Police is the branch of Sol Fertilis law enforcement that consists of highly trained and skilled officers who handle high-risk situations, such as counterterrorism operations, hostage rescues, and specialized criminal investigations. They are equipped with advanced weaponry, tactical gear, and specialized training to handle complex and dangerous missions. It consists of Delta Minuses and Beta Pluses.

Military Police: The Military Police is the branch of Sol Fertilis law enforcement that relates to the Ministry of Defense. Their jobs are to maintain discipline, enforce military regulations, and provide security within military installations and operations. They also assist with investigations related to military personnel and crimes that occur within the military environment. In terrorist attacks, they help other branches to maintain order, evacuations, close off areas, and apprehend suspected terrorists. It consists of Delta Pluses, Delta Minuses, and Beta Pluses.

Intelligence Police: Known as the Sentinel Police, it is the secret police branch of Sol Fertilis law enforcement. They operate covertly and focus on gathering intelligence, conducting surveillance, and combating threats to national security. They work in close coordination with intelligence agencies and are responsible for detecting and preventing espionage, subversion, and other activities that pose a threat to the nation. Whoever is in it is unknown but it is speculated that it consists of Alphas, Delta Pluses, Delta Minuses, and Beta Pluses. They are connected to the Ministry of Counter-Intelligence.

[darlenefblog]

General DeWitt Shy Spain Airport - Memphis, Tennessee

2787 North 2nd Street

Taken directly from Wikipedia with only slight modifications.

General DeWitt Spain Airport began as an idea in 1928 when the Memphis Chamber of Commerce Engineering Committee suggested turning Mud Island into Memphis' Airport. They decided against that location for a main airport and moved Memphis International Airport to its current location in South Memphis. However, the idea apparently did not fade.

In 1959, Memphis Downtown Airport was put into service about where Mud Island Park is today to service the general aviation community. It had the slogan: "You're strictly uptown when you land downtown." A ferry boat took travelers from the Island to the cobblestones, and then it was just a short walk to the offices of Memphis' city center. Private pilots who worked downtown and business travelers had the perfect arrangement. By 1961, 30 planes were landing per day, according to newspaper reports.

*I think this sounds like a lovely way to travel. Memphis International Airport is a sprawling 1960's design monstrosity. I personally would not cry if they tore it down and started over. *

By the mid-1960s, Interstate 40 was scheduled to cross the Island. Airport owners fought the I-40 Bridge, but in August, 1970, the last plane departed the island airport. *I-40 runs from East to West coast across America. The only leg not completed is in Memphis. The planners wanted to run the interstate through the Memphis Zoo, located in Overton Park. The city sued and after a long court battle finally won. As it turns out the I-40 bridge only obstructs a small portion of Mud Island but it would have interfered with airplane traffic*. Quickly the airport authority purchased available land just to the north of the island so downtown commuters could once again have their landing strip back. The following May, Memphis Downtown Airport was replaced by General DeWitt Spain Airport, honoring local war hero General DeWitt Spain who died in 1969. It has been and still is an active general aviation airport.

*This is a cute epilog, the only crash at the airport was a drone.*

On April 11, 2016, General Dewitt Spain Airport suffered its first accident of an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle after a Phantom Quadcopter impacted the side of a hangar. No fatalities were reported. The Quadcopter was unregistered and unable to be traced to the operator.

*I found this information on General Spain from his obituary. I've lived in West Tennessee all my life and had no idea who he was. He died in 1969 in Maryland; I was almost 8 so it wouldn't have made my young self's radar. He sounds like quite a guy.*

Dewitt Shy Spain

BIRTH 24 Apr 1919

DEATH 28 Apr 1969 (aged 50) BURIAL Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington County, Virginia

Evening Star, April 29, 1969 Page 20

Brig. Gen. DeWitt S. Spain, 50, deputy chief of staff for plans at the Tactical Air Command Headquarters, Langley Air Force Base, died of cancer yesterday at the Andrews Air Force Base hospital. He was born in Memphis, Tenn., and attended Southwestern University there (now known as Rhodes College) and the University of Tennessee at Knoxville.

In 1940 he became an aviation cadet and was commissioned a second lieutenant in May of 1941. For four years during World War II he was active in the Asiatic-Pacific theater, finishing as commander of the 15th fighter group.

After the war he was discharged from active duty and returned to Memphis, where he participated in the air National Guard and air reserve programs. Returning to active duty in 1950, he became director of combat operations of the 26th Air Defense Division in New York. *Memphis is a large distribution hub, being situated on the Mississippi River in a middle of the country location. The military also found the city to be a good location for the Naval Air Station in Millington and a large Air National base where the Memphis Belle airplane was on display for many decades.*

Upon graduation in 1961 from the Industrial College of Armed Forces at Fort McNair, Gen. Spain was assigned for a year to the Pentagon's deputy chief of the Air Defense Division, followed by two years on the Pentagon's national Security Council. Assigned in 1963 the USAF headquarters in Wiesbaden, Germany, he served as director of operations and training, until 1966, when he assumed his Langley post, he was attached to the 10th tactical reconnaissance wing of the Royal Air Force at Alcan Barry England.

His decorations include the Legion of Merit with Oak leaf cluster, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Bronze Star, the Air Medal with Oak Leaf Cluster, the Purple Heart, and a commendation ribbon.

He leaves his wife Joan of Hampton Virginia and a daughter Mrs. James Romanchk of Chanute Air Force Base, Illinois. Services will be held at 3 PM Thursday at Fort Myer Chapel followed by burial with full military honors in Arlington Cemetery. The family suggests that expressions of sympathy be in the form of donations the American Cancer Society.

[misfitwashere]

The Abandonment of Ukraine

The American strategy in Ukraine is slowly bleeding the nation, and its people, to death.

By Karl Marlantes and Elliot Ackerman

On a recent trip to Ukraine, we walked through the rubble of a children’s hospital in Kyiv targeted by the Russians, toured an apartment building in Kharkiv where floor after floor had been destroyed by Russian missiles, and visited the front lines to meet with soldiers who spoke of the brutality of Russian human-wave tactics. But the most unsettling thing we saw was the American strategy in Ukraine, one that gives the Ukrainian people just enough military aid not to lose their war but not enough to win it. This strategy is slowly bleeding Ukraine, and its people, to death.

Our visit was facilitated by With Honor, a bipartisan political-action committee that supports veterans in Congress, and we toured Ukraine alongside Republican and Democratic lawmakers. We are both Marine Corps veterans. We have a combined 60-year breadth of combat experience between us, including Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. The horrors of war are not unfamiliar to us. Yet both of us felt deeply disturbed as we finished our trip.

In Kharkiv, we met with a group of Ukrainian combat veterans. Before the war, Victoria Honcharuk, a 24-year-old medic, lived in the United States, where she’d been accepted to a graduate program at Harvard while working in New York City in investment banking. When war broke out in February 2022, she left that life behind and returned home to defend her country. Her unit of medics, composed entirely of volunteers, draws no pay. Approximately half of the friends she began service with have been killed or wounded. When she enumerated her concerns for the future, they included the safety of her family and her friends but also how she would make payments on her U.S. student loans while fighting a war for her country’s survival. When a member of our group observed that Ukraine’s future would involve young people, like her, leading and rebuilding her country, she paused and politely reminded us that they could rebuild it only if they survived.

After, we drove into the nearby countryside to a field a few miles back from the front lines, where we met up with the drone unit from the 92nd Assault Brigade. It had parked tactical vehicles and an assortment of drones beneath camouflage nets to avoid aerial observation. The unit’s commander, nicknamed Achilles, walked us through a presentation of the soldiers’ capabilities. This included a live-fire demonstration of one of their first-person-view drones destroying a target. Lethal drones and reconnaissance drones alike are reshaping the battlefield at an unprecedented pace. The U.S. military has yet to reckon with this. The current family of low-cost, highly effective drones used by the Ukrainians are all manufactured in China. No U.S. equivalent exists in the marketplace, as the efforts of several American companies have stalled.

Read: ‘We only need some metal things’

Achilles presented us with an elaborate series of slides that broke down by cost each drone in his arsenal. While lethal U.S. drones such as the Switchblade cost approximately $60,000 to $80,000 a unit, the drones employed by the Ukrainians are a bargain, most costing in the low four figures. That is cheaper than a single artillery shell. The briefing given by Achilles wasn’t simply a summary of capabilities; it was a sales pitch. If an ideological argument for supporting Ukraine wasn’t sufficient, Achilles was willing to make an argument around the numbers and America’s potential return on investment. If the United States wants to keep Vladimir Putin in check and halt the advance of China and Iran, he suggested, Ukraine offers a bargain. His presentation ended with a slide that broke down how, for about $100 million, a drone unit like his could sustain itself in the field for an entire year, conducting approximately 5,000 lethal strikes. The rate of return: one dead Russian for every $20,000 spent.

Achilles made his appeal with an urgency that American policy makers don’t seem to share. The speed of innovation on the battlefield has made some long-awaited Western weapons systems all but obsolete by the time they were delivered. Two weeks before our trip, yet another M1A1 Abrams main battle tank was destroyed in a top-down attack by a kamikaze drone. Only 20 of the 31 Abrams tanks delivered by the U.S. in February remain. Ukrainian soldiers at the front told us that any innovation they develop is countered by a Russian response within weeks. Both armies are innovating at a pace that is leaving the sclerotic U.S. and NATO defense industries behind.

An example of this is HIMARS, the long-range rocket artillery that the U.S. has provided at a maddeningly slow pace. A year ago, HIMARS was the most in-demand system on the battlefield. Now it has a success rate of less than 10 percent because of Russian innovation in electronic warfare. Each rocket fired by HIMARS costs roughly $100,000. Because of the rapid decrease in HIMARS’s effectiveness, the Ukrainians have developed a drone that has a similar impact of the early HIMARS and costs about $1,000. The Ukrainians, however, are rightfully worried that, within a few weeks, the Russians will develop countermeasures that bring the effectiveness of this kind of drone down to that of the current HIMARS. It is, literally, an arms race.

Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky has spent a great deal of time pleading with his allies for weapons and permission to use them to their full capabilities. But his administration is now pleading simply for the delivery of weapons that have already been pledged. Currently, these delays are the result of U.S. Department of Defense protocols that affect the drawdown rates of U.S. stockpiles. Each of the services is required to keep certain quantities of weapons and ammunition in reserve in case of war, and they are not allowed to dip below these levels. Such concerns are not without precedent. In the Second World War, during the German invasion of France in 1940, Winston Churchill had to deny French requests for Royal Air Force support. Churchill knew that every British plane would be required for the upcoming Battle of Britain. However, the United States is nowhere near such a crisis. If anything, and ironically, we keep our weapons in reserve for a crisis exactly like the one playing out in Ukraine. We must make those weapons available to those who would use them in our shared defense.

Read: Zombie history stalks Ukraine

The war in Ukraine is at risk of being lost—not because the Russians are winning but because Ukraine’s allies have not allowed them to win. If we encourage the Ukrainians to fight while failing to give them the tools they need for victory, history will surely conclude that the Russians weren’t the only ones who committed crimes against Ukraine.

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Reblogged from https://www.tumblr.com/vermillionquinn

[oceanbuyersagency]

Finding Your Ideal Property: The Advantage of Using Ocean Buyers Agency in Noosa

When it comes to buying real estate agents sunshine coast, having the right support can transform your experience. For those looking to invest in the picturesque Noosa area, partnering with a dedicated buyers agency can provide invaluable advantages. In this blog post, we'll delve into why Ocean Buyers Agency is your go-to choice for navigating the Sunshine Coast's real estate landscape, ensuring you find your dream property.

The Magic of Noosa

Noosa is more than just a beautiful destination; it’s a lifestyle choice. With its stunning beaches, lush national parks, and vibrant dining scene, it’s no wonder people are flocking to this coastal paradise. Whether you're searching for a holiday retreat, a permanent residence, or an investment opportunity, the Noosa property market offers something for everyone.

However, the competitive nature of real estate in Noosa can pose challenges for buyers. This is where a Noosa buyers agency can make a significant difference.

Understanding Buyers Agencies

A buyers agency represents the interests of the buyer rather than the seller. Unlike traditional real estate agents who focus on listing properties, a buyers agency, such as Ocean Buyers Agency, works solely to help you find and secure the right property.

Key Services Offered by Ocean Buyers Agency:

Property Search: Utilizing advanced market analysis tools to find properties that meet your specific needs.

Negotiation: Skilled negotiation tactics to secure the best price and terms for your purchase.

Market Insights: In-depth knowledge of local trends and insights to guide your decision-making.

Why Choose Ocean Buyers Agency in Noosa?

1. Local Expertise

Our team at Ocean Buyers Agency possesses extensive knowledge of the Sunshine Coast and Noosa property market. We understand the nuances of different neighborhoods, local amenities, and upcoming developments that can impact property values.

This expertise allows us to provide you with tailored recommendations, ensuring you find a property that fits your lifestyle and investment goals.

2. Customized Property Search

Every buyer has unique requirements, and at Ocean Buyers Agency, we recognize that. Our process begins with understanding your needs, preferences, and budget. We then conduct a tailored property search, presenting you with options that truly align with your vision.

3. Skilled Negotiators

The art of negotiation can make or break a property deal. Our experienced agents at Ocean Buyers Agency are adept negotiators who work diligently to secure the best possible outcome for you. We handle all negotiations professionally, allowing you to focus on what matters most—finding your new home.

4. Comprehensive Due Diligence

Buying property is a significant investment, and thorough due diligence is essential. Ocean Buyers Agency conducts in-depth assessments of properties, including inspections and market valuations. We ensure you have all the information necessary to make informed decisions, minimizing risks along the way.

5. Access to Off-Market Listings

Many of the best properties in Noosa are sold before they even hit the market. With our extensive network and local connections, Ocean Buyers Agency can give you access to exclusive off-market listings. This advantage can be a game-changer, especially in a competitive market.

The Buying Process with Ocean Buyers Agency

Step 1: Initial Consultation

Your journey begins with a comprehensive consultation. We’ll discuss your property goals, preferences, and budget to create a clear understanding of what you’re looking for.

Step 2: Property Search

Armed with your requirements, our team will embark on a thorough property search, utilizing our market expertise to find listings that fit your criteria.

Step 3: Property Inspections

Once we identify suitable properties, we will arrange inspections for you. Our agents will accompany you, offering insights and guidance throughout the viewing process.

Step 4: Negotiation

When you’ve found the right property, we’ll handle all negotiations on your behalf, striving to secure the best price and conditions for your purchase.

Step 5: Settlement and Support

After a successful negotiation, we will guide you through the settlement process, ensuring everything is in order. Even after the purchase, Ocean Buyers Agency remains available for any questions or further assistance you may need.

Why the Sunshine Coast is an Attractive Investment

Investing in real estate on the Sunshine Coast, particularly in Noosa, offers numerous advantages. The area is characterized by strong capital growth, high rental demand, and a robust tourism industry. Properties here are not just homes; they’re long-term investments with significant potential for appreciation.

Key Reasons to Invest in Noosa:

High Demand: With its stunning natural beauty and lifestyle appeal, demand for properties remains strong.

Growing Infrastructure: Continued investment in infrastructure and amenities enhances the area’s attractiveness for both residents and investors.

Lifestyle Benefits: The combination of beachside living, outdoor activities, and a vibrant community makes Noosa a sought-after destination.

Navigating the property market in Noosa doesn’t have to be overwhelming. With the support of a dedicated Noosa buyers agency like Ocean Buyers Agency, you can confidently pursue your real estate goals. Our commitment to personalized service, local expertise, and skilled negotiation will help you find the perfect property that meets your needs.

Ready to embark on your property journey in Noosa? Contact Ocean Buyers Agency today and let us guide you in finding your dream home or investment on the beautiful Sunshine Coast. Your ideal property is just a conversation away!