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penvisions · 2 months ago

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one fish, two fish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Your day seems to be turning around for the better and you certainly don't expect for the night to end the way that it is. Maybe this is the start of things to finally settle into place, you can only hope.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, mentions of reader getting ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, reader and frankie finally talk things through, alcohol consumption, illusions to traumatic event involving fire / explosions, illusions to helicopter wreck in the movie, illusions to canon death, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, triple frontier boys, descriptions of both frankie and santi as romantic interests, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: um hi ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || navigation

Panic grips Frankie, reminding him of the time he had been stranded in the middle of a field beside a smoking and wrecked chopper, the crash landing he had tried to avoid becoming their new reality. They had been stranded, all five of them, with far too much money pulling taught the netting beneath the vehicle. He had tried his best, to get them to the coast, to get them home. But he had failed, the feeling all too real as he watches with a thudding heart the way you careen down the aisle away from him in the middle of a grocery store with a pinched expression.

“Daddy, why did she run away? I wanted to talk to her!”

“Maybe she was just in a hurry, mija.” He knows it’s bad to lie, especially to his daughter, but the truth is something he himself isn’t too clear on at the moment. He tries not to dwell on the way he hadn’t had the courage to reach out, a couple weeks ago now when you had let him know your phone was repaired and working once again.

He was a cowardly idiot, that’s the only reason he concluded with confidence.

Later that evening, once Cecila was snuggled in her bed with the blankets tucked in around her growing body did he allow himself the chance to sit out on his porch and let his thoughts consume him. He had no reason truly, why he hadn’t responded. The day getting away from him, work calling his attention as a routine check on an engine turned into a full-blown repair as a belt had snapped, too worn from the excessive trips into the air and idling along the runway as students learned out to operate the aerial vehicle. He had showered and thrown himself atop the bed that night after tending to his daughter, no thoughts for the phone still stored in the front pocket of his pants crumpled on the floor.

The next day it had been much the same; the outline for his day tedious but thankfully predictable with teaching, instructing, lecturing, testing, repairing. For nearly five hours until he had been able to catch his breath and take a few bites of something Will had been able to bring over, knowing how overwhelmed he was, how stretched thin he was.

He had no reason other than his own life was barely managed, as to why he hadn’t reached out. Another layer to it was how sleezy he would feel, he met you at a meeting for fuck’s sake. You obviously had been seeking out a lifeline of your own, something to cling to in the low moments. His evening routine of sitting in silence on his porch seemed to be his only respite as of late. The pack of menthol cigarettes he keeps hidden from his daughter taken out once the door to her bedroom shuts. The flick of the lighter almost Pavlovian in the way he eases some of the tension in his shoulders.

The overwhelming feeling of turning to the pills or the powder or the needles that once meant salvation no longer an option. A new need to be better, to do better. And who was he to provide better for you? When he couldn’t even approach you in a friendly enough air to sooth your worries in that moment. At the meeting he was the orchestrator of. He’s by no means a sponsor, but he does hold a bit of authority in the local community. An ear for those too shy to share during meetings, a wealth of information for those seeking it, someone who always plays a part in the annual picnics and events. A family man with no family of his own, save for his friends who give too much of themselves to him even now that their feet are back on US soil.

There’s no space for him in his life, let alone another person who deserves everything and anything. He couldn’t give that to you, the hours spent in the diner already a welcome strain on the one night he had to himself a week. He had given it up for you, your distress at his hand and actions too much for him to handle and not feel like he needed to fix, alter, repent for. Your smile had been shy at first, but oh, when it had bloomed fully before him in the bright lights of the diner? He knew he would give what little of himself was left in order to see it again.

That in itself sounded warning bells inside his head, it was surely to become another vice he would cling to in low moments. But unlike white powder or scored pills, you would were something someone to let down even as he clung to you. Pursuing you would only create more problems, not alleviate any that already plagued him. So he made the decision to keep his head down, work through the strain of being short-staffed at his job, to focus on his daughter. To let his own needs for something more idle and be shoved into the back of his mind along with thoughts of you.

He was okay, Cecilia was okay, their life was good if a bit hectic. If a bit lonely. He would survive, and he’s sure you would too without him complicating things for the both of you.

Frankie tried to be a good man, too many past deeds reminding him of why he felt the need to find repentance and be better. Should he cross paths with you again out in public, he would apologize. Offer to take you to the meeting he had scared you away from. Introduce you to the others, integrate you into the group. As a friend, as a fellow addict, as…a friend. And nothing more. It’s the least he could do if you deign to give him the time of day.

Sighing, he rubs a rough hand over his face, palm catching on his scruff and reminding him he needs to trim it. His grays are visible no matter how short it is, beginning to shine through the dark brown. He was about to get up from his spot in the whicker chair to do something about it, but he feels rooted in his spot. Legs heavy and torso leaned back into the cradle of the chair. His feet are bare, his cut off shorts made from an old pair of sweatpants allowing for him to feel the cool breeze as the evening progresses.

It's nice out. He brings another cigarette to his lips and lights it, smiling softly as the sound of your soft laughter echoes in his ears.

Santiago is rather nicer than Frankie had initially been, though there was no underlying current of mutual attraction. At least, that’s what you were trying to tell yourself, tamping down on the way the man’s eyes would sparkle when they caught both natural and artificial light. The way his curls beautiful and nearly completely steel grey looked effortlessly soft and pliable for wandering hands to tangle in. He was handsome, as you originally thought, but it was his kindness and thoughtfulness that was cementing him in your thoughts.

So unlike the snub of Frankie’s affections after that first night of actually talking to him, that night of the diner where you had thought there would be more just like it. Before you had found out that he had kept the revelation of him being a parent from you, something that hadn’t been mentioned during those long hours you had sat and spoke with him, held his hand and shared in easy laughter. Not that he owed you the truth, you suppose, because for all intents and purposes he was still just a stranger to you. A chance encounter and a lovely night of shared company that was more a memory now than anything.

The sting of his silence and then half-assed explanation and excuses had faded over the last few weeks.

Until he exited out from the truck of his friend that Santiago had called to help tow yours. There was a mechanic shop just next door to the gym one of his other friends owned, something about one of them having worked there or knew the person who operated it and would be able to get you a decent deal that wouldn’t break the bank or your resolve to make this city work.

“Fish! Didn’t expect you to be off work already.” Santiago crowds the man, arms going around his shoulders and a few loud claps of his hand on his back before they part. You see a flash of the smile that had been aimed at you over a low table only once before and your heart skips a beat even as it disappears. Frankie’s eyes land on you and you suddenly feel exposed. The bare skin of your arms blooming with goosebumps despite the warm evening air.

“Can’t believe it myself.” The two men embrace, hands slapping and then Santigo is engulfing you in a side embrace of your own. His eyes catch yours briefly, as if signaling that the next words out of his mouth were genuine.

“Been pretty long days lately. But this one needed some help, and who am I to deny her that?”

It’s quiet for a beat, Santiago looking between you and Frankie who suddenly don’t seem to be on talking terms, while Will beckons you over to ask a few questions about the front bumper. The conversation of whether or not it’s able to handle towing and what kind of issue is going on fades as you both round the front of vehicle.

“Hey,” The older man whispers, sidling up to his friend. “Thought you said you two smoothed things over?”

“We did….until I never texted her back and she ran into me and Ceci at the market.” Frankies large hand rubs at the back of his neck, curls greasy from work. He’s sure he doesn’t look too great, tired from the long day and caught off guard that the ‘friend’ Santiago needed a hand helping out turned out to be you. How did he even know you? He had only ever briefly met you at the bar, all those nights ago. Had only ever been mentioned to the man in passing, not willing to admit to selfishly and cowardly ignoring you for weeks now.

“…you didn’t say anything about that. I take it you hadn’t quite yet told her you’ve got a lil one, then, huh?”

“She nearly knocked into an endcap display once she saw it was me.” Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his khakis, he shrugs his aching shoulders. Trying not to look too hurt by the way his heart had clenched at the reaction. It hadn’t been great but he had deserved it. He knows he did, he hadn’t been fair to you.

“Shit, Fish. That’s…I thought you said you liked her?” Santiago furrowed his brows and looked at Frankie straight on, not giving the man any space to avert his gaze. He was being a good friend, but he was also sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Liking her ain’t the problem, it’s finding time for her. Which I don’t even have for myself right now.”

“Well, now you’ll have time. Gonna set her up with Will for work, fill that open position for a secondary mechanic they’ve got on the base.” Before he could respond one way or another, Santiago was clapping him on the back and walking over to where Will was just pulling on the chains to ensure they were secure.

Fucking- of course he would end up being in proximity to you. Every detail of your hours long conversation rolled around his head. You would definitely get the job, your background and experience exactly what the base was looking for.

The only issue is that meant he would see you on nearly a daily basis and he’s already botched meeting you for the first time and second…he needed to clear the air. Even if it was going to be difficult to articulate the reasoning behind his actions. You deserve it, to not question in the back of your mind the endless possibilities of what had happened. If you even thought of him, if you even cared at this point.

No thoughts of other than making things right, for the sake of potentially working together and seeing the way you interact with his friends. They like you, an invitation for drinks offered for later.

A short drive down a few blocks and you find yourself standing in a nearly empty parking lot of a gym called ‘Brass Knuckles’. Frankie, Will, and Santiago were idly chatting, waiting for their friend to close up the gym for the night to walk across the street to the dive bar that was mentioned. He looks a little younger than the rest of them, but not by much. You’ve all lived your earlier years for the country, that much is obvious, in the way you all hold yourselves. The comradery was one of the things you missed the most about being around other people who had served as well. But your contact with much of your squadron had fallen by the wayside as things progressed after the attack that had earned you all an honorable discharge…

Shaking your head, you found yourself sat at a table with them all and they were discussing what to get a pitcher of.

“Any preferences, hermosa?” Santiago nudges his shoulder into yours. “You were drinking an amber the other night, maybe one of those?”

“I stick to those just cause they’re pretty even along the board no matter what city, but just get whatever you all want.” To be honest, you’re a little nervous being around Frankie. Let alone amidst his personal friend group, you didn’t want him to feel like you were imposing. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in you, even if he had tried to smooth things over in the way he had in that rambling voicemail.

It still felt like an invasion, his life his own and something he protected in omitting certain truths.

He keeps glancing at you from across the table and you weren’t sure what to think about him. He had apologized sure, but it seemed that he either feels some sort of obligation to you with all of the mix ups that keep happening or if he truly does wish to extend the hand of friendship. You don’t know him well enough to know which one for certain, thought if you were going off of the man he had been across a dingy table you would have to guess it’s because he was a good person who wanted you to be in his orbit.

“Nah, we’ll get a pitcher of that. And some appetizers to tide everyone over until dinner.” Benny winks at you as he stands and makes his way over to the bar counter.

“Pope here mentioned you’re on the lookout for a service job,” Will meets your eye with a charming smile. “We’ve got openings in Fish’s zone, mechanics and repair work. Don’t have too much in the way of engineering or assembly work, but we do have some instructor roles that need to be filled too. Safety protocol, seminar leaders, stuff like that. What experience do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was an explosives expert, Navy SEAL. Did foreign tours but spent most of my time at the Pearl Harbor base. Have a background in mechanical engineering and weapons instruction. But I’m not sure how much if it is on file now should I be looked up in the system.” It’s a clipped summary though your tone is open and honest, explaining in the simplest way you’ve come to know how to for exactly that question.

Potential jobs, apartment hunting, casual curiosity when using your discount out and about, it was a constant one in your life. Though the specifics of what happened to cause the way you had been ejected from active service more personal, a little heavier and harder to explain. Your keys jangle in your hand, the plastic chip emblazoned with ‘one year’ a grounding feeling in your palm. The cool plastic gives you a little comfort as you sit amongst strangers with similar pasts.

“Did you finish out your contract? The only time information about your skills gets altered is if you take leave before the end of it.”

“I was, um,” Your eyes catch the movement of Benny moving back toward the table, the phantom feel of flames licking at your sides as the room suddenly feels way too hot. “I was honorably discharged. For medical reasons.”

He watches you closely, eyes roving over your exposed arms, taking in the muscles you’ve managed to keep up as best as you could. There was no evidence you had been sick or otherwise that was visible, all of it shielded by your top. The other two men stealthily check you for the same, though you feel Frankie’s gaze more than the others, something underlying his casual concern. “And is everything okay now?”

“Oh, um, yes. It was…” You averted your eyes to the keys in your lap, unable to formulate a polite summary of the reason you had ended up sitting across from him. It was a lot, endless meetings and deep conversations, of yelling and arguing. Of admittance after too much avoidance of the truth. A lot of fault on your shoulders, on those around you, on medical professionals and the circumstances that had begun it all.

“Don’t need the details, if you’re uncomfortable sharing them. We can discuss is further when you come into the base for a “formal” interview, if you think it’ll affect any aspects of the job.” You feel the band of anxiety around your chest relax, the breath you take in expands your lungs instead of feeling stuck in the back of your throat. “How does- what’s today again-?”

“Wednesday, you big oaf.” Benny teases as he returns to the table with a full pitcher of dark beer and a stack of pint glasses nestled into each other.

“So kind and gracious, little brother.” He rolls his eyes as he thinks something over. “Would Friday work for you? Give me the weekend to run your resume and file over with the higher ups and could probably formally offer you something on Monday.”

You find yourself at the table alone with Frankie. His friends gone to the other side of the bar to start a game of pool amongst themselves. Brother against brother with Santiago to moderate.

It’s…awkward to say the least. Apprehensive tension charging the air around you both as you sip on your beer. It’s the second of yours, though Frankie is still on his first.

“Santiago and I ran into each other,” You blurted out, unable to handle the silence. Frankie had been lost in thought, plush lips twitching as he seemed to go over words he thought to say and then changed his mind. His eyes snap up from the foam he was watching slowly disappear in his drink to you across the table. You swallowed down the way your breath stuck in your throat as his eyes met yours. Dark brown that swirled with so much pulling you toward him. “Literally.”

“He’s got impeccable timing.”

“I was having the worst day, but he helped to turn it around.”

“And now you’re sitting here across from the asshole that ghosted you.” His scoff was subdued, but the distaste he felt about himself and the way things played out was obvious.

“I wasn’t trying to say that. I was trying to- you know what, just forget it. This is all so fucking stupid.” You reach for your bag, hands uncurling from around your own drink. Frustration glowing hot in your chest as he took your words and twisted them. How dare he, you think, reeling from the whiplash of the man’s emotions across from you. You didn’t fault him for feeling things the way he did, but open communication means a lot to you. Honesty means a lot to you and he’s been terrible at both the past few interactions. “You really do know how to make an impression.”

“Shit, wait, please.” The desperation in his voice makes you pause, silent as you wait for him to continue, gauging the wideness to his eyes. He licks at his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue catching your attention far more than you want to admit. “I don’t…I’m not good at…people beyond my small circle.”

“We don’t have to talk like friends, Frankie. But we do have to respect each other as coworkers and share the hangar space if I get this job. If you don’t want to talk to me at all, I can deal with that. We can leave notes on a whiteboard or exchange emails about things that need to get done, no big deal. But I will be damned if whatever happened between us, or lack thereof, affects this opportunity.”

“That’s the last thing I want, Angel.” Frankie’s mouth is a firm line, his hands cupped around his pint glass once again, eyes focused on you and the determination settled in your expression. Almost as if he was grounding himself.

“I wouldn’t ignore you just because of how we met. I…I only regret letting my own shit taint what I thought was a good night after everything had turned around. How I’m letting it fuck this up now, I’m sorry, I know I’m not being the best right now. It’s been a long day, like you said.” You see him pause, one of his hands tensing so much that his knuckles pale. “I can work with you, I’m willing to work with you. We both deserve to do something we’ve got the skills for, I wouldn’t ruin that for you. Believe me.”

“Kinda hard to believe someone who wouldn’t even tell me about their own kid. But hey,” You down the last dredges in your own pint and move to stand up. “I’m just the girl you were trying to make feel welcome after two not so good interactions. You didn’t and don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You deserved the truth.” Frankie agrees, reaching for your arm just as you shoulder the strap to your bag. “You do deserve the truth. Let me- please let me drive you home. I can bring you back tomorrow, talk to Javier, the owner of the shop and get you a deal. I used to work there, I just…I don’t want you to think I didn’t have a good time, that I don’t-it’s me, I’m the problem. Not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Frankie,” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, a headache forming as the day progresses. You still really just wanted to curl up on your couch with take out. The greasy appetizers doing their best to fill your grumbling stomach, but the call of more food in the comfort of your home was strong. “I have no energy for this right now, my day has been shit. Can we just agree to…start over? We’re adults and I don’t want to dwell on things. Please?”

“Whatever you want, I swear it. Just- one last thing, just hear me out on one last thing and then I’ll shut up about it.”

“What is it, Frankie?” You don’t wave his hand off and he thankfully squeezes it in his grasp before stepping back. His shoulders square and he emphasizes with them when he speaks next, providing you with the answers to questions you had tumbled around in your head for days after your encounter at the grocery store.

“The reason I didn’t tell you about Ceci, my daughter, is because she gets attached to people very easily since her mother left us. I didn’t…it’s a lot to learn that someone you’re interested in has a kid, let alone a clingy one. I didn’t want it to be a deal breaker for you.”

“Kinda moot now, isn’t it?” You can’t help the hint of sarcasm that leaks into your tone, wanting for all the world to move past what if’s and maybe’s of how you first met each other. If you’re going to be working together, it’s better to start off fresh, to start off on a better foothold than the rickety one you two had been sharing up until this point.

He catches the way the corner of your mouth quirks up, the arch of one of your brows as you cross your arms and jut your head a bit to the side. Teasing, you’re teasing him and when he realizes his entire body relaxes.

“I mean, you’re the one who went out of their way to make amends for not one, but two terrible first encounters. So, I think you may have been a little more invested than I was, Mr. Morales.”

“With the way you were smiling and giggling, bet you were just as invested, querida.”

“Shut up and take me home, I need a mountain of Chinese food.” You can’t help the roll of your eyes as he matches your taunts, truly set on making things better and tiding over the insecurities of past interactions and lack there of. It’s tentative, your nerves alight even as a giddiness settles in just beneath your skin. The back and forth, the easy conversation flowing like it had once upon a time.

“I know a good place, we’ll look it up and place a to go order. Pick it up on the way.” He offers, seemingly willing to try and move forward as well. There’s a hesitancy behind his eyes that thaws your lingering anger and annoyance, the hurt that had bloomed from it.

“Yeah? You gonna pick up the tab?” You challenge, stepping closer to him as you do so. The setting of the bar and the chatter of the crowd melt away as he matches your step. He’s only inches away as he rests a hand on the top of the table, his head ducked down to focus on only you. The bill of his hat brushes your forehead and you feel a flash of warmth as the memory of his lips on your cheek suddenly bubbles up.

“Picked it up last time, why would this time be any different?” He’s smirking, the glint of his teeth behind his plush lips spurring butterflies to life in your middle.

God, why was it so easy to forgive him for the misunderstanding? Because now your body was alight with the giddy feeling of connection, just like it had been that night in the diner. You only hoped that you could keep it professional, keep it friendly. And how were you supposed to know that Frankie was wondering the exact same thing? His own mind racing as his heart beats wildly in his chest that things are finally changing and changing for the better.

Off to the side, the three remaining members of your little party are nursing their new pints. The second pitcher set on the table and left for you both as they started a game of pool.

“How much you wanna bet that’s gonna happen by the end of the month?” Benny’s wolfish smile influenced by his joy of games, though it stems from a place of genuine interest and want for his friend to find the happiness he had been lacking in his personal life.

“I bet it’s gonna take them two months, and one of them is gonna mistake it for being overly touchy- feely and back off again.” Santiago rises to the bait and offers his own idea of what will happen. He knows his best friend, the way things tend to play out. His past intertwined with is own. He thinks back on the past few years, since their collective return from South America. The strides they’ve all taken since then to be better, to actually make a difference and not fall victim to the endless cycle of not feeling good enough. Frankie deserved good things, a second chance at finding someone to share his life with, even if the man didn’t personally believe it.

“I think they’re gonna hit it off, become inseparable and then one of them is gonna get jealous that the other got asked out. That’s how these things typically go, don’t they?” Will chalks the end of his pool stick, eyes trained on you two standing far too close to each other and lost in your own little bubble. All three of them smiling and enjoying seeing Frankie truly relaxed for the first time in what feels like years.

“Either way, they have intoxicating energy. Makes me feel like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to.” Santiago claps his hands together before retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Think it’s time to call my girl and see when her next night off is.”

They watched on as you both seemed to mess around on Frankie’s phone, fingers pointing at each other and easy laughter shared between you both. Mock frowns and the flash of tongues being teasingly stuck out at each other. They wondered what the conversation was, because when they walked away it looked nothing like it did now. Just as the phone is tucked back into a pocket, you’re both waving at the trio as you make your way to the door.

“I’d have that workplace conduct paperwork at the ready, brother. They’re gonna be trouble once they figure everything out, hell, maybe even as they figure everything out.” Shaking his head and chuckling, Will makes a mental note to stick a blank contract in each of your files tomorrow when he gets to work before going back to the game at hand.

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osakanone · 6 months ago

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"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance.

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

#mecha #giant robot #gundam #mechposting #Come for the mecha theory #Stay for the social commentary #Heaven will be yours

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todaysdocument · 6 months ago

Text

Position Description for Mercury Astronaut

Record Group 255: Records of the National Aeronautics and Space AdministrationSeries: Reference Files of the Special Assistant

[underline] SS - 6.3 [/underline] [Stamped: Space Task Group] B

NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION

1520 H STREET NORTHWEST

WASHINGTON 25, D.C.

TELEPHONE: EXecutive 3-3260, TW: WA 755

IN REPLY REFER TO -

[Stamped: RECEIVED NASA SPACE TASK GROUP JUN 19 2 01PM '59]

[manuscript] 3

[underline] S S- 6.3 [/underline]

SO-14

SP - 2.6 [/manuscript]

Lt. Paul P. Bennett, Jr.

BuPers - A3122

Arlington Annex, Rm. 2603

Washington 25, D. C.

Dear Lt. Bennett:

In accordance with our telephone conversation of June 15 the following is a resume of the position description for the Mercury Astronauts.

[underline] Position Title [/underline]: Mercury Astronaut

[underline] Duties [/underline]: Participates in indoctrination, developmental research, and pre-flight training programs under conditions simulating flight profiles of the type expected to be encountered with Project Mercury. Operates and/or observes fixed-base and moving-base simulator tests, serves as subject-under-test, and assists in the analysis of data for the evaluation and development of various boosters and of communication telemetry, display, vehicle-contol, envirornmental-control and other systems involved in launch, atmospheric escape, orbital flight, re-entry, landing and recovery. Participates in specialized training exercises such as centrifuge programs to build up tolerances to motions and forces associated with launch, flight without gravity, and atmospheric reentry, and to develop proficiency and confidence for vehicle operation under such conditions.

Sincerely yours,

/s/

Clotaire Wood

Technical Assistant to the Deputy Administrator

[Stamped Routing List]

BLAND

BOND

DONLAN

FAGET

GILRUTH

HAMMACK

JOHNSON [initialed: lwj]

KRAFT

KYLE

MacDOUGALL

MATHEWS

MAYER

MEYER

PRESTON

PURSER

RICKER

[strikethrough] TAYLOR [/strikethrough] [initialed: G]

ZAVASKY

ZIMMERMAN

AERO MED [initialed: HBf]

[initials: ATS]

SPACE FILES

[manuscript] COPIES TO:

SHEPARD

SCHIRRA

CARPENTER

GLENN

#archivesgov #june 17 #1959 #astronauts #nasa #mercury program #mercury astronauts #space #space exploration

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historyforfuture · 2 months ago

Text

🚨 One month of ongoing ethnic cleansing and genocide by the Israeli occupation forces on the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in over 1,800 martyrs, 4,000 injured, and widespread destruction of hospitals and infrastructure.

For an entire month, the Israeli occupation forces have continued their intense and multifaceted land, air, and sea aggression on the northern Gaza Strip, targeting Jabalia camp, Jabalia city, Jabalia Nazla, Beit Lahia, Beit Lahia project, Beit Hanoun, and the surrounding areas. This relentless assault has claimed the lives of over 1,800 people, wounded 4,000, left hundreds missing, and caused the complete destruction of all hospitals in northern Gaza, rendering them non-operational. Civil defense teams have also been targeted, with some personnel arrested, leaving these services crippled. Additionally, essential infrastructure, including water networks, sewage systems, roads, and streets, has been destroyed, turning northern Gaza into a fully devastated area in every sense of the word.

This brutal and barbaric assault by the Israeli occupation on civilians, residential neighborhoods, shelters, and displacement centers, resulting in the killing and injuring of hundreds of displaced people, and the forced eviction of thousands from their homes, confirms without a doubt the occupation’s malicious plans to exact revenge on our Palestinian people and forcibly displace them once again, echoing the events of 1948. These plans are carried out with American backing and a green light for further massacres, killing, and genocide.

The aggression has not stopped there; the occupation has extended its crimes against humanity by using starvation and thirst as weapons, preventing 3,800 trucks carrying aid and goods from entering northern Gaza. This has left nearly 400,000 people, including over 100,000 children, deprived of food, water, medicine, and baby formula. The occupation forces have also targeted and destroyed dozens of displacement centers housing tens of thousands of civilians who had fled their homes seeking safety. Instead, they found death by various means of the occupation, including fighter jets, drones, snipers, field executions, tank and vehicle crushing, planted explosives, house demolitions, mosque and institution destruction, and shelling of hospitals, marketplaces, and other public areas, leading to the cold-blooded killing of hundreds and the complete denial of humanitarian services. Medical teams have been denied food, detained, tortured, and prevented from administering polio vaccinations.

⭕ *The horrors our Palestinian people are enduring defy reason and logic. If major countries faced what Gaza endures, they would collapse in weeks. In light of this, we emphasize the following:*

First: We condemn the Israeli occupation’s crimes against humanity, including massacres and genocide targeting tens of thousands of civilians, children, and women deliberately in northern Gaza. We call on all nations worldwide to denounce these horrific massacres against residential neighborhoods, civilians, hospitals, medical teams, mosques, and other civilian institutions.

Second: We hold the Israeli occupation, along with the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, and other countries complicit in this genocide, fully accountable for continuing the war and the crime of genocide against our Palestinian people, particularly the systematic extermination and killing in northern Gaza.

Third: We call upon the international community and all international organizations to fulfill their duties, adhere to international law and humanitarian principles, provide humanitarian, medical, and civil protection for all hospitals, institutions, and residential neighborhoods, and to pressure the Israeli occupation by all means to end these atrocious and inhumane crimes, especially the crime of genocide against unarmed civilians in Gaza and, specifically, in northern Gaza.

Glory and eternity to our martyrs

Full recovery for our courageous wounded

Complete freedom for our brave prisoners in occupation jail

And all greetings to our great Palestinian people

Official website -Hamas movement

#free gaza #free people #free palestine #kamala harris #donald trump #spn #supernatural #us politics #jensen ackles #misha collins #us elections #gravity falls #artists on tumblr #photography #science #space #astrology

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fortheloveofwonderland · 9 months ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 10 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Luke has a heart to heart with Emily. Spencer takes you on a little trip where you both come to an understanding before he takes a serious step on the road to his recovery.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of sexual assault and use the term “rape”, tears, dissociation, blood, self harm, making out, swearing, detailed therapy, medication. WC - 6.6k

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

“Tell me everything you know.” Luke spoke in hushed tones into his cell phone as he hid over the back of the San Antonio Police Department.

Over the swell of people coming and going, phones ringing off their hooks and keyboards clacking, he heard Phil sigh.

“I don’t really know much at all, Alvez.” Phil’s tone was laced with his frustration. “She stole a car in New York after her escape, it was found abandoned down your neck of the woods, just outside of Richmond. But from there…man I don’t know. I can only assume she must have gotten her hands on another vehicle but there weren’t any reported stolen within a fifty mile radius.

“If she’s smart she would have headed for Mexico. But if she did that’ll make finding her that much harder. We know she had money after her first escape, we found the empty safe at mom’s house. She must have known I was close when I apprehended her and stashed it somewhere, so we have to assume she has it again. There have been no sightings of her for the last few days and you know as well as I do that without sightings, there’s nothing I can do.”

“I wish I could help.” Luke pushed the fingers of his free hand against his temple. “But with the whole network thing we’re swamped. Not to mention we’re short on the ground. I want to be kept in the loop though. If you hear anything…”

“Of course, of course.” Phil agreed. “Knowing how she operates she’s probably worked her magic on some poor, unexpected sap who’s taken pity on her. Her face is plastered everywhere up and down the country. Someone has to recognise her.”

“If she’s in some small Mexican town, hell if she’s in some small American town, those kinds of things don’t reach everyone.” Luke continued kneading his temple aggressively. “I hate this, I hate feeling so powerless.”

“We’ll get her Alvez. It might not be today or tomorrow, hell it might not even be this year. But we will get her.” Phil sounded determined and it was one of the things Luke admired most about his old partner.

Even after all he’d been through with Daniel Cullen, even after his rehabilitation had almost destroyed his spirit entirely, he was one determined son of a bitch.

“Keep me posted.” Luke replied before hanging up the phone.

He turned away from the corner wall he’d been staring at, ready to rejoin the team but a set of hauntingly intense dark eyes full of irritation were staring back at him.

She had her arms folded over her chest, her greying hair tied back into a ponytail which made her features appear more stern.

“So it’s true, you are working your own cases?” Emily clucked, tilting her head at him.

“Does Garcia ever keep her mouth shut?” Luke scoffed. “It’s just an old case from back in my FTF days, I’m sorry.”

Emily softened slightly, dropping her arms to her sides with a huffed out breath. She quipped her head to the left.

“Walk with me.” She said before she was already leaving.

Luke quickly followed, falling into step with her. He walked with her until they reached the doors of the precinct. She shoved it open and the two stepped outside into the blistering, humid Texan heat.

She stopped on the pavement a few feet away from the door and once again folded her arms across her chest.

“Is this affecting your ability to be an effective member of this team?” She asked him outright.

“No.” He shook his head, jaw set. “Just some unfinished business is all.”

“She got under your skin?” She narrowed her eyes on him, profiling him.

“They all do.” Luke’s jaw tensed. “But yeah, I supposed she did more than most. She had everyone falling at her feet, treating her with kid gloves. Everyone seemed to forget the fact she murdered a guy. We got close to her, I’m sure we did, right before I got the call from Hotch to help out the BAU.

“We got a tip that she’d been seen in this tiny little town of Magnolia Springs, Alabama. A guy reported he’d seen a person matching her description coming and going from his neighbours house. Someone musta tipped her off because when we arrived she was gone and the woman whose house she was supposedly staying in wasn’t talking.

“I felt her, Emily, she was close, so close. But she slipped out of my reach. And then I joined the BAU and I wasn’t able to be there when Phil finally caught up to her. I wanted to be the one to arrest her, I don’t know why. She got to me and I have no idea why, but the thought of her escaping again is eating me up inside. And now we’re here, in Texas of all places and I…I just…” He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat.

He coughed to try and dislodge it, rubbed his hand up and down his neck. Emily once again let her arms fall from their folded position and her shoulders slumped a little.

“We’re right on his doorstep. Practically in his backyard.” She smiled despondently.

She didn’t need to say his name, saying his name in fact might make matters worse. But she knew Luke understood who she meant. In truth, as soon as she’d gotten the call to come out here she had thought of Spencer. And if she was thinking about him, Luke most definitely was.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I wish it wasn’t still this…hard, you know? Two years and I still feel like it was yesterday you were telling us he left.”

“You never got closure.” Emily shrugged, sucking in a breath. “It’s hard to move on without it. It's like a book with its end pages missing. You just keep flicking through it and hoping they will appear. There was no end for you and him, not a fleshed out one anyway. One day it was and the next it simply wasn’t.”

“I know the rest of the team didn’t see his medical reports from Milburn but as Unit Chief, I imagine you had to?” He straightened his back.

They’d never talked about it, there was no reason to. It wouldn’t have undone what Spencer had to endure and so they just didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was to protect Spencer’s autonomy, or maybe it was to protect themselves from it.

Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds and nodded her head stiffly.

“Yeah, I had to read them. Unfortunately it’s part of the job. Why did you read them?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me.” Luke shook his head. “He wouldn’t talk to me and I knew I was missing something. I had to know. Although I wish I didn’t.”

“Palatal petechiae, indicative of forced oral sex.” Emily’s eyes welled with unshed tears as she said it out loud. “It’s a form of rape.”

Luke visibly crumbled as she spoke the word, the one word he’d tried to keep out of his head for all these years.

But that’s what it was. Spencer had been raped, probably repeatedly. And Luke had turned his back on him.

He slumped against the wall to keep himself balanced, the weight of Emily’s words crashing into him and forcing all the air from his lungs.

His head was pounding. He felt his stomach turn violently.

“I broke up with him. He was struggling through an immense amount of trauma, a trauma I knew he suffered and I still broke up with him. What kind of a person does that?” His voice cracked.

“He didn’t want your help, Luke. He didn’t want anyone’s help. You know Reid as well as I do, probably better, and you know he was never going to admit what happened to him. He’s too proud. He’s a protector, he’s spent his entire adult life in that role. He speaks for the people who can’t speak for themselves. But when something like that happens to him, he feels he has no one to speak for him.”

“I would have.” Luke swallowed. “I would have done anything for him.”

“I’m sure deep down he knows that.” Emily took a step closer and gripped Luke’s shoulder tightly. He needed grounding. “But he is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met and if he thinks he can get through this on his own, that’s what he’ll do. We need to let him figure this out however he sees fit.”

“I thought he’d come back.” A tear escaped his eye and he was quick to bat it away. “I thought he’d take some time but that he’d come back. I deluded myself into thinking that one day he’d just show up and we could pick up where we left off. I still love him, Em. I still love him with every goddamn beat of my heart.”

Emily’s fingers coiled into his shoulder blade, kneading his tense muscle in her hand.

“We’re really short on the ground and this case is a matter of urgency.” She spoke but Luke’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “But once we’re wrapped up here, whenever that might be, I think you owe yourself a vacation day. Bandera is only forty something miles from here. And I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

Luke’s lip quivered in understanding and he melted into her touch.

“You’re sure?”

“I mean you’ll have to clear it with Rossi as he’s your Unit Chief but I can’t foresee it being an issue. And if I remember rightly, it’s Reid’s birthday soon, Garcia is already working on overnighting a bunch of gifts out here. It would be good if someone could give them to him.” She smiled sadly, letting go of his shoulder and taking a step backwards.

Luke closed his eyes briefly to stem any more tears, nodding his head in thanks at his old boss and feeling a swell of emotion in that moment.

Emily was surprised to say the least when Luke suddenly engulfed her in a tight embrace. Her arms hovered at her sides for a few seconds, while she comprehended what was happening.

In all the years she’d know Luke Alvez, she didn’t think he’d ever hugged her before.

When he started shaking against her, sobbing into her shoulder, she wrapped him in her arms, and held him.

She gave him a few minutes, allowed him a brief window in which he could let himself feel the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for two years.

Emily Prentiss was the FBI Section Chief, but that was the secondary facet of her personality. Above all else, Emily was a friend. And a damn good one at that.

***

You heard him coming before you saw him, noting his gait was faster than you’d grown accustomed to. He didn’t sound as though he was limping too much this morning, at least he was starting to heal.

You had your back to him and kept it that way, hoping if you didn’t engage him he may well leave you alone.

But you had no such luck.

“What the hell are you doing?” The irritation in his voice was ripe.

You swallowed thickly before tugging lightly on Rusty’s rein to turn her about to face him. You commanded the flaxen mare to trot closer to where Spencer stood glaring at you on the other side of the enclosure.

“I mean, I think it’s pretty clear what I’m doing.” You huffed as you got closer. “I'm riding my horse.”

“You’ve had two lessons. Do you know how dangerous it is to ride without supervision?” He spat, unlocking the gate and stepping inside the fenced area. “Get down.”

“No.” You scoffed. “I’m fine. You said it yourself, I’m a natural.”

“For the love of god, you are going to be the death of me.” He shook his head, rubbing his brow beneath his stetson.

“I’ll feed you to Rusty when that happens.” You smirked sarcastically.

“We need to talk.” He exhaled, not at all sounding like that was something he wanted to do.

“I’m good.” You shook your head.

“It wasn’t a question. We need to talk.” He glanced around the area and only really registered for the first time all four of the horses were grazing in the field. “Why are my horses out here?”

“So I could clean the stable.” You shrugged, patting Rusty’s neck. “I refilled their troughs, got them fresh water. Even cleaned out the cattle barn.”

Spencer’s brows pinched as he looked up at you.

“It’s eight am, how long have you been up?”

“Never went to sleep.” You shrugged again.

The look you gave him told him it was his fault you hadn’t slept. In truth he hadn’t either.

He came around from his dissociation still on his bathroom floor as though he hadn’t moved but clearly at some point he must have because he had the razor in his hands.

He was bleeding from a self-inflicted wound on his stomach, just left of his belly button. Once again he’d patched himself up with the use of butterfly stitches and stuck a large gauze pad over the wound.

After that he couldn’t sleep, just sat up staring at the wall thinking about where his life went so drastically wrong.

Three times now he’d dissociated in startlingly quick succession. Three times he’d come to with unintentional cuts on his body. He was starting to scare himself if truth be told. Perhaps he needed to consider seeking out his old therapist and getting a higher dosage of his medication.

“Can we…take a ride or something?” He spoke again, voice cracking.

“Should you be riding?” You frowned at him.

“My leg is feeling something akin to normal again. It's the least pain I’ve been in anyway. The doctor told me I could ride again when I felt ready. And there’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”

“Fine,” you huffed out a breath so he knew you weren’t thrilled by the idea.

“Super, just let me grab Willow’s saddle. Oh, could you maybe help get Frank and Wilbur back to the stable?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’re taking Willow?” Your brows furrowed.

“Yeah?” He returned your expression.

“And I’m taking Rusty.”

“Again, yeah?”

“Have you forgotten that they hate each other?” You glared at him.

“It’s a long trek to where I want to take you and Willow is the only one strong enough and determined enough to make it there and back. Frank or Wilbur would not be able to handle it.” He shrugged.

“Can Rusty handle it?” You looked down at the mare between your legs who was eyeing Spencer warily.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” He chuckled, but there was a nervousness to his tone.

Soon though he was meandering over towards Wilbur, ready to take him back down to the stable. And without another word you turned Rusty around again and went about helping him.

***

Medina Lake wasn’t just a trek away as Spencer had put it. It was located nearly twenty miles south of Bandera, on the other side of Lakehills. It was a crescent shaped reservoir on the Medina River, eighteen miles wide at its broadest point and contained by the Medina Dam at the lakes south end.

Spencer told you all about it as you rode together, giving Willow and Rusty enough space so as they wouldn’t cause another incident like the one that had broken Spencer’s arm.

Apparently at the time of its construction, it was the largest concrete dam in the country, and fourth largest in the world. He told you that the dam was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

As you barely spoke in reply, Spencer continued. He went on to tell you that Medina Lake had been stocked with species of fish intended to improve the reservoir for recreational fishing. He listed largemouth bass, white bass, hybrid striped bass, catfish and carp among the species found in the lake.

But he didn’t stop there.

He continued to fill the dead air between you by telling you about the state of the lake. According to Spencer as part of the 2010 to 2013 Southern United States drought, the lake water levels dropped below five percent capacity. As a result he told you many cracks, oil drums and a Jeep are visible due to the low water level.

He continued with telling you that thanks to some showers in the summer of 2013 the lake levels had risen to five point two percent. But many businesses had been closed, many residents left and Lakehills had been somewhat of a ghost town ever since.

He still carried on, despite your obvious lack of interest. Going on to tell you with an almost excited flurry, that due to heavy rainfall in the region, as of May 2015 the levels rose to forty six percent. And again due to more heavy rain, by May 2016 the lake was at one hundred percent capacity. He went to continue but by this point you held up a silencing hand.

“I can’t, Spencer. Please? Please just stop talking for five minutes?”

He’d huffed but yet he didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey.

He took you all the way down to Bandera County Medina Lake Park. He paid the twenty dollar fee for you both to enter. He led you and Rusty down to a quiet alcove away from the flood of tourists.

He found some hitching posts where you tied up your steeds, keeping enough distance between them so they couldn’t bother one another.

Spencer couldn’t deny that his thigh was causing him aggravation by this point and his knee ached dully. You could tell by the grimace on his face that he was struggling but didn’t say anything.

As much as you hated to admit it, the place was stunning. It combined the natural beauty of the Texas Hill Country with a picturesque watery wonderland. People in the distance were on the lake swimming, riding jet-skis and other boats. Some people on land had BBQ’s, picnics and the like.

Spencer led you down towards the lakes edge, still ensuring to have a clear view of your two mares at the top of the bank. He found a secluded spot, away from other lake goers so the two of you could be alone.

You took a seat on the ground, stretching your legs out in front of you and groaning a little at the chafing in your thighs from the long ride. The water was clear and the sun above caused it to sparkle. In this heat it looked positively intoxicating.

Spencer removed his denim shirt, his black t-shirt underneath marked with sweat stains under the pits and around the collar. He lowered his stetson over his eyes to keep the sun out of them.

Neither of you spoke for some time. Far off you could hear the sounds of other people splashing in the lake, laughing and having fun. Behind you could make out Rusty snuffling around in the grass.

If you focused in front of you, you could easily believe that you and Spencer were the only two people in the world. Perhaps that was why he brought you here in the first place.

After long stretches of uncomfortable silence, Spencer huffed from beside you and forced himself to speak.

“We need to talk about last night.” He saw your back straighten at his words but you didn’t even so much as look at him. “I promise you, it had nothing to do with you. I don’t even have the words to describe what it was like for me getting to be with you like that, getting to make you feel like that. But, uh, after I…completed, my thoughts went into overdrive and I panicked.

“I don’t know how to explain it other than that I’m not well. Mentally I am extremely sick. I told you last night that I need to test my boundaries, and I guess I pushed them a little farther than I was ready for. I really am sorry, Y/N. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you.”

The sincerity in his voice caused you to turn your head to the side and look at him. His eyes were full of uncertainty, fear and mild terror. You could see he had a heavy weight upon him and that talking about this wasn’t easy for him.

“Am I just some kind of experiment to you, Spencer? I don’t mind helping you get over whatever it is that happened to you, but if all I am to you is a test subject, please let me know before I get in over my head here.” You hated how sorry for yourself you sounded.

“You are so much more to me than that.” He frowned, shocked you would even suggest that. “But I suppose in a way, this is experimental to me. I have no idea how I’m going to react to any given situation of intimacy until I’m right in the middle of it. But please believe me when I say I would not be able to have even considered this kind of relationship with anyone else. Because of you, I’ve managed to actually maintain an erection long enough to orgasm, twice. That hasn’t happened to me in nearly four years.” His cheeks flushed in candour.

“If it offers you any kind of comfort, last night was the first time I’ve been with a man in almost two years. And it’s the first time I have ever come by someone else's hand other than my own.” Your own cheeks reddened at your confession.

“Oh,” Spencer’s voice shot up several octaves. “Oh.”

“To be perfectly honest with you Spencer, had the opportunity presented itself, I would have jumped you that first night we met. And I can’t pretend that I don’t want more out of this, but I am not going to push you if you’re not ready. I think if we are going to continue whatever this is, we just have to take things slowly. Like at a snail's pace.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, feeling perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Agreed,” he nodded. “I do want to move past this. I want to be able to give you every part of myself. It's just going to take some time.” He smiled meekly.

“I got nothing but time.” You smiled back.

Spencer chuckled a little, shuffling closer to you in the dirt. You felt your breath hitch as he got nearer.

“Would kissing you be entirely out of the question right now?” He rolled his lip between his teeth in his scepticism.

“Not entirely out of the question, no.” You shook your head.

The easiest thing to do would be to put space between you and Spencer, draw a line in the sand and remain strictly as friends. But you never did make a habit of travelling the path of least resistance.

He leaned closer, removing his stetson and dropping it down next to him. And then his hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers brushing lightly across your skin. He pressed his lips to yours cautiously at first but within a second or two he got carried away.

His tongue brushed along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him to gain entrance. His hand weaved into your hair, fingers burying in your locks. You kissed him back with as much passion as he showed you.

You brought your own hands to his face, holding him close. With his grip in your hair he tugged you a little, trying to convey that he needed you nearer.

Keeping your lips attached you shuffled so you were straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. The fingers peeking out from his cast brushed along your back, under the hem of your shirt. You moved your own hands to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced.

It wasn’t long before you lowered yourself into his lap and your hips undulated against his crotch. He moaned into your mouth and gripped your hair tighter as you felt a stirring in his pants.

He started moving backwards, bringing you with him until you were laying on top of him. But when your full weight was flush against him, he suddenly pulled away from your lips and growled in pain.

“What’s wrong?” You panted, sitting back a little as his face contorted.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m sorry…I did something dumb.”

Frowning, you rolled off of him and knelt next to him while he cautiously rolled up the hem of his t-shirt to reveal the large band aid across the left side of his stomach.

“You dissociated again?” You whimpered.

“Yeah.” He nodded, rolling his shirt back down and sitting up. “And please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault.”

“I noticed last night you had a bandage on your thigh. Was that…?”

“Self-inflicted? Yes.” He rubbed one eye. “I’ve never hurt myself like that outside of those dissociative states. My brain is extremely fucked in many, many ways but I am not suicidal or anything like that.”

“Do you ever remember anything from those states?” You found yourself asking.

“It’s hazy.” He sighed. “And I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I can recall messy pieces sometimes, but it’s not clear. It’s like I’m watching myself, like an out of body experience. I’m completely disconnected from my own mind, my own body. Its fucking terrifying. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

“You said you’d been to therapy before?” You asked softly.

“Twice.” He nodded. “Once back in DC, and once again when I moved here. Before you say anything, I am aware I need to go back. I guess I at least get to tell her the good news that my dick seems to be working again. Now we’ve just gotta focus on stopping me from having a panic attack, crying or dissociating after I come.”

You glared at him and the candid nature in which he spoke. His lip quirked at the corner and then surprisingly he started to laugh. You just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You’ve got to laugh, it’s so absurd.” He chuckled, probably the most you’d heard him laugh before. “I’m a fucking basket case, it’s okay to laugh. If I don’t laugh I’ll…”

“Dissociate?” You quipped back.

“Exactly.” He laughed harder, amused tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Oh god I’m a mess.”

His laugh was infectious and you found yourself joining in despite yourself. It really wasn’t at all funny but sometimes you had to laugh in the face of extreme adversity or you would crumble.

The two of you sat by the lakes edge laughing until you were crying, crying until you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the laughter subsided that you realised Spencer was holding your hand.

It grew quiet again and he simply stared at you, clutching your hand in his own. You reached forward tentatively with your other hand, waiting for his okay in the form of a nod before you touched him.

You gently wiped his tears from his cheeks and he hummed at your feather light caress. For a few minutes you stayed like this until you were ripped apart by the sound of content neighing from behind you.

You sprung apart as though burned and you both looked up towards your horses who had managed to manoeuvre themselves closer together.

It was hard to say who was more surprised by the sight of Willow amicably nuzzling her face against Rusty’s.

“Are they…?”

“Making friends.” Spencer nodded with a smile.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You smiled too.

“That horse of yours has some kind of magic about her.” Spencer sighed wistfully, leaning closer to you again. “Just like you.”

And when he kissed you again, you were certain that it was him and not you who was magic.

***

Doctor Camilla Ortega was a local therapist who specialised in anxiety, depression, trauma and PTSD. Her practice was in Pipe Creek but she had clinic hours out of the Essential Mental Wellness centre right in Bandera town once a week.

Spencer didn’t know if he was fortunate or not that she happened to be able to fit him in the very next day.

It had been some year and a half since he last sat in her office and was overcome with anxiety just being here. He ran his fingers over his cast, back and forth, back and forth, trying to remain tethered long enough to be able to speak.

She was probably less than ten years Spencer’s senior, with sharp green eyes and a discerning stare. She had a resting bitch face if Spencer had ever seen one, but she was surprisingly soft spoken and had a contrasting calmness about her.

“It’s good to see you again, Spencer. Although I can only assume the reason you’ve come to see me again means that you’re not doing so well?” She narrowed her eyes on him.

“Not exactly, no.” He admitted.

He didn’t want to open up about this but he also didn’t want to have to be visiting her every week. The quicker he got this out, the less time he might have to spend on her couch.

“I met someone.” He blurted out, eyes trained just above her head so he didn’t have to look at her. “I met someone and she’s incredible but I can’t…I still can’t take that next step.”

Doctor Ortega was silent for a beat or two, mulling over his words briefly.

“Have you initiated any form of intimacy thus far?” She jumped right in.

“I, uh, I still can’t let her touch me and we haven’t had intercourse. But we kissed and, uh, I touched her. And I have gotten…erect. Twice. And uh, I also reached completion twice.” His cheeks and neck flushed red. God how he hated talking about this.

“Without penile stimulation?”

His face scrunched up and he nodded reluctantly.

“And how did you feel after?” She prodded.

“Well, uh, the first time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom. The second time I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom, cried and vomited and then dissociated.” He forced the words out rapidly. “Typical stuff.”

Ortega sucked in a breath and he heard her scrawling some notes down.

“You hadn’t had a dissociative break in a while last time I saw you, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. But I’ve had three as of late.” He spoke but then continued. “It’s not her fault. I just…I can’t allow myself to enjoy being aroused without hearing their voices.”

He didn’t need to divulge anymore than that, she knew who he meant.

“Does she know what you suffered in prison? Have you spoken to her about it?” Doctor Ortega asked gently.

“No,” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“How do you think she would look at you if she knew?”

Spencer’s eyes flit to the doctor, his brows pinched together tightly.

“Like I’m broken.” He said as though it was obvious. “Like I’m dirty.”

Doctor Ortega put her pen down and laced her fingers together, sitting further forward in her chair.

“Spencer, that is not how other people look at you. That is how you view yourself. Unfortunately it is a common sentiment in rape survivors to feel this way, like they are of no good to anyone, unworthy of affection. I think you would be surprised how she would react if you were just honest with her.” Doctor Ortega’s eyes were piercing into him.

“I’m not telling her and that is the end of it.” He shook his head. “I just want to know how to move past this. It’s been nearly four years and I don’t feel any closer to getting over what happened to me now than I did then.”

“Spencer, that’s not true.” She offered him a soft smile. “Eighteen months ago when I last saw you, you couldn’t even go on a date with someone. But now you’ve not only met someone but you have opened yourself up to intimacy again, even if it isn’t going as you planned. I for one am proud of how far you’ve come, I think you should be too.”

“Proud?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I should be proud that I can’t come without being so overwhelmed with guilt that my brain has to divorce itself just to cope? I should be proud that I managed to bring her to orgasm before I had a complete mental breakdown which ended in me cutting myself? I should be goddamn proud that I can’t have sex with a wonderful, beautiful woman because I am so utterly broken that I can stop hearing the voices, seeing the faces of my rapists? Proud? Are you fucking kidding me!” He was on his feet, he didn’t remember standing up.

The rage bubble was expanding, filling, moving higher up to his chest. His vision blurred and he wobbled on his feet.

Here we fucking go, was his last coherent thought before the world around him became shrouded in darkness.

***

He blinked several times, sitting up with a start. His heart was racing and his breathing was heavy. He glanced around the nondescript room through hazy eyes, trying to work out where he was.

He detected movement in the corner of his vision, a body edging closer until they were right in front of him, dropping to a crouch so their eyelines could meet. Doctor Ortega smiled sadly at Spencer as she held his gaze.

“Are you okay?” She spoke softly and then something was being placed in his hand.

He looked down to see the plastic cup of water he now held and quickly tossed it back.

“How long was I out?” He croaked despite the hydration.

“Only about ten minutes.” She pushed herself to stand but came and sat next to him on the couch. “Do you remember anything?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“You wanted to hurt yourself. You asked me several times to give you something sharp.” Ortega’s voice was a little strained. Spencer shook his head. “And you were yelling that you weren’t whole.”

“Makes sense.” He grumbled. “I found a note you had me write myself, for my guided self talk.” And then he spoke verbatim. “I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life. I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole. I am still whole.”

“But you don’t believe a word of it.” She stated.

“No.” He agreed. “How the fuck can I still be whole when they took such a large piece of me?”

He looked at her pleadingly as though she had all the answers. As if there was one thing she could say which would be the key to his recovery. Of course there was no such thing and he knew that. But he needed something, anything.

“They only took from you what you let them take. What those men did to you was traumatic but you are the one in control of your own reactions to that trauma. You have let them take up this space in your brain for the last four years and every time you let them win, they grow and grow. The only way you are ever going to get over what happened to you is by persevering and I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for, but it's the truth.

“I know you don’t see it but you have taken huge strides since the last time I saw you. You may keep experiencing this guilt during intimate moments but it will not last forever. I think you need to continue doing what you’re doing, putting yourself in scary situations and seeing how you react to them. Next time your experience will probably be much the same, and no doubt the time after that too.

“But eventually, and I can promise you this, eventually you will be able to push yourself further without repercussions. You will find one day you are able to give yourself over completely to this woman and what happened to you will be the furthest thing from your mind. The reason you are still struggling so much after all this time is because you couldn’t put yourself back out there. And although this seems terrifying, I can assure it is the first step towards healing. And I’m proud of you whether you like it or not.”

Spencer was crying by the time she finished speaking and he was nodding his head slowly in understanding. Perhaps she was right, perhaps now he was allowing himself to get close to someone he would eventually be able to move past this.

It might get a hell of a lot harder before it gets any better, but if he didn’t keep pushing through he would be at square one forever. Like anything in life worth having, it was going to be difficult, but for the first time he believed it might actually be possible.

“Th-thank you.” He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“I do believe you can get better, Spencer and I don’t think you need my help to do that. I’ve given you all the tools, you have to be willing to put in the work now.” She pushed herself up and made her way across to her desk. “That being said, I would like to up your dosage of paroxetine just a little. And I want you to make a concerted effort to remember your grounding exercises when you feel a dissociative episode coming on.”

“I’ll try.” He nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later he was leaving with a new prescription, sore eyes and a new perspective on his situation.

He found you in the driver’s seat of your car, thumbing through a book he recognised from his own collection. You closed it when the door opened and smiled softly at him.

“How did it go?” You asked as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

Spencer didn’t reply. He was too exhausted to speak. Instead he leaned across the central console and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and he edged his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only lasted a minute or so but it was more charged than any kiss you’d ever shared before. When he pulled back, you were looking at him in shock.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” You chuckled a little.

“A thank you, I guess.” He shrugged. “It might not seem like it but I am making progress. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Your eyes welled at his sentiment and without thinking about it you reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

And it wasn’t lost on either of you that for the first time, he didn’t flinch at your unexpected touch.

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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27moremoons · 3 months ago

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Civil Defense in Gaza: IMPORTANT/LONG POST

"Civil Defense" after a year of continuous war against our people in Gaza

Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, and peace and blessings be upon the best of martyrs and messengers, our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him and all his family and companions...

We extend our greetings to the Palestinian people in Gaza for their patience and steadfastness throughout a full year of "israeli" war.

We salute the heroes of the Civil Defense who work tirelessly day and night, never wavering in their responsibilities and their national, religious, and moral duties toward their people. We also extend our appreciation to our humanitarian service partners across all fields.

After a year of continuous war on Gaza, we confirm that the Civil Defense is operating at full capacity, which amounts to only 20% of its original capabilities. This is due to the "israeli" occupation deliberately targeting Civil Defense facilities, vehicles, and personnel during their duties. This led to the complete or partial destruction of 52 vehicles of various types and the martyrdom of 85 personnel, with 292 others injured.

The "israeli" occupation has completely destroyed 11 firefighting and rescue vehicles, 2 rapid intervention rescue vehicles, 4 water tanker trucks, 8 ambulances, one hydraulic ladder vehicle, and 12 administrative vehicles. This confirms that the occupation forces are deliberately hindering humanitarian work and interventions aimed at saving lives and protecting property.

Additionally, 7 fire trucks have sustained damage that can be repaired if the necessary support and spare parts are provided. Also, 3 rescue vehicles, 3 ambulances, and one water tanker truck were damaged and can be restored to service if the occupation allows the entry of appropriate spare parts for repairs.

The continued disregard by the international community and humanitarian organizations has emboldened the "israeli" occupation to intensify its targeting of our resources and personnel. Our facilities and teams were directly targeted 6 times, and our teams were attacked while performing their duties on the scene 14 times.

Over 47% of our teams have been physically endangered, and all of them have suffered psychological harm due to losing family members or their homes.

Since the start of the war, our teams have carried out operations equivalent to 40 years of work based on response time and control, compared to their usual work before the war.

During the genocide, the Civil Defense received 90,000 emergency calls and responded to over 75,000 of them, resulting in more than 260,000 tasks, including rescues, evacuations, medical care, firefighting, and retrieving the bodies of martyrs.

However, our teams were unable to respond to over 15,600 emergency calls due to numerous obstacles and difficulties imposed by the "israeli" occupation.

Over the course of the year-long genocide, our teams, accompanied by medical teams, retrieved 37,210 martyrs from homes, streets, and targeted areas. The occupation has hindered the recovery of thousands of bodies still trapped under the rubble.

After a year of this devastating war, we affirm the following:

The continued international neglect in providing necessary support to the Civil Defense in Gaza will severely reduce our ability to respond to emergency calls from citizens. Our teams have been unable to respond to many of these calls due to fuel shortages and the lack of essential Civil Defense equipment. The occupation forces also deliberately block and hinder our access to areas they have invaded by closing streets and exits.

Civil Defense teams and humanitarian service providers in Gaza have faced immense challenges since the start of this war, and the evasion of responsibility by international institutions has exacerbated these challenges and difficulties.

We demand the provision of spare parts for Civil Defense equipment and vehicles, so we can repair damaged equipment and vehicles and allow our humanitarian intervention teams to continue their work.

We call for protection for Civil Defense personnel while carrying out their humanitarian duties and for the occupation to stop targeting our already worn-out vehicles and equipment.

We urge the world to pressure the occupation to allow the entry of urgent equipment for the Civil Defense of all types so that we can fulfill our duty amid the ongoing aggression and continuous bombardment across Gaza.

We demand the entry of heavy machinery to help clear the rubble of homes and structures to retrieve the bodies of over 10,000 martyrs still under the debris. These martyrs are not included in the official statistics of casualties from the aggression.

We demand the entry of the necessary quantities of fuel for Civil Defense vehicles, as we have often been unable to reach targeted areas due to fuel shortages, which has led to the martyrdom of hundreds of injured individuals who could not receive the necessary medical care.

General Directorate of Civil Defense

Gaza

Sunday, October 6, 2024

Below are the names of the 85 Civil Defense officers who have ascended to martyrdom in the last year as a result of the zionist aggression on the Gaza Strip:

Mohammed Musa Mohammed Hamad, Mohamed Abdel Hay Mohamed Morsi, Naeem Salama Ismail Al-Ghoul, Mohammed Abdel Hakim Khaled Shabir, Mohammed Nazmi Khamis Al-Ghalith, Fadl Sakib Hassan Ataya, Mohammed Suleiman Shahada Jabr, Shady Hassan Ibrahim Hamad, Ashraf Atta Saleh Juha, Jihad Ammar Khamis Abu Taqiyah, Ashraf Ahmed Mahmoud Abu Al-Maza, Maher Hassan Hamdan Abu Sawawin, Naji Ahmed Mohammed Al-Labban, Abdullah Farid Mohammed Abu Awda, Oday Abdul Jawad Mohammed Abu Ras, Saber Omar Dawood Abu Muslim, Ibrahim Atta Mohammed Hamdan, Mohammed Ayesh Sayed Hamdan, Mohammed Ahmed Musa Ali, Ahmed Mohammed Ahmed Noufal, Khaled Jamal Mohammed Al-Arabid, Osama Suleiman Salah Salah, Mahmoud Nahed Rashid Atallah, Muhammad Farid Hashem Dughmosh, Abdul Rahim Youssef Diab Abu Baid, Ayman Mohammed Mohammed Shawan, Abdullah Suwailem Abdullah Abu Rabie, Ahmed Mohammed Al-Abd Khas, Abdul Ghaffar Ayesh Hussein Asaad, Mazen Ismail Abd Rabbo Ashour, Iyad Abdul Karim Abdul Rahman Salem Deeb, Mohamed Fawzy Mohamed Qatit, Alaa Al-Abd Yousef Abu Ghanima, Adham Fathy Hassan Issa, Suleiman Ali Suleiman Yassin, Mohamed Sobhi Mousa Al-Jamasi, Nour El Din Mohamed Khamis Saqr, Bahjat Omar Musa Al-Jamal, Mohammed Majed Ahmed Ahmed, Abdul Razzaq Mahmoud Khaled Al-Mamluk, Hossam Eid Shaaban Abu Shaaban, Naji Jamal Saleh Al-Fayoumi, Mahmoud Abdel Karim Nimr Al-Sarhi, Hamed Mohammed Rashad Zeno, Mohammed Abdullah Mohammed Abu Al-Qura, Diaa Essam Abdel Rahim Abu Amouna, Mohamed Emad Hamdy Abdel-Ilah, Ahmed Zuhair Ahmed Hamouda, Ibrahim Shaaban Salem Obaid, Ahmed Saqr Hassan Abu Hin, Ahmed Mohammed Saleh Hamada, Mohammed Awad Ahmed Suleiman, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Qanou, Karam Imad Hammad Abu Al-Araj, Abdullah Basem Mohammed Toman,. Mohamed Salah Mohamed Abdel Hadi, Mahmoud Basem Ibrahim Al-Muqaddamah, Mahmoud Mohammed Ahmed Salem, Abdul Karim Hassan Arafat Al-Ghazi, Hussein Diab Hussein Abu Jamous, Sohaib Adel Mohammed Abu Taqia, Ahmed Asaad Gabriel Faraj Allah, Osama Azmi Khalil Abu Daqqa, Abdul Latif Mohammed Ibrahim Salem, Youssef Mohammed Mahmoud Al-Mamluk, Ahmed Ismail Ahmed Abu Al-Qumsan, Bakr Raed Hussein Abu Harb, Ezz El-Din Abdel Sater Ramadan Al-Kurdi, Khaled Adeeb Abdullah Al-Hawrani, Ibrahim Imad Abdul Matar, Abdullah Mansour Eid Abdul Jawad, Hossam Hamdy Abdel Ghani Al-Maqid, Mohammed Hafez al-Assad Hassan Hamada, Mahmoud Ayman Mahmoud Ahmed, Badr Abdel Raouf Tawfiq Qasim, Musab Abdullah Saeed Al-Kurdi, Siraj Ayman Fathi Kaskin, Mahmoud Nidal Mahmoud Hammad, Mohammed Abdul Jawad Abdul Hadi Al-Shoubaki, Rami Abdel Qader Shafiq Mansour, Mahmoud Abdel Shafi Khamis Hussein, Bilal Ramadan Abd Rabbo Farhan, Hani Mohammed Ahmed Juma, Ziad Mohammed Salim Al-Habash, Ammar Rajih Ahmed Awad.

Glory to the heroes of the Civil Defense and their martyrs, to those who work tirelessly and sacrifice to relieve our people day and night through all available means.

#gaza civil defense #heroes #palestine #gaza

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 1 year ago

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Protective

Originally posted on my Wattpad @MayaBishop_is_myWife

Jackson Avery x reader

Jackson POV:

Today was a slow day, crap. Never say it's a slow day when your covering the ER.

Bailey - "Incoming trauma, multiple vehicle collision and cyclist vs vehicle multiple crush injuries everyone be ready!"

What did I tell you? Anyway I go to get a trauma gown on and y/n comes up next to me.

Y/n - "If there's any open breaks I call dibs." Jackson - "Hey! No fair, whoever gets to them first gets it, okay?" Y/n - "Pleaseee, I haven't been inside an OR for days and I think I'm going insane. I pissed off Derek by accident and now he's letting Lexie scrub in and not me." Jackson - "Fine." Y/n - "Thank you so much!"

She exclaimed and then walked off to go wait for the ambulance. See, if it was anyone else, I would've stood my ground but, it's not just anyone it's y/n/n (your nickname) and it's obvious to everyone but her that I like her. But, oh well, she'll get the hint eventually right?

I walked outside just as the first ambulance arrived.

Paramedic - "Male, 31, crush injuries to the chest and lower abdomen, broken right leg and lacerations to the upper left abdomen!"

I see y/n face light up at the mention of a broken limb, she wants to do ortho so, she's into that kinda stuff. It's adorable to say the least.

We wheel in the guy on the stretcher and transfer him to the gurney. We begin to look at the chest to see if there's any liquid in the cavity and thankfully there isn't but. the abdomen began to swell so we knew he had free flowing liquid in there so we went straight to the OR.

Time skip to when they're finished and the guy's in post-op:

Y/n POV:

I'm currently waiting for this guy we just operated on to wake up. Jackson is bedside me, we're leanig against the nurses station as his eyelids begin to flutter. We make a b-line for his room.

Guy - "Where am I?" Y/n - "Sir you're in the hospital. You werew involved in an accident involving 3 cars and yourself, you were on your bike. Other than your broken leg, which means we will need to keep you in here for another couple weeks to monitor it and so Dr. Torres can look you over and plan your recovery, your other injuries were fixed in the OR. You had some crush injuries that ruptured your spleen but, because we got in there quick we managed to repair it. The other injuries were superficial. For the sutures we will get Dr. Sloan to come in and check up on them ever other day to make sure it's all healing properly. Forgot to mention, Dr. Sloan is a plastic surgeon and Dr. Torres is an orthopaedic surgeon. Any question?" Guy - "Not about the medical stuff but I do have a question for you sweetheart." Y/n - "Go for it." Guy - "You free tonight? Such a pretty girl like you shouldn't be without a boyfriend." Y/n - "Oh, that's very sweet of you but unfortunately I'm on call tonight." Guy - "That's fine, just come visit me sweetheart. A young thing like you could make any man feel better." Y/n - "We'll see, maybe I'll come see you maybe I won't. Goodbye sir." Guy - "Bye sweetheart!"

I walked out of the room with Jackson close behind me. That man is very flattering but kinda creepy. I'm going to put away his chart when Jackson stopped me.

Jackson - "Hey, what the hell was that?" Y/n - "What do you mean?" Jackson - "Don't bullshit me y/n. In there with the patient." Y/n - "Oh my god Jackson, I was reciprocating emotions it's basic patient care." Jackson - "Yeah comforting them and sharing concerns. Not flirting with them!" Y/n - "Okay wh- Jackson.." My voice calmed down a lot at this point and I looked him directly in his mesmerising green eyes. Jackson - "What?!" Y/n - "You're jealous." At this point I was giggling at him. His face contorted into a shocked almost offended face but I didn't care because the blush that covered his face made it obvious that I was right. Jackson - "Wha-what, no I am not." Y/n - "Yeah you are don't deny it." Jackson - "I am not." Y/n - "Yeah you areeee"

At this point he had accepted defeat and took the chart out my hand and grabbed my hand. I didn't question his actions and just followed him like a lost puppy. We came to a stop outside an on-call room and he opened the door and pushed me inside.

Y/n - "Jackson wha-"

I was cut off by his lips on mine. His arms snaked their way around my waist and pulled me close. My hands were around his neck as his soft lips moved against mine. He turned us around and gently pushed me against the door and pulled away briefly to speak.

Jackson - "I was jealous. Okay? I really like you y/n/n." I tried to speak but he cut me off. "Don't say anything unless you want me to stop."

He pulled me back in and locked the door. He walked me over to one of the beds and gently laid me down.

Let's just say I didn't get to go back to the patients room that night.

#jackson avery #jackson avery x reader #greys anatomy fanfiction #greys anatomy #fanfic

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angstyaches · 4 months ago

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The Hexagon: Part Five

Parts One-Two | Part Three | Part Four

Note: Thank you to anyone who's been following this mini plot! This is the last instalment in terms of getting them to safety, but there is an aftermath/recovery fic or two (or three?) in the works.

CW: effects of hunger/exhaustion, dangerous driving (driving while way too tired, do not do it), nausea, insecurity.

___

“Charlie.”

The lines on the road swam back and forth, like eels moving through water. The white of the paint made no sense. It was as though Charlie’s eyes had to mix up a bunch of colours every few seconds to keep the white looking white.

“Charlie, pull over.”

Next to the steering wheel, an empty Coke bottle tipped from side-to-side in the cup holder. Charlie had found it there, half-full and lukewarm, when they’d gotten back to the car. He had gulped half of what was left before passing it to Shayne, and the sugar entering his system had felt like jumping into a cold swimming pool on a hot day – invigorating. It might have been sitting in his stomach like a ball of lead, but the energy boost had made Charlie feel invincible.

For all of a few seconds. Long enough for him to feel somewhat okay about getting behind the wheel.

Charlie blinked. The white line snaked under the car. It wasn't supposed to do that.

“Charlie!” Shayne snapped. “Did you hear me? I’ve got a signal, pull over.”

Right... Right, the plan had been to drive until one of their phones had enough battery to switch on, and there were enough bars to make a phone call. Charlie had been so caught up in simply keeping the tyres between the shifting lines that all of the other details had fallen out of his head.

He flicked the indicator. He knew he had to check his mirrors, but for a gut-wrenching second, he wasn’t quite sure where they were. He found them, checked them all twice, glanced over his shoulder to make extra sure the road was clear.

The second he had switched off the ignition, his whole body slumped. His lungs deflated from holding in a huge breath, as though he’d been underwater for the entire duration of the drive so far.

“Sorry,” Charlie said.

“It's fine,” Shayne said quietly. He had Charlie's phone in one hand, connected to the charging port. His other hand was squeezing around the edge of the passenger seat, knuckles white, even now that the car had stopped. “You got us here. You did it.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if it had been a few seconds, minutes, or a half hour since they’d retrieved the car from the edge of the forest and followed the country lanes out to the main road. The white road markings were no longer whizzing past, but his eyes kept tricking him into thinking they were still crawling along, like skinny little conveyor belts laid out on the tarmac.

He felt very much like he did after four or five beers. That was only a gut-churning thought if he focused on the fact that he’d just been operating a moving vehicle, so he decided not to. He closed his eyes. It was the only way he could stop colours from mixing and lines from crawling.

“Hello?” a tinny voice asked.

The sharp jolt of fear in his chest let Charlie know he’d dozed off, dipping into microsleep with the steering wheel pressing into his forehead. He had to quickly remind himself that he had already parked the car.

“H-hey,” Shayne said into the phone. His hands were trembling so badly that he was using both of them to keep the phone against his ear. Charlie wanted to reach over and squeeze his leg for comfort, but couldn’t find the strength.

“Shayne, is that you?”

Charlie opened his eyes a crack. He would never have thought he’d be so happy to hear Elliott’s voice; but for the past day, he hadn't thought he'd ever hear another voice again, besides his own and Shayne's.

“Um, yeah, it’s me, I –”

“Oh my god, you little –?”

Shayne winced and held the phone further away. He turned down the volume and brought it back towards his ear, staring straight through the windscreen. He let Elliott ramble for a few more seconds. He looked like he was struggling to draw breath.

“Charlie and I got caught in something,” he said. “No, El, I mean we were actually... fucking stuck. There was this – this trap, set up to catch demons, and it – it worked on us. We couldn’t get out.”

“Excuse me?” Even with the volume reduced, Charlie heard that clear as day from Elliott's end.

“Could you come and get us?” Shayne’s voice broke. He had held it together long enough to get Charlie to the car, to support Charlie through the drive to the main road, but now he was crumbling, and Charlie’s heart felt like it was being wrung out. “Please, Elliott, we’re – we’ve got Charlie’s dad’s car, but Charlie’s not... doing good. He m-might be in shock or something, I don't know. And we're just...”

Charlie’s stomach twisted.

“I wouldn’t usually ask, you know that. But he’s –” Shayne froze. He shrank a little in the passenger seat. By the time Elliott had finished talking back to him, his eyes were bright with tears. “Okay. Yeah. Sending it now.”

Before they hung up, Charlie thought he heard ‘be there soon’.

It seemed like a big promise to make; Elliott didn’t even know where they were yet. Charlie knew Elliott could travel at unnatural speeds, but surely there were limits to a power like that. Charlie could usually ramble on about Elliott and his recklessness until the cows came home, but right now, even that didn’t hold any appeal.

He just wanted to sleep. The thought of his own bed still being so far away made tears well up in his eyes. He felt like a toddler, ready to sob until someone could put him down for a nap.

As soon as he had slid the phone onto the dashboard, Shayne hugged his arms to his waist. He shut his eyes, grimacing, and drew a long, shaky breath.

He was falling to pieces just like Charlie, but he’d somehow managed to hold it together long enough to get them to safety, to make sure help was on the way.

Charlie hesitated. Maybe the kindest thing to do was to just pretend, to let Shayne think he was breaking down privately, but Charlie couldn’t do it. He was drained, empty, probably in shock, and yet staying down would have been the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

Shayne jumped, rolling his eyes as he glanced away for a few seconds. His shoulders hunched as he turned back towards Charlie. “Are you okay?”

Charlie opened his mouth but could only manage a breathless sigh. Of course he wasn’t okay, but admitting it would have felt like punching Shayne in the gut, so he didn’t. He pushed his shoulders into the seat and tilted his head back. It wasn’t as easy on his exhausted muscles as flopping against the steering wheel had been, but at least there was no pressure on his head.

“Um...” Shayne glanced towards the phone. “Elliott’s go – going to come and get us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Shayne reached over and cupped Charlie’s thigh. If he hadn't been so sure that he would flop as soon as his weight shifted, Charlie would have leaned across the seats to put his head on Shayne's shoulder. God, he had spent so much of his time in the hexagon lying on his back or his side, and still Charlie’s body and brain just longed to be horizontal, to go limp.

“Tired?”

A dull ache pulsated throughout Charlie's bones. “So tired.”

“El's gonna drive,” Shayne mumbled. “You could move to the back seat and try to sleep. If you want?”

“Mmm.” The back seat. Charlie hadn’t even thought of that. He let himself out through the drivers’ side door, propping his arm against the side of the car. The scampering white lines on the road made his head swirl until he turned away from them.

He climbed into the back seat.

After a moment of fresh air, he realised how sickly warm the air inside the car was, after days of being parked up. Charlie's insides felt just as stagnant. The flat Coke gurgled violently in his belly, the syrupy taste still present on his tongue.

Despite all of that, Charlie quickly found a position that didn’t make him feel like his bones were at war with each other. As soon as his eyes closed, he remembered that he had wanted to ask Shayne how he was doing, maybe even ask him what exactly had happened out there, but as soon as he found a sliver of comfort, sleep found him.

___

Shayne jumped to attention at a soft tapping sound.

He hadn't been sleeping, not really, but he'd definitely spaced out.

Everything felt too close; the backs of the car seats, the footwells, the press of the trees just outside. Only Charlie’s closeness felt right. He’d dropped off to sleep with his head propped against the door, and Shayne had been able to lean and put his head on Charlie’s shoulder.

A face was peering through the back window closest to Shayne. Elliott’s gaze was solemn as he gave a little wave, then wiggled his hand back and forth as though he were holding invisible keys.

Shayne’s head swam as he lifted it, nodding towards the steering wheel. He’d taken Charlie’s keys and tucked them there before they’d climbed into the back seat.

In the blink of an eye, Elliott dissolved into a twittering grey cloud that slipped through the passenger side door and across the centre console. He re-materialised in the driver’s seat, his shoulders filling out the backrest. He raised a hand to adjust the rear-view mirror. His pinstriped sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

He caught Shayne's eye in the mirror, a silent greeting. Shayne swallowed heavily, though it didn’t help with the tight feeling in his throat.

“Hmm,” Elliott hummed softly, finding the keys and putting them in the ignition.

Shayne steadied a hand against Charlie's arm, ready to comfort him in case the car rumbling to life stirred him from his sleep. He continued drooling against the car door. Of course he did.

“This is what middle-aged white men are driving nowadays? Outrageous,” Elliott mused softly.

I wouldn’t usually ask. As soon as Shayne had blurted that out on the phone, Elliott had done something that Shayne had only heard him do once before, back when Felix had left, and it had briefly seemed as though he would never come back.

Elliott had choked up.

Now, in the car, he was reaching for the aviators hanging from the front of his buttoned shirt.

Wouldn’t usually ask? he had repeated, his voice laced with hurt. Shayne had felt a lurch in the back of his throat as he wondered why the fuck he had felt the need to say that in the first place.

In the driver's seat, Elliott casually slipped his sunglasses on.

“Thank you,” Shayne mumbled.

Elliott shook his head and shifted the car into gear. “Where the hell else would I be, kid?”

#StW Charlie #StW Shayne #Swallow the World #StW Elliott #whump fic #OC whump #demon whump #demon eater OC #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort

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lonestarflight · 1 year ago

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Apollo Application Program: BALLOS

Concept art of BALLOS (BALlistic LOgistic Spacecraft), an Apollo-derived logistics spacecraft. It was studied by NASA, Lockheed and McDonnell-Douglas for the transportation of Astronauts to and from the Large Orbiting Research Laboratory (LORL) space station for the Apollo Application Program.

It came in three variants, a 6 astronaut version (2 crew, 4 passengers), 9 astronaut version (2 crew, 7 passengers) and a 2 astronaut version (2 crew, 10 passengers).

It would potentially be launched onboard either the Saturn IB or Titan III-C (in hammerhead configuration). The Saturn IB was preferred. Despite being bigger than the base line Apollo CSM, it would weigh roughly the same.

The 12 astronaut version has the following description:

"It is conical in shape with a spherical segment base. The base diameter of the spacecraft is 190 inches. The cargo-maneuver module is conical in shape and located immediately aft of the crew module. The conical shape adapts the 190-in. diameter crew module to the 260-inches diameter of the launch vehicle. This module is capable of carrying 13,455 lb of packaged cargo and 3,755 lb of maneuver propellant. This propellant is sufficient to meet the maneuvering impulsive velocity requirements of 1,050 fps which is provided by a modified LEM descent engine located in the module. Three solid-propellant retrorockets are located at the fore end of this module also.

This vehicle fulfills the mission requirements of delivering 12 men and 13, 455 lb of packaged cargo to a space station orbiting at an altitude of 260 nmi and an inclination of 29.5°. The launch vehicle puts the spacecraft in a 105 nmi parking orbit from which a Hohmann transfer is used to reach the rendezvous altitude of 260 nmi. Impulse for the Hohmann transfer and injection into final orbit is provided for in the 1,050 fps of impulsive velocity capability of the maneuver propulsion system. The maximum dynamic pressure of 525 psf is reached approximately 85 sec after launch. The maximum longitudinal acceleration during launch is approximately 4 g's."

At the end of the mission, the capsule would return to Earth for recovery, refurbishment and reuse. The propulsion module would be allowed to burn up.

"On an operational basis, prelaunch preparation time for a new [Ballos] spacecraft is 40 days. This time period includes receiving and shop processing prior to mating to the erected launch vehicle.

The projected 1968 to 1970 time period estimate for on-pad preparation time for the Saturn IB launch vehicle is 48 days. Of this, 23 days are allowed for payload mating and integrated vehicle checkout. The total prelaunch processing time required for the [BALLOS] vehicle, therefore, would be 63 days."

BALLOS never progressed past the study phase, like many proposals of the Apollo Application Program.

Date: Study 1964

source, source

NASA ID: S64-3663, S63-4634, S64-1800

#BALLOS #BALlistic LOgistic Spacecraft #Apollo CSM #NASA #Apollo Program #Apollo Applications Program #Study #1964 #concept art #Large Orbiting Research Laboratory #LORL #my post

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townpostin · 6 months ago

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Police Bust Motorcycle Theft Gang In Sakchi, Recover Five Vehicles

Four Suspects Arrested Following Months-Long Investigation SP Rishab Garg hails operation as significant victory against organized crime. JAMSHEDPUR – The Sakchi Police have successfully apprehended four individuals who are part of a well-known gang involved in motorcycle theft. As a result of their efforts, they were able to recover a total of five stolen vehicles, marking a significant…

#अपराध #Crime #Inspector Rajesh Kumar #Jamshedpur crime crackdown #Jamshedpur law enforcement #Jamshedpur police operations #Organized Crime Jamshedpur #Public Safety Measures #Sakchi Police Motorcycle Theft #SP Rishab Garg #Stolen Motorcycle Recovery #Vehicle Theft Gang Arrest

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darkmaga-returns · 2 months ago

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In just three and half short years, the Biden-Harris regime has bankrupted the nation -- not only devaluing the dollar and driving historic inflation -- but also massively corrupting or defunding federal agencies that were designed to help the American people. For example, FEMA exists to help Americans recover from natural disasters, but now they fund disasters instead. Much of the funds have been redirected by DHS to "resettle" illegal immigrants. Now, according to citizen reports on the ground, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is currently confiscating rescue supplies, grounding personal rescue missions and trying to take control over private donations.

Suspicious government activities reported in hurricane-stricken areas

There is NO coordinated federal response to Hurricane Helene’s devastation across the southern United States and throughout the Appalachian Mountain region. Biden-Harris have intentionally ignored the natural disasters that have taken place in small towns throughout Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia, South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. On the other hand, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis took the initiative and mobilized the Florida National Guard and a plethora of state agencies to help rescue people in other states, even after coordinating a strong rescue response in his own state, where the Hurricane initially hit.

Meanwhile, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is not bringing in water, food, diapers, formula and other critical supplies and infrastructure because the Biden-Harris regime has intentionally crippled the agency. It appears that the agency (full of unqualified DEI left-wing hires) is being used as a political weapon to punish rural voters and set up the conditions for land seizures and mining operations. Plans have already been announced to keep important roads closed for an extended period of time and some reports claim that entire towns will be bulldozed. This is unthinkable, considering that previous emergency responses in hurricane-stricken cities in Florida have rebuilt bridges and roads in just a few weeks' time.

When pressed about the dire situation, Vice President Kamala Harris said that victims (who have lost their homes, family members, vehicles, farm animals, pets) can claim a check deposit of $750 to assist in their recovery. This is a pitiful gesture from the federal government, one that mocks victims in their time of greatest need. A few hundred dollars deposited in people's bank accounts isn't going to save them, as they are trapped without actual resources to live! The corrupt regime is more interested in foreign business dealings than helping Americans suffering a tragedy.

#kamala hates america

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 4 months ago

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New law provides for space activities in Brazil

On August 1, 2024, the Brazilian Federal Government enacted Law No. 14,946/2024, which provides for space activities in Brazil.

Space activities that fall under the new regulation include:

launch vehicles take-off from national territory;

return of launch vehicles, or parts of it, to the Earth’s surface, landing on national territory;

transportation of equipment and people to outer space from national territory;

development of space objects in national territory;

development of space objects abroad with the participation of a Brazilian entity;

development of space objects commissioned by a Brazilian entity;

space tourism;

exploration of celestial objects;

exploration of space resources;

launch, command, control, re-entry, and recovery of space objects of which Brazil is the launching country;

operation of equipment and systems that enable the operation, data reception, monitoring, and surveillance of space objects;

services to extend the lifespan of satellites; and

removal of space debris.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #science #astronomy #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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workersolidarity · 7 months ago

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[ 📹 Turkish news outlet Anadolu News Agency covers the recovery efforts following Israeli airstrikes in Beit Lahiya, in Gaza's north, where endless bombings have left scores of civilians trapped under the rubble. The lives of Palestinian civilians has become an endless scramble for survival, interspersed with efforts to save their friends, neighbors and family buried under their own homes and shelters collapsed on them by the Israeli occupation's bombardment. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

DAY 226: ISRAELI OPERATIONS TO EXPAND IN RAFAH, CROSSINGS REMAIN CLOSED TO AID TRUCKS, SETTLERS ATTACK OTHER AID TRUCKS IN THE OCCUPIED WEST BANK, ENDLESS BOMBARDMENT CONTINUES UNABATED

On 226th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 8 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 70 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 110 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted, as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Israeli occupation's Minister of Defense, Yoav Gallant, and Israeli Chief of General Staff, Herzi Halevi, approved the next phase of expanded military operations in the Palestinian city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, on Sunday.

According to a report published in the Hebrew media, Israeli Channel-14, the two members of Prime Minister Netanyahu's War Cabinet, Gallant and Halevi, have agreed to escalate the Israeli occupation army's ground operations in Rafah following two weeks of bombardment of the city, along with incursions by Israeli armored vehicles and soldiers into neighborhoods east of Rafah.

Since the start of occupation's military operations in Rafah, more than 800'000 Palestinians have fled the city, where more than 1.4 million civilians had sought refuge after the Israeli occupation declared Rafah to be a safe-zone at the start of the war.

Israeli Channel-14 says senior officials with the occupation army will present the next phase of operations to the Biden administration's National Security Advisor, Jake Sullivan, expecting operations to "expand considerably" as a result of decision.

In the meantime, Gaza's government media office said today that the Israeli occupation continues to prevent the passage of humanitarian and medical aid convoys from entering the Gaza Strip, and also prevents the sick and wounded from leaving Gaza for treatment abroad.

This marks the 13th consecutive day the Israeli occupation army closed the two crossings, making the humanitarian crises unfolding in Gaza that much worse, as civilians continue being starved, blockaded and bombarded by the occupation.

According to a statement of Gaza's media office today, the Israeli occupation prevented the entry of approximately 3'000 various kinds of aid trucks, and also prevented at least 690 sick and wounded Palestinians from traveling abroad for medical treatment.

In a statement issued by the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor (Euro-Med), the human rights organization said the continued closure of the two crossings since the 7th of May continues to exacerbate the catastrophic situation in Gaza, excellerating the genocide perpetrated by the Israeli occupation.

According to Euro-Med Monitor, the Israeli occupation has tightened its "heavy grip and stifling siege" on the Gaza Strip, isolating the enclave from the outside world while preventing the sick and wounded from receiving proper medical treatment, which Euro-Med says is responsible for the deaths of dozens of Palestinians who could have been saved had they received assistance.

In other news on Sunday, a large group of extremist Israeli colonial settlers attacked humanitarian aid trucks loaded with food supplies as they were headed towards Gaza through the Turqumiya crossing, northwest of Hebron, in the southwest of the occupied West Bank.

Reporting on the incident stated that drivers witnessed the settlers stopping aid trucks on their way to the Turqumiya crossing, on the Israeli side of the border, before attacking them and destroying the supplies loaded on the trucks.

According to Adel Amr, an official with the Shipping Syndicate, drivers of aid trucks now fear the attacks of violent Israeli settlers, making the contracting of drivers for humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza that much more difficult.

Another merchant involved in the coordination of aid deliveries told reporters that attacks by Israeli extremists are responsible for raising the costs of shipping aid deliveries to Gaza, increasing from 5'000 sheckles per load, to 20'000 sheckles.

The violent Israeli colonial settlers not only target and destroy the supplies loaded on aid trucks, but also deliberately destroy the trucks, and often attack drivers themselves, leading to injuries among drivers following some of the attacks.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued their violent assault on various axis of the Gaza Strip, killing and wounding dozens of civilians and continuing the destruction of Palestinian residences and infrastructure, including healthcare infrastructure.

Medical sources in Gaza reported on Sunday that the occupation army has begun a siege of the Al-Awda Hospital in Jabalia, in the north of the Gaza Strip, preventing staff from providing the sick and wounded with medical treatment services.

According to local reports, occupation artillery has targeted the hospital with several shells, preventing Palestinians from accessing the hospital, while also preventing staff from entering or exiting the hospital's facilities, severely hampering their ability to perform their duties.

At the same time, D9 armored bulldozers belonging to the IOF are bulldozing sites in the vicinity of Al-Awda.

In further crimes of the Israeli occupation, IOF warplanes bombed a gathering of civilians east of the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing three civilians and wounding dozens of others, including several children.

In another atrocity, IOF fighter jets bombed a residential apartment in the Abu Hashem building, in the Al-Balad neighborhood of central Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing at least three more civilians and wounding a number of others. The dead and wounded were recovered from under the rubble by local civil defense personnel and taken to a nearby hospital.

Strikes continued overnight and were renewed at dawn on Sunday, with intense artillery bombardments and airstrikes hammering the Nuseirat, Bureij and Jabalia Refugee Camps, while also targeting Beit Lahiya in the north and Rafah in the south.

In one example, occupation aircraft bombed a Palestinian house north of the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of three civilians and wounding several others.

In another war crime, occupation air forces bombed and destroyed the residential home of Palestinian journalist Abdullah Al-Najjar, in Jabalia al-Balad, in northern Gaza, killing the reporter.

Intense artillery shelling by the Israeli occupation army also targeted areas near Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahiya, and also in Jabalia, which led to additional casualties.

A further IOF raid targeted the Bureij Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, while at the same time, occupation forces bombed neighborhoods east and north of Rafah.

Yet another horrific atrocity occured when the Israeli occupation forces launched a violent firebelt targeting the New Camp area of the Nuseirat Camp, in central Gaza, destroying an entire residential square.

Following the strike, local civil defense and paramedic crews managed to recover the bodies of at least 20 Palestinians who were killed in the assault, and also rescued large numbers of wounded civilians, including several children, from under the rubble.

Additional reporting publishing updated figures says the bodies of 31 civilians killed in the strike have since been recovered by local civil defense crews.

Unfortunately, the atrocities and massacres didn't end there, occupation air forces also bombarded several neighborhoods of Gaza City, including the bombing of the Shaheen family home in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing 3 civilians and wounding 7 others.

Meanwhile, another airstrike on a school sheltering displaced Palestinian families in the Al-Daraj neighborhood, east of Gaza City, resulted in the deaths of three citizens and wounded a number of others according to initial reports.

Updated figures published in the media say the death toll in the Al-Daraj school strike rose to 13 following the work of local paramedic and civil defense crews.

Occupation forces also bombed a residential home belonging to the Awad family near the Al-Safaa Mosque in the Bureij Camp, in central Gaza, while a citizen was killed and others wounded following an Israeli airstrike on a group of civilians in Deir al-Balah.

Local witnesses also reported that Israeli military helicopters were seen opening fire east of the city of Rafah, in Gaza's south.

Simultaneously, occupation aircraft launched a raid on central Rafah, while Israeli gunboats fired artillery shells towards the city's coast and also bombed various neighborhoods in eastern and central Rafah.

Yet another atrocity occured when an Israeli drone fired a missile towards two civilians collecting firewood in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City, killing one and wounding the other.

Additionally, an IOF airstrike targeted the vicinity of the post office in the center of the Jabalia Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians, while occupation aircraft bombarded the Tal al-Zaatar area.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the local population has risen further still, now exceeding 35'456 Palestinians killed, including over 15'000 children and 10'000 women, while another 79'476 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

May 19th, 2024.

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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