#fire risk assessment providers

[rorenzutheblogger]

Your Ultimate Guide to Fire Risk Assessment Providers in Australia

G'day, mate! When it comes to safety, Aussies take no shortcuts, especially when we're talking about fire risks. Whether you're from the sunburnt plains or the bustling cities, understanding the importance of fire risk assessment is paramount. But how do you find the right experts for the job? Enter: fire risk assessment providers. Let’s unpack who they are, why you need them, and how to pick the best in the biz.

1. What Are Fire Risk Assessment Providers?

At its core, fire risk assessment is about understanding potential fire hazards in a property or environment, and ensuring that measures are in place to reduce or eliminate those risks. Fire risk assessment providers are the professionals armed with the expertise, tools, and knowledge to perform these assessments efficiently and accurately.

2. Why Do You Need Them?

In Australia, where bushfires and urban fire incidents can turn catastrophic, a thorough assessment is not just a safety measure—it’s a necessity.

Safety First: These assessments ensure that whether you’re at home, work, or play, your environment is equipped to prevent fire incidents and mitigate their impacts should they occur.

Regulatory Compliance: Aussie law mandates specific safety standards. Fire risk assessments ensure you're in line with local and national safety regulations, saving you from potential legal headaches.

Peace of Mind: Knowing you've taken every precaution to keep your property and loved ones safe? Priceless.

3. Navigating the Australian Fire Risk Assessment Landscape

Our vast continent comes with varied terrains and fire risks. Consequently, fire risk assessment providers in Australia need to cater to a range of different environments and requirements:

Urban & Commercial Spaces: From Sydney's skyscrapers to Melbourne’s cafes, ensuring these spaces are fire-safe is paramount.

Rural & Remote Areas: Given our vast bushlands and rural settings, providers must have expertise in assessing and mitigating bushfire risks.

Industrial Zones: Factories, warehouses, and plants have unique fire risk profiles, necessitating specialised assessment skills.

4. Choosing the Right Provider

With many providers out there, here are some pointers to select the right one:

Credentials & Certifications: Ensure the provider is accredited by relevant Australian fire safety organisations.

Local Experience: A provider familiar with your locale will have insights into specific regional risks.

Comprehensive Services: From assessment to recommendations and training, the best providers offer end-to-end services.

Reviews & Testimonials: A bit of research can reveal what others are saying about your potential provider.

5. Embracing Modern Fire Risk Assessment Techniques

It’s 2023, and fire risk assessment isn’t just about a checklist:

Technological Integration: The best providers in Australia now incorporate advanced tech—think drones for aerial inspections or AI-driven risk analytics.

Environmental Considerations: With climate change impacting fire patterns, modern assessment also considers environmental data.

6. Costing – What Should You Expect?

Costs can vary based on property size, location, and complexity. However, remember that cutting corners on fire safety can result in far greater expenses down the road. Always prioritise quality and thoroughness.

In Conclusion

The significance of fire risk assessment providers in Australia cannot be overstated. While the initial steps might seem overwhelming, with the right provider, you're not just investing in an assessment—you're investing in safety, peace of mind, and a future where you're better prepared for any fire-related challenges that come your way.

So, before you throw another shrimp on the barbie or plan that camping trip in the outback, ensure your surroundings have been given the green light by a top-notch fire risk assessment provider. Stay safe, Australia!

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - September 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Pair of rare Amur tiger cubs debuting at Minnesota Zoo are raising hopes for the endangered species

“[The Minnesota Zoo’s] Amur tigers have produced 57 cubs, [… 21 of which] have gone on to produce litters of their own, amounting to another 86 cubs. […] “They’re showing a lot of resiliency, which is something that we work hard for in human care. We want these animals to have a lot of confidence and be able to adapt to new environments just as they’re doing today.””

2. Powered by renewable energy, microbes turn CO₂ into protein and vitamins

“The team designed a two-stage bioreactor system that produces yeast rich in protein and vitamin B9. [… The protein] levels in their yeast exceed those of beef, pork, fish, and lentils. […] Running on clean energy and CO2, the system reduces carbon emissions in food production. It uncouples land use from farming, freeing up space for conservation[… and] will help farmers concentrate on producing vegetables and crops sustainably.”

3. JCPenney Launches Apparel Collection Aimed At Wheelchair Users

“A major department store is rolling out a new line of clothing specifically tailored to meet the needs of women who use wheelchairs featuring options for both everyday wear and special occasions. [… The clothing have] modifications like zippers located for easy access, pocket positioning and extended back rises optimized for the seated position and shorter sleeves to limit interference with wheels.”

4. Snails bred in Edinburgh Zoo sent to re-populate species in French Polynesia

“Thousands of rare partula snails bred at Edinburgh Zoo are to be released in French Polynesia to restore the wild population of the species.The last surviving few of the species were rescued in the early 1990s[….] 15 species and sub-species [are being bred in zoos for repopulation], the majority of which are classed as extinct in the wild.”

5. [NH Joins 19 Other States] to Provide Essential Behavioral Health Services Through Mobile Crisis Intervention Teams

“[CMS] approved New Hampshire’s Medicaid State Plan Amendment for community-based mobile crisis intervention teams to provide services for people experiencing a mental health or substance use disorder crisis. […] The multidisciplinary team provides screening and assessment; stabilization and de-escalation; and coordination with and referrals to health, social, and other services, as needed.”

6. Recovery plan for Missouri population of eastern hellbender

“It is expected that recovery efforts for the Missouri DPS of the eastern hellbender will reduce sedimentation and improve water quality in the aforementioned watersheds, which will also improve drinking water, as well as benefit multiple federally listed mussels, sport fish and other aquatic species.”

7. How $7.3B will help rural co-ops build clean power—and close coal plants

“[The funds are] serving about 5 million households across 23 states [… to] build wind and solar power, which is now cheaper than coal-fired power across most of the country. […] Some of it will be used to pay down the cost of closing coal plants[….] federal funding could help co-ops secure enough wind, solar, and battery resources to retire their entire coal capacity by 2032, cutting carbon emissions by 80 to 90 percent and reducing wholesale electricity costs by 10 to 20 percent[….]”

8. Native-led suicide prevention program focuses on building community strengths

“[Indigenous researchers have] designed programs that aim to build up a community’s endemic strengths, rather than solely treating the risks facing individuals within that community. By providing support and resources that enable access to Alaska Native cultural activities, they hope to strengthen social bonds that build resilience. […] “In a Yup’ik worldview, suicide is not a mental health disorder, and it’s not an individual affliction, it’s a disruption of the collective.””

9. Another rare Javan rhino calf spotted at Indonesia park

“A new Javan rhino calf has been spotted in an Indonesian national park, the facility's head said Friday, further boosting hopes for one of the world's most endangered mammals after two other […] calves were spotted earlier this year at the park, which is the only habitat left for the critically endangered animal.”

10. Transparent solar cells can directly supply energy from glass surfaces

“[Researchers have] unveiled a method of supplying energy directly from glass of buildings, cars, and mobile devices through transparent solar cells. […] It has also succeeded in charging a smartphone using natural sunlight. It also proved the possibility that a screen of a small mobile device can be used as an energy source.”

September 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[vestaignis]

Стратовулкан Фуэго ("вулкан огня") - один из самых активных в Гватемале. Он находится неподалеку от города Антигуа на высоте 3763 м над уровнем моря. Вулкан является частью Тихоокеанского огненного кольца, района, известного своей интенсивной тектонической активностью и многочисленными действующими вулканами. Его постоянная деятельность и близость к населенным пунктам сделали его предметом большого интереса для ученых, геологов и органов по чрезвычайным ситуациям.

 Вулкан Фуэго имеет долгую историю, которая насчитывает тысячи лет. Его извержения были задокументированы со времен испанской колонии, и он остается одним из самых активных и опасных вулканов в Центральной Америке. Как и другие стратовулканы, он состоит из чередующихся слоев вулканического материала, включая потоки лавы, пепла и пирокластических обломков.

Фуэго извергается в среднем каждые четыре-пять лет, при этом выбросы газа и пепла достигают 10-километровой высоты. В 2018 году в результате извержения реки лавы хлынули по его склонам, опустошив деревню Сан-Мигель-Лос-Лотес, убив 215 человек, еще столько же пропали без вести. Вулкан также извергался и в 2021 году. После извержения были предприняты усилия, чтобы помочь в восстановлении поврежденной инфраструктуры и оказать поддержку тем, кто потерял свои дома и близких. Кроме того, извержение привлекло внимание к оценке вулканического риска и важности просвещения общественности о вулканической опасности для повышения устойчивости населения перед лицом будущих извержений.

The Fuego stratovolcano ("volcano of fire") is one of the most active in Guatemala. It is located near the city of Antigua at an altitude of 3,763 m above sea level. The volcano is part of the Pacific Ring of Fire, an area known for its intense tectonic activity and numerous active volcanoes. Its constant activity and proximity to populated areas have made it a subject of great interest to scientists, geologists, and emergency management authorities.

Fuego Volcano has a long history that dates back thousands of years. Its eruptions have been documented since the Spanish colonial era, and it remains one of the most active and dangerous volcanoes in Central America. Like other stratovolcanoes, it is composed of alternating layers of volcanic material, including lava flows, ash, and pyroclastic debris.

Fuego erupts on average every four to five years, with plumes of gas and ash reaching heights of 10 kilometers. In 2018, an eruption sent rivers of lava flowing down its slopes, devastating the village of San Miguel Los Lotes, killing 215 people and leaving another 215 missing. The volcano also erupted in 2021. Following the eruption, efforts were made to help rebuild damaged infrastructure and provide support to those who lost their homes and loved ones. In addition, the eruption brought attention to volcanic risk assessment and the importance of public education about volcanic hazards to build community resilience in the face of future eruptions.

Источник:/korzik.net/video/167201-v-gvatemale-vo-vremja-izverzhenija-vulkana-fujego-nachalsja-shtorm-s-molnijami-kotorye-bili-prjamo-v-zherlo.html, //ru.geologyscience.com/стихийные-бедствия/извержение -вулкана/вулкан-де-фуэго/,/sputnik-georgia.ru/20180609/strashnoe-izverjenie-vulkana-v-gvatemale-kadri-s-mesta-bedstvija-240787586.html,/fishki.net/2439490-fotografii-izverzhenija-vulkana-fujego.html, /aif.ru/society/gallery /izverzhenie _vulkana_fuego_v_gvatemale,/vsegda-pomnim.com/vulkany/6011-vulkan-fujego-71-foto.html.

[thesimsresourceofficial]

Addressing the Recent Changes to TSR's Artist Program

Hi everyone,

I’m writing today to address the recent changes to TSR's Artist Program and the concerns that have been raised by members of our community. We understand that these changes have caused a lot of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. We want to provide full transparency about why these decisions were made, how they affect our current and future artists, and what this means for the TSR community moving forward.

Firstly, I want to apologise for the way the restructuring of the Artist Program was handled. I acknowledge that the communication our artists initially received could have been better. It was always our intention to follow up with support, feedback, and advice, which we are doing now. The communications for a loss of badge at TSR is structured, and I understand how this has created confusion and hurt. Please know that we are committed to maintaining an open line of communication with these former artists, we have been following up with all artists affected, and we will continue to support them in any way we can.

Why These Changes Were Necessary

TSR’s Artist Program, which has been home to nearly 200 talented paid artists, had not undergone a thorough evaluation in years. This lack of oversight led to a situation where the program became financially unstable and exposed to significant risk. Without proper management and planning in previous years, the program was not sustainable. If we hadn’t addressed these risks, it would have jeopardised the long-term viability of the program, threatening our ability to fairly compensate artists and sustain the community that depends on their creativity.

It’s also important to highlight that these financial constraints had prevented us from inviting new artists, promoting Select Artists or increasing pay for current artists, leaving over 100 talented creators waiting for up to 3 years for an opportunity to advance. 120 Artists have now finally been promoted, rewarded and acknowledged for their outstanding contribution to TSR, but unfortunately their achievements have been overshadowed by information spreading online.

Why This Was Done

The changes we implemented were not easy, nor were they taken lightly. The difficult decision to let some artists go was made to ensure that the program could continue to operate sustainably and support the 120+ artists who remain with us. Many of these artists rely on TSR for their livelihood, with some coming from countries where the additional support they receive from TSR is vital.

As part of our thorough evaluation process, we assessed the performance of each artist by analysing the value they brought to the platform relative to the investment made in their work. This included reviewing metrics such as engagement with their content per dollar spent. We deeply appreciate the work of our artists, but the financial outcomes unfortunately did not align with the investments that were being made, and we had to make difficult decisions based on these findings to ensure the overall sustainability of the program. In doing so, we were able to fairly compensate all remaining Artists.

Addressing Misinformation

We want to address the misinformation that has been spreading online. Some are claiming that more artists were let go than actually were. In reality, a number of the artists included in these rumors were not let go—they left on their own terms a few months ago. Furthermore, several of the artists who were let go had been inactive for longer than the agreed period and were fully aware of the terms they had agreed to. Some of the named Artists are actually still with us, and have been caught up in this for no reason at all other than by assumptions or a lack of research. It’s important to clarify that this is not a traditional job where someone is “fired.” TSR is a user-generated content platform that compensates artists generously based on their performance on our site.

Spreading incorrect information hurts the 120+ artists who are still part of our community. These creators have continued to pour their time, talent, and passion into their work, and they deserve your support too.

The communications with the former artists ensured they would still be paid for all remaining works they have done with us. It also included that if circumstances ever change, they would always be welcome back as an artist. We do not forget the hard work that has been done, and we do care.

Looking to the Future

Our evaluation process was thorough and took into account numerous factors, including each artist's contribution, consistency, quality of work, and the community's engagement with their creations. We are committed to maintaining a program that is fair, transparent, and supportive of our artists.

Moving forward, we will continue to refine the program to ensure it remains financially viable while fostering the incredible creativity of our artists, to prevent situations like this from happening again. We are also dedicated to providing a community where artists can thrive, receive the recognition they deserve, and be part of a vibrant, supportive environment.

Conclusion

This has been a challenging period for everyone involved, but we believe these changes were necessary to secure the future of TSR’s Artist Program. We remain committed to our artists, our community, and the values that TSR stands for. We hope you will continue to support our artists as we work to build a sustainable and thriving platform for creators.

Thank you for your understanding, your support, and your dedication to the TSR community.

Sincerely, Queenie, Creative Ops Manager, The Sims Resource

[skylarsblue]

✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

~✦Part Two✦~

✧Alejandro, Rodolfo, König, Alex✧ ✦GN!Reader, mostly fluff, mild descriptions of wounds/combat/war, random call signs and some use of y/n, minor sexual tension, inconsistencies with canon timelines because I'm better than the games(/j), I started this before König was called a colonel, poorly translated Spanish & German that I apologize for (correct me please-)✦

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Civilians let out screams and ducked into houses to hide. Tan colored vans and trucks lined the streets of Mexico as shots were fired. The moments of quiet were as worrisome as the sounds of gunfire in a situation like this. Alejandro cursed as yet another man declared their ammo low. They were running out, at the rate they were going, they’d need to pull back. Alejandro was a stubborn man, however, and bowing down to a cartel would’ve done damage to the credibility of his men, along with his own ego. “Colonel, there’s a car coming in. Unmarked.” His radio crackled with the information. “Aye, watch it. Keep looking. Does it look like the enemy?” Alejandro replied, getting a negative in response.  As if there wasn’t a risk of fire being brought out, the car stopped in the middle of a paused stand off. Out of the vehicle stepped one person, dressed in a way that stood out completely. “What in the hell is this?” Alejandro hissed as he watched the civilian look around. They were wearing a mask of porcelain, decorated elegantly with gold paint, almost like a statue of crying Virgin Mary. He locked eyes with them, and they…motioned for him to pause. “What do we do?” The soldier beside Alejandro asked. “Sir, I think I know who this is.” His radio called. He watched as the stranger turned to confused members of the enemy, raising their hand to the sky. Three fingers, two, and then one. The cartel’s side of the street blew up and the stranger ran for cover. “Mierda! What the fuck is happening?!” A soldier exclaimed. Alejandro’s radio triggered again with enthusiastic laughter. “Resistance sir, the one I’ve been telling you about!” The colonel took a breath. “The one run by civilians? How’d they set this up?” He asked roughly, aiming his gun to take a shot. “They’re smart, sir. That one you saw? That’s their leader. A talk with them would be a good idea, they’re a powerful ally, a stronger bond could prove useful.” Alejandro looked across the field in awe as the stranger took out a few more cartel soldiers. They then looked at him, giving him a nod and a salute. For the first time that day, Alejandro smiled. “A strong ally indeed.”

(I make them speak mostly English so I avoid making mistakes in Spanish, I'm sorry-) It had been a month since that day, and three weeks since Alejandro & Rudy had properly met the mysterious masked individual. They'd proven themselves rather charming, even if a bit suspicious. Alejandro had been rather excited to meet the individual who'd managed to secretly gather well-trained civilians to aid them against the cartel, pulling stunts like they did before. Though their real name was a heavily guarded secret, much like their face, they did have a name of sorts to associate with them. Los Lares, in reference to Roman mythological deities that provided protection. Their leader, the masked individual, known only as Padres, though occasional nicknames popped up from individuals they were close with. Alejandro had done his best to assess whether they were trust worthy or not, they did the same to him. And after two successful mini missions, Padres agreed to show Alejandro, Rudy, and some of his men what they'd been hiding. "Well would you look at this..." Alejandro said quietly as they drove through a small village. Guarded heavily with armed civilians was a tiny town commandeered by Los Lares, rather than the cartel. Kept safe from the carnage in the rest of Las Almas. The car rolled through slowly, allowing them to gaze at buildings without bullet holes, covered in colorful decorations. Children ran around playfully, adults standing around and talking, some small market carts on the edge of the street that gave out fresh food and household items. Music playing over speakers. Not a single skull balaclava in sight. Rudy pulled over and parked by a building at the end of the long street. The shell of a church it seemed. Outside of it was Padres, running around with children on their tail. When they noticed the men that had pulled up, they declared for the children to play on their own for a bit. Alejandro couldn't stop his smile as he continued looking around, eyes falling back on them. "This is what you meant by Sanctuary." He said. "Si, I made it myself. No violence occurs here, no fear. How it should be." They explained. "Rodolfo. My second in command, Emil, wanted to discuss things with you, if you wouldn't mind." Padres said, motioning to the man behind them. Rudy looked at Alejandro, who nodded. Rudy walked off after that and left them alone. "I see why you were so secretive now." Alejandro stated, watching them nod. "It usually takes a lot longer to be allowed access here. But I knew you'd be trust worthy." They explained as they leaned against the jeep he'd arrived in. He crossed his arms and leaned on the car as well. "And when did you decide this?" He asked. Padres chuckled and blinked at him past the holes of their mask. He wondered how eye contact alone could make him feel so warm, tingly. "I met your gaze during that gun fight and I could tell. You have the light of angels, querido." They purred. Alejandro chuckled quietly and shook his head fondly. "¿Coqueteando? ¿De verdad?" He asked in a hushed voice, leaned in slightly. They raised both hands in mock surrender. "I see a lot in your eyes, Colonel. Many, many things. Tu disfrute es uno." They teased. Alejandro ran his tongue over his teeth. "Si? I see things in your eyes too." He replied. Padres tilted their head and silently urged him to elaborate. Alejandro let out a breath and smiled. "Peligro. Mucho." He exhaled, senses lit aflame when he saw the distinct signs of a smile hidden behind the mask.

Alejandro enjoyed when he had time to visit the sanctuary Padres had created. There was so much joy around and peace filled the air, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like his shoulders could relax. That he could be at ease. In his visits, he often saw families, children running around with big grins, hearing the innocent laughter always brought Alejandro joy and a sense of longing. He'd always been the familial type with a large soft spot for kids. It showed in his actions, like currently, as he let two boys hang off of his arms like some playground equipment. They giggled and squealed in jovial fun as he hoisted them higher, though he set them down gently when their mother's face grew a bit apprehensive. It was when a little girl, leading a group of children, asked to play hide & seek that things really got to be fun. Alejandro found himself hiding under a table in one of the homes, another child at his side. He held his finger to his lips as they giggled away behind their hands. Both of them seized up when evenly spaced footsteps made themselves present, too heavy for a child. Alejandro had a quick flash of memories that made his body tense up, watching the table cloth be lifted. But it wasn't an enemy, nor a child, but instead a porcelain mask with a smiling individual underneath. "Room for one more?" They asked in a whisper. Alejandro blinked before he snickered and nodded. Both he and the child carefully scooted back to allow Padres more room. "Isn't our hiding spot good, Padres?" The child asked excitedly. "Si, Rosa, it is. I almost couldn't find you both." They replied in a tone akin to a praising mother, something that made Alejandro's chest ache. "What gave us away?" He asked them, smiling wider when they glanced his way. "Your boots, colonel. Your laces were untied, they poked out from underneath." They answered, prompting Alejandro to look. Sure enough, his left boot lace was untied. He sighed and shook his head at the rookie mistake, still grinning however. A beat of silence passed before a rush of tiny footsteps came in, prompting the three to be extra quiet. "Got'cha!!" The little girl declared as she lifted the table cloth. Rosa screamed and laughed, quickly getting up to run away. Both Alejandro and Padres stayed, watching Rosa make a swift get away from her friend running after her. Leaving them both alone under the table. "You are good with kids." The self-appointed commander said fondly. Alejandro melted at the sentiment alone, it always felt like one of the highest level compliments when someone said it. Even more so coming from them. "Gracias, Padres." He said, only for them to shake their head. "Y/N. My name is Y/N, when we are alone, you may call me that." They said softly, leaving Alejandro surprised. The shock wore off quickly and a pleasant tenderness filled the air, showing in their shared gaze. "Losing the mystery, aye?" He asked. "No, merely trusting you with my secrets. I trust I made a good decision?" They replied. Alejandro nodded. "Now I just have to get that mask off of you." He teased. They gave a quiet laugh. "I can't wait..."

It was always nice to celebrate after a successful mission, especially one as high stakes as this. With a large threat neutralized, it seemed like a big party was the right answer. There was a large hand of help from Los Lares, and the citizens who called the refuge home saw it only right to allow Alejandro's men into their sanctuary, to indulge in their victory with loud music and home cooked meals. Alcohol as well, of course. Alejandro stood on a roof and watched the streets below, lit up with colorful lights and bustling with music. He felt his shoulders relax as he watched his soldiers mingle, laughing loudly, raising toasts to their lost brothers & sisters. He took a swig of beer as his gaze shifted to the sky, full of twinkling stars. He went to take another drink, only to find the bottle empty. He debated going back down to grab another one, only to feel a hand rest on his lower back. He flinched and looked over, met with a familiar mask and a kind gaze. "Need another, colonel?" Y/N asked softly, holding up an open beer. Alejandro chuckled and took it, setting the empty one on the roof's edge. "Gracias. How'd you know?" He asked. He turned his body to watch them, even spaced steps taking them to a couple of supply crates. They took a seat and shrugged, he could feel their calm smile in their aura. "Lucky guess. You weren't down there, spotted you up here and I figured you'd like some company. Was I right?" They asked with a head tilt. He walked closer with an exhale. "Yes and no." He answered. They silently encouraged him to elaborate, tilting their head to look up at him as he came to stand in front of them. "Oh?" Alejandro chuckled and set the beer down beside them. "I was looking forward to your company." He admitted. Even in the low light of the moon, he could see their pupils expand. "Such a charmer, Mr.Vargas." They teased in a hushed tone. He rose his hands with a quiet laugh. "Interesting choice in company, however. An individual with no face for you to name." They said. Alejandro's face softened. There was a short beat of silence that seemed to last forever, finally a peaceful moment without the worry of being killed, allowing him to admire them properly, despite the mask. He then remembered their promise, the words spoken to him to keep his morale high when things were looking bleak. So, though he was careful, he rose his hands to their face, cautiously grazing the edge of the mask with his fingers. "Is that right?" He whispered. They didn't move back or scold him, merely kept his eyes locked with theirs in a look that sent shivers down his spine, even as he edge the mask up. It was pulled away and in an instant, they were exposed fully. Alejandro let out a breath and forgot to inhale afterward. Their smile caused his lungs to constrict in tight thorns. "Well? ¿Algo que decir, coronel?" They asked, and though their tone was cool, he could see the flinch of fear. The anxiety of rejection. He took his free hand to brush over their cheekbone, feeling warm skin instead of cold glass. "Peligrosa… peligrosamente hermosa." He whispered back. They snorted. "How cheesy..." They teased again, tilting their head up to meet him halfway.

✧Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra✧

Rodolfo’s eyes cracked open, he let out a short wheeze. He wasn’t all there, but he was keenly aware of a large commotion outside. He could faintly recall his mission and how he ended up with the throbbing in the back of his head. An RPG hit the building he was in just right and it knocked him out cold. Astigmatism disrupted his vision and his limbs felt heavy. He winced when a light came from the side, the sun, beaming through as the broken door was shoved off. He blinked, and there was someone he’d never seen before. They weren’t really dressed for battle, wearing a decorated porcelain mask with a rifle strapped to their back. Rudy’s hand twitched for his gun before they hushed him, placing their hand on his arm. “Tranquilo ahí, cariño. I’m on your side.” They said gently before turning their head to shout some orders at an unseen person. They turned back to him and cautiously turned his head, clicking their tongue sympathetically as he whined. “Took quite a hit, huh? Don’t worry, we have help on the way and your friends and mine have almost cleared out the enemy.” They took out a flashlight, shining it in his eyes When his pupils responded normally, they put the flashlight away and called out some more orders. Rodolfo decided to try and sit up but he barely moved before nearly falling back on the floor. They caught him by the back of his neck. “Easy, pretty boy. Don’t make yourself worse.” They said, gently guiding him to sit up with their support. Rudy blinked and groaned. He got a better look at them now, pushing past his dry mouth to try and speak. “You…you are the ally Alejandro mentioned…” he grunted. Their eyes scrunched, indicating a smile. “That’s right, dear. And I’ll get you out of here. You can trust me on that.” They promised.

Rodolfo carefully scratched around the edge of a bandage on his head, huffing when Alejandro lightly flicked his hand, scolding him for fidgeting with it. "I'm healing fine." He said quietly, glancing at the map on the table in front of them. "Still, shouldn't mess with it." Alejandro replied with a caring pat to his shoulder. They were waiting in a planning/common room in the main base of their new adversaries, a civilian led resistance against the cartel. Rudy recalled the way they carefully held him steady when they'd found him, after he'd been knocked unconscious. Alejandro swore they were trustworthy, and so far, they'd definitely been helpful. Alejandro stood more straight when the door swung open and Padres entered the room, a few of their men behind them. The two of them overheard the leader scolding a civie-soldier for not eating breakfast before they turned to the two friends. They were dressed more casually than the other times they'd met. Looking liked they'd just been dragged out of bed, actually. And although they seemed sleepy, still in slippers even, they still bore their mysterious porcelain mask. "Apologies, my alarm didn't go off." Padres apologized in a gentle tone. Alejandro chuckled and shook his head. "You all there yet, Padres?" He asked, smiling when they waved their hand, approaching the table. "I can still explain my plan to you, si." They replied before yawning, Rudy smiled as they went to cover their mouth for the sake of manners, despite the face covering. Their eyes landed on him and he could see the signs of a smile in their gaze. "Ah, chico lindo, how's your head?" They asked. Rodolfo felt his cheeks warm at the nickname, they hadn't been subtle when he first met them either. "Fine, just sore." He replied. At that moment, the quiet mutterings of a man who'd come in for some coffee hit the room. A soldier named Ramirez. Whispering about Rodolfo's skills, trying to imply he wasn't a true soldier for being wounded "so easily", which made another snicker. Rudy didn't show a reaction to it, Alejandro scowled, but both men jumped when Padres gasped. With skilled precision, they flicked their slipper from their foot and caught it from the air, launching it in the direction of Ramirez. A perfect headshot as the slipper smacked the back of the soldier's skull. Alejandro and Rudy shared a look, recalling their own experiences with the all feared chancla. "Debería darte vergüenza! These men give their life everyday for the sake of our country, they were fighting before you were given your status in my army, show some respect! You will not disrespect this man again, do you understand me?!" They shouted, finger pointed. The man shrank, rubbing the back of his head. "Si, commander." Padres put their hands on their hips. Ramirez approached with their slipper, which Padres snatched from his grip, dropping it on the floor so they could it back on. "Now apologize for your insolence." They demanded, pointing at Rudy. Both Rodolfo and Alejandro watched with wide eyes as a grown man, tall and buff, turned with his head down like an embarrassed child, muttering an apology. Rudy swallowed and let it go, unable to look away from the mysterious individual who'd defended him so valiantly. They'd been so gentle and sweet. Rudy felt his mouth grow dry and his stomach twist as they sent Ramirez away with a wave of their hand. With a breath and a headshake, they turned to face him again, smiling once more. "Now, let's get this done, alright?" They asked. Rudy nodded, not missing the teasing glance Alejandro gave him.

It was sweltering, as expected for a Mexican Summer. The speedy movement and adrenaline of avoiding gunfire only added to the discomfort. There were still cartel members outside, but at a distance. There was quiet for a moment, excluding Rodolfo's breathing being hissed through his teeth. A bullet had skidded past the back of his hand, tearing through his glove and leaving blood running down his arm. He was sat on the floor of an abandoned house, jacket discarded and shirt sleeve rolled past his elbow. "I know it stings, but you'll be alright." His ally, Padres, spoke softly to him past their mask. He nodded and leaned his head back against the wall, watching them dig through a bag for medical supplies. He held his hand up to lessen blood flow, letting it run across the dips in his muscled forearm. "How is it that every time you find me, I'm bleeding?" The man asked with a playful tone, smiling slightly when they snickered. "Well, mi tonto y querido soldado. It's because you're a reckless fool." Their thumb pressed into the area around the wound, making him wince, looking them in the eye. Their gaze was sharper than before, although not malicious. "You are so smart but so, so very stupid sometimes." They shook their head, taking away the pressure from his hand, holding it cautiously now. "You're swift, you're experienced, you're intelligent. But you're hot headed, and sometimes you get too focused on a goal to realize you're stepping on a land mine. It amazes me you're not more battered than you are." Their concern was warranted and their praise was met with warmth in his face. He swallowed and looked back at them again as they examined his wound, slowly rising their gaze to him again. He could see the signs of a gentle smile in their eyes. They hushed him soothingly when his hissed at the sting of disinfectant. His hand twitched involuntarily from the odd feeling on his nerves. "You have a point." He sighed, looking at their surroundings for a moment. He let out a short laugh after a few seconds of silence. "At least you're always near by to fix me up, no? I seem to heal faster when you're caring for my wounds." He muttered, feeling his stomach twist with an exciting bout of nerves. He wasn't much of a flirting type, and he tried to keep it subtle enough in case he'd been misreading. Padres chuckled fondly as they pressed down a bandage around his arm, kindly wiping away the blood. "Not the first to have told me that." They said fondly. With one last look at his hand, the clicked their tongue as they took in the damage. "Your hand will likely be difficult to use for until it's healed. We'll need to speed up that process." Rudy rose an eyebrow, confused. His eyes widened when they lifted their mask slightly, just enough to expose their mouth. It was hard to remember to breathe as a care kiss was placed over the bandage, he swore he could feel the burn of their lips past the layers, seeping into his wound and sending shocks in his blood. "Stay vigilant, chico lindo, I need you in peak condition."

(tw; war and brief mentions of wounds) Rodolfo panted heavily as he vaulted through a broken window, feeling perspiration on his skin from the heat of fire and exercise as he continued to sprint through a broken down building. There was bloodshed, naturally, it came with the job. But there was something in his stomach that twisted as he worried he'd find their body amongst those empty of souls. He'd promised to be more careful, but he'd dropped that worry as soon as their mic cut out. The fight had died down and an evac was only two miles away, but he demanded proof of their demise before he'd step anywhere near it. The man's steps crackled over broken glass and after the constant rain of bullets, the silence felt all the more deafening. His ears rang with a high pitched whine that he tried to ignore, listening for anything amongst the worrying stillness. He felt hope dwindle as seconds tic down, until he heard the sound of moving rubble in a room he'd yet to check. It could've been an enemy, perhaps it wasn't them, but despite the risk he rushed over and pushed the broken door out of his way. His breath left his lungs with weight as he saw their back, struggling to push themselves up. "Oh, gracias a Dios, estás vivo." Rudy said as he rushed over. A cruel sense of deja vu hit him as he gently guided them into sitting up, their hands covering their face. They groaned quietly, leaning against him for support. Rudy took a quick glance around, seeing pieces of their iconic mask broken. "Where are you wounded? Evac isn't far, what do you need?" He asked, only to hear them let out a strained chuckle. Slowly, blood covered hands stopped covering their visage. Air punched out of his chest as he finally got their face, and while blood dripped from a fairly painful seeming gash on their forehead, they smiled. "Tranquilo, cariño. Estoy bien." They said, gaze tired and a bit dazed. Rudy sighed and shook his head. "You've already used that line..." He said back, unable to stop the tiny smile as they snorted. "So I have." They hummed, resting against his armored shoulder. Rodolfo swallowed and chewed on some words stuck in his throat for a moment, up until they tapped him. "Just ask me already, Rodolfo. I'm losing blood and I think you should know how much I like you by now." They said with a hint of smugness. Rudy clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, chuckling when the poked him again. "Don't roll your eyes at me, young man." They scolded playfully, groaning in pain as he carefully helped them up, pulling them close to keep them supported. "A drink after this sounds nice, si?" He asked quietly. They nodded lazily. "With you? Absolutely." Rudy smiled and began slowly guiding them out of the broken building. "It's a date then."

✧König Badubrecht✧

Konig anxiously fiddled with the bracelet he snuck under his sleeves while he waited. He recalled a breathing technique and tried his best to keep his breaths quiet, but full enough to keep him calm. On any other day, he would've been mostly fine, but this was not every other day. No. His commander had told him that he, and two other soldiers, would be meeting up with a rather impressive taskforce run by Captain John Price. As if it wasn't enough that Ghost was on the team, as well as the ties they had to impressive forces in Mexico, all of that on its own was enough to get him antsy to make a good impression. But there was something in particular that caused his nerves to light up with unease. Meeting their sniper. Only known by their callsign 'Hotshot'. When Price had chosen them, word spread fast to allies about the impressive track record they carried. Twice, they had missed a shot twice. That was two compared to, give or take, three-thousand-four shots they had taken. A number that steadily grew with each mission, one kept track of just to prove the otherwise outrageous number. König loved the idea of being a sniper and practiced frequently, even if he was never given the position due to his size. Part of him wanted to ask for an autograph, but he also knew that would likely get him weird looks. "Oi, Großer Kerl. Das Team ist hier." His commander's voice startled him just as much as the words. König swallowed and nodded. He stood up and quickly fussed over his appearance before following. He let the other soldiers he'd be working with walk in front of him. He envied them, their confidence. Slightly baffled they could walk toward such impressive people without feeling the need to overthink how they'd present. It was one thing when König didn't care about their opinion, or when he was walking toward enemies. He'd strut forward with his shoulders rolled back and his chin high, gaze stern and sharp as the blade on his belt. But wanting people to like you, new people no less? He'd had easier times handling battles than that. It didn't get easier when they were in view. He towered over all of them, hiding wasn't much of an option, although his veil helped. König noted all of them individually as his commander spoke with Captain Price. Ghost certainly was intimidating, Gaz & Soap seemed more approachable, not to take away from their capable abilities however. Then his eyes fell on the last member, feeling his chest clench, making his hands do the same at his sides. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he'd heard of Hotshot's illustrious reputation. Still, he wasn't expecting them to be so...beautiful. They stood confidently with a laid back smile, some left over war paint smudged under their eyes, black gloves over their hands. König had so much to say and it all piled up in the back of his throat. He'd gotten so lost in staring at them that he'd completely missed everyone introducing themselves to each other, hence why he flinched violently when he was addressed directly. Suddenly, someone he viewed so highly was stood in front of him, craning their neck to make eye contact. "You alright there, big man?" They asked with a smile. König let out a string of stammered noises. They rose an eyebrow with a head tilt as the man mentally scolded himself, trying hard to actually say a word, anything! "You're pretty." He said suddenly with a voice crack. Instantly, shame and regret waved over his body. Hotshot blinked a few times in surprise. "I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't-" "I like you." They pointed with a grin again, much wider than before. König deadpanned, eyes wide and stunned quiet. He watched them extend a hand. "Look forward to workin' with you, Romeo." They teased lightly. König hesitated, but very carefully shook their hand with a nod.

König held his breath before pulling the trigger on his USR rifle. The bullet soared through the air and through the paper of the target, leaving a fresh hole in the figure's skull. He exhaled and smiled to himself under his sniper veil, taking notes on what he had done right, what he could do better. As he went to grab his pen and jot it all done, he flung it in surprise when clapping sounded behind him. He nearly broke his neck whipping his head around, pulse stuttering when he viewed Hotshot leaned on the wall. Or, Y/N, as they'd said to call them. Though König had yet to break the habit of calling them Lieutenant. He blushed heavily as they smiled at him, pushing off the wall. "Nice shot, big guy. Right between the eyes." They complimented, letting out a whistle as they gazed at the target. He swallowed a lump in his throat, hands growing clammy in his gloves. He hadn't known them very long, admittedly, although their reputation preceded them. It had been a little less than a month since he'd first been introduced, in that time, he'd grown to find them charming. Too charming for him to handle. "Remind me again why they won't give you a proper sniper position again?" They asked as he leaned back on his knees. Konig cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. "My size." He mumbled, a bit bitterly. Hotshot clicked their tongue both sympathetically and in annoyance. "Yeah, I'd imagine being that tall has it's drawbacks. Seems to have advantages too though. Still, I think you're a great shot. Little awkward on your form though." They explained. Konig glanced up at them with a small head tilt, silently hoping they'd elaborate. They smiled and crouched beside him, suddenly reminding him just how much bigger he was. "Get back in position, I'll show ya." They smiled. Konig nodded and did as told. He wasn't necessarily an obedient soldier, but he always listened to what they said. He'd been so worried about how they perceived him, stepping out of line brought too much anxiety. He wanted them to like him. He adjusted his hold on the gun, resuming the position he was in before they came in. "See, you're firing well, but is this a position you could hold for an hour?" They asked. "Nien, my back starts to hurt." He admitted. Hotshot nodded and snapped their fingers. "Exactly. Here, I can already tell your problem." He glanced at them before his breath caught in his throat, feeling their hand gently placed on his leg. Positioning it a bit more outwards, bending at the knee. Through thick cargo pants and a set of gloves, their palm felt like fire through fabric, singeing his skin. His hands twitched nervously when they moved up by his shoulders. "Now, instead of holding your head like that, try this instead." Their voice was soft, quiet. König felt his pulse in his extremities when their hand found his jaw underneath his make-shift sniper hood, tilting his head as they wished. "There ya go, big guy. Now, try firing like that." The nickname suddenly felt like fire to his senses, and he had to clench his jaw to bite back an unmanly sound. He did his best to hold the gun steady, aiming once more, ignoring the proximity of his superior. He fired, unable to focus on where the bullet landed. He could still somehow feel the ghost of their hands on his person. He flinched when they clapped twice. "Another headshot! Good job, mate. Keep at it and you'll be better than me soon." They smiled brightly. Konig blinked up at them, nodding carefully. The lieutenant hadn't missed the widening of his pupils. "I'll let you get back to it. Come get me if you want more tips." They patted his shoulder, taking careful note of his near-silent shudder. Perfect.

(TW; War typical violence, blood lusty König) The man heaved, feeling ice in his veins, bright red blood darkening the fabric of his gear. He counted the bodies around him, ten in total, none of them moving. He scanned the area around him as he continue moving, looking for more targets, knowing if he didn't have one in his sights, someone had him in theirs. His fist clenched around the handle of his blade when his radio crackled. Static mixed with a voice, one frantic, one familiar. Past his adrenaline rushed brain he heard the panicked call of his friendly sniper, one who'd recently called him a friend. Long legs broke into a sprint, operating off his most basic instincts, the most animalistic portions of his mind. He made it to their position with, to him, felt like seconds. He didn't process the information around him before his body was moving, quick as light and as brutal as iron spikes. Suddenly, his body count that day went from thirty to thirty four. A loud crack and a heavy thump of a limp body hitting the floor was the last thing her heard before the blood rushing in his ears started to settle. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Y/N coughing, grasping at their neck. He went over to them in three large strides, kneeling down in front of them. "Mein Freund, geht es Ihnen gut?" He asked, voice heavy with breath and a bit shaky. They coughed again with a nod. "I'm alright, I'm good. Thank you." He listened to the rasp out their answer. As things grew quiet again, König realized just how intense he'd been. One glance at the bodies behind him showed the true nature many often were unaware of. He was a violent, terrifying force when in war. Typically, he didn't care. He'd grown to stop caring after so much of his life was met with judgment or rejection. But he liked this person, therefore, their approval mattered to him, and now his anxiety began to rise. They'd fear him, avoid him now, surely. "König." Their voice snapped him forward again. "Can you get this mic off? It's hard to breathe with it..." They muttered, motioning to the throat mic tightly secured around their neck. It caught him by surprise. He'd just snapped a neck without hesitation not even five minutes prior, and yet they were asking for his help still. He swallowed and nodded. The winced and tilted their head back, allowing access to their bruised esophagus. König tried not to tremble as his fingers clumsily when to loosen and undo the mic. His hand was dangerous, blood still stained his gloves as he grazed their skin with the fabric. His chest felt ready to burst as he heard them sigh in relief when the pressure let go, easing some of the sting of the irritation. It was red, soon to be a deep purple when the bruises truly formed. It looked painful. König's fingers shook as he absentmindedly trailed the line dented in their skin. "I'm okay." Their voice made him jump again, bringing his eyes back to theirs. They smiled at him, already exhausted from the day of battle. König blinked and nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, like he'd been burned, feeling his skin lit aflame. "Let us finish so you can get to evac." He muttered, standing up, allowing them to use his deadly hand to hoist themselves up with him.

"God it is so pretty here!" Y/N declared as they looked around at König's hometown. Graz, Austria. König smiled behind his black medical mask as he watched them look around in awe, feeling pride bubble in his chest as they walked to his home. Since he'd joined the military, he'd gone home alone. It was lonely, yes, though he always made sure to visit his grandmother when he'd come back from missions. His apartment always felt too quiet, too empty. He liked his alone time but often times he found the solitude suffocating. Everyone he knew on his team didn't really have this problem, either being fine on their own, with friends to visit, or family to return to. That was until the hotshot sniper admitted a very similar situation to himself. He saw how their face fell when they mentioned it, and despite his fear of rejection, he took a leap and offered a plane ticket. It surprised and delighted him when they jumped at the opportunity. He was proud that they enjoyed his country so far, even if he was nervous about their opinion of his home. Not that he could avoid it, however, given they were already at his door. König unlocked the door and stepped in, immediately removing his shoes. They mimicked his movements and carefully set their boots off to the side. He took a second to note how small theirs were in comparison to his. They took a gander around his home. It wasn't much, a simply decorated place with some mild dust built up from how long he was gone. When they giggled quietly, his stomach twisted, wondering what it could mean. "Uhm, welcome to mein home. Do...do you like it?" He asked nervously. "You decorate like a grandma." They answered, turning with a big grin on their face. An old quilt was folded on the couch and on the wall their were crocheted works of art in wooden frames. "It's so cozy, it's really cute." Their compliment made him relax. He motioned for them to sit, which they did gladly. He was quick to make them tea, some for himself to calm his nerves. There was a silence that settled over them when he finally came to sit beside them, comfortable for them, anxious for him. They spared a glance at him staring at his tea cup, reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder. "Aren't you gonna take off your mask? So you can drink it?" Y/N asked. König blinked, his breath catching in his throat. "...Nein." He muttered, setting the cup on the table in front of them. Y/N frowned. "Why? It's just me..." They said in a hushed tone. "You," He swallowed. "You will not like my face." He said softly, squeezing his hands together. They sighed and put their own cup down, standing up. König's eyes followed them and his face went red as they bent, placing their hands on his knees, looking him intently in the eye. "That is bullshit, big guy. I like you way more than you think I do. And I promise your face is not gonna change that." They said intensely. König blinked at them before he looked at his lap again. He inhaled deeply through his nose before he bit down on his tongue. Like ripping off a bandaid, he wanted to get the pain of their rejection off as fast as possible, so he tore off the mask, keeping his eyes scrunched shut. Some beats of silence left his heart palpitating. Then he felt warm palms carefully cradle his cheeks, forcing a gasp out of him. König blinked and looked at them, up, for once. Y/N's gaze trailed over his features, fingers lightly trailing over faint freckles to a scar across the bold bridge of his nose, down to the his oldest scar that ran from his right sinus to his chapped lips. A smile grew over their face as they took in his visage. "I knew it. You're one pretty man, Romeo." They purred quietly. The man's eyes widened before his breathing stopped, eyes fluttering as they pressed a gentle kiss to his nose. "Du bringst mich noch ins Grab…" He shivered. They chuckled and pecked his forehead. "Don't even think about it mister, you're staying alive for as long as I need for you to love yourself as much as I love you."

✧Alex Keller✧

Alex was a seasoned soldier. He'd constantly perceived through the unthinkable, cut it close with death more times than he could count. Shot, stabbed, kidnapped twice, inhaled complex chemicals, and managed to escape with his life after he detonated a bomb. Missing a leg, but alive. Maybe he was lucky, maybe it was the opposite. Either way, anyone who had the nerve to imply Alex as anything but impressive and strong was a fool, completely. The blond was someone any general would take pride in. So what on earth could take out a man with such an amazing track record? The flu. The answer was the flu. Alex practically never got sick, but when his fellow soldiers began to notice his less than fantastic state, it was hard to deny. Pale, clammy, a headache from hell. He couldn't do drills as well because his joints were sore and the coughing wasn't ideal. He managed to brush off concerns up until he threw up in the communal trashcan in mess hall. Finally, Alex's commander dragged him to the medbay. "Just sit down, Keller. Fucks sake." Julia grumbled as she set him on a bed. "I'm tellin' ya, I just need some NyQuil and I'll be fine-" Alex was cut off by harsh coughing fit that made the woman cringe. "With all due respect, Keller, you sound like you deep throated a cactus. Just let the medic look at'cha. We just got a new one, they're lovely, you'll be in good hands." She promised, making him sighed and rub his face, putting some pressure on his eyes, hoping it'd help the pain behind them. Alex hummed as he heard Julia greet a new voice. He dropped his hands in his lap and blinked, looking over at the new medic, not wanting to be rude. He couldn't tell if the warmth in his face was just the fever anymore though, not when he got a good look at them. They approached and set a clipboard down, standing in front of him, putting on some gloves as they smiled. Julia motioned to him. "This is Alex Keller, Keller, our medic, Plaster." She said. Alex rose an eyebrow and looked at them, watching them laugh. "It's my callsign. Brits call band aids, plasters." They explained. "And they'll fix all your cracks." Julia snorted, making the medic roll their eyes. Plaster grabbed a thermometer and put a cover on it. "Alrighty, Alex, just put this under your tongue. Don't want a soldier with such an impressive resume to be out of commission for too long." Alex blinked slowly as the plastic rested under his tongue. His brain was essentially mush, and the pretty face in front of him wasn't helping. "Heard o' meh?" He slurred tiredly, making them snort. "I have! Not everyday a man willingly blows up a building full of gas, much less live through it. Man of steel, eh?" They asked. Alex motioned to his leg. "Knee down." He replied, smiling when they laughed, taking out the thermometer. "Oh boy, 100.8. You, sir, should've been here much sooner. I'll get you some antibiotics and some NyQuil." Plaster said as they shined a light in his eyes. Alex lazily opened his mouth so they could check the back of his throat, heart thumping harshly as they carefully held his jaw, clicking their tongue sympathetically. "Poor thing, your throat looks pretty bad." He hummed. He gazed up at them as they carefully put a stethoscope to his chest. "Pulse sounds a bit quick." They mumbled. "'s your fault." Alex replied. Julia's jaw dropped open as Plaster tilted their head with a little chuckle. "Oh is it now? Well I'm sorry, sir." They replied. "Mm-mm, not complainin'." Alex shrugged. Plaster shook their head and wrote his prescription down, handing it to him before turning to Julia. "Make sure he stays in bed. And get some rest, casanova." They patted his leg. Alex gave a weak salute as Julia dragged him away, not paying attention to how she poked fun at him. "You're gonna feel so embarrassed when you can think straight." Alex shrugged as he stumbled beside his commander. "I dunno, I think they liked me." He said proudly. Julia rolled her eyes.

Getting a leg blown off was an extremely painful endeavor, obviously. Alex had a whole half of a limb blasted off at the knee, then he had to have it heal, then there were months of getting used to having his limb missing. And even after growing used to having his leg amputated, the pain was far from done. Excluding ghost pains, there was always some painful soreness left after using his leg all day. After some time, there was a level of pain that he considered normal, and therefore powered through. But there were other times where it was agony. It reminded him of the darker fairy tales he’d been told by his great grandmother. Like the Little Mermaid, how every step was agony, rather than the sparkly version Disney gave. He still tried to tough it out, but it really felt like hell. Leading him to limp to the medic’s area, hoping to hide from his bosses for a bit and perhaps ask for something for the pain. He winced as the pain became sharp, sitting on a cot in the quiet medbay. He sighed as he heard footsteps coming his way. He glanced up and saw their medic, the one that cared for him when he had the flu. “Mr.Keller, what brings you her- oh you look bad, what’s going on?” Their joyful tone quickly turned to worry as they approached him. He sighed and motioned to his leg. Quickly, the nodded and wrote something down. “Give me a moment. If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to remove your leg and compression sock.” They said. He did as told. There was both pain and relief when the heavy metal was pulled away. He set it beside him and tried to place pressure on his thigh. Plaster came back with some ICYHOT and a cold wrap. “Can I put my hands on you?” They asked softly. Alex rose an eyebrow, smiling when they rolled their eyes playfully. “Not like that.” They scolded, though they weren't truly upset. Alex chuckled and nodded, rub his his face. They put some gloves on and some of the Icyhot. Their hands were delicate as they carefully applied pressure to the muscle of his amputated limb. He winced and sighed in repeat as it both soothed and ached. All the while, they gentle cooed and comforted him through the pain. By the time the frigid compress was wrapped around his leg, he was exhausted. Alex went to stand, hobble his way back to his room, only for a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked up at them, being met with a gentle smile and a light push. He listened and laid back, though confused. “I think you should rest for a bit.” They explained softly, patting his chest. “And…you’d rather me do it here than my room?” He asked with a teasing grin, watching them laugh under their breath. “Come on, casanova. Give a lonely medic some company, would you?” They asked. Their tone made his chest tighten and his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Sure thing, doc.”

Alex sighed after taking a large gulp of beer from a pint glass, looking around the bar he'd popped into. Usually, bar outings were for celebration after a mission, this time though, he came alone. He wasn't there to mope or feel bad about himself, he just didn't want the loud commotion of his entire team. He was an extrovert, yes, but sometimes the company he wanted was more quiet, less straining. He looked at the foam residue in his glass, zoning out to whatever music was playing over the speakers. Some new-age country song if he had to guess. "Well, hello stranger." A voice near him made him flinch and raise his head, feeling butterflies erupt at the sight of his favorite medic. He grinned and turned to them a bit. "Plaster, hey, what're you doing here?" He asked. They waved their hand and came to sit beside him in the booth, not really minding the close proximity. "None of that callsign nonsense, Keller. You know my name, you can use it off base." They replied, setting a tequila sunrise on the table. The man hummed, the warmness in his cheeks now not only the alcohol. "Well, Y/N, what brings you here?" He asked. "A drink and the curiosity of American bars. The stories were right, it is filthy here." They commented, making him laugh and nod. "Well, so is all of America really." He hummed. They rose an eyebrow at that, though the held their question as he took another swig of beer, only taking a quick second to glance at the way his Adam's apple moved. "Coming from a man with an American flag on his arm, I hear you give your country quite a lot of shit." The medic rested their chin in their hand, eyeing him curiously as he glanced at his tattoo. "It's burning for a reason. I love my country but...I also don't. I...I love the idea of America, what it was supposed to be. What it is? Not so much." He admitted slowly. Y/N frowned as they watched his face fall. They could take a million guesses on what made him feel that way, he'd probably answer with an 'all of the above'. Instead, they reached over and patted his leg with a kind smile. "Well, there are plenty of places I can think of that would take an American, if you're able to handle the jokes on your accent." They said softly. Alex's throat tightened at the kind hand resting over his jean-clad thigh. It wasn't sexual by any means, but it still made his skin grow goosebumps. "Yeah? Would you be willing to take in this one legged stray?" He asked with a teasing tone. Y/N chuckled, but they nodded as well. "I'm sure I could take care of you real well." They whispered softly, barely audible over the commotion of bar life. Alex swallowed and suddenly the pressure on his leg became a little more dangerous. But the last thing he wanted as to pull away. Instead, he let out a breathy laugh, one a bit shaky. "Don't make a promise you can't keep, doc. I'm always getting into trouble." He replied. They tilted their head, an innocent motion with a layer of mischief. "I'll get you out of it." They replied. He knew they'd both go back to the base that night, that nothing would happen, given the sensibility of not making rash decisions with alcohol present. But, despite not even being buzzed, he already had his plan to play up a hang over, just so he'd have an excuse in the morning. Knowing full well they'd see right through him.

Alex was a hardened soldier. He'd been shot, stabbed, nearly blown up, inhaled toxic chemicals, and he'd had his leg blown off. Withstanding it all and still alive, still breathing and, at least somewhat, functioning. But there were days when the air filling his lungs felt monotonous and the lack of sound felt like death. Usually on nights where he was on leave. The first night was always the same, with him so exhausted he'd pass out and wouldn't have the ability to overthink. The longer he was alone, the worse it got, until his mind started to shot off thoughts he didn't really want to indulge. Counting the times he'd cheated death, the amount of lives he might've saved with better hindsight, whether or not there was another side, would it be as quiet as his home? He had friends, people he knew cared for him, but none of those dynamics felt right for voicing this part of himself. The deeper, more frightening bits. Or, well, he didn't have that before. In a moment of weakness, as he felt the weight of his life and its debatable worth rest too potently on his ribs, he grabbed his phone and hit a contact, a colleague. His work always spilled into his life, he didn't see why it had to stop with them. Guilt ate at him when they answered, hearing their tired tone reminding him of how late it was. But they didn't complain, they didn't scold or scoff. Their voice remained sweet, so worried for him, so caring. It aided all the more in having him cave, having him ask for a lifeline. It was raining cats & dogs and yet they only took twenty minutes to be at his door. He was still in his sleepwear, a pair of basketball shorts and a grey tank-top he'd had for a near decade. His leg was off, using his crutch, albeit begrudgingly. No words were shared as he watched them remove their shoes, water dripping off their coat as they hung it on the rack. This would've been the first time they'd actually be in his home, but he wasn't particularly concerned with their opinion of his awful décor choices. Y/N turned and looked at him with worry in their gaze. Again, silently, they took the hand that wasn't supported on the crutch and carefully pulled him to the couch. "Bad night?" They finally spoke, sitting down beside him. Alex nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I dunno why I called-" They cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He turned to them with exhaustion in his face. Y/N sighed sadly, raising their hand to hold his face gently in their palm. He melted into it immediately. There was something supernaturally soothing of human warmth, something real, something alive. "You trust me, starboy?" They asked quietly, thunder rumbling in the sky as he nodded. He mourned the loss of their hand as they situated a throw pillow on the end of the couch, moving to lay down with their back slightly elevated by the arm of the furniture. He watched them look back at him, then, with open arms, they beckoned him. It was a step too intimate for coworkers, bordering past friends, and he didn't care. He practically tossed his mobility aid away and slid over. Their chest became his pillow as he slotted between them and the back of the couch, feeling them grab the folded blanket he always left out, draping it over him. He let out a shaky sigh when their nails met his scalp. "Easy, casanova. Let me take care of you." They whispered. Alex let out a huff-like laugh. "You got it, doc..."

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on Hermione/Sirius?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i have decided to partially back this, on the grounds that i think there's the capacity for an initial spark which would fizzle out extremely quickly when the two realised they found the other incredibly irritating.

although it's worth saying - as it always is - that i don't have an issue in the slightest with the age gap, or with the fact that sirius and hermione's acquaintance was established when she was a child. these people are fictional.

the initial attraction is obviously going to be based in sirius and hermione's mutual respect of the other's cataclysmic loyalty. it's obvious in canon that sirius adores the fact that harry has friends who embody a trait he values above all others - which hermione proves her mettle in right in front of his face when she helps harry save his life in prisoner of azkaban - and, in a world in which he survives order of the phoenix, the respect that he'd have for hermione for sticking with the horcrux hunt would clearly be immense.

for her part, hermione clearly really rates not only the comfort sirius provides harry, but the guidance - she urges harry constantly in goblet of fire to confide in sirius and finds the advice sirius gives his godson to be above reproach. she evidently respects him, and she evidently thinks of him as wise and sensible.

and sirius repays this trust by, for example, backing hermione's assessment of barty crouch sr.'s treatment of winky - which is a defence of a principle she sincerely holds but which harry and ron think is ridiculous which harry and ron clearly didn't expect - and i imagine hermione was hugely impressed by this.

however... what would be more incompatible about the relationship rears its head in order of the phoenix.

hermione's resilience is one of her more admirable traits - but it comes with the negative side-affect that she has a canonically low tolerance for moping. she's of the opinion throughout this book that sirius could get a grip on what is obviously depression if he simply tried hard enough - and i think the most accurate way to write her post-war is to imagine that she's someone who deals with grief by trying to "fix" things [as she does in canon in half-blood prince, when she keeps trying to push harry to talk about sirius].

i don't think this is a fault - it's the way many people cope with grief, and good for them - but i do think that it wouldn't align at all with how a sirius who's lived to see the age of peace would want to approach the task of grieving. i think he's going to think that she's meddling and she's going to think that he's falling into self-destruction and it's just going to be a mess.

[ron - in contrast - would get it, and this is why i'm now fully ronius-pilled...]

hermione and sirius also diverge in order of the phoenix over what she [not unreasonably] perceives as sirius' recklessness and he [not unreasonably] perceives as her being self-servingly risk-averse. as adults, i think this would just cause them to butt heads in ways they both found quite boring - especially because sirius would be looking, in choosing a lover, for someone very like james, who was a fatal combination of daring, reckless, and permissive.

he wouldn't be getting that in hermione - who, while undeniably brave, isn't audacious in the way sirius values, and who shows affection primarily by nagging and meddling. she would understand telling him off for speeding on his bike as an expression of her concern for him and an articulation of what he means to her. he would regard it as insufferable - and i don't think he'd go in for the constant bickering and debating which is hermione's love-language.

i also think - much as i think when it comes to shipping hermione with snape - that they wouldn't be intellectually compatible. not in terms of level of intelligence, but in terms of this intelligence's expression. sirius' intellectual arrogance - that sort of "oh i know all this already" vibe - is complete anathema to someone who loves to acquire information. i think sirius is tuning out pretty quickly when hermione is giving him a page-by-page review of her new book - and i think she'd be right to consider that rude.

so my proposal? add ron in as the third.

that way everyone wins.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 12: Defenses Crumble

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 3k

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Author's Notes: Maybe I'm still a bit salty that that line which has become so emblematic of Bridgerton was given to Simon and Daphne and not where it actually appears in the books, which is uttered by both Anthony and Benedict in their respective love stories. Idk if it was a copy/paste situation on JQ's part, or if we can head canon that Anthony taught Benedict some moves 😜 but you have to admit, it's a great line 💙

Benedict didn’t see Sophie for three days. Not really. She had obviously stopped visiting him, free as he was from his sickbed. But he also didn’t see her walking in the grounds or in the halls or anywhere that he went. He checked in with Mr. Dewitt who confirmed that he was meeting with Sophie each morning to provide her with advertisements. She hadn’t left but was cleverly avoiding him.

Toward the end of the second day, he worked up the nerve to ask Mrs. Wiggin where she was. He knew that repeating such a request could raise suspicion, so it was his only chance. He inquired as casually as he could. The cook informed him that she was helping Anne with the laundry. Benedict returned a curt smile, said something banal and wandered away. He couldn’t very well go confronting Sophie about being his mistress in front of others.

On day three he began to suspect that Sophie was deliberately tying herself to the other servants so as to never risk being caught alone. He glimpsed her briefly through a window, out in the kitchen garden with Lizzie. She was beautiful even at this distance, her short hair reflecting the sunlight. She laughed at something her companion said, making Benedict realize he had never seen her laugh before. He wanted to see it again. He wondered how fervently she was applying to new positions and how long it may take to secure one. He simply wanted to talk to her. But he couldn’t, not with others around.

The fourth day progressed cold and bleak, with rains as heavy as the night of the Cavender party. It made Benedict think of his ride with Sophie, of their night at the inn, of the wholly unexpected course he had found himself on since. Still, there was no sign of her. He was starting to grow agitated. He went to the nursery to work out his feelings on a canvas and was confronted with her half-finished portrait. Frustration building, he stalked downstairs to set up an easel in the conservatory, using the pale light from the tall windows to depict a grey, windswept moor.

He was so focused that Mrs. Wiggin startled him when she appeared with his dinner. The room had grown dark but a fire had been lit in the grate and he agreed to take his meal where he was, assessing what he had painted thus far. 

___

When Mrs. Wiggin asked Sophie to stoke the fire in the conservatory, she hesitated. She had managed to avoid being alone upstairs this long and didn’t relish the thought of going unaccompanied. But this task seemed safe enough, given that Benedict should be in the dining room in another part of the house entirely. She also couldn’t refuse without seeming rude and so she ascended.

As she moved through the house, she couldn’t help but notice how lovely Aubrey Hall was at night. With the paintings and gleaming floors softly illuminated by candlelight, it was not at all like a cold and imposing manse with secrets hiding in its shadows. It was as cozy as a cottage though its size was more akin to a palace. She thought of Benedict and his siblings growing up surrounded by such warmth and felt a bittersweet sadness that she hadn’t been able to experience something similar at Penwood Park. Her time in this house had been a gift, even though it came with such complicated pain. She loved the buildings, she loved the grounds, she loved a member of the family who lived there. But she would never be able to stay, and that was the cruelest trick of all.

Thoughts weighing heavily on her, she walked into the conservatory, its angled windows still glistening in the dark with the day’s rain. She turned to the fireplace and found herself in direct eye contact with Benedict. He was seated next to the fire, one leg dangling over the arm of his chair, studying an easel a short distance away. They both froze, holding their breaths in silence. Then Sophie instinctively spun and dashed out of the room.

“Wait!” She heard Benedict call behind her but she would not stop. Of course the one time she set out alone she had been sent directly into his path. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t know what to say. She needed to get away, and away was a servant’s staircase tucked behind a door off the main entry hall.

“Sophie!” Benedict was catching up to her. The time it took her to open the door proved to be her downfall because no sooner had she ducked through then he appeared beside her on the tiny landing and shut the door firmly behind them.

He repeated her name, softer. She expected him to grab her by the arm as he had formed a habit of doing, but instead he reached out to grasp her hand, halting her in place.

“Benedict!” She whispered, worried the staff would hear them from below. “You cannot be here!” She wanted to pull away but couldn’t deny the electricity she felt at the touch of his skin.

“I need to talk to you.”

Sophie ignored his gentle tone and spat back at him, “You made yourself very clear when last we spoke.”

“I was an ass,” he declared. She stared back at him, caught entirely off guard. He continued, “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I shouldn’t have lorded money over you. It’s reprehensible. But please know, I only wish to ensure your well being.”

Sophie hadn’t expected this, but she was starting to learn that Benedict’s better nature tended to always prevail. “You have an odd and shortsighted way of showing it,” she snipped. “But I know that’s what you are doing.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Still holding her hand, he gripped it tighter. 

She looked up at him placidly. “And you’ll be happy to learn that I believe I have found my new position.” 

Benedict’s heart sank again. Every sentence she spoke whipped him from one emotion to another. It was nearly making him dizzy. With feigned casualty, all he could manage to say was, “Oh?”

“Yes. With a home in Scotland. They are in need of an experienced maid and I believe I meet their qualifications, so I have written to them. I am just waiting for their reply.” 

This was the compromise Sophie had devised. She would find employment in a new noble house but it would be as far away as possible; so far that Benedict would never have her followed there, and hopefully so far that Cavender wouldn’t chance to visit either. With her letter of acceptance from the Stirling household, Benedict would need to make good on his arrangement, pay Sophie her wages and let her leave. Then the choice would be hers whether she wanted to follow through with the employment or use the money to start anew in some way she would feel safe. 

“Scotland?” Benedict’s voice faltered. He looked crestfallen. Sophie couldn’t ignore how it pained her, but she was resolved and nodded wordlessly.

They stood frozen in the stairwell, her hand in his, staring at each other in silence. 

At last, Benedict released her and cleared his throat. “Very well. Once you have a letter of acceptance, I will ensure that you are paid. Double what was originally agreed upon.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “Benedict, you don’t have to…”

“May I ask a final favor?” His voice was soft. “You certainly don’t owe it to me, but I must ask nonetheless.”

“What is it?” The sadness in his eyes was going to break her. 

“Would you let me finish your portrait before you go? It is still a gift I’d like you to have, and just…” He cast his eyes down. “For an artist, it can be torturous to leave a work unfinished.” 

When Sophie did not respond for a long moment, he looked up at her warily. What little light there was in the stairwell betrayed the tears that were brimming in her eyes. 

“Yes,” She nodded briskly, voice tight. “I will sit for the rest of the portrait.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

They agreed to meet in the nursery again after Sophie had completed her duties. She left him on the landing as she scurried down to the kitchen, managing to stave off her tears. Asking herself why she had agreed to be alone with him again, the vision of his sorrowful eyes rose in her mind as its own justification. He had meant his apology. He was a good man, just a man who had asked for too much, as men in his position were bound to do. He only wanted to finish her portrait, which was a courtesy she could extend to him before she left and never saw him again. It would be difficult to stare at him as he painted and to think of all that had occurred between them, but it would be her last opportunity to seal off these memories before a new chapter of her life began.

She completed her nightly chores in a daze. She believed some of the other staff spoke to her, but she couldn’t really remember. She was positive her answers, if any, were spoken in mumbles. She moved plates, she folded linens, but her eyes barely saw the items in her hands. After Mrs. Wiggin bid her goodnight and headed off for bed, Sophie went to her quarters. She loosened and brushed her hair, reaffixing it the way it had been for her first sitting. She removed her apron and changed again into her green dress. Then, as quietly as she could, carrying a lone candle and using the servants’ stairs, she crept up to the family wing and to the nursery door.

With an overwhelming sense of deja vu, she greeted Benedict who stood at his easel, then took her place on the window seat facing him. She moved through the same motions, feeling as if she were trapped in a repeating dream - one where she would come so close to happiness, but then watch as it slipped through her fingers. Something was different about this time though. The energy between her and Benedict was decidedly darker. Whereas before she had been filled with breathless anticipation and wonder, now she felt weighted down, heavy with frustration, confusion and sadness. 

Benedict looked much the same. His eyes were not shining as they had the first time and there was no trace of the smile he so often bore. He looked dejected and tired, like he was forcing himself to complete the portrait against his own will. Sophie held still as he painted, the air thick with an awkward, painful silence. It grew from uncomfortable to torturous. Sophie wracked her mind for something to say, something that was neither too trite or too honest, but she could think of nothing.

Eventually, mercifully, Benedict spoke. “Could you…” He looked back and forth between her and the canvas. His tone was depressed. “Could you just…”

He debated within himself what exactly he wanted to say. Would he ask her to smile and take that heartbreaking look off of her face? No, he would never be so pigheaded as to suggest that. The word he truly wanted to use whispered through his mind: stay. But he couldn’t. That plea had been made and rejected. He should honor it. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. But he simply couldn’t finish the portrait, not with her looking the way she was, so unlike the Sophie he had come to know.

“I can’t paint your eyes,” he admitted. “Not the way I want to. There is a sorrow deep within them that wasn’t there before.”

Sophie stared up at him, shaking her head slightly as if the sorrow was something solid that could be sloughed off. “Benedict…”

He put down his brush and palette and walked toward her.  “I can’t bear it when you look so sad,” he said, surprised by his own words. He hadn’t intended to say anything, but his heart was clearly controlling his tongue and it demanded honesty. 

She took a shaking breath to steady herself. She should have known this would happen. She should have known he would make her falter again, with his eyes and his words and his gentle nature. He wanted her to stay, of course he did, but her plan was to leave and she needed to see it through. Her heart was starting to pound, protesting against her mind’s resolution.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

When she said that, something snapped inside of him. He felt it palpably, a hot rush of blood, feeding the frustration that had been simmering inside of him for days. To hell with gentlemanly behavior. He couldn’t let her leave. He wouldn’t lose her like he had lost the lady in silver. He didn’t know how he could be with Sophie if she refused to be his mistress, but he couldn’t let her walk out of his life and disappear. Not when she had stirred his soul that day at the lake, and not when she had made him happier than he had felt in years. He leveled his gaze on her. “You think it’s not hard?” he growled. “You think this isn’t hard?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her voice was growing stronger. There was a determined gleam in her eye, a courage that he so admired. 

This woman, such a rare combination of strength and beauty, made him weak as she glared at him. Every cell of his body was magnetized toward her and the rush of his blood sang in his ears. He dropped to his knees before her, his every defense crumbling. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring but he couldn’t let her leave without showing her how he felt, just one time.

“I won’t ask you to be my mistress,” he said firmly. The declaration hung in the air between them. Her eyes widened and something flickered across her face, something like hope breaking through the sorrow. It urged him on and he took her hands in his. 

“I will never ask you to do anything you do not want. I only…I only wish to show you how much I care for you, without arrangement or obligation.” He touched her chin, lifting her face until he could peer into her eyes. They seemed to glow from within, glistening with unshed tears. “Sophie, I only want you. Just you. If you’ll have me.”

A pause. Sophie found it impossible to breathe. She didn’t have the strength to fight herself anymore. Not when the man she loved was begging her, on his knees, to be with him if and as she wished to. What sort of relationship that would give them, she didn’t know. That it would still only lead her to heartbreak in the end, she was certain. But she was losing the battle for rationality. Meekly, she launched her only remaining protest.

“You deserve better than me,” she whispered, and the pain in her voice nearly unmanned him.

Benedict rose, pulling her to stand with him. She looked up, eyes unfathomable behind her tears. She had cried too much and he needed to put an end to it. Slowly, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her body against his.

“I burn for you,” he whispered, his lips touching her ear. “Every night, I lie in bed, thinking of you, wondering why the hell you’re in the servants quarters and not with me.”

Sophie felt every last shred of resistance within her fall away. At last, an honest truth crystalized within her. She wanted this. Whatever piece of Benedict she could get and for however long, she wanted it.

Benedict could feel her breath grow heavier, her back quivering beneath his hands. She uttered his name softly as her hands traced up to his shoulders, then to hold his face. She searched his eyes, a thousand emotions glittering in her own. She missed him, she wanted him, she needed him, and now she would finally allow herself to have him. It was the dream she had carried with her for years, the dream she never dared to think would come true. But here it was, in her hands, the sincerity in his gaze speaking nothing but truth. The room was dim with the glow of firelight but he stood out, radiant against it all.

Benedict captured her mouth with his, swearing to himself as he did so that if she said no, if she made any sort of indication that she truly didn’t want this, he’d stop. It’d be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he would do it. 

But she didn’t say no, and she didn’t push him away. Instead, she positively melted into him, her hands twining in his hair as her lips parted beneath his. His heart leapt, that she was letting him kiss her -- no, that she had decided to kiss him. He seized the moment, tasting her, drinking her, breathing her. He wanted it to last a lifetime. The kiss he had wished to give the lady in silver, proof of all his affection and commitment, building up for years and unleashed at last for dear Sophie. Sophie who was here, Sophie who was real, Sophie who stoked the same fire within him, and she felt like heaven. The soft scent of her hair, the slight taste of salt on her skin -- she was, he thought, born to rest in the shelter of his arms. And he was born to hold her.  Sophie luxuriated in the feeling of Benedict’s lips, his tongue, his hands. The entirety of his body radiating heat against hers. How foolish of her to think that she could or even should, deny this desire, wherever it might lead. How self-important to think that she could be stronger than passion.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil’s race to approve the end of the Amazon: The BR-319 highway needs a new environmental impact assessment (commentary)

Brazil’s race to approve “reconstruction” of Highway BR-319 (Manaus-Porto Velho) is gaining ever more momentum, with President Lula declaring his support for the project on the 10th September, a moment that could not be more ironic amid the country’s dramatic fire crisis, argues researcher Philip M. Fearnside in this commentary.

The impact of BR-319 extends far beyond the roadside strip to which the EIA and licensing discussion is limited. Planned side roads such as AM-366 would open the vast rainforest area west of the highway to the entry of deforesters, loggers and others. The rainforest in this area is also at risk of collapse from climate change, and this risk would be further increased by the deforestation and forest degradation provoked by the planned roads linked to BR-319. Loss of this forest would be catastrophic both for global climate and for water supply to other parts of Brazil, including São Paulo.

The area at risk is both the most critical and the easiest to avoid deforesting. All that needs to be done is to not build the highways that would provide access, while in other parts of Amazonia stopping deforestation requires changing the behavior of hundreds of thousands of individual actors. A new EIA is needed that includes all areas receiving impacts from BR-319 in the northern and western parts of Brazilian Amazonia. The EIA cannot be a mere bureaucratic step after which the project is automatically approved – the rational decision is to reject the project, writes Fearnside.

Continue reading.

[mariacallous]

A group of current and former OpenAI employees have issued a public letter warning that the company and its rivals are building artificial intelligence with undue risk, without sufficient oversight, and while muzzling employees who might witness irresponsible activities.

“These risks range from the further entrenchment of existing inequalities, to manipulation and misinformation, to the loss of control of autonomous AI systems potentially resulting in human extinction,” reads the letter published at righttowarn.ai. “So long as there is no effective government oversight of these corporations, current and former employees are among the few people who can hold them accountable.”

The letter calls for not just OpenAI but all AI companies to commit to not punishing employees who speak out about their activities. It also calls for companies to establish “verifiable” ways for workers to provide anonymous feedback on their activities. “Ordinary whistleblower protections are insufficient because they focus on illegal activity, whereas many of the risks we are concerned about are not yet regulated,” the letter reads. “Some of us reasonably fear various forms of retaliation, given the history of such cases across the industry.”

OpenAI came under criticism last month after a Vox article revealed that the company has threatened to claw back employees’ equity if they do not sign non-disparagement agreements that forbid them from criticizing the company or even mentioning the existence of such an agreement. OpenAI’s CEO, Sam Altman, said on X recently that he was unaware of such arrangements and the company had never clawed back anyone’s equity. Altman also said the clause would be removed, freeing employees to speak out.

OpenAI has also recently changed its approach to managing safety. Last month, an OpenAI research group responsible for assessing and countering the long-term risks posed by the company’s more powerful AI models was effectively dissolved after several prominent figures left and the remaining members of the team were absorbed into other groups. A few weeks later, the company announced that it had created a Safety and Security Committee, led by Altman and other board members.

Last November, Altman was fired by OpenAI’s board for allegedly failing to disclose information and deliberately misleading them. After a very public tussle, Altman returned to the company and most of the board was ousted.

“We’re proud of our track record providing the most capable and safest AI systems and believe in our scientific approach to addressing risk,” said OpenAI spokesperson Liz Bourgeois in a statement. “We agree that rigorous debate is crucial given the significance of this technology and we'll continue to engage with governments, civil society and other communities around the world.”

The letters’ signatories include people who worked on safety and governance at OpenAI, current employees who signed anonymously, and researchers who currently work at rival AI companies. It was also endorsed by several big-name AI researchers including Geoffrey Hinton and Yoshua Bengio, who both won the Turing Award for pioneering AI research, and Stuart Russell, a leading expert on AI safety.

Former employees to have signed the letter include William Saunders, Carroll Wainwright, and Daniel Ziegler, all of whom worked on AI safety at OpenAI.

“The public at large is currently underestimating the pace at which this technology is developing,” says Jacob Hilton, a researcher who previously worked on reinforcement learning at OpenAI and who left the company more than a year ago to pursue a new research opportunity. Hilton says that although companies like OpenAI commit to building AI safely, there is little oversight to ensure that is the case. “The protections that we’re asking for, they’re intended to apply to all frontier AI companies, not just OpenAI,” he says.

“I left because I lost confidence that OpenAI would behave responsibly,” says Daniel Kokotajlo, a researcher who previously worked on AI governance at OpenAI. “There are things that happened that I think should have been disclosed to the public,” he adds, declining to provide specifics.

Kokotajlo says the letter’s proposal would provide greater transparency, and he believes there’s a good chance that OpenAI and others will reform their policies given the negative reaction to news of non-disparagement agreements. He also says that AI is advancing with worrying speed. “The stakes are going to get much, much, much higher in the next few years, he says, “at least so I believe.”

[beardedmrbean]

DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) — Yemen's Houthi rebels likely fired an Iranian-made anti-ship cruise missile at a Norwegian-flagged tanker in the Red Sea in December, an assault that now provides a public, evidence-based link between the ongoing rebel campaign against shipping and Tehran, the U.S. military says.

A report by the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency released Wednesday linked the attack on the Strinda, which set the vessel ablaze, to Tehran, the Houthi's main backer in Yemen's nearly decadelong war. The findings correspond with those of a Norway-based insurers group that also examined debris found on the Strinda.

It comes as the Houthis continue their monthslong campaign of attacks over the Israel-Hamas war, targeting ships in the Red Sea corridor, disrupting the $1 trillion flow of goods passing through it annually while also sparking the most intense combat the U.S. Navy has seen since World War II.

Iran's mission to the United Nations, responding to questions from The Associated Press, again denied arming the Houthis despite the reports.

“We are aware that (the Houthis) have significantly developed their military capabilities relying on their very own sources,” the mission said. "The prolonged war against them is the primary factor behind the expansion of their military prowess.”

The Strinda was coming from Malaysia and was bound for the Suez Canal and then on to Italy with a cargo of palm oil when it was struck by a missile Dec. 11. The attack sparked a major fire on board that the crew later extinguished without anyone being hurt.

Debris found on board later was analyzed by the U.S. military. The DIA compared the pieces of the engine from the missile found on board to the Iranian Noor anti-ship ballistic cruise missile.

“The Iranian Tolu-4 turbojet engine, used in the Noor (missile), has unique features — including the compressor stage and stator — that are consistent with engine debris recovered from the ... Houthi attack on the M/T Strinda,” the DIA report said. A stator is the stationary portion of an engine.

Those pieces match images of a Tolu-4 engine that Iran displayed at the International Air and Space Show in Russia in 2017, the DIA said. Visually, the engines bore similarities in the photographs.

The Noor was reverse engineered by Iran from the Chinese C-802 anti-ship missile, which Iran purchased from Beijing and began testing in 1996 before transfers stopped over a U.S. pressure campaign. The Iranian version is believed to have a range of up to 170 kilometers (105 miles), with an upgraded version called the Qader having a range up to 300 kilometers (185 miles). The Houthis have a look-alike missile to the Qader called the Al-Mandeb 2 with a similar range.

The Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association, known by the acronym DNK, also examined the debris following the Strinda attack. The association assessed it was “highly likely” the vessel had been hit by a C-802 or Noor anti-ship cruise missile.

Before the Houthis swept into Yemen's capital, Sanaa, in 2014, the country did not have an arsenal of C-802 missiles. As the Saudi-led coalition entered Yemen’s conflict on behalf of its exiled government in 2015, the Houthis’ arsenal was increasingly targeted. Soon — and despite Yemen having no indigenous missile manufacturing infrastructure — newer missiles made their way into rebel hands.

Iran long has denied arming the Houthis, likely because of a yearslong United Nations arms embargo on the rebels. However, the U.S. and its allies have seized multiple arms shipments bound for the rebels in Mideast waters. Weapons experts as well have tied Houthi arms seized on the battlefield back to Iran.

While the U.S. has previously accused Iran of supplying the missiles the Houthis use in their attacks at sea, Wednesday's report provided photographic evidence for the first time. The report pointed to a seizure stemming from a Jan. 11 nighttime raid of an Iranian dhow traveling near the coast of Somalia, which saw two Navy SEALs killed. The Navy seized parts related to the Noor anti-ship cruise missile, the report said.

The Houthis have launched seaborne attacks since 2016, when they hit the Emirati vessel SWIFT-1 with a missile as it sailed back and forth in the Red Sea between an Emirati troop base in Eritrea and Yemen. They also tried to attack the USS Mason, an Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer, around the same time.

But the Houthi attacks have rapidly escalated since November over the Israel-Hamas war in the Gaza Strip. The rebels have targeted more than 70 vessels by firing missiles and drones in their campaign that has killed four sailors. They have seized one vessel and sank two in the time since.

The Houthis maintain that their attacks target ships linked to Israel, the United States or Britain as part of the rebels’ support for the militant group Hamas in its war against Israel. However, many of the ships attacked have little or no connection to the war — including some bound for Iran, which backs the Houthis.

“The Houthis probably have used Iran-supplied weapons to conduct more than 100 attacks against land-based targets in Israel, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen and dozens of attacks targeting ships in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden,” the DIA report said.

Meanwhile early Friday, the private security firm Ambrey reported that a ship traveling in the southern Red Sea saw what appeared to be a missile splash into the sea and another explode in the air nearby.

The U.S. military's Central Command meanwhile reported that it destroyed five Houthi drone boats and two airborne drones in the Red Sea, while destroying another drone in Houthi-controlled territory.

The Houthis did not immediately acknowledge either incident, though it said U.S.-led airstrikes had targeted the Hodeida region Thursday.

[rjzimmerman]

Note that the studies that were released by companies affiliated with polluters happened in 2019, during the trump administration.

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

On a Southern California spring morning in 1973, a tanker truck driver jackknifed his rig and dumped the agricultural fumigant he was transporting onto a city street. A Los Angeles Fire Department emergency response team spent four hours cleaning up the chemical, 1,3-dichloropropene, or 1,3-D, a fumigant sold as Telone that farmers use to kill nematodes and other soil-dwelling organisms before planting.

Seven years after the spill, two emergency responders developed the same rare, aggressive blood cancer—histiocytic lymphoma—and died within two months of each other. In 1975, a farmer who’d accidentally exposed himself to 1,3-D repeatedly through a broken hose was diagnosed with another blood cancer, leukemia, and died the next year.

Within a decade of the men’s deaths, described as case studies in JAMA Internal Medicine, the National Toxicology Program, or NTP, reported “clear evidence” that 1,3-D causes cancer in both rats and mice. The finding led the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency to classify the chemical as “likely to be carcinogenic to humans” the same year, 1985. So it wasn’t a surprise when researchers at the University of California, Los Angeles reported in 2003 that Californians who’d lived at least two decades in areas with the highest applications of 1,3-D faced a heightened risk of dying from pancreatic cancer. 

Yet EPA’s Office of Pesticide Programs’ Cancer Assessment Review Committee, or CARC, concluded in 2019 that 1,3-D—originally embraced by tobacco companies for its unparalleled ability to kill anything in soil that might harm their plants—isn’t likely to cause cancer after all.

In doing so, EPA, whose mission is to protect human health and the environment, rejected the human evidence, calling the UCLA study “low quality.” It also dismissed the authoritative NTP study and studies in lab animals that documented 1,3-D’s ability to damage DNA, a quintessential hallmark of cancer.

Instead, EPA’s CARC relied on studies provided by Dow AgroSciences (now called Corteva), the primary manufacturer of 1,3-D, and proposed a review of evidence linking the fumigant to cancer by SciPinion, a consulting firm hired by Dow, as an external peer review of its work. The decision to entrust external review to a Dow contractor has drawn repeated criticism, including from the agency’s watchdog, the Office of Inspector General, or OIG.

“During EPA’s search of the open literature, a comprehensive third-party peer review of the cancer weight-of-evidence assessment that considered toxicokinetics, genotoxicity and carcinogenicity data for 1,3-D was conducted and published in 2020 by SciPinion,” said agency spokesperson Timothy Carroll. EPA argued that the SciPinion review satisfied the criteria for an external review, Carroll said, and that another panel would have arrived at the same conclusion, given the specialized expertise required.

The OIG had recommended EPA conduct an external peer review of its 1,3-D cancer risk assessment in a 2022 report that outlined several problems with the agency’s process. An external review, the OIG said, requires “independence from the regulated business,” again noting the deficiency in a new report released in early August. 

The scientists who run SciPinion have long consulted for manufacturers of harmful products, often publishing studies that deploy computer models to question the need for more protective health standards.

[sjsmith56]

For Once and For All, Chapter 24 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky and the Dora Milaje figure out a way to defeat the traffickers at the castle. His return to Barton’s farm sets the stage for the next phase of his and Lacey’s life.

Length: 5.2 K

Characters: Almost everyone.

Warnings: Minors - DNI - contains sexual content, p in v, praise, and minor dominance. Violence causing injury.

Author’s note: More heroic Bucky, followed by romantic Bucky. Everyone knows you don’t mix bleach and ammonia. I figured if the two ingredients were put into a pressure cooker and heated to a dangerous level the gas released would do a lot of damage. I found a reference on the internet that a Dora Milaje spear could release a significant electrical charge so made that the means of heating up the pressure cookers.

<<Chapter 23

🏰 🌓 🌾

Several of the other captives who were listed in the catalogue as agents had listened to Ayo's assessment and began checking the kitchen, beginning with the stoves and ovens. They found all the knives were gone and the gas lines all turned off with no way to start them back up. They looked through cupboards; one of them came back with two containers, bleach and ammonia. Bucky looked at him and shook his head. That would kill all of them just from the fumes if they mixed them. Another one brought the first aid kit to Ayo and Bucky took his jacket, then dress shirt off so she could remove the four bullets that had managed to hit him in the right shoulder and his back, three embedded and one graze. Meyer, the former HYDRA scientist noticed the different arm.

"How did you get a new arm?" he asked. "What is it made of?"

"The Wakandans made it for me in 2018," replied Bucky, "before the Blip. It's vibranium."

"Doesn't vibranium absorb energy?" he asked Ayo, who nodded as it was common knowledge. "Can a small piece from the Soldat ... sorry, Barnes' arm absorb enough energy then release it to blow this wall out and take out anyone waiting outside for us?"

"Only if it is hit hard enough to destroy the piece, releasing the energy in the process," she said. "How would we do that and keep ourselves safe?"

"This kitchen isn't part of the chateau," replied Meyer. "It is an addition to it. Look at the doorway we came through. It was cut through the original outside wall. We wait in the salon, inside the castle. There has to be a way to feed energy into some vibranium, then trigger a heavy enough weight to fall on it causing it to release its energy and destroy this outside wall."

"Electrical power?" asked one of the agents. "We can connect the power supply to it."

"Vibranium conducts it," said Ayo, "then dissipates it."

"I can hit it," said Bucky, looking around then spying a fire extinguisher. "If I hit it enough times with a heavy object like the fire extinguisher it will reach a critical mass and explode. It means I'll have to remove one of my fingers to provide the vibranium then risk injury from the blast."

"You would remove your own finger?" asked Meyer. He shook his head, both impressed and bothered that Bucky would make that sacrifice.

Ayo shook her head and smiled at Bucky. "That won't be necessary," she said, as a thought occurred to her. "Our spears are vibranium. Together Nomble and I can generate an electrical discharge from the base of our spears. If we mix that ammonia and bleach into a sealed pressurized container, then aim our electrical beams at it to heat up the mixture to the right pressure the resulting explosion should take out that wall and anyone standing near it. You won't have to mar the workmanship of the technicians who spent months creating your arm."

She said the latter with a little smile and Bucky smiled with her. "Okay, we just need something that we can pressurize to hold the ammonia / bleach mixture," he said. He looked around and grinned. "This is a kitchen. There has to be a pressure cooker."

Everyone spread out to search the pots and pans. They found two pressure cookers. Getting everyone back into the salon, except for himself, Ayo and Nomble, Bucky positioned the cookers on the outside wall, near the gas lines, hoping there was enough residual natural gas in them to explode. He divided the ammonia equally into the pressure cookers. Bucky poured half the bleach into the first pressure cooker and quickly sealed it with the lid. He coughed briefly saying he did get a whiff of the fumes. Then he poured the remainder of the bleach into the second pressure cooker, sealed the lid immediately and placed the two pots beside each other. He looked at Ayo.

"How close do you have to be?" he asked.

She shrugged slightly. "Unknown," she replied. "It's about twenty feet to the salon. Let's try half that distance."

"I'm going to grab your clothing from behind," he said. "As soon as it looks like it's going to blow I'm going to yank you both backwards, hopefully fast enough and far enough away that none of us will be injured. You ready?"

He had already tossed the rifle to Meyer in the doorway, and he stood behind the two women, firmly grasping their clothing. Then he began to count down from five. At the count of one both women activated the electrical charge on their spears and aimed it at the pair of pressure cookers. It only took about 10 seconds before Bucky realized he could hear a rumble coming from the pressure cooker and he began to walk the two women backwards away from the two pots, telling them to keep up the charge. To his ears the rumble grew louder and he suddenly yanked both of them through the doorway into the salon, all of them falling backwards. The resulting explosion was spectacular, taking out the entire wall of the kitchen. Bucky sat up and saw the carnage outside as it seemed there had been a small army waiting for them. Most of the guards were laid out in various states of injury. Standing up and taking his gun back from Meyer he stepped gingerly through the debris and advanced towards the injured. As he checked the various chateau guards he noticed a man in a military uniform lying face down. Pulling him onto his back Bucky recognized General Viktor Orlov who was alive but in no shape to give orders. As the other captives joined him outside Bucky aimed his rifle at Orlov, noticing he was coming around.

"General," he said to the man at his feet. "I await your total surrender."

The General sneered at Bucky. "Soldat," he spat. "By now, my people have your woman and your son. I await your surrender."

"Yeah, no you don't," said another voice that came from the sky. Bucky looked up to see Sam landing. "Sorry, General, that little stunt you pulled at the farm didn't work either." He smiled broadly at Bucky. "Nice work, Buck. That explosion lit the sky up for miles. Made it easy to find this place. We've got emergency services en route. Why don't you lead your party out to the front to be treated. You just broke one of the biggest Russian mafia outfits. They may have to build a second Raft just for them." Bucky turned to lead the others and Sam touched his arm. "Put a shirt on will you? You're making us normal guys look inadequate."

Both men grinned and patted each other on the shoulder. By the time he and his group walked around to the front the ambulances were there. Bucky allowed himself to be checked over and one of the paramedics gave him a scrubs top to put on. Both Ayo and Nomble had contusions from the explosion debris that hit them as he pulled them through the doorway. He watched as their wounds were seen to. A hand on his vibranium arm caused him to turn around. A young woman who had been part of the viewing looked up at him, almost in tears.

"Thank you," she said. "I didn't think I was ever going to see my family again. You saved me and the others. They say that you used to be the Winter Soldier but now you're an Avenger. I'm glad because I can see you're a good and brave man."

She kissed him on the cheek and went to one of the police vehicles to be taken to the American embassy for repatriation. Several others, both male and female came to him and said similar things, making him feel self-conscious but appreciated.

"Feels pretty good, doesn't it?" said another voice at his side and he looked at Everett Ross, who appeared to be a little roughed up. "They rounded us up within a few minutes of our arrival. We put up a fight but it wasn't until the reinforcements arrived then the explosion happened that we got the upper hand."

"You should get checked out," suggested Bucky.

"Nah, I'm good," said Ross. "The biggest injuries were to my dignity and my ego. They called me short. I hit the guy who said that pretty hard when the explosion happened. Made him drop like a sack of bricks. What the hell did you blow up?"

"Ammonia and bleach in a pressure cooker," said Bucky, "placed beside a gas line and heated up by electrical discharges from the spears of two Dora Milaje warriors."

Ross laughed. "That'll do it," he commented. He offered Bucky his hand to shake. "I heard you're staying with the Avengers. That's good. You'll be a big asset to them." Bucky winced at the term. "Sorry, you're a good man to have in a fight. If you ever need help from a friendly face call me. I'll be there."

He nodded at Bucky who nodded back and Ross walked away. Sam landed next to him, holding the remains of his dress jacket. Bucky looked at it sadly.

"I don't like suits, but that suit felt great," he said. "The Wakandans don't spare any expense on their undercover work." He looked at Sam seriously. "They attacked the farm?"

"Yeah, the guy on the jet put a tracker in Lacey's arm," he said. "I think they expected you would find her and assumed you would reunite her with Tommy. Your safe house here is probably compromised as well. Orlov wanted both of you, father and son. At the same time he sent a force after us at the compound but we made short work of them there. Wong took care of the farm intruders then Strange opened a portal for all of us to get here. They slowed us up in the front with a small army. He's here now if you want to go straight to the farm."

"I should get cleaned up first," said Bucky, looking down at his torn pants. "Maybe to the safe house, have a shower and change my clothes." He looked at Sam and grinned. "I signed the contract. I'm an Avenger."

"Fury announced it," replied Sam. "We need you. I don't think there is anyone else who would have the balls to blow up a chateau. Where are you going to live?"

"I don't know," he answered. "It's something I have to talk to Lacey and Tommy about. I'm going to marry her, Sam, as soon as I can. Then I'll adopt Tommy legally, and we'll figure the rest out. You could be my best man."

"I would be honoured," smiled Sam, offering his hand. "She's a good strong woman. Any one who would wait that long for you has to be worth it."

"Hey Cap," called a soldier from a few feet away. "We have word of a couple of guards from this chateau about a mile from here. Think you can find them from the air?"

"On it," said Sam and with a wave to Bucky he lifted up and flew into the darkness.

Ross pulled up in one of the cars with a couple of the Wakandans. "Hop in," he said. "We're going back to the safe house and pack up before moving to another one that hasn't been compromised. You can shower, get changed and pick up your gear. Dr. Strange said to text him when you're ready and he'll open a portal to the farm."

Bucky sat in the front. Nothing was said on the trip back to Germany but it was obvious they were pleased at the work that freed two dozen captives. At the safe house he showered, then looked at the stubble on his face and decided to shave it off. Once he dressed and packed his bags he went down the stairs to where Ross and the other Wakandans were already going over documentation for another trafficking mission. He started looking at it but Ayo pulled him away.

"Go to your beloved and your son," she ordered. "They have waited for so long to have you to themselves. Your help tonight was invaluable, but we will continue the fight without you for now. White Wolf, you did Wakanda proud tonight."

She, the other Dora Milaje and the King's Guard all stood to attention to honour him and he crossed his fists in front of his chest in response. Pulling his phone out he texted Dr. Strange and a portal opened behind him. He walked through it without looking back.

It was dusk in Iowa, which surprised him. He didn't realize it was so late in France. He looked around him at the darkening sky, seeing a few stars beginning to appear, and hearing the sound of frogs in the distance. It felt better than that night when he left Lacey in her bed and hid in the barn, ashamed of his actions. A soft glow of light came from the windows of the house, and he stepped onto the front steps quietly. The door opened revealing Tommy, having heard Bucky's approach from inside the house with his superior hearing.

"Dad!" he cried, jumping into Bucky's arms.

Holding him tightly Bucky buried his face into his son's hair. "I'm back, Tom," he said. "My mission's done, and we'll have time together until the next one."

"Did you hear we were attacked?" asked Tommy, pulling away. "Us kids hid in the storm cellar while the adults armed themselves. All we could hear was gunfire and then an explosion. Then there was the sound of people falling and Uncle Clint opened the cellar door, saying we could come up. Wong was here. He took out all of the gunmen with magic. It was amazing."

As Tommy explained everything to him Bucky was distracted by the presence of Lacey. She was wearing a dress, just a simple blue and white cotton sundress that showed her shoulders and a bit of her cleavage. Her face was soft, as was her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders.

"We heard you were coming back tonight," she said quietly. "I figured I should dress up for the occasion."

"You look great," said Bucky, looking at her with tenderness.

Clint grabbed his bags and slapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Okay, enough lovey dovey talk," he said. "We've been holding supper for your arrival and I'm starving. Beer?"

Bucky nodded and Lacey came to him, putting her arms around his neck and raising herself on her toes to kiss him. He lifted her up and kissed her in return, a long, soft, sweet kiss that made up for everything that happened that night so many months before. The others went into the house to sit at the table while he and Lacey stayed out on the porch. Suddenly the porch light went off and they were left in the darkness.

"I got more memories back," she said, when they finally broke the kiss. "I remembered receiving your fan letter and you telling me to find a good man, take a chance on love with him, and running with it. I'm taking your advice."

"Am I the good man?" he asked, his voice lower than normal. The sound of his voice made her warm inside and she gasped lightly.

"Oh yes," she replied. "You are. There's no doubt about it." Even in the dark he could see the love in her eyes. "You shaved for me."

Bucky smiled and kissed her lovingly again before he put his mouth near her ear whispering. "I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything."

She laughed sweetly and it sounded like music to him. "Virginia Woolf, Night and Day," she exclaimed. "God, I love you."

"Then marry me," he said softly. "I'll do the proposal properly, with a ring, but just so I know that you're mine right now, this instant, tell me you'll marry me."

"Wait a minute, did you read my book?" she replied immediately, knowing that line was similar to one from a scene in her third book. His smile was her answer. "I'll marry you, Bucky."

Their lips crashed together with feeling, as they both continued to express in person what had resumed in the safe house. When they finally pulled away from each other Clint yelled from inside the house to please come in for dinner and Bucky put his arm around Lacey. Together they walked towards a huge spread of food that was more of a feast. As he loaded his plate, they asked him what happened at the chateau. When he told them about Ayo's plan of heating up the ammonia / bleach mixture in pressure cookers that blew up the kitchen and injured almost all of Orlov's force that were standing behind the chateau waiting to pick them off Clint looked at him with admiration.

"I'm sorry I didn't see that," he stated. "Outstanding, Bucky. Really. Talk about making a statement to the criminal underworld, especially after taking out the traffickers in Brooklyn and the Power Broker in Madripoor. A new sheriff is in town, two new sheriffs. You and Cap."

Bucky blushed and tried to underplay his contribution, but he could see Tommy's face looked so proud. He felt a swell in his chest that he hadn't felt for a long time, pride. It was a good feeling to do something right. Dinner was full of conversation, as both Terry and Lacey described their contributions to the defence of the house. Terry, in particular, joked about the secret room in the barn. Clint got all serious at that point.

"You mean to say you never found it during the Blip?" he asked. "There's an arsenal in there."

"Never found it," answered Terry. "Although I realize now that Natasha knew about it because she went looking for your katana during the Blip. Lacey said you kept a quinjet in one of the other buildings. What's with that?"

Clint smiled mysteriously. "Even though I'm retired I still help out from time to time," he said. "Fury always knew. If he really wanted it all he had to do was ask for it. Not that I have it now. After I was arrested in Leipzig they kind of took it away from me."

"What about the one you flew here after you defeated Thanos?" asked Lacey. "I don't remember it being returned."

"Shhhh," said Clint, dramatically.

"Do you think they would let me have one?" asked Bucky. "I mean, if we buy a farm. I know everything there is to know about raising goats from my time in Wakanda."

Clint looked at him. "Really, goats?" he asked. "How was that for a city boy?"

"They're fun," replied Bucky. "They each have their own personality. I made goat cheese as well. Got pretty good at it. It's up to Lacey though. I don't have any money other than my army pension, or a credit score for that matter."

"We'll talk about it," said Lacey with a smile. "I think we'll stay in Philadelphia for now so Tommy can finish out the school year. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Tommy nodded. "When are we going back?" he asked. "How long were we kidnapped?"

"A week," replied Bucky. "Seems longer, doesn't it? We can go back tomorrow if you're all up to it. Terry, are you okay if I live with you in Philadelphia?"

"Absolutely. Hopefully I still have a job," said Terry. "I told them about the kidnapping, but I haven't spoken to the coach since."

"I'll have to make a trip to the compound first," added Bucky. "Make my mission report and my motorcycle is still there. I have some things in a storage locker in Brooklyn as well, although they can stay there until we find our own place."

Tommy's eyes grew wide. "You have a motorcycle?" he smiled. "Cool. Will you teach me to drive it?"

Bucky said "sure" at the same time Lacey said "no." He winked at Tommy. "You heard your mother," he said. "Not until you're old enough."

Clint laughed, recognizing the conversation that all parents seemed to go through. "So, any idea when you two will get hitched?" he asked.

"I have to propose properly first," replied Bucky. "As soon as we can, I hope. I'm adopting Tommy legally even though I'm the father on record. Steve said you put me down as the father."

"About that," said Laura. "Fury set her up as Mrs. Lacey Chapman, married to James Chapman, not Barnes. He might be able to get that changed but did you put Chapman or Barnes on the birth certificate?"

Lacey made a face. "Chapman," she replied. "Sorry, Bucky. We were trying to keep under the radar and we figured the CIA would figure out Tommy was your son if we registered the father as James Buchanan Barnes."

"It's okay," smiled Bucky. "We'll get it sorted it out. Where do you want to get married? Philadelphia, New York?"

Lacey blushed then looked at Clint and Laura. "I lived here for so long that it will always feel like home," she said. "Would you let us get married here? I figure we could have the ceremony outside then if we clean out the barn we can have the reception in there. It will be mostly Avengers, except for my family. Your location will still be pretty secret."

Clint and Laura studied each other for a few long moments. "Of course," smiled Clint. "We could even rent a bunch of those glamping tents or a few RVs for people to stay in, so they don't have to drive or fly home under the influence. If you wait until Tommy is finished school, you can have it in June. That gives us more than enough time to clear out the barn."

It was Lacey and Bucky's turn to study each other. It was later than he had hoped to tie the knot but he also wanted her to have a real wedding. "June it is," said Bucky.

"Alright," exclaimed Clint, raising his beer. "Here's to a June wedding on the farm. I'll walk the bride down the aisle. Laura will be Lacey's matron of honour. Bucky, who's your best man?"

"Sam, but I would like Terry to be a groomsman, as well as Tommy," he said, looking at the two. "What do you say?"

"It would be my honour," said Terry, while Tommy just had a big grin on his face. "You need another bridesmaid, Lacey."

"My sister Nancy," she replied immediately. "Lila, would you be a bridesmaid as well, so it's even on both sides?"

Clint's daughter blushed and nodded her head. With all of that settled the rest of the meal went quickly. Bedtime came soon and this time Bucky willingly went with Lacey to her room, which was Clint and Laura's old bedroom.

"This isn't the same room," he noted when the door was closed.

"No, when we moved to Philadelphia, Clint and Laura took the suite he built for me and Tommy," she said from near the bed. "That was the plan all along. We don't have our own bathroom with this room."

"So no shower after," he said in his low voice. "That's too bad. I was planning on us getting quite sweaty then helping you get clean in the shower."

"Me too," replied Lacey, feeling the warmth building in her core. "I guess we could tone it down a bit."

They met in the middle of the room, their lips hungrily searching out the other. Reaching for the bottom of the T-shirt Bucky was wearing Lacey pulled it up and over his head. Immediately she noticed the dressings on his bullet wounds.

"What happened?" she asked, touching one gingerly.

"I got shot four times," he said, standing quietly with his head bent over her. "Ayo took the bullets out and they've already started healing. In a few days they'll be fully healed. In a few weeks the scars will be mostly gone."

"You had terrible scars on your shoulder with the other arm," she said, stepping back a little so she could look up at him. "Why didn't they heal?"

He took a deep breath. "Because they were caused by me," he said. "The pain was so much that I tried to pull it off at the shoulder many times and they couldn't heal. There isn't pain with this arm, so the skin was able to heal quickly."

Tears began to form in her eyes and her lips quivered as she tried to speak. "It wasn't just physical pain, was it," she whispered. "It hurt you deeply inside."

Bucky licked his lips, feeling a bit of anxiety at the memory. "That arm had one purpose," he answered back. "To kill. Even before I got away there were times I didn't want to kill anymore and I tried to rip it off of my body. Having it was always a reminder of what they made me do. They never treated the inflammation I caused because they wanted to reinforce that they had all the control and I had none."

"Shuri speculated that you might not accept this arm," replied Lacey. "That you might associate any prosthetic arm with death and destruction. Why did you accept it?"

He was quiet for a moment, then touched her hair gently. "King T'Challa talked with me, alone in the garden where I often took the calls with you," he answered. "We talked about his cousin who had challenged his rule and defeated him. All legally, according to their laws. I was still in cryostasis at the time, and they hid me from the cousin because they knew if he found out I was there he would awaken the Winter Soldier and use me to keep him in power. He planned to dominate the world apparently. I told T'Challa that I could never be used in that way again and he agreed. He did ask that if he needed my help to defend Wakanda in the future I would agree and I said yes, because they had done so much for me. When Thanos arrived T'Challa came to me with the arm and I knew I had to put it on."

"You haven't taken it off since," said Lacey.

Bucky laughed. "Not until I found out it could be removed," he said. "During the Flag Smashers I helped an enemy of Wakanda break out of prison. We needed his help and I fully intended to return him to prison after. Ayo and two other Dora Milaje came for him at the same time John Walker was there. They started fighting and it looked like they were ready to kill Walker so I intervened and Ayo removed my arm. She swore at me. I was shocked as I had no idea it could come off. At any rate, this arm feels normal. Within minutes of wearing it I forgot it wasn't flesh and blood. It's part of me now and is nothing like the arm I used to have."

As if to prove his point Bucky gently caressed her face with the prosthetic hand, then moved it down her throat to her chest where it lingered. It felt smooth and its soft touch was an invitation to proceed with what they had started. Crossing her arms in front of her Lacey lifted the dress off over her head, revealing she hadn't worn a bra. Smiling, Bucky pulled her close to him, so the skin of his chest touched hers. Kissing her deeply he ran both of his hands down her back enclosing her tightly. She smiled at him as she felt his body respond to hers.

"Yes, I want you," he whispered. "I won't stop this time, I promise."

They got on the bed and Bucky placed himself over her, supporting himself on his elbows. She raised herself to his lips, kissing him as he began to caress her breasts. As he ground his hips into her she felt his cock pressing onto her and she began moving with him.

"Take them off," he whispered, touching her panties, pulling back to allow her to do so.

Lowering his face to between her thighs he kissed the skin softly as he ran his hand over her pubic mound. Immediately Lacey gasped and he opened her folds giving kitten licks, holding her leg down as she writhed in pleasure at his touches. Slowly he brought her closer to coming then stopped and removed his briefs before lying partially on her.

"You're a bad man," she whispered. "Stopping when I'm so close."

"Darling, I'm a good man," he said in her ear as he kissed just below it. "You'll feel so good after."

Gently he took one hand, kissing the palm then moved it above her head. She smiled at him and put her other hand up, crossing them together.

"Good girl," he whispered again, then mouthed down her neck to her collar bone.

Grasping himself he eased into Lacey, going slowly. When Bucky bottomed out he placed his artificial hand on her wrists where she had crossed them. Slowly and deliberately he began thrusting into her, making sure he made contact where she was most sensitive. Her eyes were dark and luminous as she gave herself over to him. When she got closer to coming her mouth opened, gasping and whimpering with each thrust. Her cries became louder and he pressed his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth as he increased the pace and force of his thrust. He could feel her around his cock, feel the pressure on him as her climax neared then she suddenly tightened all around him, screaming in her throat as she came. He released her hands then and continued thrusting and burying his mouth in her neck and throat until he finally came with a loud release of his breath. Lacey's hands ran down his back then to his chest enjoying the touch of his hot skin. Finally he stopped and laid on top of her before slowly pulling out. Bucky kissed her again, gently and tenderly this time.

"Am I still a bad man?" he asked.

"The worst," she said, smiling. "You'll have to try again."

As they resumed their heated connection with a chuckle both thanked whatever had brought them together so many years before. Much had happened since then, but they were together now, and both vowed never to be torn apart again.

Author's note: A reminder that Lacey's third book, referred to in this chapter, is available to be read. It's titled His Blue Eyes and can be found on my Wattpad platform. It is not an MCU fanfiction, although I assigned MCU actors (and others) to the moodboards in them. It is a romance and a bit of a slow burn thriller.

Chapter 25>>

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[nightmarewolf937]

The Devil's Hounds

Gn!Reader X Dagur the Deranged

[Part 2]

Summary: Just when things are looking okay and progress is being made, life throws a huge curve ball your way in the form of a person you thought you were escaping.

It's 2am rn, so I'm sorry for any errors, I also figured out a title.

So far, so good.

It had turned to night earlier than you expected and your pack of dragons had grown even more agitated when darkness covered the land. You could see a few feet infront of you, the moon could only provide so much light and dark clouds would sometimes block it's light.

That caused you to come up with an idea, you were currently seated on DeathStrike's back and at the moment he was very content with his human being so comfortable. Of course GoreWing was whining up a storm until the largest deathgripper silenced him with a threatening click of his stinger.

GraveTail was too busy guarding you and his packmates from any potential danger to be jealous right now, his bright yellow eyes scanning and assessing any movement or noise.

It was getting tense as you got closer to where you had seen smoke coming from and it was clear the dragons were getting ready for a fight. You slipped off DeathStrike's back before raising your hand and silently requesting they stayed back for the moment, you noticed the pack split and hide.

"Good boys," you whispered, knowing they heard you and knowing they loved praise.

You looked back at the campfire, you were right, there was someone else on the island and now you were right by their little camp. This was not your best idea, but you decided to investigate as you saw no movement or life.

Glancing back at DeathStrike, who had scaled up one of the trees and was hidden amongst the branches of leaves, you shook your head and he reluctantly remained still. You didn't need to reveal all your cards yet, especially if there was actually someone wandering around.

What if it wasn't just one person? What if it was a group of hunters and they hurt your friends?

You wouldn't risk it and so you signaled the pack to stay back, your hand found purchase on your dagger and you crept forward. It was the only weapon you had and you felt better knowing it was within your grasp, you quietly stalked towards the fire and looked around at all the swords. Most were stabbed into the ground which you found odd, this wasn't some random viking or hunter.

Who in their right mind would disarm themselves so much on an island full of dragons?

"What in Thor's name...?" You found yourself whispering outloud, spinning around when you heard a twig snap behind you and readied your weapon.

"Woah!" A young boy yelped, holding his hands up in surrender with his shield still strapped to his arm. "I-I...sorry? I didn't realize anyone else was on the island, didn't mean to intrude on your campsite."

"'My campsite'?" You repeated, shaking your head. "I thought this was your campsite."

"Oh..." The boy lowered his hands, looking just as confused as you and started to fidget with his shield. "It's not mine, I'm just...exploring?"

You lowered your dagger, not feeling as defensive as you were, you glanced over his appearance and took note of his metal leg. He was a thin boy with shaggy brown hair and green eyes, a toothy and awkward smile on his face. He didn't look like the brutish dragon killer type, but that didn't mean you were gonna drop your guard completely.

This world was full of different characters and you never really knew which ones were good or bad.

"Right," you responded, not believing his words and he knew. "I'm just passing through, see ya, I guess."

But just as you started to walk passed the campfire, the boy was tackled by something and you got ready for a fight, holding your dagger and prepared to strike whatever you deemed a threat.

"D-Dagur?!"

And with that single word, you felt your hope come crashing down and noticed your hand become shaky as shock overtook your face. You quickly signaled your packmates to stay back.

You did not want them getting anywhere near this older boy and watched as he effortlessly picked the smaller boy up to place him on his feet. He still looked as you remembered, but taller and more built with his hair now long enough to be tied back.

"Hiccup! Old friend, you're alive!!" Dagur's voice hadn't changed too much either and now you atleast had the younger boy's name — Hiccup.

"Uhh, last time I checked. So, uh, haven't seen you since that—"

"Since you saved me from that dragon attack back on Berk. You fought off a Nightfury!" Dagur exclaimed, you raised your brows in shock at the mention of such an elusive and though to be extinct dragon. "I mean you were like—"

During the conversation you had been so silent that the young beserker hadn't noticed you, but as he turned to do something his eyes locked with yours. You now felt that heavy dread flood your mind as he dropped his sword and you didn't even notice how curiously Hiccup was watching this exchange.

"BELOVED!!!"

You were tackled, not to the ground, but now you were being held in his arms and his muffled, excited rambling was not registering for you. Everything was muffled as you were trapped in the arms you had tried to escape all those months ago, and yet you felt your body relax with the warmth.

"I can't believe I found you!! I've been searching island after island when I heard that your tribe thought you had gotten stranded out at sea. But I knew you were okay! Even when they believed you had died," he rambled, squeezing you once more before he pulled back and just held your waist.

"Dagur..." you finally managed to find your voice, the initial shock and panic wearing off, you still felt pinned to your spot by his eyes though.

Wild and vibrant green met cautious [e/c], his words had only started making sense in your mind once you managed to calm your racing heart and his previous words hit you. It felt like a gronkle had just landed on you from a 10ft drop.

".....they believed you had died..."

Wait...your family thought you had...died?

"They think I'm dead?" You blurted out, quiet and hesitant, but loud enough for Dagur to hear over his own voice.

You knew they would say you were missing and eventually announce your presumed death, but for it to be so soon and to hear it with your own ears...it felt so much worse. This feeling of pain seemed to blossom in your chest and spread all through your body, it was throbbing and suffocating.

"My love?"

You snapped out of your darker thoughts and refocused on the situation, Hiccup hadn't run away (yet) and he had awkwardly shuffled over to the logs, taking a seat and fiddling with his shield again. His eyes nervously darting around and actively avoiding your little 'moment' with Dagur.

"I'm fine," you answered before he could ask, managing to force a small, fake smile. "Can we sit down, please?"

.

.

.

This has certainly been some of the most awkward and tense moments of your life, every now and again you'd signal the pack to back off. You could feel three sharp gazes on you and the two boys, you even heard the faintest and most softest click of one of their stingers opening.

After sitting down on one of the logs, you had nearly jumped out of your skin when Dagur yanked you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders as he spoke with Hiccup.

You had been listening intently when the nightfury was mentioned, it was a dragon most feared and yet it was one of the most elusive beasts. Perhaps the lack of knowledge on them gave them that terrifying edge or maybe it was the sharp accuracy of the nightfury's blast that really struck fear into vikings?

It remains an unanswered question to you, but being around three dangerous dragons yourself had made these other dragons feel less scary.

DeathStrike was certainly one of the most vicious and intelligent dragons you had ever stumbled upon, he was scarily agile too and you had seen him flip a monstrous nightmare over with his tusks. The same tusks that he would retract whenever he nuzzled against you.

GraveTail was the more observant dragon, you had grown acutely aware of whenever there were eyes on you thanks to this dragon. He was also quite stealthy and had snuck up on even the most alert dragon species such as terrible terrors and nadders.

GoreWing had taught you how to dodge really well, you had always been someone who relied more on their agility and reflexes than brute strength, but the smaller deathgripper had certainly improved that. You'd often have to duck to avoid being tackled and even then Gore would find a way.

You had just glanced up from the fire when a distant and yet loud roar pierced the air causing Dagur to immediately leapt to his feet, grab his crossbow and stand even closer to you.

Then there was silence, your eyes were darting around the sky while Dagur was aiming his crossbow around and Hiccup held his shield. However, there was just more silence and you eventually sighed, looking back at the campfire.

You couldn't stay focused on the conversation happening around you, the feeling of three pairs of eyes observing you and everything happening around you was certainly a worrisome distraction. If DeathStrike grew impatient and decided enough was enough...you had very little confidence in yourself to stop him.

You needed to sneak away and get off this island.

But that small hope was crushed when Dagur decided the three of you should hunt this night fury and dragged you with him, his arm around your waist and his other hand rested his crossbow on his shoulder.

This night was becoming more and more complicated with your chances of escaping decreasing as you were dragged further into the island.

[morganofthewildfire]

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Stolen Moment

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Just wrote this in an hour lol, don’t know what to say, but I like the vibes 😊 it reminds me of Ivy

~ 1k words

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The Terrasenian Countryside, 1839

The orchard was quiet, like it always was. The silence was only punctuated by the lilting sounds of the outdoors: the birds singing in the flowering blooms, the insects buzzing around and floating in the summery breeze, that same breeze flitting through the branches of the trees, and of course the sounds of his paintbrush darting across the canvas.

There were no words that passed between him and his muse, though her blue eyes were trained on him with the whisper of a thousand hidden secrets.

Rowan Whitethorn knew they were playing with fire, but the risk made the moment that much more charged. If anyone were to discover them… for multiple reasons it would lead to either his banishment or his death.

There was no other possible consequence should anyone happen upon them. Not that there should be; they were out at his small house in the countryside, tucked back in the corner of his sprawling acreage, the hidden garden behind the fields of farmland. It was not harvest season, there’d been no need for field hands in the recent days, no one had any reason for being in the vicinity of them.

He did most of the labor himself, saving his art for the few spare moments he could manage to wrangle for himself. It was a secret he didn’t share often; only a few people knew of it. His friend and main field hand, Lorcan, who he’d served in the war with, and Lorcan’s wife Elide both knew.

The painting had started as a way of processing after the war, and Lorcan was the only one who could really understand the horrors that had driven him to this outlet. Elide worked on the farm as well, and had stumbled across his collection of paintings when delivering some of the milk from the cows one morning.

They lived together in a cabin not far from him, and Rowan considered the farm theirs too; they felt more like the true owners than him, though he’d been the one to inherit the land from his father. He didn’t want it, it wasn’t his dream, though he preferred the solitary life it provided.

He didn’t need the pains of social interaction, nor the struggle of trying to constantly pretend. He was fine being alone… or he had been. Until he met her.

Rowan’s eyes lifted from the canvas, landing on the feminine form sprawled on her side on the chaise he’d dragged out here for this purpose. Her head rested on her arms, one leg curled over the other to showcase the delicate curves clothed in a satin chemise, the neckline slipping down her shoulder to show miles of creamy skin. Her golden hair was smoothed in gentle waves, flowing down her back, and those blue eyes of hers remained trained on him.

Aelin Galathynius - Miss Aelin Galathynius - was forbidden to him. It was an idea he couldn’t even dare to foster, and yet here she was, half dressed and alone with him as he studied her form closer than likely anyone ever had.

The Galathynius family was one of the most esteemed families in all of Terrasen, not quite nobility but close to it. They were wealthy, and high ranking, and untouchable for someone like him.

But when it came to their only daughter, Rowan simply couldn’t stay away.

Their country estate wasn’t far from his land, a few miles or so, but it remained unoccupied most of the time. He’d known it belonged to them, but it wasn’t until a few seasons ago that he’d laid eyes on a member of the family. And it just so happened to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Miss Galathynius - Aelin - had been out for a ride on her Asterion mare nearby when an unexpected storm had struck. Her horse had spooked at the crack of thunder, throwing her rider off onto the muddy ground. Rowan had been out assessing damage to the crops when he’d come across her sprawled form.

After helping her up and checking to make sure she was okay, a conversation had struck. She’d been charming, and witty, with the widest smile he’d ever seen, and he’d fallen head over heels practically immediately.

He hadn’t realized who she was.

He learned soon enough, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to reach out to him, and he didn’t have enough self control to stop himself from reaching back out to her, so here they were. He’d confessed his love of painting not long into their acquaintance, and she’d finally convinced him to let her pose for him. He couldn’t say no, no matter the consequences.

If anyone caught them right now, she’d be ruined. If anyone ever found this painting, then he’d be dead.

Because she was to be married soon. She’d told him, though she hadn’t needed to. He’d seen the ring on her finger.

He couldn’t expect anything different. She was eighteen years of age, from a distinguished family. She was sure to have offers by the plenty. Her family had just seemingly finally found the perfect one.

At twenty one, Rowan knew he was likely closer in age to her than several of those offers, but he knew he would never have even been considered. A few decades ago, he’d be beheaded for even daring to put forward his proposal.

His heart ached as he dragged his paintbrush along the canvas, smoothing out the perfect curve of her hip, and the dip of her waist where his hand so perfectly fit. They hadn’t done anything, had never even kissed.

If Aelin were to be discovered as anything but a virgin on her wedding night, then Hellas would rain down on them both.

So Rowan ignored the aching in his chest and the urges of his hands and just enjoyed the stolen moment the best he could. This was leading to ruin, and they both knew it.

But he would savor whatever little piece of her he could get.

——-

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[cis-advantage]

re can be devastating for any business, both financially and operationally. Understanding the fire damage restoration process is essential for ensuring your property is restored efficiently and safely. Knowing what to expect and taking the right steps after a fire can help minimize damage, reduce downtime, and protect your employees and assets.

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The fire damage restoration process is a multi-step approach that includes cleaning, repairing, and restoring your property to its pre-fire condition. This requires expertise and the right equipment to handle smoke damage, soot removal, water damage, and any necessary repairs.

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[southeastasianists]

Bornean orangutans are one of three orangutan species, all critically endangered. They thrive in carbon-rich peat swamp forests on the Indonesian island of Borneo. These habitats are also the sites of massive wildfires.

Indonesian wildfires in 2015 caused some of the worst fire-driven air pollution ever recorded. The fires were driven by an El Niño climatic cycle, which caused especially dry weather in the region.

Compared to other wildfires, peatland fires smolder underground and produce exceptionally high levels of hazardous gases and particulate matter—a leading cause of global pollution-related deaths and illnesses.

Orangutans are well known as an “indicator species” – one that can serve as a proxy for the health of an ecosystem. Changes in their environments often cause conspicuous changes in the apes’ health and behavior. Frequent and persistent exposure to toxic smoke could have severe consequences for orangutans and other wildlife.

Toxic air pollution also poses serious health and safety risks for researchers. However, remote sensing techniques, such as satellite images, GPS data, and acoustic monitoring, are increasingly popular ways to track wildlife populations and see how creatures respond to changes in their environments.

I have studied the behavior, ecology, and acoustic communication of wild primates in Indonesia since 2005. In a new study, my coauthors and I investigated how wild orangutans in Borneo were affected by toxic emissions from Indonesia’s 2015 peatland wildfires—by studying their voices.

Around the world, wildfires are on the rise. They often produce a thick blanket of haze that contains diverse hazardous gases and particulate matter, or PM. Most recently, smoke from Canadian wildfires blanketed the U.S. East Coast and Midwest in June 2023, turning skies orange and triggering public health alerts.

Studies have shown that human health risks from wildfire smoke include respiratory and cardiovascular illnesses, systemic inflammation, and premature death. Much less is known about how smoke affects wildlife, but in a pair of studies published in 2021 and 2022, scientists at the California National Primate Research Center reported alarming findings.

After less than two weeks of exposure to high concentrations of particulate matter—in particular, ultrafine particles measuring less than 2.5 microns in diameter, which are known as PM2.5—captive rhesus macaques suffered a spike in pregnancy loss. What’s more, surviving fetuses and infants suffered long-term effects on lung capacity, immune responses, inflammation, cortisol levels, behavior, and memory.

During Indonesia’s 2015 fires, Borneo’s air had particulate matter concentrations nearly an order of magnitude higher than the levels in these studies. This made the potential implications for people and wildlife who gasped through Indonesia’s wildfire smoke for nearly two months extremely worrying.

I was studying wild orangutans in the forests of Indonesian Borneo when the 2015 fires started. My colleagues and I at the Tuanan Orangutan Research Station tracked local fires and patrolled nearby hot spots to assess the risk of fire spreading to our research area.

Wearing N95 masks, we continued to monitor orangutans in hopes of learning how the animals were coping with encroaching fires and thick smoke. A few weeks into the fire season, I noticed a difference in the sound of the males’ “long call,” which was the focus of my research.

Long calls are booming vocalizations that can be heard over distances of more than half a mile (1 kilometer). Orangutans are semi-solitary and live in dispersed communities, so these calls serve an important social role. Adult males make them to advertise their prowess to listening females in the area and to scare off any eavesdropping rival males. A couple of weeks after the smoke had appeared, I thought these males sounded raggedy—a little like humans who smoke a lot.

We observed the orangutans for 44 days during the fires, until large blazes encroached on our study area. At that point, we stopped the study to help extinguish the blazes with local firefighting teams and other government and nonprofit groups. Fires burned in our study area for three weeks.

Using data that we collected before, during, and after the fires, I led an analysis of this Bornean orangutan population’s behavior and health. My coauthors and I found that in the weeks after the fires, the apes reduced their activities—resting more and traveling shorter distances—and consumed more calories than normal.

But although they were eating more and moving less, we found by collecting and testing the apes’ urine that they were still burning stored fat—a sign that they somehow were using up more energy. We hypothesized that the cause might be inflammation—the swelling, fever, pain, and fatigue that human and animal bodies experience in response to infection or injury.

Studies have shown that when humans are exposed to particulate matter, they can experience inflammation, both in their respiratory tracts and throughout their bodies. We wanted to know whether inhaling wildfire smoke would cause vocal changes in orangutans, just as inhaling cigarette smoke does in humans.

For this study, my coauthors and I carefully analyzed more than 100 sound recordings of four male orangutans that we followed before and during the fires to measure their vocal responses to wildfire smoke. Research has shown that a suite of vocal features—including pitch, vocal harshness or hoarseness, and shaky voice—reflects the underlying health and condition of both human and nonhuman animals. We were looking for acoustic clues about how this toxic air might be affecting the orangutans.

During the fires and for several weeks after the smoke cleared, these males called less frequently than usual. Normally, orangutans call about six times a day. But during the fires, their call rate was cut in half. Their voices dropped in pitch, showing more vocal harshness and irregularities.

Collectively, these features of vocal quality have been linked to inflammation, stress, and disease—including COVID-19—in human and nonhuman animals.

Increasingly frequent and prolonged exposure to toxic smoke could have severe consequences for orangutans and other animals. Our research highlights the urgent need to understand the long-term and far-ranging effects of peatland fires in Indonesia, which is one of the most biodiverse countries in the world.

By uncovering the linkages between acoustic, behavioral, and energetic shifts in orangutans, our study highlights a way for scientists and wildlife managers to safely monitor the health of orangutans and other animals. Using passive acoustic monitoring to study vocally active indicator species, like orangutans, could unlock critical insights into wildfire smoke’s effects on wildlife populations worldwide.

Wendy M. Erb is a postdoctoral associate in conservation bioacoustics at Cornell University.