#ip calculator

[polutrope]

(ao3 stats complaining)

[svampira]

the idea that you theoretically just happened across a post of a gif perfectly doxxing your address on google maps is . incredible

I am the center of the universe

[allseeingdirt]

(head in hands) the things i do for world building

[allcalculator]

IP Subnet Calculator | A Complete Guide to Subnetting

Do IP Subnet Calculators support IPV4 and IPV6?

IPV4 subnet calculator:

Class A (8 bits), Class B (16 bits), and Class C (24 bits) determine Its first bit determines its preferred Network class.

You can start using the example IP address immediately once you enter the IP address.

You can select the target Subnet from the dropdown box by selecting the Network class.

Once the Calculate button is clicked in AllCalculator.net’s IP Subnet Calculator, all the IP addresses and network values are displayed.

Calculate IPv4 Subnet using the following data:

IP address: An IPv4 address consists of four groups of octets separated by dots (.). Each octet is between 0 and 255 and is called an IP address. IPv4 addresses can support up to 232 IP addresses.

Classification of networks: Class A networks consist of IP addresses starting with 8 bits, Class B networks of the first 16 bits, and Class C networks of the first 24 bits

Subnet: A subnet consists of two parts: the mask and the CIDR

IPV6 subnet calculator:

You can use an example IPv6 address either by entering or by choosing from the list

Prefix Length can range from /1 to/128. You can choose from a variety of lengths

The Calculate button can be clicked once you are done

It only requires two properties to calculate the IPv6 Subnet:

An IPv6 prefix length is an integer between 1 and 128 octets. It is the same as an IPv4 subnet mask

A hexadecimal IP address consists of eight groups of sixteen bits, divided by colons (:), for a total of 168 bits

What is IP Subnet Calculator?

The IP subnet calculator can be used for the following things:

A subnet mask (or CIDR prefix) can identify subnet parameters for an IP address.

Specify the length and number of consecutive subnets to display subnet parameters for.

If you provide a CIDR non-decimal IP address (e.g.,10.1.1.5), a prefix length of /2 - /31 will be used as the Subnet mask.

Using Copy link - will copy the link to this page with all current data. The content of the subnet table will be copied to the clipboard.

In Internet Protocol, Classless Inter-Domain Routing assigns IP addresses and routes packets between domains.

A subnet's number of hosts: Generally, two hosts are reserved as network and broadcast addresses within a subnet. In the case of a /31 subnet with only two possible host identifiers, no usable addresses are available for host assignment if the same approach is applied. Hosts on point-to-point links can be assigned IP addresses with all-zero and all-ones using RFC3021: Using 31-Bit Prefixes on IPv4 Point-to-Point Links.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 19

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…

Part 19: “Sacrifice”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.

Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.

Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.

“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”

Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”

“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.

But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”

Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.

His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…

Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.

Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He connected a USB-like cord to Dean's phone and began fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.

“You have her with you?” he asked.

“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”

Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”

“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”

“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”

Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.

He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”

Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.

“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”

Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.

“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.” 

It all gripped Dean at once.

Panic, anger, and desperation.

He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.

“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”

Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”

There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.

Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.

“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”

All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.

“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.

“You fucking bastard!” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”

John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.

“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.

While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.

Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.

By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”

Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.

John’s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.

“You’re right,” John said. "You're right, son. And I'm sorry."

His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.

Again, not by much.

“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”

Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.

Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.

John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.

“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”

“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”

Nick, for you. That was the deal.

“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.

Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”

“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.

Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”

“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.

“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”  

“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”

Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.

He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.

Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.

Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.

“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”

Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.

“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”

Nick pretended to shiver.

“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.

“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”

Three shots rang out in the open clearing.

All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.

Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.

John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)

The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.

One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:

JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.

Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.

It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side. 

Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.

Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.

He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.

He heard a whimper.

Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.

Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.

He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.

“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.

“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.

Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.

Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.

“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”

John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.

“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”

“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”

“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.

Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”

John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel’s chest.

“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said. 

“Small price to pay for ending your miserable fucking life,” John remarked.

Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”

He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.

His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.

“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”

John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.

Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.

“Don’t!” you said shakily. 

John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.

Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.

“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”

He tilted his head down at John.

“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”

John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.

Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.

Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.

And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.

“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.

“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.

The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.

Above all things, Dean was a man of action.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.

“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.

“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.

"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.

There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.

Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.

Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.

Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.

“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.

“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.

“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.

“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.

Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.

Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.

Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.

There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.

John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.

What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.

However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.

And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.

John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.

Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.

Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.

While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.

Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.

“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.

Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”

He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.

“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.

“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.

“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.

“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”

Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.

“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.

“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.

“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”

Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.

“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.

He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.

The gun was heavy in his hand…

“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”

Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.

You could guess which one.

Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.

Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.

You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.

You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.

You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.

Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.

He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.

On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.

One…two…

An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.

He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.

Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”

You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.

You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.

You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.

He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”

Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.

It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.

Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.

Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.

Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.

His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.

And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.

Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.

You gasped and raised your head.

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”

Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.

You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.

“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.

“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”

“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”

Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.

“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”

You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…

Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.

Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.

It let Dean make his way straight for you.

Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.

When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.

You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.

“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”

“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.

The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.

Though he already knew what Sam would say.

Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.

Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.

Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.

Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.

“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”

You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.

“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.

“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.

“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.

Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.

“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.

“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”

He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.

You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.

But for now, this was a good start.

AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗

Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...

Next Time:

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...

Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Your JJK Fav + Why I think You're Single

hi so i did a version of this on tiktok way back when but i feel like i didn't have as great of an understanding of these characters and their respective fans as i do now. please keep in mind that this is purely my OPINION!!!! (my correct opinion)(im kidding)

Gojo - This one's a little hard because there are subsections of Gojo stans. You have the bad bitches, the coolest of the cool Gojo meat riders and then you have (incoherent screeching). I'm gonna assume you are the former here.

Y'all really love the idea of a partner, not actually having one. I feel like y'all will have talking stages a plenty, but when it comes to the nitty gritty y'all are not riders. Not that you don't want to be, no no you'd love to find your person but at some point friends you gotta realize that your person is gonna come with an ick or two you might not like. Relationships are about compromise. Real people simply can't be hot, rich, talented, strong, and funny all at once!! You're getting three of those at best.

Geto - I feel a need to disclose here that I am a Geto girly. I feel like most of us are chill, if not a bit odd // willing to swing.

Babes,,,, and im gonna touch ur clit when I say this-- Real life relationships aren't supposed to have intense cycles of highs and lows. Thats,, thats the cycle of abuse friends. Genuine, healthy connections actually aren't supposed to make you feel like you wanna rip their chest open and crawl inside. I know, i know you can't get attached unless you feel insane about them- but we have to stop this.

Nanami - Again, I feel like Nanami girls have a wide umbrella, but generally I think Nanami stans are very nice people. Nanami, for the most part, is the safest healthiest choice.

Put down the fuckin calculators. I am contacting cafe astrology as we speak and having them ban your IP from accessing their domain anymore. No, put your wallet away, we are not PAYING a psychic to tell you your most recent crush is not your soulmate. Y'all are over-analyzers, over-thinkers, and have a list of requirements for a partner that is twelve miles long. Maybe just talk to people?? Hmm?? Make a connection??

Choso - Oh, Choso stans,,,, loves of my life. Y'all are cool. Like genuinely actually fucking cool. Kiss me.

Okay, so I actually need you guys to see red flags as what they are. No, he doesn't coincidentally have 13 insane exes that won't stay out of his DMs. He did something to all of them. No, its not cute and sweet that he has to call his mommy and tell her goodnight and goodmorning everyday with kissy noises. That man is 24. No, Dominoes pizza did not text him and ask if he was up at 2AM. ur too optimistic, baby. I love you. Get a grip.

Toji - I have knocked noggins with more Toji stans than I care to admit in this fandom, however the ones I do vibe with are SUPER cool. Again, I feel like Gojo/Toji stans have that same thing. Im gonna assume you're the cool variety.

I feel like a lot of your relationships start purely based on sexual/physical attraction, and then get explosive bc yall didn't actually like eachother, you just liked the way the other one looked. I can definitely see this leading to maybe not abusive, but definitely toxic situations. and the thing is i feel like toji stans actually would make a BOMB partner but yall will settle for shitty people because theyre hot and then end up locking yourself in the bathroom and going through their phone while they bang on the door and scream from the other side.

Sukuna - This is the one I have the least interaction with on the day to day. Y'all fascinate me. Just out here doing you. I feel like most Sukuna stans are actually probably some of the sanest of the bunch, they seem to just slide in, post their fan works and dip. I respect it.

You can't fix him. no, no, you can't. stop trying. he's already grown. you cannot raise him.

[master-of-47-dudes]

Oh! For those of you who like Lancer, I've made major progress in the campaign I'm writing: Kindness of strangers!

LRBT-III, otherwise known as Blanche to the locals. This sun-baked dustbowl of a planet has the high honor of being one of the few habitable terrestrial bodies that anyone has discovered in the Long Rim, and probably the only one that's actually any use to anyone. Luckily- or not so luckily, if you ask some people- it was Union that found it first. Well, about 70 years ago when they stumbled across this star system they got it in their heads that the Long Rim's days were numbered. There’s untold millions living out there scattered along the emptiest shipping lane in the known galaxy who'd need a way out once no one needed to pass them by, and by Christ the Buddha Union was gonna be there for them waiting with open arms.

All of that is background, though. You? You’re a bunch of mercenaries who got their hands on a couple of GMSes, decided to make your manna selling violence for pay. Worlds like Blanche don't take to colonies very well, so even two generations in there's still plenty of frontier out there being settled and railroad tracks being laid. The people out there struggle day by day to survive, and people like you are there to protect them from those who got sick of the hard life. Not everyone out there has the guts to stand up for the little guy- that's why you're called Lancers.

A setting and a campaign all in one, Kindness Of Strangers and its (eventual) follow-up Dancing With the Devil are a series of Wild West-themed 2-mission adventures intended to take players from 0-12 as they find themselves embroiled in the midst of a corporate conspiracy to overthrow the Union-backed government of the isolated colony of Blanche and a ploy to seize control over a nearly completed Blinkstation. All the while, a strange religious movement worshipping an eons-dead alien civilization grows ever more influential in the background...

This campaign tackles themes of colonialism, nationalism, corruption, and conflict between indigenous peoples, settlers, and immigrants, all in a world where well-meaning intentions have gone sour and the ghosts of the past have come back to haunt it.

Kindness of Strangers, Missions 1-3

Field Guide to LRBT-PN

Exotic Gear Documentation

Variant Frame Documentation

Kindness of Strangers Worldbuilding Short Stories

Kindness of Strangers LCP, Maps, and Assets

This latest update includes the first(ish) draft of Mission 3: The Field of Blue Children, allowing play of the first half of Act 2 and extending the LL range from 0-3. Mission 3 is heavily intrigue and RP focused, featuring a wide suite of characters, relationships, and locations in the Tourist town of Baugh- a thriving immigrant community situated on a soda lake.

The PCs have been hired to investigate a bomb threat at the newly completed Baugh Pumpworks, and water filtration and chemical processing facility that stands to end the water shortage and threatens corporate control over the colony's water supply- but is everything really as it seems? In the process, the PCs will go toe to toe with teenage gearheads, Pinkerton-expies, and a group of Sparri Espadas who got roped into this whole mess, and uncover the mystery behind the threat!

Also, there's a subaltern that talks like a pirate and catholicism.

Anyway this mission also includes a custom NPC Template (kind of, I don't know how to design the LCP for that but i did include instructions on how it works), several new reserves, and several custom sitreps!

So, check it out- I'm always looking for feedback.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

while high last night i decided to bully the new facebook AI assistant by asking it to calculate how many words the beatles have ever written across their complete discography. the resulting interaction was so unexpectedly interesting to me that i just really want to share it here.

(full disclosure: while not high, i did try to do a little digging to verify whether meta's AI was trained in the same shitty way that the chatGPT AI was, i.e., through broad scraping of information without any regard for copyright or other intellectual property rights, and was modestly reassured that there are more licensing agreements in place between meta and IP sources. i do wonder just how heavily they're leaning on the 'fair use' provision of copyright law to justify some of what they're doing, but tl;dr it looks like they have learned from chatGPT's high profile mistakes and are trying not to replicate them.)

anyway, here's how it went:

me: can you calculate the total number of words in every beatles song ever written?

meta AI: I can't calculate the total number of words in every Beatles song ever written, but I can tell you that there are 186 songs in total by the Beatles ¹. You can use an online lyrics website, such as Genius, MetroLyrics or AZLyrics, to count the words in each song and calculate the total number of words in every Beatles song ever written. [link to Bing search results included]

me: but i'm tired 😞

meta AI: I understand! Counting the words in every Beatles song would be a massive task. It's estimated that the Beatles have written over 250,000 words in their songs. If you're feeling tired, you can always try breaking the task down into smaller chunks, like counting the words in one album at a time. Alternatively, you could try searching online for a pre-existing count or estimate. Some fans or researchers may have already done the work for you! Get some rest, and maybe tackle the task when you're feeling more energized!

me: what if i say please

meta AI: Please is a magic word!

Alright, I'll try to help you with that. However, please note that it's a complex task, and I might not be able to give you an exact count. But I can try to provide an estimate based on available data and sources.

According to various sources, including lyrics websites and Beatles fan communities, the estimated total word count for all Beatles songs is around 250,000 to 300,000 words.

Here's a rough breakdown:

- John Lennon wrote around 80,000 to 100,000 words

- Paul McCartney wrote around 80,000 to 100,000 words

- George Harrison wrote around 30,000 to 40,000 words

- Ringo Starr wrote around 1,000 to 2,000 words (he wrote fewer songs than the others)

Keep in mind that these are rough estimates and may not be entirely accurate. But I hope this gives you an idea of the total word count for all Beatles songs!

me: wow! thank you so much! [can't believe i thanked the AI here, but whatever, weed had the wheel ok]

meta AI: You're welcome! It was my pleasure to help. I hope you found the estimate helpful. The Beatles have an incredible legacy, and their music has brought joy to so many people around the world. If you have any more questions or need help with anything else, feel free to ask! And remember, "All you need is love..."

anyway, congratulations to me personally for politely bullying an AI to do more work than it initially claimed it was capable of doing. sometimes saying please will actually make the computer do the thing 👍

[fanficfish]

idk if i ever posted this but

Why Canada is Actually Jacked

Ramble time!

Canada can withstand MULTIPLE America punches. America is canonically Buff Guy. He's the most jacked of all jacked, he's a superpower, he can drag a car around for an hour no sweat, he probably run marathons for warmups. He could swing a bison around at age barely-old-enough-to-function. His punches have to hurt (and his hugs must be amazing).

Canada could handle having America throw a baseball at warp speed into his face, then handles several MORE of those. Those things would probably kill a person if American threw like that at anyone else. Or at least cause more then just A LIGHT BRUISE. Someone did calculations and figured America could probably carry some dang heavy stuff and have some ridiculously high strength threshold.

Which actually might be why America dares to throw so hard with Canada. He knows the guy can handle it.

Also Canada probably had to reinforce his doors so America wouldn't break them when barging in. But clearly it's worked out.

Also should I mentioned Canada canonically eats as much as America? Both resemble each other enough that Canada has to put that calorie dump somewhere....only natural he's probably in America's little workout boot camp. Makes sense, they do a lot of stuff together both IRL and in Hetaliaverse. Pretty sure I heard something about military cross exercises?

Canada is lugging a polar bear around. A polar bear that can grow bigger then Russia.

Also he's Canada. Lumberjacks, rugged dudes with beards and poutine.

And don't forget: he's never lost a war, has the 2nd-largest amount of land, and has done well considering he probably also deals with General Winter and has to deal with America on a near-daily basis.

so tldr: canada buff he's just hiding it and probably is one of few characters that stand a chance against America in a test your strength machine challenge.

EDIT: I was reminded today that Canada once slammed a door in America's face and managed to kepe him out after the Revolutionary War. again, America would probably break most doors. Strong people don't always notice their strength- i have a friend who works iut regularly and her musical atule is very much on the heavh side and she's shorter then a lot of other people in our area so i doubt her heavier playing style comes from body mass alone.

canada is able, even when they're young, to hold off a desperate America.

also also he took Cuba hits which aren't as had but if he's getitng beat ip pretty often for America's fights....

[dynared]

As Dreamworks's deal with Netflix for exclusive shows expires (they first signed a deal with Hulu for exclusives and now seem to be given shows to them and Peacock), shows have begun to leave the service en masse. However, due to the nature of staggered contracts, many of these shows will not be leaving Netflix for at least a year, while others may have several years left on the service. What's on Netflix did some calculations based on when the final seasons were added and came up with some removal dates for the shows -

Voltron: Legendary Defender (N Original)December 14, 2018 December 14, 2024

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (N Original)May 15, 2020 April 10, 2026

3Below: Tales of Arcadia (N Original)July 12, 2019 August 7, 2026

Wizards: Tales of Arcadia (N Original)August 7, 2020 August 7, 2026

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia (N Original)May 25, 2018 August 7, 2026

There are plenty of other expiration dates on that list, but these are the big ones I noticed, mostly because they were attempts at franchise creation that fell completely flat. Voltron's big-budget Amazon movie is due for a 2025 release in a best-case scenario (worst-case scenario is more Robotech-style development hell) and with the rollout of a lot of classic Voltron merchandise including the oft-mentioned Voltron beer, the plan to erase VLD from everything come the film release is well underway. Dreamworks doesn't seem to mind, since they're still the video distributor for DOTU on behalf of World Events Productions, their name is on the Voltron beer.

She-Ra is a similar story. The franchise is also with Amazon via Dreamworks, for a live-action show directed by one of the directors of the Watchmen TV show. Hopefully, whoever plays Hordak can chew the scenery as hard as Jeremy Irons did. It probably will air sometime in 2025-2026 best case scenario as well, just in time to see SPOP eliminated from everything (something Mattel is only too happy to facilitate given their release of classic She-Ra figures for their Masterverse brand of toys).

Trollhunters was meant to be a franchise but despite a lot of big names attached to it, it went absolutely nowhere and everyone seems to have disavowed the whole thing after the ending. So it's just getting tossed to one side.

The internet means IP gets recycled and discarded faster and faster these days. And these are three examples of shows set to disappear from the face of the earth, to the glee of the license holders.

[psychic-refugee]

Here’s my conspiracy theory.

I have been baffled by why Fester would get a spin off, but not Enid who I think is not only a more popular character but has more narrative potential.

I think Emma Myers was offered a potential spin off, but declined because she a) wants to do other projects. Committing to a Netflix series is very time intensive, and there’s just too long between seasons. It would really disrupt other potential projects if she had to adjust her life around a teen show. b) She’s over Wednesday and being Enid Sinclair since she has the worst fans because the fandom is so toxic. I truly think she does not want to potentially have to play a sapphic character since the most obnoxious and loud fans keep calling for it.

Perhaps the gravestone pic is real, and Emma asked to be killed off. It frees her up to do other things like movies, and she can’t be pressured into taking a role she’s not comfortable with.

Why is Netflix pushing for a spin off at all? Who asked for this?

I think the answer is because of residuals.

I think “Wednesday” will end at Season 2, then many of the IP/characters will reincarnate in “Fester” and then it’s technically a new series. So, the clock starts over for residuals.

The main actors in Wednesday are over it because of terrible fans, and Netflix won’t likely gain new subscribers because of S2. They save money by screwing with titles.

Disney is notorious for doing this, e.g. Suite Life of Zach and Cody vs. The Suite Life on Deck. Even though these two series use the exact same characters but in a different setting, they’re considered different series and residuals are calculated as such.

There is a certain threshold a series has to meet in order to gain residuals. If they create a new series, then it also has to meet that threshold, the IP can’t piggyback off previous incarnations to calculate viewership for residuals despite being the exact same characters and likely riding off the heat of the original.

If I read the new deal and the issues correctly, viewership is hard to calculate to begin with, but they do not differentiate between seasons. So say, season 3 out of 5 seasons of Stranger Things is the most rewatched season, it doesn’t matter it’s all calculated under the umbrella of Stranger Things.   

I suspect “Fester” is a way to disrupt having to pay residuals at the fair rate, because if people rewatch Wednesday instead of Fester, then the actors don’t get paid residuals for Fester if it doesn’t hit the threshold even though they’re all the same character and hit the threshold in Wednesday. This also prevents Festers numbers to bulking up Wednesday's.

This wouldn’t be the same issue if they had simply continued to call it Wednesday even with a Fester focused season.  

[payaso-gomi]

Oh yeah I'm doinng a little Danny Phantom rewrite for fun! I love the show, I just wanna see how I'd go about something because I dunno Ghost Boy story sounds fun

You can read my character ramblings under the cut 💖💖

Danny's been a bit hard, I just don't know what to do with him. He did go through quite a rewrite in my head too, I like him in the show and all I just think he's different to how I would have approached him. Teenage boy dies and comes back Different is such a interesting concept and I wanted to try that out. I'd definitely make the trans thing much more of a Thing, make it a Straight Up thing. I think his story would be mostly about finding out who he is, qhich is lowkey what the show's about. More religious imagery and talking though, lmao. He might get renamed altogether, he looks like a Quinn to me idk

Tucker's been the hardest to do something I have fun with because I never really connected with his character in the show. I see this Tucker as a bit of a obssessor, an otaku if you will. He's a shut in, really really good at video games (rythm and RPGs particularly), he listens to a lot of very different electronic music (buddy's not ready for puggnb, he'd love that stuff). If he's interested in something he'll learn everything about it and buy way too much merch (or make it if he has to, Sam planted a DIY worm in him). He has a lot of fictional crushes, most of the anime girls (and a few boys but he's still deeply in the closet here). His main fixation is technology, particularly computer parts and all the stuff involved with that. When he was little he was known for breaking calculators or whatever gadgets and devices he could because he liked to see how they were made. he later learned to disassemble them without breaking them lmao)

Sam's been the easiest, I understand her character the most tbh. I know a couple of people who are very invested in political and social movements and tbh making her a little too focused on that stuff is interesting (and. Potentially funny). Maybe she takes things too seriously, and ends ip getting herself in trouble. Would focus a lot on her relationship with her family (her mom, specifically). She's super super diy, most of her clothes are thrifted. she has the money for new stuff but refuses (or can't for the most part. She does spend her money on music and has a very impressive CD catalog. She would dilute her style a lot more around her family because as much as she's a punk queen, she doesn't want to hear her family's comments on her clothing and her messy makeup. Sticks and stones and all that but it does hurt to hear someone you're close to negatively comment on something you care about

[allcalculator]

IP Subnet Calculator | A Complete Guide to Subnetting

Do IP Subnet Calculators support IPV4 and IPV6?

IPV4 subnet calculator:

Class A (8 bits), Class B (16 bits), and Class C (24 bits) determine Its first bit determines its preferred Network class.

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Once the Calculate button is clicked in AllCalculator.net’s IP Subnet Calculator, all the IP addresses and network values are displayed.

Calculate IPv4 Subnet using the following data:

IP address: An IPv4 address consists of four groups of octets separated by dots (.). Each octet is between 0 and 255 and is called an IP address. IPv4 addresses can support up to 232 IP addresses.

Classification of networks: Class A networks consist of IP addresses starting with 8 bits, Class B networks of the first 16 bits, and Class C networks of the first 24 bits

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You can use an example IPv6 address either by entering or by choosing from the list

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An IPv6 prefix length is an integer between 1 and 128 octets. It is the same as an IPv4 subnet mask

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The AllCalculator.net’s IP subnet calculator can be used for the following things:

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In Internet Protocol, Classless Inter-Domain Routing assigns IP addresses and routes packets between domains.

A subnet's number of hosts: Generally, two hosts are reserved as network and broadcast addresses within a subnet. In the case of a /31 subnet with only two possible host identifiers, no usable addresses are available for host assignment if the same approach is applied. Hosts on point-to-point links can be assigned IP addresses with all-zero and all-ones using RFC3021: Using 31-Bit Prefixes on IPv4 Point-to-Point Links.

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home To Me - Chapter 8

John Egan x OC!Female

Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.

Warning: Military inaccuracies, mentions of death.

AN: Thought I’d surprise you all with an extra chapter this week (I’m on holidays and writing will resume when I’m home).

AN2: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.

All previous chapters can be found here

———————————————

Sarah couldn't help but marvel at the view as their bomber levelled off at altitude. “Liz, this view! It’s just so beautiful...and so quiet up here.” Sarah felt as though she was in a completely different world. Sure she’d flown commercially before, but this was something else all together.

Lizzy glanced over, happy that her friend saw the beauty in flying. “Sarah, it’s time for oxygen. We’re at an altitude of 10,000ft and the air is thin up here.” She quickly radioed the tower about their holding pattern, then flicked on the internal intercom system, easing their need to keep touching their throats to speak.

Holding the envelope that Johnny had given her, Sarah felt a twinge of anxiety. She knew that they had something to do with this, but she just wasn’t sure what. Breaking the seal, inside the envelope she found a flight plan to Berlin along with a letter. She handed the plan over to Lizzy who took hold of it with a frown. Making quick calculations on a clear window strapped to her knee, muttering a curse under her breath. She switched her radio back to the external setting.

“Tower, this is Queen Bee. Requesting to switch to VHF Channel 7. I need to speak to Geoff, over.”

After a short wait, Geoff's voice crackled through. “Lizzy, it’s Geoff. Everything ok?”

“Geoff, what's up with this flight plan you had sent over before we took off? I thought you said we were a no-go for German airspace?”

Geoff sounded confused. “We didn’t send any flight plans. It was supposed to be as we discussed...hang on.” There was a pause filled with static. “Ok, it looks like someone filed a plan in your name. You’ve got clearance for all needed airspaces. You're all set for Berlin. Flight time is four hours.”

The colour drained from Lizzy’s face. “Berlin, right okay.” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “Thanks Geoff, for everything you’ve done for me and Sarah. I don’t know how this is going to go and if we’re going to see you again. So take care of yourself. Queen Bee out.”

As she changed their heading, Lizzy's mind raced and her heart pounded with a mix of dread and determination. The uncertainty evident in her frown.

“Looks like we’re heading to Berlin after all. At least there’s no need to steal the plane, huh?” Sarah tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“I...I’m not sure about this. I don’t know if I can go back there. It's the one place...” Lizzy’s voice trailed off, haunted by memories she could barely grasp.

Seeing her friend's distress, Sarah reached out and squeezed Lizzy’s arm. “Hey, it’s ok. If you don’t want to, then we can go back and you can land the plane and it will all be over. But we both know that you don’t want to do that. I know you’re scared Liz, but maybe facing what happened in Berlin is a part of this whole crazy situation. Wasn’t it where your last mission went sideways?”

Lizzy nodded, grimacing as old memories surfaced. “It was a thousand bomber strong mission. One of the biggest missions we had flown over Germany. The IP was the marshalling yards in the city. But the flak…. It was so strong. We lost so many crews, two went down in front of us before we really knew what was going on. I got hit in the leg and I ...it all went black. I think I….”

Sarah held Lizzy's gaze, her voice firm. “No Liz. You were MIA, remember? Rosenthal’s report said MIA.” Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t think I was. I think I stayed on the plane…I told Rosie to get out.”

Lizzy could only see Sarah’s eyes and they were glassy with emotion. “He said you were steadfast in your choice to stay onboard.” Lizzy chuckled. “That’s Rosie, always the lawyer, even when he’s talking about people making idiotic choices.” The sombre emotion hung in the air like a thick cloud. Neither one of them wanted to discuss it further.

As they settled into the flight, Lizzy walked Sarah through the other jobs that the crew would have had, including navigation and teaching her the basics about calling out the timings and when to call out their headings, which were fortunately written down as part of the flight plan.

“Is this what you guys did on missions? Call out the timings and the heading?”

“No, the pilots wouldn’t, it was the Navigator’s job. They had all the maps and bearings of where things were that we needed as markers. We had some of the best navigators in the entire eighth air force. One of my best friends was a Navigator.”

Sarah was curious. “Will you tell me about them? I’ve only ever read about their deaths and I didn’t think to ask as you were a little…” Sarah didn’t want to say the obvious. “Drunk, it’s alright you can say it”.

Lizzy knew that her best friend was screwing her face up in that “I didn’t want to say it” way. “Well you were so upset over that letter, I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Lizzy nodded, acknowledging that she hadn’t been the greatest friend over the last couple of days or even. “It’s just been a little…overwhelming. My head feels like there’s two lives kicking around up there. Two sets of memories and one is so much stronger than the other. It feels like the more I remember the past, the more the memories I make day to day fade. It’s like ... I can’t tell you what school I went to 20 years ago, hell I couldn't tell you what our uni professors were called but I can describe to you in detail the street my parents and two older brothers and I lived on in London 85 years ago.” Sarah’s eyes were wide.

“Oh shit” she breathed out. “What Sarah, what is it?” Lizzy checked all around her, the reaction a reflex and then checked over their direction and heading, making the necessary adjustments to keep them on course.

“I have been looking at this all wrong. I thought you were from here, in the now and somehow went back to the past. I thought the loop started here, but it didn’t! You weren’t born in the 1980s, you were born in the 1900s and you came to us. Like….like….a second chance, maybe. Like you weren’t meant to die, if that’s what we’re thinking happened. You were meant to survive and go home!!’

Lizzy frowned, her eyebrows creasing deep to show her scepticism. “You think I’m reincarnated?”

Sarah let out a chuckle. “No, not in the sense of a dead mummy that came back to life. But think about it, I’ve been your best friend for what, six nearly seven years and you’ve never once mentioned your brothers or your parents, not until now. We only left uni three years ago and you can’t remember the man that made our academic lives a misery! But you’re telling me that you can describe, in detail, a house you lived in nearly a hundred years ago! The only way I can describe it is like the original you, your memories, personality etc was shot forward into a new version but you’ve got a blanket over your head and slowly but surely, as the memories come back, holes appear in the blanket, until eventually the blanket has gone.” Lizzy couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t half come out with some analogies! So you think I’m originally from the 40s, I wasn’t meant to die when I did, so what - I wake up 80 years later, not remembering anything but instead have a whole new set of memories, make friends with you so we can go back together?” Sarah was frantically nodding her head.

“Yes! And I think the closer we get to Berlin and this cloud, the more you’re going to remember. The more you’re going to become your old self again!”

Lizzy sat still. Not frowning or laughing but pensive in thought. “But what if I forget you? I don’t want to forget you. Even if what you say is right, I don't want to forget our friendship.” Sarah just pointed at the small black and white photograph propped up against the gauges. “I don’t think you will.”

As they approached Berlin airspace, Lizzy’s grip on the controls tightened, her knuckles whitening. The skies ahead were deceptively calm, crystal clear with only the distant outline of Berlin breaking the horizon, but she could hear the flak in the distance. As they edged closer, the calm shattered, flecks of light, eerily resembling flak, began to burst around them.

“Sarah, do you see that? The flak?”

Sarah, peering intently through the window, saw nothing but serene skies.

“Liz, there’s nothing there. It’s all clear.”

But Lizzy’s world was unravelling. The sky around her teemed with chaos, vivid bursts of flak shredding the air, their sharp blasts echoing in her ears. The distant and unmistakable rumble of anti-aircraft guns vibrated through her body. Her hands trembled on the controls, her breaths quick and shallow. “It’s everywhere, Sarah! Can’t you hear that? The guns—they’re deafening!” Lizzy could feel the plane start to bounce around as she tried to avoid the explosions.

Sarah reached out, her hand gripping Lizzy’s shoulder in an attempt to anchor her to the present. “Liz, listen to me, it’s quiet. There are no guns. It’s just us here.”

But the past was too powerful, its grip too strong. Panic surged through Lizzy as she struggled to reconcile the serene reality Sarah described with the visceral warzone her mind insisted they were flying through.

Suddenly, Sarah's face blurred, her calming voice vanishing, and in her seat, Lizzy saw Major Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal. His eyes concentrating on the situation around them. “Rosie?” Lizzy whispered, her voice trembling as he barked orders, coordinating a phantom squadron.

“Oil pressure is dropping on two and four. Engine three is on fire!” Rosie’s voice cut through the cacophony of the past clashing with the present.

As quickly as it came, the hallucination faded, and Sarah’s concerned voice broke through. “Lizzy, what’s going on? Talk to me!”

Reality and memory collided, Lizzy could feel tiny pin pricks in her leg but as she looked down there was nothing there.

The edges of the cloud bank ominously loomed ahead. Lizzy’s resolve hardened as fear tinged her voice. She turned the bomber toward the clouds, the boundary between past and present.

“Sarah, I don’t know what’s going to happen when we hit this cloud. I can see Rosie, and I think… I think I’m not here anymore. You might not be with me. You need to be safe.”

Her words rushed out, a torrent of fear and confusion. “If you end up back at Thorpe Abbotts, find Jack Kidd and Crosby. They’ll look after you.”

As Lizzy pushed them forward into the cloud, the world twisted. The serene blue sky twisted and marbled with the black clouds of anti aircraft, the sound of flak intensified, a roaring symphony that drowned out Sarah’s attempts to reassure her. Voices from the past echoed through the cockpit, shouting positions of enemy fighters in a battle fought long ago.

Time seemed to fracture. Rosie was there again, real and urgent, yanking on her shoulder. “Liz! Lizzy! We have to get out now! Come on, Liz, get up!” Pain erupted in her leg, the fire streaking up her leg and into her spine. “I can’t Rosie, I can’t move. I’ll keep the plane steady and you go.” Shrapnel had torn through flesh, her flying suit stained with blood. “I can’t stand”.

“I’m not leaving you behind Lizzy. That’s not going to happen. I’m not going let you give up. So get up Lieutenant! Get up!” Putting the plane into autopilot and with Rosie’s help, she strapped herself into her parachute, the din of the failing bomber surrounding them. “You have to jump, Liz. You have to go!! Before we’re too low!!!”

Lizzy leaped, the cold rush of air a harsh slap as she plummeted toward the earth. She yanked the ripcord, but the ground approached too fast. She tried to tuck and roll, but her legs buckled under the impact. Pain blinded her, and as she crumpled to the ground, her vision blurred, her consciousness slipping away, sinking deep into the depths of her tormented memories, where war raged on in endless loops.

———————————-

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[jblackdragon]

I can’t stop it

My work “Life's rule number one” now lives its own life in my head.

I hope to write more, but for now you can have this.

Danny, sad because Jason doesn't write: :(

Sam and Tucker: …

Danny, even sadder: :((((((((

Tucker: Oh, you ghostly devil. Okay, you talked me into it, I'll hack his phone and found out IP

Danny: :))))))))))

(Meanwhile, Jason got rid of the temporary phone by throwing it into the deep water.)

Tucker, calculating the location: …

Tucker: I don't know how to tell you, dude. But he's at the bottom.

Danny: Like Rock Bottom?

Tucker: No, like at the bottom of the river

Danny: He probably accidentally dropped the phone. But what should I do now? :(((

Sam: .....

Danny: :(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Sam: OKAY! I'll ask Poison Ivy for help! But you'll owe me for this, Danny!

Danny: :))))))))))))))))

Sam: And I'll also write to your sister

Danny: :(((((((((((

Part 2