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electronalytics · 1 year ago

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Air-Cooled Generators Market Analysis, Growth Factors and Dynamic Demand by 2032

The air-cooled generators market refers to the industry that deals with the production, sale, and distribution of generators that are cooled by air rather than liquid-based cooling systems. Air-cooled generators are commonly used in various applications where a reliable source of electrical power is required, such as residential, commercial, and industrial sectors.

The Air-Cooled Generators market is expected to grow annually by 13.7% CAGR rate (CAGR 2023 - 2030).

Key Features of Air-Cooled Generators:

Cooling Mechanism: Unlike liquid-cooled generators that use a coolant system, air-cooled generators utilize fans or blowers to dissipate heat generated during operation. This eliminates the need for a separate cooling system, making air-cooled generators more compact and portable.

Power Range: Air-cooled generators are available in a wide range of power capacities, from small portable units with a few kilowatts of power to larger standby generators with several hundred kilowatts. They are commonly used for backup power supply in residential settings and as auxiliary power sources in commercial and industrial applications.

Fuel Types: Air-cooled generators can be designed to run on different fuel types, including gasoline, diesel, natural gas, or propane. The choice of fuel depends on factors such as availability, cost, and specific application requirements.

Ease of Installation and Maintenance: Air-cooled generators are generally easier to install compared to liquid-cooled generators because they don't require complex plumbing or coolant systems. Maintenance is also relatively simpler, involving tasks such as regular filter cleaning and oil changes.

Noise Levels: Air-cooled generators tend to be louder during operation compared to their liquid-cooled counterparts. However, advancements in generator design and acoustic insulation have helped reduce noise levels in modern air-cooled models.

Market Trends and Growth Drivers:

The air-cooled generators market has experienced steady growth in recent years due to several factors:

Increasing Demand for Backup Power: With growing concerns about power outages and the need for uninterrupted electricity supply, there is a rising demand for backup power solutions. Air-cooled generators provide a cost-effective and convenient option for homeowners, small businesses, and other applications that require standby power.

Portable Power Needs: Air-cooled generators are highly portable and suitable for applications such as camping, outdoor events, construction sites, and recreational vehicles. The popularity of outdoor activities and the need for mobile power sources have contributed to the market's expansion.

Advancements in Technology: Manufacturers are continuously improving air-cooled generator technology to enhance performance, fuel efficiency, and reduce emissions. These advancements, coupled with the increasing availability of smart features and remote monitoring capabilities, have made air-cooled generators more appealing to consumers.

Growing Construction and Industrial Sectors: The construction industry and various industrial sectors require reliable power sources to support their operations. Air-cooled generators offer a convenient and cost-effective solution, leading to increased adoption in these sectors.

We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.

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Market Segmentations:

Global Air-Cooled Generators Market: By Company • GE • Siemens • ANDRITZ • Ansaldo Energia • Brush • Shanghai Electric • Mitsubishi Hitachi Power Systems • Toshiba • Harbin Electric • Bzd • WEG • Power-M • BHEL • Fuji Electric Global Air-Cooled Generators Market: By Type • 2-Pole Air-Cooled Generators • 4-Pole Air-Cooled Generators Global Air-Cooled Generators Market: By Application • Gas Turbine Power Plant • Steam Turbine Power Plant • Others Global Air-Cooled Generators Market: Regional Analysis All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global Air-Cooled Generators market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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kirloskar-generators-bangal-blog · 2 years ago

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A Buyer’s Guide To Portable Generator Bangalore

When you are looking to power your home or business during an emergency, it is important to have a portable generator that is reliable and powerful. A portable generator ensures you have backup power during weather emergencies or other unforeseen circumstances.

Benefits Of Having A Portable Generator

One of the most important benefits of a Portable Generator Bangalore is that it can provide power during a power outage. If there is a severe storm or other events that knocks out power, a portable generator can keep your home or business running. This is especially important for businesses that cannot afford to lose power for even a few hours.

Another benefit of a portable generator is that it can be used to power tools or other equipment when working in remote locations. If you are a construction worker, for example, a portable generator can be a lifesaver. It can also be used by campers or hikers who need to power small devices.

Finally, portable generators are relatively easy to operate and maintain. Unlike some other types of generators, they do not require a lot of training or experience to use. Additionally, they do not require a lot of maintenance. If you use it regularly, it can help offset the cost of your monthly electricity bill as well.

If you are looking to purchase a portal generator, there are a few things to consider before selecting the right generator for your needs, including the wattage and fuel type. Here are some tips on choosing a Portable Generator Bangalore.

Purpose Of The Generator!

When first shopping for a Portable Generator Bangalore, be sure to determine the purpose for which you plan to use it. Choose a portable generator that is certified by the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA). Portable generators that are NFPA certified are reliable and will perform well in any weather condition.

If you will primarily be using it for emergency power needs and are not concerned about the noise level, a smaller engine might be the best option. On the other hand, if you need a generator that is quiet so as not to disrupt your environment or sleep, consider choosing a larger model that is more chemically based.

Size & Weight Of The Generator!

Portable Generator Bangalore comes in various sizes and weights, with models typically ranging from 2-5 tons. Make sure to find one that meets your specific needs without being too heavy or bulky to move around. Also, consider what wattage you need.

You will need a Portable Generator Bangalore that can produce between 1 and 300 watts, depending on the size of your household or business and the specific needs of your generator. Make sure it can handle your space’s power output and serve the purpose.

Engine Type & Output Power

Selecting a Portable Generator Bangalore generally comes down to two major considerations: engine type and output power. Engines typically fall into two categories: gasoline or diesel. Gasoline models tend to offer higher output power (ranging from 100–800 watts). Gas generators are more common, but can be more expensive than diesel generators.

Diesel models are usually quieter and provide greater long-term durability than gasoline models (they last longer between oil changes). Output power is important because it dictates how easily the generator can provide backup power in an emergency; the higher the wattage, the easier it will be to generate enough power for critical applications.

Pricing

Finally, factor in price and availability when choosing a Portable Generator Bangalore. Price varies based on the wattage and type of generator but always check with local dealers to find the best deal. Portable generators are often available in surplus during emergencies, so keep an eye out for sales!

#portable generator bangalore petrol generator bangalore genset manufacturers in bangalore

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magentas-dystopia · 1 year ago

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Something I really lament is the move towards digital media. Slowly we start to never own the things we like. Even if we "buy" a digital game, or movie or show. It's locked behind a certain platform or service. Once it shuts down we lose it forever.

(me when big booby anime girl explosion Is taken off of Netflix)

I also feel like there's a certain charm to owning physical media, like things you can hold and the satisfaction from pressing a clicky button or putting a disc or cassette in and seeing it work.

(oooh so classy so retro so.. expensive in the modern day)

More people should try to make copies of what they own digitally, or try to buy physical media before it's lost from streaming services and digital storefronts forever. Like the case with certain games like Godzilla 2014 and Transformers War for Cybertron. They don't exist digitally anymore. Only hard copies exist outside of emulation and at insane resell prices like... INSANE ones for a mediocre Godzilla game

So yea. Buy some more CDs of those albums you have on replay! Buy a DVD of that niche obscure anime you like! And most importantly PLEASE PLEASE START MAKING HARD BACKUPS OF SHOWS YOU LIKE THAT YOU PIRATE!!! media preservation is important!

(me downloading every episode of Daredevil onto my hard drive to burn to a DVD later so I can give it to all my friends)

This is now going to be a Comprehensive guide on how to rip a CD

POLL TIME!

Burning and Ripping Disc's❤️❤️💕💕🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

STEP ONE:

BUY A CHEAP BLU-RAY/DVD DRIVE FOR YOUR WINDOWS COMPUTER

here are some I recommend!!!

i personally use this pioneer one :)))

DVD drives in general are relatively cheap from 30-20 smackeroos, but Blu-ray drives are around 80-100 bucks depending on the manufacturer but offer better support for copying HD video such as on a Blu-ray.

STEP TWO:

FIND A PIECE OF MEDIA YOU ENJOY.

in this case its gonna be a CD!!

i really enjoy Vespertine by Bjork, but i wanna have it on my computer just in case anything happens to my CD. SO. ill open Windows Media Player

(she hasn't changed since 2011 <3333 be urself girl)

ill insert the disc into the player. and it'll start playing!

Pause the disc and go into Rip settings

NEXT!! select the format!

if you want to conserve space and don't mind sacrificing audio quality select MP3! if you want to hear the same level of audio quality as preserved on the CD, select a format labelled LOSSLESS. I recommend .WAV files as they'll work with most devices including an android phone or iTunes on PC (more on that later ;3 )

NEXT!

create a folder on whatever u wanna save ur music to! (u can call it whatever u want the world is your oyster bestie)

THEN!!! FINALLY

go into more options on the Rip Settings menu!

select ur folder and press Rip CD!!!!

the fun thing of this now, is that you can pull these files on your computer and put it onto your Android device so you can listen to your hearts content without lugging around your CD in a player at high quality without any subscription service with free reign of who you can give your download to!

But Magenta! what if i have an iPhone?

ohohoo fear not bestie because iTunes on PC has an even EASIER way to do it

because simply putting in a disc with iTunes downloaded prompts THIS

(oooo so new age)

and if you have apple music on your iPhone this will sync to your phone if you logged into iTunes on PC!!

thank you for coming to my TED talk

#vhs #media preservation #piracy #no like for real. please just download the stuff u pirate just in case it gets taken down #ateez #atz #x files #godzilla #Björk

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ak-vintage · 5 months ago

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Quarry - Chapter 18

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, heavy angst, Din is coping poorly and is acting like an asshole in this one, y'all

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

When you were a child on Chardaan, your parents had acquired an extensive library of starship reference manuals. Hull configurations, engine builds, weapons arrays, life support systems, and just about every flavor of modification you could imagine for nearly every model of ship ever designed – all organized by manufacturer, design purpose, and years of production. It had been your father’s favorite pastime – collecting, sorting, studying ship design, one that he passed on to you at a young age. You could recall sitting on the floor of his office, small enough to fit in the snug little nook under his desk, with a portable holoprojector, swiping through model after model, watching them spin in the palm of your hand. Even then, they had inspired your imagination, and the fire that imagination had lit in you led you to acquire far more than your fair share of ship design expertise long before Orron Halcard ever called you up for service in the shipyards.

And yet, even with such expertise, you found that Boba Fett’s ship was unlike any you had ever encountered.

Under different circumstances, you would have been falling over yourself for an opportunity to review the schematics, to examine the power generators, to get your hands on the hyperdrive reactors or the clearly heavily modified weaponry. As it was, when Din deposited you unceremoniously in one of the chairs that lined the edges of the ship’s navigation room, all you had the energy to do was watch, dumbstruck, as the ship’s walls began to rotate 90 degrees around the stationary platform under your feet. The cockpit, which had once been parallel with the navigation room, now sat above you, and had you not already been sitting, you thought you might have lost your balance at the vertigo-inducing visual of the two-story viewport suddenly dropping from the ceiling to the forward wall. Instead, you simply allowed your head to drop into your hands, elbows resting on your knees, refusing to look.

Fennec offered you a sympathetic smile and assured you that you would get used to the ship’s…unique design. She also directed you to a yellow-painted ladder that led to the lower decks, which filled the long, narrow body of the ship now that it was “vertical.”

“It’s not much,” she said wryly, “But if you take it all the way to the bottom, there’s a ‘fresher you can use. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? You’ll want to get that dirt out of your burns before we try to treat them.”

You glanced over at Din, reluctant to go off on your own and leave him alone when he clearly was not himself. However, rather than the nod of approval or the request to stay that you had been expecting, you found him standing with his back to you at the edge of the room, arms folded across his chest, visor fixed on the approaching blackness of space.

He was somewhere else entirely, and he was entirely unaware of you.

Swallowing against the lump that had formed in your throat, you sent a half-hearted smile in Fennec’s direction before rising slowly to your feet and descending the ladder.

As you would expect given the size and function of the vessel, the lower decks of the Firespray proved to be rather cramped and utilitarian, but you were, nonetheless, impressed by the variety of functions Boba Fett had managed to account for in such a restricted space. Directly below the navigation room, you found what appeared to be a multipurpose common area not dissimilar from the Razor Crest’s cargo hold. You spotted what looked like a kitchen counter complete with a double-burner hot plate that had been bolted to its surface, a wall lined from floor to ceiling with anonymous-looking cargo bins that had been lashed into place with tactical netting, and a little rusted table with two well-worn chairs mounted to the deck plating. The next level down featured nothing but a closed door behind which you assumed was Boba’s personal bunk, while the following level included six low-ceiling bounty cells arranged into two columns of three. The first one on the left had clearly already been claimed, as the cell door had been left open, and you spotted a small arsenal of blaster rifles and an open bag full of jet-black clothes stacked in the corner. The others remained closed, their insides visible only through the gaps between the bars that crossed the narrow doorways.

At the sight of them, you felt a rush of belated gratitude for the Razor Crest’s mobile carbonite freezer. You couldn’t imagine toting around multiple, conscious bounties at a time as this ship was designed to do, like some kind of deep space prison warden.

The ‘fresher Fennec had referred to was at the very bottom of the ladder, the last stop on the long way down. It was, somehow, even smaller than the one you had built on the Razor Crest, as this one featured only a durasteel privy and a single-person sonic shower stall, but in the state you were in, you were in no position to thumb your nose at it.

Your whole body ached as you stripped down to your skin, sore from the hurried climb down and then back up the side of the mountain, sore from the impact of the Razor Crest’s explosion, sore from your abrupt collision with the hard ground as the blast knocked you off your feet and into the air. The vibration of the sonic waves was soothing on your muscles, allowing them to finally unclench, though by the time the cycle ended, the angry, red flesh on your face, neck, and hands had become even more so. Though now clean and suitably sanitized, your skin felt more inflamed than ever, and it throbbed with the incessant stimulation of the sonics. You opted for leaving your boilersuit undone as you redressed, tying the sleeves around your hips so you didn’t have to drag the coarse fabric back over the protesting skin.

As you ascended the ladder to rejoin the group, you found yourself taken aback at the sight that greeted you in the common space. Stiff and rigid in his chair sat the broad, beskar silhouette of Din Djarin. On the little table before him sat an unlabeled, sealed jar about the size of his fist and a reflective silver packet you recognized as medical-grade disinfectant wipes. He glanced up at you as you came into view, saying nothing, but you dismounted from the ladder just the same.

“Din,” you acknowledged, surprise and something like relief coloring your tone. You hadn’t expected him to seek you out, not after how you had left things on Tython.

However, there was no warmth in his gaze, no softness in the way he turned to face you. The set of his shoulders remained tense, and his raspy voice held none of its characteristic fondness as he said without preamble, “Fett gave me some ointment for your burns. He says it’s not bacta, so the effects won’t be instantaneous, but it will get the job done.”

You blinked at him. “Oh. Right. Thank you.” You found yourself approaching him cautiously, as though he was a wild animal you were wary of spooking. It had been months since you had felt this kind of unease in his presence. It was wrong, on a fundamental level, and it left you feeling unmoored, adrift and painfully alone even though he sat only a handful of feet from you. “Din… Din, I’m so sorry – ”

But he did not allow you to finish offering your condolences. He broke your gaze instantly, angling his visor away from you and interjecting, “No. Don’t apologize.” Gesturing toward the other rickety chair at the table beside him, he added, in a tone that brooked no further argument, “Sit. I’ll help you put it on.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, chastened, and did so without protest, watching as he removed a couple of those disinfectant wipes from their package and used them to wipe down his leather gloves. The wipes came away dusty and stained and left the faint scent of antiseptic behind, burning your nostrils. Unscrewing the lid from the jar of ointment, Din dipped his first two fingers into the oily salve, streaking the dark orange leather with its residue.

You frowned at that, taken aback. “You sure you want to get that all over your gloves? You could just take them off.”

The Mandalorian shook his head sharply, the dim light reflecting off his helmet. “Not here.”

Ah. You should have known. Even just that small scrap of skin was too much exposure, too much vulnerability on this unfamiliar ship with its unfamiliar crew. Internally, you mourned any potential glimpse of his body you might have hoped to see on this journey. You doubted he would even be removing any of his armor pieces for any longer than it would take to use the sonic shower until you arrived on Nevarro.

He gestured for you to lean forward in your seat, and you obliged, allowing him to begin swiping the thick salve across the burns on your face. He did so silently, not even his breathing audible through his vocoder, and though his touch was gentle, he felt to you like he was a million miles away, as inaccessible as the other side of the galaxy.

“We’re going to find him, Din,” you murmured, eyebrows drawn inward in sympathy.

His reply was quick, cold. “Don’t. Please.”

You swallowed, feeling the stretch of the scorched skin of your neck and wincing slightly. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, we don’t.”

Stifling a sigh, you continued, “Can you at least…tell me how you’re feeling right now? If there’s anything I can do to help?”

Din’s fingers paused at the hollow of your throat, having moved on from your face, and he hit you with a stare so impenetrable, so stern and yet so detached that you felt your heartrate spike with anxiety under his touch. The man looking back at you through his visor was as much a stranger to you as he had been all those months ago when he had first clapped you in binder cuffs, and you swore a part of your heart withered in your chest.

“Okay. Understood.”

He finished applying your ointment in utter silence, moving on from your neck to your chest, then from your chest to your hands. The familiar touch of his gloves on your skin felt alien to you now, and although the warmth of him was pleasant, and he was never rough with you, somehow this almost clinical approach was more disquieting than comforting. By the time he completed his task and began wiping down his gloves and resealing the ointment jar, your stomach had tied itself in knots so tight you felt nauseous, and you found it difficult to breathe.

Sliding the jar across the table to you, he said, “You’ll need to reapply twice a day until we get to Nevarro. Should be all healed up by then.”

You nodded your understanding and accepted the container, feeling more than a little lost.

After a beat too long of tense silence, Din rose to his feet. “You should get some sleep.”

“Do you…want to join me?” A spark of hope made its way into your voice, but you knew the moment the words left your mouth that they were foolish.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly.

He wasn’t fine. He wasn’t. Neither of you were, not after everything that had just happened, not after all of the ways in which the last few hours had gone so horribly, disastrously wrong. Beloved ship gone, beloved child gone, hurt and exhausted and broken. He wasn’t fine.

“You’re not,” you snapped, feeling anger begin to broil in your gut at his determined detachment, his forced distance.

“I’m not bleeding, am I?”

You clenched your teeth against a growl of frustration. “You’re going to need your rest.”

“I have the whole flight to rest.”

“Din.”

“Cyare.” He held your gaze steadily, not rising to meet your level of ire, not moving an inch. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gods damn him.

“…Fine.” With a defeated sigh, you rose to your feet, suppressing a groan at the stretch of your weakened muscles. You found yourself suddenly hesitant to allow him to see your pain, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeking out his assistance with your burn ointment for the remainder of the trip. Crossing the narrow room to the ladder once more, you offered him one final brush of your hand against his pauldron, fingertips catching on the outline of his Mudhorn signet. “I love you, Din.”

The Mandalorian sighed deeply at that, his chin falling to his chest as his tense shoulders dropped. “Good night, cyare.”

You chose the bounty cell across from Fennec’s, crawling into the narrow bunk as exhaustion suddenly weighed heavily on your aching body. And if you permitted yourself a few tears as you curled up alone under a threadbare blanket, dampening the pillow beneath your cheek, it hardly mattered. No one was there to witness them anyway.

---

When you woke several hours later, you found that while your muscles felt somehow worse than they had the day before, the burns on your skin had already begun to heal. Making your way down to the ‘fresher was a chore, your limbs feeling weak and gelatinous, but as you applied a thin layer of ointment to your face and neck in the mirror, you swore you could see the dry, scaly skin soaking up the greasy substance, calming the redness and easing the inflammation. You were even able to pull your rumpled boilersuit all the way up today, the abrasive fabric nowhere near as irritating against your neck and hands as it had been the day before.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to climb back up the ladder. Your arms and legs trembled by the time you reached the deck with the makeshift mess hall, and you determined that you would pause there and catch your breath before making your way up to the navigation room. However, as you stumbled off of the ladder to lean against the nearest bulkhead, the metallic sound of a closing cabinet door caught your attention. Whirling around, you found Fennec Shand, already dressed for the day in her sleek black and orange tactical gear, standing at the counter. She had a worn-looking steel mug in one hand and a tall, unlabeled cannister in the other, and she looked as though you had caught her in the middle of something.

She inclined her head at you in acknowledgement, offering you a small smile. “Good morning. You’re looking better.”

You dragged yourself away from the bulkhead, standing on unsteady legs. “Thanks. That ointment Boba gave me is powerful stuff.”

“Well, if anyone would know about burn treatment, it’s him,” she replied wryly. “I was just about to make myself a cup of caf. Can I get you one?”

What had that meant, Boba knowing about burn treatments? You would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the uneven texture of his skin, the slight discoloration that stretched from his forehead to the top of his bald head. Burn scars, perhaps? They looked old, long since healed, so you hadn’t given them any thought when you had noticed them the day before, but now you wondered whether the ointment he had lent you was something he had concocted himself, rather than just choosing to stock such a thing in his first aid supplies.

Before you could think to ask further, you realized that Fennec was waiting on a response from you, and you startled back to yourself. “Oh, you don’t have to,” you said.

“Please, I insist.” Reaching into one of the cabinets below the counter, she pulled out a second mug and got to work assembling two cups of the dark, bitter beverage. “Have a seat.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Gingerly, conscious of your weakened muscles, you lowered yourself into one of the two chairs at the little table, and a companionable silence settled over the room. The other woman’s movements were even and methodical as she scooped generous helpings of the powder concentrate from the cannister into the two waiting mugs. A kettle of water steamed on the surface of the two-burner cooktop you had noticed the night before, and once she was satisfied with the temperature, she removed it from the heat, pouring a measure into each mug.

Although you had hardly known her for more than a day, you didn’t find the quiet uncomfortable or awkward in any way. Rather, it was nice to be in the company of another person and feel no pressure whatsoever to strike up a conversation. She seemed perfectly content in the silence, and there was an air about her that you found soothing. She felt…steady. Competent. Safe. After the events of the last day, it was a welcome reprieve.

As she handed you one of the steel mugs, now full to the brim with steaming brown liquid, you found yourself saying, “You know, I wanted to…thank you. For helping me yesterday. And for agreeing to help us go after Grogu.”

Fennec slid into the other seat across from you and propped her elbows up on the table, bringing her own mug to her lips. “We keep to our word. We agreed to protect him in exchange for Boba’s armor, but we failed to do that on Tython.” Something that looked suspiciously like regret shined in her dark eyes. “Until we can live up to our end of the bargain, we’re at your disposal.”

You nodded, opting to study the furls of steam pouring from your cup rather than meet that empathetic expression. That was what you had gathered from the conversation yesterday – that the familiar green armor you had seen the older man wearing had, indeed, come from the armaments storage on the Razor Crest, that it had, indeed, belonged to Boba Fett. You couldn’t help but respect the commitment the two of them were showing to this bargain they had made with Din. If you had been in their position and you had witnessed the person you were charged with protecting being kidnapped by an Imperial light cruiser, you weren’t certain you would have been as conscientious.

After all, what could two Mandalorians, a sharpshooter, and an engineer hope to accomplish against such a warship?

“You know, I saw the way you put yourself between him and those troopers, up on that henge,” Fennec recalled, pulling you out of your own musings. “You’re very brave.”

You felt your eyebrows raise to meet your hairline, scoffing. “Mando is brave. I was terrified.”

“I know. I could tell.” The other woman smirked and took a sip of her caf. “But you did it anyway. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the definition of bravery.”

You waved the compliment away, feeling your cheeks burn and your tender skin prickle. “Well, luckily, no one ever made it up there until after I was gone. Doubt I would have lasted long if any of those troopers made it past you guys.”

“I take it you’re not exactly experienced in combat?”

Returning her smirk, you shook your head. “Not at all. I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve even held a blaster.”

“And hand-to-hand?” Something like concern tightened the corners of her eyes, and you struggled to maintain eye contact with her suddenly sharp gaze.

“Never. I’m an engineer.” You shrugged, trying not to let on just how inadequate this conversation was making you feel. “I’m a fixer, not a fighter.”

Fennec’s reply was quick, almost as though it had been rehearsed, like it was something she had said often. “You don’t have to be a fighter to learn how to defend yourself.”

She wasn’t wrong, you supposed, but that feeling of inadequacy deepened in your chest all the same. This situation with the Storm Troopers, with Grogu – it reminded you of why Din had been so insistent when you accepted the position on the Razor Crest that you shore up your combat skills, why he had demanded to train you with a blaster. He led a dangerous life; both Fennec and Boba clearly did, too. You, on the other hand, had never even left the star system in which you were born until you were well into your adulthood, until you had taken it upon yourself to sneak your way out. You were no stranger to a little risk taking, but what these people did, the lives they had found themselves living – it was on a completely different level. You had never felt so woefully unprepared.

Before you could come up with a suitable response, the sound of heavy boots on metal rungs echoed through the room, and a pair of long, armored legs appeared on the ladder, climbing down from the navigation room above. Silver, you noticed quickly, not green. Din. Your eyes went to his face instinctually, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t have prevented even if you had tried, and as though he could feel your gaze on him, he turned slightly, pausing his descent a handful of rungs above the mess hall floor.

You caught a glimpse of your own reflection in his ink-black visor, your eyes wide, your injuries still more visible than you would like, marring your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. Tension stretched between you, thick and palpable, and somehow you knew then that he hadn’t been coming down to look for you. In fact, he probably hadn’t intended to run into you at all, though in a ship this size, you wondered how he thought he was going to accomplish that.

You forced your expression into some semblance of a smile, but the words to invite him to join you died on your tongue as he gave you and Fennec both a stiff, silent nod then continued down the ladder. Your heart sank at the clear dismissal, all of the anxiety and the uncertainty and the hurt from the night before surging back to the forefront of your mind, and you swallowed against a sudden lump in your throat.

“Something on your mind?” Fennec asked after a beat.

Sighing, you raised your mug and took a deep drink, willing the caf to seep into your bloodstream, to fortify you against the abrupt wave of emotional exhaustion Din’s arrival and immediate departure had triggered.

“He never went to bed last night, did he?”

The other woman shook her head, a sympathetic downturn quirking the corners of her mouth. “No, I don’t think so. I know that after you went to sleep, he spent some time talking with Boba in the cockpit, but by the time I went to turn in, he was in the navigation room, staring out the viewport. When I came up this morning, he hadn’t moved an inch.”

“Dank farrik.” You scrubbed your hands over your face, immediately wincing as you disturbed the still-healing wounds on your skin. “I hate seeing him like this.”

“Mando is a man of action. Sitting on his hands, stuck in hyperspace? Doesn’t really seem like his style.” Fennec leaned back in her chair and downed the remainder of her cup in one swallow. “Though I’m sure you know that better that me.”

“Yeah. It’s something he and I have in common, actually,” you confessed. “Neither of us do well without something to keep us busy. Even in the best of circumstances.”

“Well, you’ve got almost a week before we get to Nevarro.” Rising to her feet, the older woman offered you a dry smile. “I’m sure you’ll find something to keep yourself occupied in the meantime.”

You huffed a laugh through your nose at that. “If you see me starting to climb the walls, you’ll know what happened.” Raising your mug in her direction, you added, “Thank you again. For the caf.”

“Anytime.” With an easy grace, she swung one of her long legs up onto the closest ladder rung, hooking the shallow heel of her knee-high boot around the metal rod. “Try to take it easy today. You got the kark beat out of you less than 12 hours ago. You’re allowed to take a break.”

An unexpected wave of emotion swelled in your chest, chief among them being an immediate fondness that warmed you from the inside out. You were going to be fast friends with Fennec, you could already tell.

“I will,” you promised.

---

By day three of your journey, you were dangerously close to making good on your threat of climbing the walls.

Your body was slowly recovering from the impact of the explosion, your muscles and joints feeling less like you had run headlong into a duracrete wall every day and your burns steadily receding with every application of Boba’s ointment. As relieved as you were for the improvements and the promise that you would soon be back to normal, you found that the better you felt, the more difficult it became to tolerate the extended period of inactivity. The more the trauma of your body healed, the more the trauma in your mind made itself known.

The image of that red laser burst streaking through the atmosphere was burned into the backs of your eyelids. The ruthless way it tore through the Razor Crest, the way the blast had momentarily deafened you as it flung you off your feet, the helplessness and the disorientation that followed. The smoking crater it left behind, the way you were certain your heart bore a matching scar as you watched the only real home you had known in your adult life go up in flames.

And Grogu.

Stars, Grogu.

You had been preparing yourself for the eventuality of saying good-bye to him ever since Din had revealed the boy’s Jedi origins. But you hadn’t been prepared for this – to know that the people who had taken him intended to do him harm, to be powerless to stop them. And now to not know where he was, to not know if he was hurting, if he was afraid, if he was even still alive. You couldn’t allow yourself to think on it for too long. If you did, you would surely fall apart.

You thought it might have been easier to cope if you did not feel as though you were doing so on your own. As it was, even days later, Din had hardly spoken more than a few words to you. He hadn’t been outright hostile, nor had he given any indication that he was angry with you for any reason. However, he had refused every attempt you had made to connect with him; every well-meaning question after his wellbeing or offer of dinner or even a shared cup of caf had been turned down, and although he had been sleeping in the same bunk as you, he had taken to do so in alternating shifts so that by the time you were ready to turn in for the night, he was only just waking.

You were certain that you would have felt less lonely had you actually been alone, and you would have given anything for someone to put a hydrospanner or a fusion cutter in your hands and give you something else to occupy your thoughts.

But this wasn’t your ship. It wasn’t even Din’s ship. So there you were, worry eating away at the lining of your stomach, mind racing and yet somehow numb, sitting on your ass in the navigation room with nothing to do. Again.

“You’re sighing.”

Fennec’s dry voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you glanced over at where she sat studying some star chart or another at the console to your right. She faced away from you, the streaking blue and white lights of hyperspace illuminating the complex twists of her long, black braid, but you could tell from the tense set of her shoulders that she was growing annoyed.

“Sorry,” you replied meekly, feeling yourself flush. You needed to get ahold of yourself. Sitting on your own for so long in silence was only making the situation inside your mind worse. Fennec had been more than kind to you since you had departed Tython; she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your melancholy.

However, after quiet once again descended on the Firespray, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from slipping back into the same state. Grogu, Din. Grogu, Din. Over and over, in a never-ending spiral with no way out, no way to break the surface, to breathe. You felt helpless. Useless. Alone.

A sigh slipped from your lips before you could smother it, and then Fennec was closing down her program and spinning around in her seat.

“All right, stand up.”

You startled, cursing yourself at the dark flash of aggravation in the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, kriff, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up – I promise.”

But she wasn’t having any of your empty promises today. “Stand. Up,” she repeated, her sharp tone brooking no room for argument. You were on your feet in an instant, aware for perhaps the first time that this woman was lethal – a master assassin and a deadly sniper, someone who commanded respect with both her actions and her demeanor. She had been kind to you, yes, but you didn’t savor the idea of testing her patience any more than you already had.

“What are we doing?” you asked, tentative.

Closing the distance between you in a handful of long strides, Fennec beckoned to you with both hands, gesturing at her own chest. “Try and punch me,” she said.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped open dumbly. You were sure you had misunderstood. “What?”

“You heard me. Try and punch me.”

“Fennec – ”

She advanced another step toward you, her gaze hard, and you stumbled back despite yourself, feeling a rush of intimidation flood your system. “You told me you’re woman of action. That you’re an engineer, a fixer. But there’s nothing we can do for the kid until we get to Nevarro, and Mando won’t let you put him back together right now. I’ve watched you try for days, and it’s going nowhere. So instead of focusing on them, you’re going to focus on you.”

“By punching you?” You could feel a wave of defensiveness rising at her words, but you couldn’t deny that she was right. There was nothing for you to fix here, and it was not-so-subtly driving you mad. But punching her? You would never. You wouldn’t stand a chance!

“Yes. You’re feeling restless? Helpless? Afraid? Then do something about it.” She took yet another step toward you, driving you across the deck until the backs of your knees hit the next chair over. “You need someplace to put all that energy? Put it right here.” She patted her chest, the sound muffled by her leather gloves and padded jacket. “Let me teach you how to fight.”

Her words had you taken aback, but you couldn’t deny the wisdom of them. Perhaps at one point, Din had planned to teach you himself, but clearly, he was too preoccupied at the moment to do so. You had nothing else to occupy your time for the remainder of the journey; your daily routine of babying your injuries and moping around the ship wasn’t doing anyone any favors, least of all you. And no one could deny that in an expedition to track down a child that had been kidnapped by a fully-armored Imperial light cruiser, you were far and away the weakest link of your band of misfits. If you were being given the opportunity to shore up those skills, even in the smallest of ways, you would be foolish to turn it down.

Steeling your nerves, you nodded once to Fennec. “Okay. Where do we start?”

The older woman smirked, pleased, and brought her fists up in a ready stance. “Put your hands up, girl. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

You took a brief moment to take in the angle of her body, the way she had spread her feet apart, one in front of the other, the position of her fists up near her face. You tried to emulate her as best as you could, and then, after a deep, steadying breath, you swung.

---

Your muscles were sporting a new kind of soreness as you emerged from the ‘fresher later that evening, hair long and loose around your shoulders, boilersuit hanging onto your hips with the sleeves framing your legs. Your eyes were heavy, exhaustion weighing on your joints, but it was a good kind of tired – the kind that felt particularly satisfying after a long day of physical activity. You were almost looking forward to finally collapsing on the thin mattress of your bunk; you knew you would pass out the moment your head hit the pillow. However, just as you wrapped your palms around the ladder to climb up and do just that, a familiar pair of brown boots appeared above you, and Din dropped the last few rungs onto the deck below.

“Din,” you acknowledged, surprise coloring your tone. “Hi.”

He turned to you then, extending his leather-clad hands to you without preamble. “Let me see your hands.”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

But the bounty hunter did not repeat himself, nor did he wait for further reply. Instead, he simply snatched each of your hands from down at your sides and brought them up to his eye-level. You winced at the rough handling, your hands more than a little tender after Fennec’s lessons, but if he noticed your discomfort, he didn’t let on. He simply studied your fingers in the dim light, running the pads of his thumbs across the ridge of your knuckles.

“No split skin. Nothing looks broken,” he murmured, voice low and raspy, almost as though speaking to himself rather than to you. “A bit of bruising and swelling, but no more than I’d expect for a novice.” He dropped your hands and took a step back out of your space. “Looks like Fennec is a good teacher.”

“She is,” you replied. You cradled your fists close to your body, feeling suddenly, inexplicably self-conscious at his cool appraisal. That was the most he had spoken to you in days, the first time he had touched you since he had helped you with your burn ointment that first night, and the lack of warmth was almost more disquieting than the avoidance.

“I did say I wanted to work on your combat skills,” he said, matter-of-fact. “If you wanted to learn how to fight, cyare, all you had to do was ask.”

You drew back sharply at that, feeling something acidic and bitter begin to roil in the pit of your stomach. “Really?” you hissed acerbically. “How would that have gone, exactly? You’ve been avoiding me for days, Din. You haven’t hardly said two words to me since we jumped to hyperspace.”

The Mandalorian cocked his helmet at you, taking a step back in your direction, then another, driving you back toward the ‘fresher door. Had your hackles not already been up, you might have found the way he crowded into your space intimidating, but as it was, you were completely undaunted. You kept your eyes on his, jutting your chin our defiantly as he rumbled, “Forgive me if I haven’t exactly been in the mood to chat. I’ve been a bit preoccupied, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed. You’ve been sulking so loudly, I couldn’t not notice.”

“Sulking?” His modulated voice had taken on a dangerous edge, and something deep inside you, something animal, suddenly registered Din as a threat. It was a side of him you had rarely seen, something usually reserved for quarries, and it made a primal part of your psyche crack open an eye, watching your exchange with lazy interest.

“Yes. Sulking.”

For a moment, the bounty hunter appeared at a loss for words. You could hear his breathing through his helmet, so close and yet refusing to touch you, hands balled into fists down by his hips, also very carefully not touching you. But then, just as you were sure he was about to snap back with a quip of his own, he released a weighty sigh, spun around, and headed back in the direction of the ladder.

“Din, wait – ” Your hand flew out to snag on the sleeve of his flight suit, wrapping your fingers him somewhere between his pauldron and his vambrace. “I’m sorry. I know I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.” The words poured from your mouth before you could stem them, everything you had been wanting to say to him for days all bubbling to the surface at once. There was no holding them back any more. “Losing the Crest, losing Grogu, not knowing where he is, not knowing if he’s safe – ”

“Don’t.” Din pulled his arm from your grip, but still, he didn’t retreat any further, and in spite of his warning, you took it as a sign to keep going.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Din. I want to help you. Please. Please just let me help you.” Thick, hot emotion rose in your throat, flushing your face, pricking the backs of your eyes with the burn of unwanted tears. “You don’t have to bear this on your own. We’re in this together, okay? Please don’t shut me out anymore. I…” You hiccupped, a single tear breaking free of your wet eyelashes, spilling down your cheek. “I love you.”

For a long, tense moment, he said nothing. He continued to face away from you, though now rather than looking ahead toward the ladder, he stared at the deck, chin pressed to his chest, broad, proud shoulders hunched inward on himself as though to shield himself from your fraught confession. Almost too softly for his helmet vocoder to pick up, he whispered, “I know, ner kar’ta. I love you, too.”

Another tear slipped down your face at the endearment, the gentle, lilting syllables of Mando’a settling over your shoulders like a warm blanket.

Ner kar’ta.

My heart, you recalled, and you swore the sound of the words made your soul ache.

And then you watched as all of the softness and vulnerability seemed to wash away, the Mandalorian drawing himself back up to full height, straightening his shoulders and his gaze right before your eyes.

“Get some ice on your hands before your next sparring session,” he said, once again cool and detached. “It will help with the swelling.”

In two long strides, he was back at the foot of the ladder, and that ache in your soul became a physical pain, one that had you clutching your hands over your chest, pressing on your breastbone, willing it not to split apart under your palms.

In two short minutes, he was gone, and you lost the battle with the remainder of your tears.

---

Note:

As you may have noticed, I have taken some creative liberties with the internal layout of Boba's ship, the Slave I. You will find that in every depiction of the ship, there are variations as to the exact floorplan, and there is a great deal of debate as to whether the cockpit or any other levels rotate because of the way that the ship flies "vertically" but lands "on its back." For my adaptation, I have combined a few different internal schematics I found online with the rotating navigation room mechanism described by Jon Favreau and team in the Disney Gallery - Star Wars: The Mandalorian episode "Making of Season 2." Since that is the one that is depicted in the show, I felt like it was important to align with that source material first and foremost. (Please don't ask me how many hours I spent scouring forums and fan sites looking at Slave I blueprints and cutaways lol)

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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alienpossession · 1 year ago

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The Pagon Prologue: Brick by Brick

Read the first part here

Not stopping at the military operatives, Pagon asked for more manpower to be utilized to infiltrate Russian criminal society in order to fund the establishment of New Skrullos in a way that is less track-able by the government in Moscow. It's a process of starting to build their ideal temporary home brick by brick, and after the groundwork with the military, they need to stretch out their control a bit further

Posing as the decorated General, Pagon strut his way to meet an old friend of the General that went rogue and eventually worked for a criminal oligarch.

The friend would never expect that it was all just a ruse by the manipulative Skrull as he got hauled and then locked away in the Fracking Pod where a Skrull operative named Zirksu took his likeness and absorbed his memories to infiltrate deeper amongst the criminal underworld

Just like wildfires, the Skrull moved swiftly and decisively, targeting oligarch from various background that they found necessary to support the success of their operation. Starting from the commander's best friend boss who owned sprawling construction empire and illicit drug trafficking mixed with it named Wassily Kirilenko. He was in the middle of his workout in his private gym when his very own right hand man who spotted his bench press suddenly shape shifted right in front of his eyes and pressed the heavy weight to crush his body. After telling fellow Skrulls he brought along that already infiltrated the innermost security detail of the oligarch to dispose the real body, he checked himself in the mirror and flexed his newfound affinity for big tattooed muscle and the insane thirst for power and control

Skrull love to toy around with their target and taunted them to the maximum pain before locking them away in the Fracking Pods or outright killing them. Just like how Nuro taunted Maxim Yagudin, a former KGB spy turned telco oligarch, on how Yagudin is not that smart after all for being easily tricked by a shapeshifting alien half his size.

"Let's see later how you got so rich, bro. I have theory in my mind that it's all about nepotism and being an eye-candy for an influential widow with wide connection from what I read about you, but I'll know every single thing about you without you even saying a single word anyway.....so.....keep your mouth shut," he said before choking him close to his death to make him unconscious

But all in all, the infiltration of the criminal oligarch can be qualified as a successful operation. Not only they raised so much more capital to support the cause, now they have wide range of services they can use and manipulate to further wreck havoc among human. For example, he might look young, but Gennady Tatishvili is a real danger with his 10,000 well-armed militia that he inherited from his father

The Skrull operative that is directed to pose as him cornered him to the en-suite bathroom in his own sprawling mansion where he met his demise after a heart attack for being so goddamn terrified when he witnessed the Skrull shapeshifted from a woman he's about to fuck to a perfect replica of himself. A portable fracking devices he brought along proven to be handy as he copied all Gennady's memory before leaving the real body unattended in his own pool of pee and sweat, a tragic end to an up and coming oligarch overlord. The plan on his militia is to basically do Gravik's dirty work without sacrificing Skrull operatives in the process

Then, there's this trio of gun manufacturer and also owner of various exclusive restaurant, clubs and gyms across Russia and its former Soviet area. Gravik simply want to have endless gun supply to support his causes to wage war among humans and what better way other than seizing the control in its production to do just that. The high-end chain of entertainment spots can also work wonder for the Skrulls as it will ease transportation process of goods to remain illicit and untraceable. Plus, the spots are well-known among the 1% so it's a perfect breeding ground to get more shells if necessary. The 3 man are related because the first two (Aleksander Samsonov and Boris Samsonov) are step-brother from the same father while the last one (Jurij Alimov) is an in-law that entered the family through marriage with the eldest child and only daughter of the Samsonov family. They were kidnapped as their dinner already spiked with sedatives that can knock an elephant within minutes, and they all fell flat to their plates of privately-catered food in the confine of their own home not even a minute after their first bite. They never wake up during the transfer of their body to the continously-developing Skrulls operation base and once they lined up to the fracking pods, Skrull operatives already await to replicate them and returned right away to their estate in order to not raise any suspicion

Usually, before these operatives went out of their way to live life as humans for God knows how long, Pagon as the Acting General of New Skrullos will test the operatives loyalty and dedication to the cause. Ibragim Musayev is a high-ranked Chechen officials that the Skrulls decided to target since he has close connection with some scientist that would be beneficial for the Skrulls cause, and obviously, Chechen militia (do we need to spell this out?). As the Skrull operatives finished changing into Musayev, Pagon asked him to stand straight and interrogate him

"What's your name?"

"Warrior,"

"What's your fight?"

"Skrullos,"

"What's your dream?"

"Home.....in my own skin,"

"Your enemy is?"

"Humans, of all kind, sir,"

"Can you assure me your utmost dedication to the cause and will not let any humane distraction swerved you from the goal?"

"Yes I can, sir,"

"Well, let the time talk on that. Remember warrior, no spot, no flaw. You're Ibragim Musayev now and there's no going back unless I or Gravik tell you to,"

And just like that, the 260 lbs 6'5" mass monster of a military commander just walk right out to the next room to pick up his clothings, ready to straighten up some unruly Chechen fighters under his command and see how beneficial the scientific community he has close ties with can be leveraged and utilized for the cause of his people

#alien shapeshift #male shapeshift #alien invasion #alien expansion #the pagon prologue

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nardo-headcanons · 1 year ago

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Kirigakure Worldbuilding II - Specialties

Inspired by a recent conversation I had with @pxssy-stuntin-for-itxchi, I got wanted to add more to my Kirigakure worldbuiling post!

Food Preservation Since except for a month during the winter, it never really gets cold in Kirigakure. This has lead to its citizens becoming very creative at enhancing the shelf life of the food that they have. Meat/fish is dry-aged and smoked, fruits are turned into preserve, cheong, or slow-dried. Dairy is a luxury in the water realm, so there are a lot of plant based dairy alternatives already, so it’s no surprise the wave realm has a quite big vegetarian and vegan population. Even though their spice tolerance is not the highest, when talking SALT tolerance, no village can beat Kiri. They are VERY generous with salting their food. In order to get a smokey flavor to any dish, you can obtain smoked salt everywhere in the country. The water realm was the first region the come up with the concept of fermentation of food. Milk is turned into yoghurt and cabbage is turned into kimchi and its more popular variant - sauerkraut. Fun fact: Suigetsu comes from a high ranking caste, so he actually was able to afford dairy yoghurt and jello with actual gelatine, and they're his favorite foods.

Kimchi and Sauerkraut

The general spice tolerance of Kiri citizens is not the highest across the shinobi world, so kimchi is mostly exported to Konoha and Suna. The cabbage grown in the water realm is specifically bred to be extra heat resistant and crunchy. In order to cut down on waste, the excess is turned into sauerkraut juice. To put less of a strain on the public healthcare system, the water realm government has issued its citizens to exercise and eat healthy – especially children. To get more children to drink sauerkraut juice, it is produced in portable, biodegradable little juice boxes which are handed out for free in the Kirigakure academy. Every Kiri genin has tasted it atleast once. Scurvy was once a big problem for most shinobi going on long term stealth missionas, since most just lived off dried meat and crackers, except for Kiri Nin, since they always carry sauerkraut juice (and kumquats) with them.

Fruit

Mangos: With their sweet and fruity taste, they’re popular amongst children, especially when dried, rolled into balls with an added sugar crust. While other countries see them as a special treat they’re a staple in Kiri. Papaya: Another Kiri staple. It is eaten either as a fruit in its orange form or in its green form in more hearty dishes. The seeds are ground and sold as a pepper alternative. Its extracts of the are used by the Kiri beauty industry, which is the biggest one, closely followed by Suna's beauty industry. Peaches: Often grown on the mountaintops of the water realm, they’re loved all over the country. Peach trees are seen as a sign of fertility, renewal and good luck. The pits are turned into persipan, which many foreigners don't like. Durian: Those stinky fruit are banned in Kiri’s public spaces. However, it is still the most popular fruit overall, so only a few get exported yearly, much to the other countries' durian lovers' chagrin. Jackfruit: Not a lot of Kiri citizens like its fleshy texture but it is often used as meat alternative by Kiri’s large plant-based population. Lychee: They’re often sugared and canned, or added to jelly. They're amongst the most popular fruit to make cheong with.

Kumquat: Kiri nin love them because they’re basically easily portable, vitamin c filled snacks. Other honorable mentions include: Rambutan, Mangosteen, Starfruit, Cherimoya, Soursop, Yuzu and Tamarillo.

Jelly If you’ve read my last post on Kiri specialties, you probably know that instead of manufactured candy, Sweet tooths (teeth?) in Kiri chomp down on dried fruit, fermented sugary sticky rice and – jelly. Gelatine, like most non fish animal products, is a luxury so most jellies are made with agar-agar, a plant based “gelatine”. Just take some fruit juice and set it with agar – and there you have jelly. Most foreigners find Kiri’s obsession with jelly pudding off-putting, but that doesn’t stop them. Fun fact: Suigetsu comes from a high ranking caste, so he actually was able to afford dairy yoghurt and jello with actual gelatine, and they're his favorite foods. Non food fun fact: As genetic engineering gets more advanced and Kirigakure already having no issues using bacteria, they're also the biggest exporter of nutrient agar for agar plates which are used for the cultivation of bacteria and funghi. Kigakure is the leading village when it comes to biological and medical advancements, which is why Orochimaru has visited very often (and eventually ran into Kimimaro)

#naruto headcanons #naruto shippuden #naruto #naruto imagines #naruto scenarios #akatsuki #naruto fanfiction #headcanons #fanfiction #suigetsu headcanons #suigetsu #naruto meta #kirigakure headcanon #kisame headcanons #kisame hoshigaki #kimimaro #orochimaru #zabuza momochi

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 1 year ago

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What follows is a retelling of the Jurassic Park story, mainly based on the 1993 film, with portions of the original novel used to supplement the story. The main point of divergence occurs when the park is unable to find workable nonavian dinosaur genetic material for cloning, since - as in the real world - dna degrades much too rapidly. Instead, the park consists only of extinct dinosaurs that can be brought back - birds from the last 2.5 million years. What happens after that is, as Ian Malcolm would say, an emerging pattern.

Infinite thanks to beta readers @killdeercheer, @otussketching, and @plokool! And extra thanks to @i-draws-dinosaurs for the killer logo!

Link to the masterpost of chapters

Chapter Two: Egg Mountain, United States

“Doctor Sattler! Doctor Grant! We’re ready to try again!”

Ellie stood up from the dirt in front of her, brushing off the sand from her shorts and looking around for the source of the call. Alan took a longer time to get up, looking grumpy and befuddled at the interruption.

“I hate computers,” Grant muttered.

Ellie wanted to laugh, but she managed to keep it in. Computers felt like something from a separate world – a cleaner one, a manufactured one. Out here, in the badlands, surrounded by mountains and dust and old bones, computers were alien. But they had one.

And it had quickly become Alan’s archnemesis.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Ellie joked, smirking at him as he shook his head in bemusement. The two walked down the side of the mountain towards the equipment, including a large lead slug dispenser (aka Thumper) and a portable computer covered in dust and dirt. The computer ran the computer-assisted sonic tomography (CAST) program – Thumper would send a lead slug into the ground, which would generate waves, allowing for the computer to get an idea of the layout of the ground around the slug. The computer would then, theoretically, show a reading of any fossils detected by the sonic waves. Usually, the best it could do was show the approximate location of a fossil – which saved significant amounts of time on digging. But, with repeated readings, sometimes a more detailed outline could be found. That detailed outline was then helpful for digging in the right location – and preserving that location from further environmental damage.

As they reached the bottom of the valley, the students activated Thumper, causing a loud boom to resonate through the mountains. Alan made a beeline for the computer monitor to read the info, while Ellie meandered behind him across the dirt.

“Hey Dr. Sattler!” one grad student shouted. She waved back at her with a smile. There weren’t a lot of women on the dig site, so each one supported the others as much as they could.

By the time she reached the monitor, the image from Thumper was finally loading on this screen.

“This new program’s incredible,” another grad student, a man this time, said, “Few more years development and we won’t even have to dig anymore!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alan scoffed, causing the gathering crowd around the screen to laugh with him.

“It’s... a little distorted, but I don’t think it’s the computer,” the student continued, typing away to try and manipulate the image’s presentation. Ellie could see right away, however, that the skeleton was in the right pose. She walked up to the screen and pointed, from a distance, at the tell-tale characteristics.

“Post-mortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments... Deinonychus?”

“Yes, and it’s in good shape, too,” Alan confirmed, walking closer to the screen himself, “Five, six feet long, I’m guessing nine feet tall. Look at the –“

Suddenly, Alan’s touching of the monitor made everything go fuzzy.

“What’d you do?” Alan asked the student angrily.

“He touched it,” Ellie laughed, patting the student comfortingly on the shoulder, “Dr. Grant’s not machine compatible.”

“Hell, they’ve got it in for me,” Alan grumbled, before composing himself, “And look at the half-moon shaped bones in the wrists. It’s no wonder these guys learned how to fly!”

Everyone laughed around him. While birds being living dinosaurs was a fairly widely accepted hypothesis in the field, it still drew some chuckles – especially from the unaware.

“No, seriously!” Alan said, turning around to look at everyone, his educator face completely taking over the irritation face he had previously, “Dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than they do with reptiles. Look at the pubic bone, turned backward, just like a bird... look at the vertebrae, filled with air sacs and hollows just like a bird... and even the word Raptor means, ‘Bird of Prey’.”

“That doesn’t look very scary,” scoffed one of the children on the dig, an annoying little boy who was constantly complaining about the connections between living birds and their extinct dinosaur relatives, “More like a six foot turkey!”

Alan lost his educator face, and Ellie found herself smirking at the sheer irritation he had for an expression instead.

“Have you met a turkey, kid?” Alan asked.

“Oh no,” Ellie muttered, but she wasn’t about to stop him. Alan had been patient with the kid for weeks, and his time was up.

“Um, at Thanksgiving,” the kid responded.

“Okay. So, to begin with, a turkey is already nearly six foot – they can grow up to four,” Alan stated, smirking, “Then, when you are just alone in the woods – or, you think you’re alone – with no one around, guess what is the last thing you want to hear?”

“Um, turkeys?”

“The distant sound of many turkeys coming right in your direction. You see, turkeys – they aren’t predators. So they know at any time they could be on the receiving end of a horrible, horrible attack. And so they, like all prey animals over a certain size, will defend themselves to the death. More human deaths are caused by the vegetarian hippopotamus each year than by sharks or any other predator. And turkeys? They have that ferocity, too.”

The kid did not have a response to that.

“Some might peck you. That has a nasty sting. Others may just run at you, flashing their feathers, making loud sounds. Enough to set your teeth on edge. And then there are the kickers. Nowhere more than the feet can you see how birds are just dinosaurs among us,” Alan let out a snort, “Those claws, that force, it is enough to break bones and other organs.”

Alan stepped up closer to the boy, getting right in his face. Ellie watched, moderately mesmerized, too much so to intervene.

“Just one, a human alone could not deal with. But on your own, surrounded by who knows how many? You would wish it was a Deinonychus, kid. A Deinonychus eventually gets full.”

The boy visibly gulped in front of everyone, who was dead silent. No laughs emerged from a single person.

“So, you know. Try to show a little respect.”

“Okay,” the kid said, nodding. Alan nodded in response, and turned to walk away.

The child’s mother ran forward to him, while Ellie followed after Alan, shaking her head in bemusement.

“If you wanted to scare the kid you could have pulled a gun on him, you know,” Ellie snorted.

“Yeah, I know,” Alan sighed, “Kids. You want to have one of those?”

Ellie laughed, gesturing behind her, “I don’t want that kid, but, a breed of child, Alan, could be intriguing.”

“Ha!”

“I mean, what’s so wrong with kids?”

“Look, they get in the way. I mean, I never thought I’d date anyone, before I met you,” Alan said, “It never interested me.”

“You just wanted to find the bones,” Ellie laughed, shaking her head.

“I just wanted to find the bones! But one person is enough for me. More, and this time I’m responsible for their well-being? For what kind of person they turn into? Nah.”

“You didn’t think you’d like dating me, and you did!” Ellie countered, jabbing him lightly in the arm.

“Cause you’re the only person who understands me,” Alan scoffed, “Besides. You don’t smell.”

“What? Kids don’t smell, either!”

“Some of them smell!” Alan insisted, “Babies smell!”

The whirring of a helicopter cut off their conversation, and both immediately ran down to the site to cover up the new find, shouting for tarps to drape over the rocks and exposed bones. Alan sprinted to the helicopter, while Ellie ran down to the site, covering it quickly with the help of the volunteers and students.

“Get it down – yes – secure the corner – don’t let it be exposed! Even this amount of wind from the helicopter could erode away important information! Yes, get that side down, too!” Ellie barked at everyone, directing people to properly place down the tarp. Satisfied the specimen was secure, she quickly ran towards the trailer, where she had just seen Alan disappear into.

“Alright!” Ellie shouted, opening up the door, “Who’s the jerk?”

“Uh, this is our, paleobotanist, Doctor –“

“Sattler,” Ellie filled in, frowning. In the room was an older man, with a white beard and glasses, wearing a beige hat. Ellie didn’t have a moment to ask before Alan continued,

“Ellie, this is Mr. Hammond.”

Ellie felt her mouth drop open in shock.

“I’m sorry about the dramatic entrance, Dr. Sattler, but...”

“Did I say ‘jerk’?” Ellie laughed, grimacing.

“We’re in a wee bit of a hurry, here. Will you have a drink? We don’t want to let it warm, come along, sit down, sit down.”

It was weird, how he managed to make the space his own, just by virtue of having paid for it, even though it was Ellie’s and Alan’s. Ellie tried to take control, reaching for glasses in the sink, as he protested. Before she knew it, she was sitting at a table.

“Now, I’ll wait a minute, because I have a surprise for you!” Hammond laughed. Conveniently, the door opened at that moment, and a tall dark skinned woman entered the room, her hair done in dreads, a grin spreading across her face.

“Guess who’s baaack!” the woman sang, beaming at Alan and Ellie.

“Miri!” Ellie shouted.

“Miri!” Alan said in unison. Miri laughed and ran to hug Ellie, shaking Alan’s hand eagerly afterwards.

“Mr. Hammond picked me up on the way over here, I’ve been a consultant on his project for the past year down at my dig – I have so much to tell you, when was the last time we saw each other?” Miri said rapidly, laughing at the shocked looks on Ellie and Alan’s faces.

“Last SVP, I think!” Ellie responded, “Oh it’s so good to see you! Are they treating you well down in Florida?”

“As well as can be expected for Florida!” Miri laughed, “But we just found a new Titanis skeleton, and since Pierce passed I’m in charge of the dig site!”

“I was so sorry to have heard of his passing, Miri,” Alan said, “You’re more than capable to take over for him, but so soon after you graduated from here –“

“The man lived in a hoarder house, Alan,” Miri snorted, “A literal hoarder house. Besides that, I was brought on the team because he knew he needed a good replacement. Regardless, I’m here now.”

“And good thing, too!” Dr. Hammond laughed, “Your former mentor would never have been able to come alone on our little trip, Dr. Spinoza!”

“About that, as I was saying in the helicopter, you’re never going to get Alan to –“

“Never going to get Alan to what?” Alan asked, affronted. Ellie snorted, making him glare at her for a moment.

“I’ll get right to the point!” Hammond chortled, clearly delighted by the proceedings, “I like you. Both of you. I can tell instantly about people, it’s a gift. Could tell I liked you, could tell I liked Miri. Now,” Hammond took a deep breath, beaming, “I own an island. Off the coast of Costa Rica. I’ve leased it from the government and spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve. You remember the consultancy you did for me at the time?”

“Yes, but after a point you said we were no longer needed for that?” Alan asked in confusion.

“Which is when he reached out to me,” Miri said, nodding.

“Well, the island is really spectacular. Spared no expense. Make the one I‘ve got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo. And there’s no doubt, our attractions will drive kids out of their minds.”

“And what are those?” Alan asked sarcastically. Miri snorted.

“Small versions of adults, honey,” Ellie laughed.

“And not just kids, everyone! We’re going to open next year, that is if the lawyers don’t kill me first. I don’t care for lawyers, do you...?”

“Oh we... uh...” Ellie began.

“Don’t really know any,” Alan and Miri finished with him in unison.

“Well I do, I’m afraid. There’s a particular pebble in my shoe who represents my investors. Says they insist on ‘outside opinions.’”

“What kind of opinions?” Ellie asked.

“Well, your kind, Dr. Sattler and Dr. Grant, not to put too fine a point on it. And Dr. Spinoza’s too. I mean, let’s face it – in your particular fields, you’re the top minds! And if I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, you know give it your endorsement, maybe even pen a wee testimonial, I could get back on schedule!”

“Is the work I’ve been doing for you not enough of a testimonial?” Miri laughed.

“Well, they want you to see the place, get a feel for it, as it were. They want an expert’s eyes on the whole proceedings.”

“But why would they care what we think?” Dr. Sattler asked.

“With your expertise from paleobotany and paleoecology, Dr. Spinoza’s in behavior, and Alan’s in anatomy, you have the best handle on what sort of problems we may deal with in the park –“

“What kind of park is this?” Alan asked, frowning in confusion.

“It’s right up your alley,” Hammond laughed, handing the three of them drinks.

“Please come down, you two, with Dr. Spinoza and I, for the weekend. I’d love to have both of your opinions on the project. We have a jet standing by at Choteau,” Hammond pleaded.

“I basically had no choice, since he’s sponsoring the dig,” Miri sighed.

“Well, look, we just dug up a new skeleton –“ Alan began.

“And I will compensate you, as well, by fully funding your dig...”

“This is a very unusual time,” Alan continued.

“For a further three years,” Hammond finished.

“Well.. uh...” Ellie stammered, “Where’s the plane?”

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Alan shouted, clinking his glass with Hammond and turning around to Ellie in excitement. Both shouted happily and hugged each other, spinning around the room.

“Three more years!”

“We can get the entire raptor nesting site!”

“Three more years!”

Hammond chortled happily, as the pair reached to grab bags from under the table and pack them.

Soon, they would be off to Costa Rica.

#jurassic park #jurassic park au #jurassic park: it's ironic #palaeoblr #dinosaurs #birds #the birdcage

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