#bomb disposal squad
Text
I’m rewatching Resurrection of the Daleks on a whim, and every time I revisit it I’m always surprised how much of the Hartnell and Troughton Dalek stories are frothing in it. The duplicates are both The Chase and the Robomen, the time corridor and the Daleks setting traps and snares in past/present/future is from The Evil of the Daleks. The Doctor putting aside his usual self and care for his companions in the crusade against them, again, Troughton’s duo. It’s a fun contrast with Davros’ presence, he bringing a nastier Re-Animator bite to Genesis canon vs the Daleks gradually realizing that, no, he and they genuinely cannot occupy the same space without destroying each other.
It’s also funny to me how relentlessly bullied so much of this plot and the mistakes the Daleks keep making have been over the years and according to fandom wisdom, as if.. it’s not… the point? As if the script isn’t completely aware? They’re absurd, hateful, monstrously violent little idiots, so blinded by their ego and paranoia that, yeah, they keep making major mistakes. Their plot has too many steps bound to collapse, the Supreme watches everything and everyone wandering around the prison station as if he controls everything, too cowardly to leave his control room, and then panics and blames everyone else the moment things being to spiral to the gory finale. I dunno. This is a nasty little serial, but it’s my nasty little serial. Warriors of the Deep is much the same way for me.
#I know Saward actually did quite a bit of extensive homework on all the Dalek stories#so I think that’s why there’s a fascinating continuation of Davros and the handling of the 70s Daleks with so much 60s rolling around#it creates a nice dissonance?#resurrection of the Daleks#Saward really deserves to be picked apart but in a way that’s much less This Is Grimdark Crap that writes him off#there’s plenty to criticize especially when Peri came into the scene and he shared that with JNT#but to act like the very intentioned grisly absurdism isn’t completely aware of itself is… pretty insulting?#i mean there’s a reason he vibed with Holmes so much#they’re differently approaches and dark/violent flourishes of the same sense of humor#also I think the bomb disposal squad being so clearly a UNIT proxy and then all brutally slaughtered is really fucked up lmao#I love it#it’s the same with the Earthshock dudes
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets | In Trend Today
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets
Read Full Text
or
Full Article on MAG NEWS
View On WordPress
#Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets#Celebrities#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#UK#US#World
0 notes
Text
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets | In Trend Today
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets
Read Full Text
or
Full Article on MAG NEWS
View On WordPress
#Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets#Celebrities#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#Trends#UK#US#World
0 notes
Text
I got you
How did this happen? I don’t know. I’ve been watching my person play too much MW2, and then went looking for Ghost fics, so now my brain is infected.
Simon 'Ghost' Riley/female reader
AO3 - Part one of the Sassy series
3.8k words - one shot
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Blood, violence, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, size difference/kink, creampie, hurt/comfort. Lots of swearing. Everyone is bad at feelings.
Notes: EOD = Explosive Ordnance Disposal.
He doesn't know your name. You've never seen his face.
It’s fucking hot. Belize is so hot. It’s the kind of hot that clings to every pore of your skin, the sweat slicking across your body until you’re shiny, breath coming in short pants because the air is so god damn thick.
“Sassy. Do you copy.” Soap’s voice rings over the comms, snapping you to attention. Your fingers slip on the button. Belize would probably be better if this was a vacation, and not an Op. A gnat whines next your ear, and you press your chin into your shoulder.
“I’m in position.” You whisper. “All clear.” An affirmative rings back as Price gives command to the others. You sit silent. Gaz spits something over the radio, but it's not directed at you, so it doesn’t register. You sit still.
You always sit still.
“You the demo expert?” The brunette with a Scottish accent and scarred chin looks you up and down.
“I’m a bomb tech.” you dead pan, eyes darting around the tent. There are only 3 others here. You were expecting a whole team. He chuckles.
“Suicide squad. Nice.” Another man, rises from where he’s sitting a few yards away. You recognize him immediately. Price.
“Sassy.” He extends his hand, and you grip it in yours.
“Captain.”
“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” You nod, managing to steal another look at the others. A younger guy sits on a table in the far corner, ball cap sitting on top of his head. A bigger man, broad, stands near an open flap, arms crossed across his chest, eyes watching you from behind the skull mask that’s pulled down his face.
You do a double take. For a second, you think he’s Mace. Your heart pounds in your chest. Price is speaking, but you’re not hearing a word. Your fingers curl into a fist as you shake your memories loose and refocus. The man in the skull mask doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch in reaction to your odd behavior.
That’s not Mace.
So, it must be Ghost.
“I’ve got two making entry, east side.” You whisper into the radio, watching the men push through the door. You’re nowhere near a clean shot. You curse. “Soap. Come in.” The line is silent, and unease pools in your gut. “Captain, do you copy.” You call, the words cutting into the air. What is going on? “SOAP.” The word is a hiss that’s met with uncomfortable silence. Fuck.
“Why does the Captain call ya Sassy?” Soap asks one night. You’re outside under the bug net, sitting on a picnic table with him. Ghost looms ten feet away, a barely touched bottle of beer looking tiny in his massive hand. You smirk at the question.
“I’m a pain in the ass.” You say affectionately, lips curling into a smile. “But I’m also the best.”
“You’ve gotta be next level crazy to run with EOD.” Soap tilts his beer to his lips, polishing the rest off with a burp. “’Scuse me.” He stands, he stumbles, he dips into the dark where he can’t be seen. You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down.
“How long you been a bomb tech?” you whip your head around at the sound of Ghost’s voice, directed towards you. It nearly makes you stutter.
“A few years.”
“That all you do?” The presumption shocks you. Private sector or not, these guys were all the same. If you’re a bomb tech, you must not be able to handle a gun. You whirl on him fully, taking two steps in his direction, your own glass bottle pointed in your hand.
“The fuck did you just say to me?”
He cocks his head.
“Can you shoot, Sassy?” your upper lip trembles as it curls in disdain.
“I can shoot your dick off if you’d like.” He’s still ten feet across the way, but you’re shaking with anger. You watch as the impression of the mask shifts, the bottom half of the skull moving with his lips.
He’s fucking smiling at you.
You’re about to let a stream of expletives fall from your mouth when Soap stumbles back under the net, face goofy and carefree. He draws your attention to a specific lightbulb, drunkenly mumbling something about its color that briefly distracts you.
When you look back at Ghost, he’s gone.
The men are setting charges against the exit door that the 141 is planning to use. “Damn it all to hell.” You curse, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making a beeline off the roof. “I’m vacating.” You huff into the comms. “Inspecting demo charges, east side. Does anyone copy?” The radio silence is freaking you out. The 141 is practically a machine, for Christ’s sake. Methodical, clinical, well-practiced. A small infiltration should have been a piece of cake. You’re scurrying down a ladder when the radio crackles. Your diaphragm heaves in relief. Ghost’s voice fills your ears.
“Roger Sass. Keep me informed.” Me, not us. He’s slipping.
The door wasn’t locked.
The door wasn’t locked, and you really had to pee. These guys could piss in the yard, they could piss in a can, they could piss out the window of the truck for all you gave a shit. You needed a toilet.
You shouldered through the door, eyes down until you felt it slam against solid mass.
When you jerk your head up in confusion, all you see is black face paint and blonde eyelashes in the little mirror over the sink. The look in his eyes as he meets your gaze stuns you.
Ghost.
“Shit. Fuck.” You avert your gaze like you’ve seen him naked. Which is ridiculous, honestly. You didn’t even see the man’s whole face. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning on your heel.
“You’re alright, Sass.” He steps away from the sink. “I’m finished.” You stand halfway in the doorway, halfway in the tiny bathroom. You’re not even sure it is tiny, to be honest. It just looks small compared to his giant frame. You eye his bare hand, foreign to you without the glove, and swallow.
“Okay.” You turn to the side to give space for him to squeeze by you. He’s still wearing his tac gear, down to the tight-laced boots and vest. You already shed yours when you crossed the threshold of the tent, depositing it in the corner so you could breathe a bit. You shift when he passes, the roughness of his vest brushing against your thin sports bra and tank top. He’s looking down at you as he pauses in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side, brows lowered, eyes cataloguing your body. He lingers on the gash in your shoulder.
“Get that cleaned up.” It’s an order.
You swallow, even though your mouth is well past dry.
“I’m pushing towards the door.” You cross the street like a cat, slinking against the buildings and sticking to shadows. Soap chirps something over comms, but it’s too garbled to hear. You creep around the corner, ducking your head once to check for all clear before you’re crouched, walking slowly towards where you see the blinking charges. “I’ve got live explosives.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you whisper into the comms. “Repeat. Live charges on east door.” It’s Price that answers you, a gunshot echoing from two floors above.
“Clear it, Sassy.”
“Copy.”
“I knew a guy.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off, but your eyes dart between the three of them.
“That wore a skull mask?” Gaz’s voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe. You nod. Ghost’s eyes watch you from the dark. They pin you down, marking your every move. You push it further.
“His name was Mace. I ran in a private company with him for a minute.” Soap visibly shifts, body angling towards his LT. Ghost’s hand flexes on his thigh. The fidget confirms your suspicions. You sip the last of your beer and beam it towards the rim of the metal trashcan. “It was short lived.”
They’re rudimentary. You’ve seen shit like this before, usually in IEDs, sometimes in homemade Semtex. You can practically hear your dad’s voice as you snip and pull wires. It’s like a dance. Watch your feet, or it’l go hot on ya. The lack of sophistication is laughable, and you’re pulling the first one off the door hinge in record time. You’re nearly congratulating yourself, all cocky and stupid, when you hear the telltale click of a gun.
The end of a barrel presses to the back of your skull.
“Don’t move.” You raise your hands slowly as the voice instructs you. “Turn around.” Your stomach bucks into your throat as you eye the man and his wild eyes. He looks desperate. Not good. “Those your guys up there?” He nods his head upwards. You stay still. You stay silent.
It started as a drinking game. You’d lose a hand; you’d tell a truth.
He’d lose a hand; he’d tell a truth. The half empty bottle of tequila lubricated you both, keeping you loose and easy, little pieces of your lives slipping your from lips without a care.
“You know mine.”
“Everyone knows yours, Simon.” You use it for affect. You can practically see him scowling under the mask.
“That’s what I want Sass, you lost. You spill.” He turns away from you and swipes the bottle from the table, lifting the bottom of the mask to take a swig. You sigh.
“Not going to happen. Pick something else.”
“Come on.. It’s just your name.” the gravel in his voice sends shivers across your skin.
“And it’s just your face.” His head jerks back in surprise, and he puts the bottle down on the table unfolding his giant legs from underneath the picnic table. He’s leaving. “Oh, come on.” You call at his retreat, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back at you.
“Well?” The man steps closer, and you eye the other charge that’s still live. You’re not good in these situations. You’re a bomb tech, not a people person. The gun barrel presses more firmly against your head.
“Ye- yeah. They’re mine.” He leers at you. He’s not the same as the other two, the guys who planted these charges. He’s someone else. Your radio crackles.
“Sass.” It’s Ghost. You close your eyes for a second and try to get a handle on yourself. You’ve been through way worse. Get it together. “Sass. You copy?” The man with the gun studies you for a second, before he’s reaching for your radio, ripping it from your tac vest as hard as he can. You watch as his finger presses on the comm button. You lunge, yelling in warning, hoping it makes it through the static. He spins, trying to dodge you but you reach for his gun, desperate to pull it from his hands before he can fire it. You hear shouting behind you, the heavy thud of familiar footsteps drawing closer as you wrestle over the weapon. You catch a glimpse of Ghost from the corner of your eye before the guy you’re fighting with is turning, barrel pointed right at your chest.
Shit.
“How’d you get into bombs?” you laugh at the question, and then tilt your head and study him.
“I like puzzles.” His eyes flick back and forth behind the mask, watching you as you watch him. You decide to test it. “My Dad can’t do a crossword, but he’s got a way with wires. Passed it down to me, I guess.” He nods knowingly. You don’t say anything further. The air between the two of you feels thick, and it’s not just the heat.
“How’d you get into SAS?” he grunts.
“I’ve got a way with guns.”
Your eyes blink open slowly to the feel of your cheek being smashed against someone’s tac vest. The guys are shouting. An engine is roaring. Your abdomen is burning.
“Shit.” You slur, vaguely aware that you’re sitting in someone’s lap, arms supporting your body as the truck careens around a corner. “Shot?” your mouth struggles to form the word and you look down to see a massive hand pressed against your ribcage. Ghost’s hand. Your own fingers crawl over his. They’re wet. Blood.
“Don’t move, Sass.” His voice is low, and he only glances down at you for a second but you know. You can feel it in the way his palm presses into your wound. You can see it in the tick of his jaw. You groan.
“Fucker shot me?” Your tongue weighs a million pounds. Gaz swears nervously next you on the seat.
“You’re alright.” Ghost says, legs flexing as the truck takes another turn, trying to keep you from jostling too much. “You’ll be fine.” You nod your agreement. You feel thick fingers stroke through the hair at the crown of your head as you drift off, the world tinging to black around you.
“LT doesn’t call you Sassy.” Johnny muses. You stretch your arms in the chair, twisting your back in hopes of cracking it a bit.
“He doesn’t.” you confirm. It’s just Sass with Ghost. Always.
“Why?”
“Don’t know.”
You wake again when you get back, your body still pressed the Ghost’s chest as he powers through camp, practically running towards the med tent. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, and at superspeed. You can’t see straight. The fire shooting in your nerves makes you want to gag. There’s someone else, walking next to you. They’re speaking in low tones to Ghost, and they brush their hand along your shoulder like they’re trying to grab you. He barks something at them, curling your body closer to his, and then you’re slipping away again, closing your eyes to fall into darkness.
“Do you ever think about what’d you do, if you didn’t do this?” he shakes his head no, immediately.
“You?” you drink a swig of water, holding the bottle out to him. His fingers wrap around yours as he takes it.
“I think I’d like to work an office job. Something boring, you know. Uneventful.”
“You wanna be bored, Sass?” You shrug, and step closer, your hips brushing between his spread legs. He blows a breath out through his nose.
“I’m sure I could find a way to make it interesting.” You take another sip, letting a single drop slip from your bottom lip and down your throat. Ghost tracks it the entire way.
He doesn’t really speak to anyone for days after you wake from surgery. And when you’re finally moving around, back with the team, he acts like he can’t see you.
It’s weeks later, when you sit next to him at the top of the stairs of the new safehouse you all moved to. The rest of the team is down in the living room, crowded around the smallest TV that Gaz rigged, watching a soccer game.
“You good?” you ask and turn to him. He doesn’t respond, just stares at the peeling paint on the opposite wall. You reach out to him slowly, watching his eyes flicker in case it’s more than just, general brooding Simon. “Ghost?”
“He put a bullet in your ribs.” Oh. Oh.
“Shit happens.” You shrug and try to play it off.
“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” He turns to look right at you, something wild lurking beneath his skin. His hand shoots out and grips you by your collarbone, five fingers folding over it with ease. He could snap you in half. You swallow thickly.
He jerks your torso, moving you like a ragdoll until he’s leaning down into your face.
“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” he says again, and you nod. His grip is strong, and his blatant contact with your body heats something alive between your legs. Something the two of you have been dancing around until this point.
“Okay. Okay, Ghost. I got you.” You whisper. His ungloved hand comes up to press a thumb into your bottom lip, sliding it across the skin there. He’s wearing the mask, but you can see the blonde flutter of his eyelashes, eyes heavy as he regards you. You blink once, twice, before he’s hauling you up with both hands, wrapping an arm around your pliable body and pushing you into the shadow of the landing. For a moment, neither of you move, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he pushes you back against the wall, nose pressing into the curve of your jaw, fingers stroking the outside of your pants above your cunt. It stuns you, it thrills you, and you’re immediately trying to strategize how to get your hands inside his pants. He pats you softly and it’s not enough friction, so you push your hips towards him, fingers trying to loosen his belt. He grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. He’s staring at you differently, intensely, like he wants to pull you apart and put you back together. You gulp, and then he snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, down to the seam of your cunt. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and you bite down on your tongue as he strokes over your clit. Your body explodes with tiny little shocks, and you whimper, your lips pressing to the outside of the cloth stretched across his face.
“You’re wet.” His voice is rough.
“Y-yeah.” You stutter. “That’s what happens.” He growls.
“Your mouth” he thrusts a finger upwards inside you, forcing you to gasp. “is annoying.” You lean your head back against the wall give him an open-mouthed smirk.
“So shut me up then.” His head tilts, and something dark flashes across his eyes. You grin.
He’s got your pants down around your ankles, your face pressed against the cool stone of the wall, and a hand up your shirt, fingers twisting one of your nipples as the other swirls the head of his cock through your wetness.
“Fuck.” He growls above your ear, his cock breaching you, pushing steadily against your walls, slowly tearing you apart. Your cunt clenches around him, the burn of the stretch too good, and too much at the same time. His shoulders bear over yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.
“Ghost.” You whine, palms slapped against the wall. His free hand moves to cover your mouth.
“Hush. You can take it. Hold still.” You freeze because, well, Simon says. You shriek against his hand as his cock pushes into your cervix. He’s so big. It hurts. It feels so good. He thrusts, dragging his cock down and then up, over and over until you’re a teary mess, grunts and whimpers slipping out between the lips you’re trying to keep closed. He pauses, fingertips lightly brushing over where gauze is still wrapped around your body. “Good?” he whispers above your ear, and you nod frantically.
So good. Too good. Don’t stop.
He fucks into you slowly, working you open with a patience that surprises you. His breathing is harsh and unsteady, one arm bracing against you to hold your body in place, the other pressing against your cunt, his fingers finding your clit with ease. It’s too much, and your body jolts backwards, nestling your ass deeper in waiting space between his hips. He holds your there, rubbing circles around your clit and sliding his cock in and out of you, the sounds your bodies are making together probably way too loud considering the team is sitting just downstairs. His hand releases your mouth, and you shove your face against the wall, desperate to find some leverage.
His lips press against the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips without the mask. Your eyes widen as you make the realization, your brain putting it together as you feel his teeth nibble into you, lips sucking blood to the surface of your pores so he can mark you. You can’t turn your head to look, and even if you wanted to, you don’t think you would. He doesn’t even know your name. He groans into your skin, the feeling of his unmasked jaw pressing against you is something you’re going to be holding onto long after Belize. He strokes your clit, pushing and pulling your body towards an orgasm, your walls clenching down on him as he ruts against you.
“F-fuck, Sass. That’s it, good girl, that’s it. Come for me.” The praise electrifies you, and then you explode into a white-hot orgasm, coming with him lodged deep inside of you, his arm holding your twitching body against his. He fucks you through it, steadily, rushing after his own release, and he presses his nose into your hair as he whispers something unintelligible. Your orgasm is still lingering, every one of your nerves alive and on fire, and you’re a whimpering mess against him. The floor creaks under the steady movement of his hips, his body working yours relentlessly as he thrusts up into you until he’s coming, filling you up, shaking with your call sign on his lips.
“So, you gonna let me see your face now?” you’re sitting out back on a half stack of bricks, passing a beer back and forth. He turns every time to adjust the mask when it’s his turn for a sip.
“You gonna tell me your name?” you chew on your lip, and he nods, handing the bottle back to you as he stands. “I don’t need your name Sass. I’ve already got you.” His fingers stroke through your hair, the touch soothing and sweet, and you find yourself speechless.
“You don’t have me.” You rebuff him indignantly.
“That so? We’ll see.” He leaves you sitting outside with the beer, eyes staring daggers at his retreating back. It’s a different thing, to be had, to be known, in a world like this. You don’t know if you can do it. You don’t know if he can either. You glance through the screen door into the back of the house, where he stands leaned against a counter talking to Soap. His head tilts, and he finds you with that same gaze, the one he gave you when he had himself buried in your cunt. You shiver.
Okay, Ghost. I got you.
I’ve already got you.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod mw22 fanfiction#cod fanfic#ghost cod#peaches writes#clearly i have a problem#female reader#sassy series
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The face of a man who's been in and out of Seoul police stations too many times to count in the past 6 years and now has resigned himself to his fate. I bet those forehead lines and crow's feet around Minhyuk's eyes are Bong Soon's work caused by years of worrying for her and getting her out of scrapes.
You have to feel for Minhyuk and his plight, even more so considering he has not one but two mini Bong Soons lying in wait to protect others and wreak havoc; and he will have to protect them, just like he does their mother.
The perks of marrying a young billionaire who's whipped for you with a personal army of lawyers at his disposal. Minhyuk probably has an entire team of them called "My Strong Wifey Defence Squad" working round the clock.
Forget the lawyers, Minhyuk is Bong Soon's number one defender, as she protects others, he protects her and stands by her at all costs. At this point, he could probably get a law degree after getting her out of police stations for 6 years.
As if something so mundane as pressing charges could ever rattle Minhyuk, who once almost let himself willingly blow up and die with Bong Soon because he couldn't live without her. This man doesn't even fear bombs or murderous psychopaths.
Bong Soon is so proud of her hubby, it almost looks like she's getting off on him confidently eviscerating the gangsters with his fierce "I don't give a fuck if they press charges, I'm sending my army of lawyers to destroy them, because my wife is innocent as a lily. Thank you, your honour" defence speech.
I dig how the writer managed to squeeze in everything that encapsulates Bong Soon and Minhyuk in those few short minutes, all their iconic quirks, including his specific way of speaking when posing questions, with the -ni prefix at the end.
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
BREAKING - Attempted Terror Attack on Israeli Embassy: A grenade thrown at the Israeli Embassy in Stockholm, Sweden, failed to detonate.
Local bomb squads disposed of the explosive and neutralized the threat.
Israeli ambassador: "It was an attempted terrorist attack."
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me, anytime the climax of a superhero movie is an argument: Kamala would never let this happen
(yes this about my ideas to put Kamala in CA Civil War and X-Men First Class. She's my emotional bomb disposal squad.)
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Since I am deep cleaning the bathroom (I have to let the vinegar sit for a hour before wiping it off), I decided to write a short blurb on barracks cleaning day on Coruscant.
Jesse, Fives, and Hardcase were in charge of cleaning the bathrooms. It originally was just Fives and Hardcase, but Jesse was added after “the incident”.
“The incident” was when Fives and Hardcase decided to mix cleaning agents in an effort to make “the ultimate bathroom cleaner”. They ended up creating a toxic mixture that the bomb squad had to dispose of. Rex had to enlist the help of Cody to help hold down Fives and Hardcase while Kix and Coric scrubbed any traces of the mixture off of the troopers.
“I’m clean!! I’m clean dammit!!” Fives yelled as Cody held him down as Kix flushed his brother’s face with water.
Since then, Rex assigned Jesse to supervise and would only allow them to use vinegar. Dramatic coughing would be heard from the bathrooms during cleaning as vinegar has a very pungent odor.
Jesse had a love/hate relationship with the new assignment. On the one hand, he just had to supervise. On the other, he smelled like vinegar for the rest of the day no matter how many showers he took.
Echo and Tup tended to the locker room, the area just outside of the bathrooms. Their main tasks were sweeping and mopping the floors, and cleaning the lockers themselves. The tops of the locker rows had to be dusted and any chips and unauthorized graffiti had to be painted over.
Occasionally they had to chase out one of the bathroom crew who tried to escape the vinegar stench.
“No! Get back in there! Ugh, oh god the smell!” Tup used the wet end of the mop to keep Hardcase from escaping the bathrooms.
“Just let me get a whiff of the cleaner you have! Please! Anything to get away from the smell of Master Yarael Poof.” Hardcase pleaded.
“Fuck! Damn, why did you do Master Poof like that?” Echo responded.
“It was Jesse’s conclusion.” Hardcase gave credit where it was due.
“Yeah, doesn’t he looks like he probably smells like vinegar?” Jesse called out. Tup and Echo tried to keep their faces professional, but they failed.
“I mean, probably…” Tup replied after some thought.
“You are terrible.” Echo laughed, it was true.
“I hear laughing, that means you’re not cleaning!!” Captain Rex called from outside the space.
#star wars#the clone wars#star wars the clone wars#captain rex#tcw#arc trooper fives#arc trooper jesse#arc trooper echo#clone trooper kix#clone medic kix#clone trooper tup
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pro-Israel ‘surveillance’ group turning attention to Australia, leaked posts show
"Naming someone online is not necessarily illegal, but Michael Bradley, a managing partner at Marque Lawyers, warned there were potential implications depending on the nature of the claims, such as harassment and intimidation or even racial vilification.
“Using social media as a mechanism for coalescing groups that want to engage in doxing activity, it’s obviously extremely powerful,” he said.
Last month, a Sydney resident named Theo had a picture of his house and his street address posted to a Facebook group.
Theo, who asked that his surname not be used, had raised a Palestinian flag and placed a blackboard with messages critical of Israel in front of his Botany home.
Less than two weeks later, a jerry can with rags stuffed into it, a disposable lighter and large bolts were placed on the bonnet of his car with a message that read: “Enough! Take down flag! One chance!!!!”
The incident prompted the deployment of the bomb squad and local police."
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
A German bomb disposal squad have discovered a 2,300-year-old Celtic cremation tomb in Munich containing an exceptional pair of shiny scissors and a rusty folded sword. What was the purpose of scissors in an ancient Celtic grave?
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
A "dangerous object" found outside the Israeli embassy in Stockholm has been destroyed, Swedish police say.
The incident - labelled an "attempted attack" by the Israeli ambassador - saw officers cordon off a wide area nearby.
Police told the BBC it was too early to give further details on the object. They said no-one had been injured.
A spokesman later told the AFP news agency that staff had found a "live" device and alerted officers at about 13:10 local time (12:10 GMT).
The object was assessed by the national bomb squad, who chose to destroy it, the spokesman added.
A reporter for TV4 heard a "bang" at the site.
Meanwhile, national broadcaster SVT said armed police attended the scene and brought sandbags with them, reportedly to use during the disposal of the object.
The Israeli ambassador to Sweden said there had been an "attempted attack" on the embassy and its employees.
"We will not be intimidated by terror," Ziv Nevo Kulman posted on X. He thanked the Swedish authorities for their "swift action".
In her own post, Sweden's Deputy Prime Minister Ebba Busch said she was "shaken", adding: "The hatred against Israel is frightening. Violent extremism must be stopped."
Police say they are investigating, and have not said who might have planted the suspicious device.
The embassy is located by the waterside in the affluent Ostermalm area of Stockholm's city centre.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets | In Trend Today
Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets
Read Full Text
or
Full Article on MAG NEWS
View On WordPress
#Bomb squad swoops on canal in Edinburgh to dispose of explosive device as cops seal off streets#Celebrities#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#UK#US#World
0 notes
Text
cops sending in a bomb squad robot to dispose of a scrap of paper with the word fentanyl written on it in pencil and the robot melts into a pile of goo on contact
40 notes
·
View notes
Note
if you want more from the creators of w359, there's time:bombs (short, 3 ep mini-series about a bomb disposal squad), zero hours (7 ep anthology about the end(s) of the world, each episode is set 99 years after the previous one), and unseen (10 ep (+ a few specials) urban fantasy anthology) :D
Ah thank you so much for the recs anon!! I've listened to a little bit of zero hours and I stared listening to time:bombs on my commute today and I love it!! I haven't heard of unseen before I'll def have to check it out!!
#i can see that w359 humor in time:bombs#I love that these are all so short!#I love a long epic saga#but there's only so much I can do#yall saw how long it took me to finish Wolf 359#fiction podcast#audio drama#audio fiction#podcast#podcast recommendations#time:bombs#unseen podcast#wolf 359#zero hours#zero hours podcast#anon
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Question for Chief Wheeler, Duke, Bennett.. whoever's available, honestly.
Why does the LEGO City PD not have its own bomb squad/explosives ordnance disposal unit, despite having a criminal that deals with explosives? Funding trouble? Things that go kaboom aren't usually safe, y'know - can't have Top Hat Tom's top hats getting shredded by shrapnel. Along with Tom himself.
Wheelie: She’s not trying to hurt anyone
Bennett: I have tried to get a bomb squad, but look who I have to work with *vaguely points at police station*
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Looking back on Batman (2022)
Enough time has passed now that my initial adrenaline rush )and then later afterglow) over Batman 2022 has resolved itself at least enough that I can look back on the film a bit more critically.
I enjoyed this movie, I enjoyed this Batman, but and this is a big but, this movie did not like Batman.
The thing about Batman is that he's a grim dark fantasy where a hero who's in pain can use that pain as a motivation to help people, to change things, to strive for a better Gotham because he just can't fucking accept the Gotham that allowed his parents to get killed while coming home from the movies, that kills so many other parents and children and sucks the people that remain into a mire of corruption and austerity. This is not that Batman, this is a Batman that's utterly oblivious to the problems with wealth inequality until the movie rubs in his face and even then has his inaction in his role of Bruce Wayne while letting his Batman role monopolise his every waking thought presented as his main problem. This is not a Batman that announces to a dinner party, “Ladies. Gentlemen. You have eaten well. You've eaten Gotham's wealth. Its spirit. Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on...none of you are safe.”. That attacks violent crime on two fronts by giving legitimate jobs to ex cons by day and solving kidnapping or murder cases by night.
And most crucially this isn't a Batman that ... succeeds. By that I mean yes he solves the grand mystery, yes he saves people in the flood, but the classic Batman would have saved that man he interrupts the bomb disposal squad to answer Riddler's phone call for. The classic Batman would have saved Falcone, evil doer that he is, not because he deserved to live but because Batman is a hyper competent hero who's comic gimmick was that he was quick witted enough to stay ahead of the crooks and always save the person in front of him as a result, perhaps it's only natural for that to be subverted with the Riddler as his enemy (a character invented with the intent of putting the detective hero to the test when it came to his cerebral limits) but because this is a stand alone film, which as the name says has this Batman stand alone with the contents as the only basis to judge him with it has the effect of making his presence as a hero less warranted. After all, does Batman's presence in this film really save anyone besides the flood victims and Selina?
Yes the only victims who really get killed are all bad people but... that's not the point of Batman, the point is that he saves everyone he can.
The film also does the whole 'batman creates his own villains and actively makes the city worse because he espouses vengeance and violence' thing which egh, slightly more palatable with the transition from vengeance to hope, but I really don't fucking like it all the same. And besides that I dislike the idea that vengeance can't be hopeful, that a man who lost everything in one terrifying night, who got no justice, whose loved ones and personal loss and whose innocence remain unavenged saying to himself "I am justice, I am vengeance, I am the night!" as a way of reclaiming everything that's happened to him and everything he wants to be for the people of Gotham whose cries go unanswered by corrupt law enforcement and an even more corrupt bureaucracy, is presented as invalid, as somehow immature. When Batman was always crafted as a mature hero in the mold of the Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro and James Bond, of Sherlock Holmes! That was part of his central appeal! He's the cool mature down to earth, detective hero.
Here he is reduced to a naive rich boy who's so ignorant his main approach to crime is to inefficiently beat the shit out of whatever hoodlums he encounters and who literally doesn't have the idea of using his money to fix the poverty or corruption fuelling the crime until Riddler highlights what his parents wanted to do for the city by denigrating it + the politician lady who repeatedly points it out. It's a movie that loves Batman but also passionately declares the stupidity of Batman. Perhaps that's also inevitable because solving crime by beating it up while dressed as a Bat is well, silly, when you approach it with real world cynicism instead of the wish fulfillment, the fantasy of being rich and powerful and smart enough to actually do something about an entire city that's drowning in crime, that has been drowning, suffocating, for decades, and have a hope of succeeding. There is no fun of acting like an airhead so the other rich people and crooks will underestimate and look down on you like they look down on everyone in the city as you use your access to learn things people outside that circle of rich opportunists can't and then use it to reveal their crimes as a vigilante whose identity no one suspects. Instead we have a traumatised Bruce Wayne openly beg Don Falcone for information who indulges him because he owes his father that favour and Bruce Wayne isn't a threat, is it interesting pathos? Definitely! Is it dramatic and fun! Also yes! Is it traditional Batman/Bruce Wayne secret identity shenanigans? Well kind of in that it gets him the extra information but genuinely not so much because it's not really an act. Does it have to be traditional Batman? I really don't know. We can't ever create something refreshing like this movie was if we don't try to deviate from the norm and in that regard I think it deserves respect. And yet. There's a but.
This movie doesn't let Batman succeed at anything but the bare minimum as a vigilante but it does let him try his best, always and it lets him care, deeply. Which is enough that it pulls through as a good batman film. However for all the budget and clever characterisation I don't think it's a great Batman film. After all Batman is a superhero fantasy and in those, the good guys are allowed to save the day.
#and yet#batman 2022#bruce wayne#meta#thoughts#personal#batman 2022 meta#batman#something about how he doesn't prevent the flood but does save some people in it could be a great metaphor#for how batman in the comics can't ever fix gotham (because then the comic would end) but he can save people who live there#but i don't actually think that's what they meant to do here#my main problem is the movie clearly doesn't approve of vigilantism and like that's fine but it's a movie about a superhero#and it never lets us really suspend our disbelief because it's too busy being cynical about the whole concept#and like maybe that too is refreshing in its way? the whole this is a stupid way to deal with crimes thing is true#but it also fails to acknowledge that#what other recourse is there? with a police force that's literally in the pocket of the mob#when you look at it like that batman becomes a much more understandable alternative course of action#and a vehicle of narrative catharsis for people who know the law isn't protecting them but still desire justice#desire that the criminals be they the rich defrauding them of what little money they have or the mob bosses actually will see consequences#the whole concept of vengeance is too readily dismissed as toxic and as diametric to hope imo#like yeah i'm all in on a redemptive justice system that actually helps people reform but the idea#that bad powerful people shouldnt be made to face consequences by batman if no one else (because cops and lawyers and politicians won't)#is dismissed soooooo readily to the point where bruce's initial stance on justice as vengeance is presented as two dimensional#something about that bothers me#and i think also gets to the core of batman as a character and to the core of why I can't fully vibe with this presentation of him#for all its many boons
18 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
boireuncoup
Boire un coup
tetrachromacy
tetrachromat
beparodi
Be
sexyrusworld
sexitup
dxnielasstuff
Daniela Q. Lecxros