#Advanced material handling

[aidgc2023]

AIDGC: Pioneering Safety in Handling Dangerous Goods

In a world where hazardous materials play an integral role in various industries, safety must remain a top priority. The Australian Institute of Dangerous Goods Consultants (AIDGC) is at the forefront of revolutionizing how businesses handle dangerous goods. Their unique approach to promoting safety, compliance, and education sets them apart as industry leaders. Let’s explore how AIDGC is making a difference and fostering a culture of responsibility in handling dangerous goods.

Unmatched Expertise: AIDGC’s team of seasoned consultants brings unparalleled expertise to the table. With years of hands-on experience and in-depth knowledge of regulations, they offer reliable guidance to businesses dealing with dangerous goods. From chemicals to flammable substances, AIDGC’s consultants know the intricacies of each industry, ensuring the safe handling and transportation of hazardous materials. Tailored Solutions for Every Business: Recognizing that one size doesn’t fit all, AIDGC provides customized solutions for businesses of all sizes and industries. Their approach is flexible, addressing unique challenges and specific needs. AIDGC works closely with clients to develop comprehensive safety strategies, enhancing their risk management practices and promoting a safety-first culture. Proactive Safety Training: Preventing accidents starts with education. AIDGC conducts cutting-edge training programs that empower employees with the knowledge and skills to handle dangerous goods responsibly. From theoretical understanding to practical simulations, the training equips personnel to react appropriately during emergencies, minimizing potential risks. Embracing Innovation: AIDGC embraces technological advancements to optimize safety measures further. They keep themselves updated on the latest industry trends and incorporate innovative solutions into their consultancy services. By leveraging modern technology, AIDGC ensures businesses stay ahead of the curve in hazardous materials management. Sustainable Practices: Safety and sustainability go hand in hand. AIDGC emphasizes the importance of environmentally responsible practices in handling dangerous goods. Their consultants work with businesses to adopt eco-friendly approaches, reducing their impact on the environment and contributing to a greener future. Conclusion: When it comes to handling dangerous goods, AIDGC stands as a beacon of expertise and innovation. Their unique approach to safety, tailored solutions, proactive training, and commitment to sustainability have earned them a reputation as pioneers in the industry. Collaborating with AIDGC empowers businesses to navigate hazardous materials responsibly, safeguarding their employees, communities, and the planet. By choosing AIDGC, you choose a safer and more sustainable future for your business and the world.

[aippals]

Automation of Warehouse in pune | India

The process that involves little to no human intervention in the automatic movement of items into, out of, and around warehouses for consumers is referred to by this name. Warehouse automation goes by a number of names. By putting an automation project into place, a company can get rid of physically taxing tasks like repetitive data entry and analysis.

[little-p-eng-engineering]

Comprehensive Engineering Solutions with Little P.Eng.: Catalyzing Innovation Across Engineering

Engineering challenges in contemporary industry demand sophisticated, multidisciplinary approaches. Little P.Eng., a rising name in the engineering sector, has positioned itself as a nexus for solutions spanning various specialized fields, including structural engineering, piping design, piping stress analysis, seismic bracing design, storage tank design, material handling engineering services, pressure vessel design, electrical design, and CRN registration services. This article delves into each of these areas, highlighting the complexities, methodologies, and cutting-edge strategies employed by Little P.Eng. to cater to the evolving needs of diverse sectors.

Engineering services are the cornerstone of modern industrial and infrastructural developments. From the conceptualization of a project to its final commissioning, various engineering disciplines come into play to ensure functionality, safety, compliance, and efficiency. Little P.Eng., with its array of engineering services, has etched its mark by offering comprehensive solutions under one roof. The company's commitment to technical excellence, precision, and continual innovation positions it at the forefront of engineering consultancy.

Structural Engineering: Structural engineering, a critical subset of civil engineering, involves the analysis, design, and planning of structural components and systems to achieve design goals and ensure the safety and comfort of users or occupants. The experts at Little P.Eng. undertake detailed analyses, considering factors such as geology of the site, environmental conditions, and materials to be used, ensuring structural soundness against static and dynamic loading, including human traffic and environmental stressors.

The service spectrum includes:

Building Design: Erection of residential, commercial, and industrial structures with considerations for material efficiency, safety regulations, and aesthetic aspects.

Structural Analysis and Inspection: Employing advanced tools to analyze stress, strain, and load distribution and conducting inspections to assure structural integrity and longevity.

Foundation Design: Creating robust foundations, including piles, rafts, and footings, customized to site conditions and building requirements.

Retrofitting and Rehabilitation: Strengthening existing structures through modernization techniques, enhancing our capacity to withstand additional or unanticipated loads.

Piping Design and Piping Stress Analysis: Piping systems are lifelines of process industries, influencing operational efficiency, safety, and economic feasibility. Little P.Eng. offers comprehensive solutions in piping design, ensuring optimal layout and functionality, accommodating project constraints, and adhering to international standards.

Key aspects include:

Piping Layout and 3D Modeling: Developing detailed piping system layouts, incorporating equipment placement, structural design, and safety compliance, facilitated through advanced 3D modeling for accuracy and visualization.

Stress Analysis: Utilizing software tools like CAESAR II for precise stress analysis, determining strain and stress levels within piping systems under various scenarios, including temperature changes, fluid dynamics, pressure variations, and external forces, thereby verifying system reliability and identifying necessary supports and reinforcements.

Seismic Bracing Design: In regions prone to seismic activity, designing structures with adequate bracing is crucial to prevent collapse and minimize damage during earthquakes. Little P.Eng.'s seismic bracing designs are tailored to enhance the resilience of structures, factoring in regional seismic activity, local regulations, and material specifications.

Services involve:

Seismic Risk Evaluations: Assessing seismic risks associated with specific locations, analyzing historical data, and geological conditions.

Bracing System Design: Engineering customized bracing systems, including base isolators, cross-bracing, and shear walls, to dissipate seismic forces and minimize structural vulnerability.

Post-Earthquake Assessments: Inspecting and evaluating structures post-seismic activity for damage assessment and further reinforcement recommendations.

Storage Tank Design: Storage tanks, essential for industries requiring liquid or gas storage, entail specialized design parameters. Little P.Eng. focuses on custom solutions, factoring in the stored substance's characteristics, environmental considerations, and industry regulations.

The design process encompasses:

Material Selection and Design: Choosing appropriate materials resistant to the stored contents and environmental conditions, and designing tanks based on capacity requirements, pressure ratings, and structural regulations.

Foundation and Settlement Analysis: Ensuring ground stability and accommodating potential settlement or shifts without compromising tank integrity.

Safety and Emission Controls: Integrating features to prevent leaks, limit emissions, and safeguard against potential hazards, including explosions or toxic releases.

Material Handling Engineering Services: Efficient material handling is pivotal to operational success in manufacturing, warehousing, and distribution facilities. Little P.Eng. offers engineering solutions optimizing the movement, storage, control, and protection of materials throughout the process.

These services include:

System Design and Integration: Developing comprehensive systems combining conveyors, automated storage and retrieval systems, and transfer equipment, ensuring seamless, efficient operations.

Equipment Selection and Procurement: Advising on the appropriate equipment tailored to specific operational needs and assisting with acquisition from reputable manufacturers.

Safety and Ergonomics: Designing systems prioritizing operator safety and ergonomics, reducing workplace hazards and potential for injury.

Pressure Vessel Design: Pressure vessels, used for holding gases or liquids at high pressures, require meticulous design to prevent failure and catastrophic results. Little P.Eng.'s expertise lies in crafting pressure vessels compliant with industry standards like the ASME Boiler and Pressure Vessel Code.

Specific services involve:

Design and Analysis: Performing detailed calculations for wall thickness, stress distribution, and overall vessel geometry, ensuring safety under various pressure conditions.

Material Specification and Fabrication Oversight: Specifying suitable materials able to withstand extreme pressures and overseeing the fabrication process for quality assurance.

Inspection and Certification: Conducting thorough inspections and facilitating necessary certifications, confirming adherence to safety and operational standards.

Electrical Design: Electrical design services encompass the planning and execution of electrical systems, vital for the operational integrity of residential, commercial, and industrial projects. Little P.Eng.'s electrical engineers are adept at crafting systems that meet energy efficiency, safety, and performance standards.

Critical offerings include:

System Layout and Design: Creating comprehensive electrical systems, including power distribution, lighting, and emergency backup systems, tailored to specific project requirements.

Compliance and Safety: Ensuring designs meet electrical codes and safety standards, incorporating protective measures to prevent system failures, electrical shocks, or fire hazards.

Energy Efficiency Solutions: Proposing energy-efficient technologies and methodologies, contributing to sustainable and cost-effective operations.

CRN Registration Services: The Canadian Registration Number (CRN) is a number issued by each province or territory of Canada for the design of a boiler, pressure vessel, or fitting. The CRN identifies that the design has been accepted and registered for use in that province or territory. Little P.Eng. assists with the complex process of obtaining CRN certifications, essential for legal and safe operation within Canada.

This process includes:

Design Evaluations: Reviewing pressure equipment designs to ensure they comply with pertinent regulations and standards.

Documentation Preparation: Compiling and preparing extensive documentation required for CRN applications, including drawings, calculations, and material test reports.

Liaison with Authorities: Acting as an intermediary between clients and regulatory bodies, facilitating communication and expediting the registration process.

Conclusion: Little P.Eng. has emerged as a one-stop solution for diverse engineering needs, driven by a team of experts dedicated to upholding the highest standards of engineering excellence. Our approach is not just about meeting the minimum regulatory requirements; it is about designing safe, efficient, and sustainable systems that stand the test of time. By embracing advanced technologies, up-to-date methodologies, and a customer-centric approach, Little P.Eng. is setting new benchmarks in the engineering domain, contributing significantly to industrial innovation and infrastructural advancement.

Tags:

CAESAR II

energy efficiency

structural engineering

material handling

3D modeling

safety standards

regulatory compliance

earthquake resilience

stress analysis

CRN registration

advanced technologies

engineering consultancy

fabrication oversight

rehabilitation

piping design

pressure vessel

project commissioning

retrofitting

electrical design

automated storage

operational excellence

system reliability

ASME compliance

seismic bracing

foundation design

storage tank

tank integrity

design evaluation

infrastructural advancement

industrial innovation

Engineering Services

Structural Engineering Consultancy

Pipe Stress Analysis Services

Located in Calgary, Alberta; Vancouver, BC; Toronto, Ontario; Edmonton, Alberta; Houston Texas; Torrance, California; El Segundo, CA; Manhattan Beach, CA; Concord, CA; We offer our engineering consultancy services across Canada and United States. Meena Rezkallah.

[kathaynesart]

Oops.

You can see the moment Leo’s heart breaks…

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

AFTERMATH (extra reading material)

Hope you enjoyed this little Replica Intermission flashback as we head into the Holiday Special that happens a few years after this. To be honest, this was as much of a peek into the earlier years of the Central Park Colony as it was a character study. I really wanted to get a handle on how these boys were in their early-mid twenties before diving into the special because they become very different people by their thirties.

TED Talk below on the details of this scene...

I really grappled with the concept of how long it would take for the boys to figure out that the statue was the key. Most interpretations seem to assume they figure it out right away, but honestly, without CJ there to warn them in advance and tell them what it looks like they don't have a lot to go off of aside from Splinter's vague mention of a key. The fact that the Krang were praised by the Foot is enough to set off Donnie's alarms but... with the Foot already gone by the time the Krang make their grand appearance on Metro Tower, the connection can only be hypothesized.

Honestly, I think Donnie would still go to Raph first, a breach in conduct but given the sensitivity of the subject and fear of accusing Leo it seems on brand. Raph ultimately would make the choice not to tell Leo until they knew for certain... which they never did. So it was put off longer and longer until it finally came back to bite them all at the worst possible time. If the colony finds out what Leo did... it could be disastrous. At the same time, Leo's trust in his brothers has been shaken, though it still pales in comparison to the fresh, crushing blow in knowing that it was all his fault. ...Don't worry, he'll be feeling a bit better by the time of the Holiday Special.

[aashwarr]

Keeping Up with the Joneses is a rotational let's play series that follows the lives of four Sims in their mid-twenties. Although named after the Jones twins, the title is coined from the popular idiom in which one compares themself to others, from their financial status & careers to their material goods. Coming soon to my YouTube channel this September.

More information about the series below.

Cameron & Chasity Jones in Del Sol Valley The newlyweds moved to The Valley with their dog, Ruby, to further advance in their careers as a music producer & a model/fashion journalist. The two have recently gained fame on the internet from their respective careers, but is their newfound celebrity lifestyle too much for this couple to handle?

Camille Jones in San Sequoia After years of searching on the market, Camille has finally found the perfect home in San Sequoia. A new city not only means a fresh start for Camille as a freelance painter, but also a new social circle & new love interests for her to explore. However, her old habits & past flames may have followed her to San Sequoia as well...

Matthew Whitmore in Brindleton Bay Matthew moved back to Brindleton Bay after securing a tech consultant position at Rainy Day Entertainment. He returned to The Bay to not only be closer to his family, but to also start a family of his own with his girlfriend, Jordyn, who is expecting their first child. As he prepares for fatherhood, Matthew must learn to balance his career with the responsibilities of raising a child of his own.

[dduane]

Had an idea you might be able to use for something: Klingon Soap Operas.

(sigh)

Thanks for the thought. I appreciate your kindness!

But unfortunately, because you've sent me the idea and I've read it, I can now not use it, ever. No matter how much I might like to.

This isn't about you, you understand. And in its way it probably seems like a cruel paradox. You were only trying to be helpful! But if I was working on something for Trek and this concept came up even in casual discussion, I would be honor-bound (and contractually required) to inform them that the idea had come to me from a reader or fan. And then—rightly, from their point of view—they would forbid me to use it, because the idea's originator might some day, despite all their friendly intentions now, sue them over it. And the evidence that I was at fault would be easy to obtain. Sending a DM on any major platform generates an electronic "paper trail" that will confirm its target has opened and read the message in question. And that electronic record can be subpoenaed and submitted as evidence, and would stand up in court.

"Oh, come on, who'd do a thing like that, what are the odds...?" people will say. But it's not generally known that I've already been involved in a high-stakes lawsuit in which someone tried to sue Mattel over material I wrote when developing the initial form of the "Barbie: Fairytopia" universe (and the first Fairytopia film) for them. I'd never so much as met or communicated with the person suing them, had never read even a word of their work... but they still went to great trouble and expense attempting to prove that I'd had access to their material and used it without permission.

Mattel won the suit (as I'd frankly been expecting: the attorney handling their defense was one of the most expert IP lawyers in the US). But it gave me the chills... and made it clear how very wrong things could go, and the kind of damage that could be done to my career and my personal life, if I even accidentally used ideas from unauthorized sources.

Seriously, folks. I know you all mean well! But please don't make me tap the sign. DO NOT SEND ME STORY IDEAS, no matter how vague or general or unformed they may be. To do so is to absolutely guarantee that they will never, ever happen.* (And in my own universes, your innocently-meant suggestion could mean that neither you or anyone else will ever see that particular Young Wizards or Middle Kingdoms plot, no matter how much you'd like to... because I take this stuff seriously.)

...Thanks, all.

*This is also why I don't read fanfic set in my universes. Which you also shouldn't send me: please and thank you.

ETA: I would really, really appreciate it if y'all would refrain from giving @eldritchcatpossumamalgam grief in the tags. They made an honest, well-intentioned mistake, that's all, and they don't deserve to be personally raked over the coals for it. (And any of you who think I would derive any kind of satisfaction from that happening plainly don't know me very well.) So thanks in advance for your cooperation.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hello!! Could you write a Diego x reader fic that’s a little sweet and a little smutty? Diego def had dom vibes but I’d love to see his squishy sweet side :) thank you!!

a/n: hi!! thank you for your request. we’re taking it back to s2 for this one because i’m still not over diego’s long hair… anyways! i hope you love it, this is my first time writing smut so please let me know if it is ass🙏

summary: you look so gorgeous in your dress. what kind of boyfriend would diego be if he didn’t show you how pretty he thought you looked?

warnings: this is SMUT so 17+ for this one, soft!dom!Diego, back-scratches, fingering, p in v, mentions of oral, swearing

word count: 2.3k

Today you had to attend a gala at the Mexican Consulate. Why? To find Reginald Hargreeves and finally get some answers. You had dressed in a deep cyan dress, made of a shiny material that pulled in at the waist and flew out to your thighs. Despite the tight fit, it was both surprisingly comforting and flattering. You stood in from of the bedroom mirror, painting your lips a perky pink - since the apocalypse you’d had little reason to dress up, so maybe you were taking advantage of it now.

A sly smile spread across Diego’s lips as he strolled over. He whistled, leaning against the doorframe, “Look at you…” He says, gaze trailing over your body appreciatively.

You laugh softly and as you get closer, he slips his hand around your waist, squeezing at the blue fabric gathered around your hip, “This is very pretty.” He coos, pecking your cheek.

He looked more than good himself, in a navy-blue suit and a tie that was practically begging you to tug on. The suit was just tight enough that you could see the indents of his muscular biceps. You bit your lip, smiling shyly, “Thank you.”

You leaned up to peck Diego’s lips and he grinned, pulling you closer. Five clapped his hands as he entered the room, stepping between you and putting an instantaneous end to whatever might’ve come from your mutual advances, “Alright… Let’s go, shall we?”

He prompted the two of you with a less-than-impressed smile. With a reluctant sigh, Diego squeezed your hip once more before he let you go. He punched Five in the gut as he walked past, muttering ‘cockblock’ under his breath.

You snorted as you stepped past Five, now doubled over. He grumbled under his breath, glaring at Diego and begrudgingly following after you both. You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, as childish as it was. Five beckoned you both closer.

He sighed, brushing his sleeve away to read his watch, “Fantastic, we’re already late.” He held his hands out to both you and Diego, which you took, and then blinked the three of you inside of the building.

You wound up in a quieter corridor, somewhere upstairs, and Five shook out his shoulders, looking at both of you, “All we have to do is find Dad and get him to talk. Do you think that you two morons can manage that without screwing it up?”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two of you. Diego pulled you closer, shaking his head as he smiled cockily, “We’re not morons, we know how to handle ourselves. So, just… relax for a second, alright?”

“Handling yourselves is not what I’m worried about.” Five sighs, features curling with distaste as he eyed Diego’s hand on your waist. Diego scoffed at his brother.

“Relax. We got this.” He grins and the mischievous glint in his eye only makes Five’s concerned frown deepen.

He shakes his head as he walks past both of you. “Jesus… You know what? Do what you want, just don’t get caught. There is more at stake here than the two of you.” He says, pointing at you.

With those parting words, Five disappears around the corner. Diego watches until he leaves and then he’s walking you backwards into the nearest room.

“Diego!” You laugh, pressing both hands against his chest in protest. He simply intertwines your fingers, grinning.

“What?” He teases, his voice mocking yours as he closes the door behind him with his foot. He spins you around and you come face to face with your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are already blown out with lust.

Diego slips his arms around your waist again, leaning down to peck your neck. “You look so beautiful.” He praises and you inhale sharply, hands sliding down your body to rest over the top of his.

He smirks against your neck as his lips travel down to your collarbone, which he nips. “Diego.” You say again, already feeling yourself grow breathless and recognising the growing heat in the pit of your stomach.

His grins like the devil as he watches your each and every reaction, “Oh, does that feels good?” He says, biting down on your neck again.

You shiver and bite your lip. You shouldn’t be doing this now, not here, there are more pressing matters at hand. Five had not so subtly reminded the two of you just moments ago but how were you supposed to say no to him when he was riled up like this?

“God, Diego, we shouldn’t…” You sigh blissfully, feeling your thighs clench as Diego presses up against you from behind.

“We’ll be quick, I promise.” He smiles, pecking your shoulder affectionately, “I just wanna show my girl some attention, that’s all.”

My girl. God, it should be crime for him to use those words with how easily it makes your resolve crumble. You groaned, shifting restlessly, “Babe…”

“What, baby? What do you expect me to do?” He croons, with mock sympathy. His hands slide over your body, up to your chest.

He rubs his fingers over you through the fabric of your dress as he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “How am I supposed to act when you’re standing here looking so good for me, hm?”

Your back arches up against him and he smiles, hands travelling down, over the expanse over your stomach and you watch in the reflection of the mirror in front of you as his hands disappear out of view. You feel them though.

He kneads your ass between his fingers and gently bites at your shoulder, “Come on, baby.”

Your will is broken and you sigh, one hand reaching out to tug at his tie. You pull him around by it so that he’s facing you. Despite the shock on his face, Diego is more than happy with this new development. You smirk and pull him down to kiss your lips.

He reciprocates it hungrily, his hands cupping your face, pulling you closer and closer. He hums happily against your lips, and your hands slip up into his long curls. You pull at the strands, releasing a guttural moan from Diego.

He pulls back and bites his lip, brushing your hair back from your face, “God, you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

He repeats for the hundredth time today, yet it doesn’t stop the warmth from blossoming in your cheeks or your lower belly, “Thank you.”Y ou say obediently.

And, just as he does every time, he reassures you with a kiss to your lips saying, “You don’t have to thank me for the truth, baby.”

With that, his hands slip around the backs of your thighs, propping you up onto the counter. He looks up at you like he’s entirely unworthy of you. Like he would worship you.

He bites his lip, muttering a pleased ‘fuck’ to himself as he goes in to kiss you again. You smile against his lips, arms going around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

His hands wander from your waist, around your back, to your dress’s zipper. He tugs it down, pulling away from your lips and slowly peppering kisses down your neck, all the way to the centre of your breasts.

He looks up and you, eyes hooded, and the sight is enough to make you moan. Your hand comes up to the back of his head then, encouraging him as his lips slide over your sensitive nipple. His tongue swirls around it, until he feels it grow hard. He sucks gently on it, and pulls away with a gentle pop.

Simultaneously, his free hand works to stimulate your other nipple, fingers rolling the bud between his fingers and massaging your breast. Your hips shift and he smiles, pecking your cheek, “So impatient.”

“No…” You reply, breathlessly, sitting up straighter, “Just time conscious.”

He laughs, hiking your dress up over your hips, “Oh? Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“It is, yeah.” You smile, cupping his face and gently pecking his lips. He rolls his eyes, smiling as his fingers toy with your waistband.

“Brat.” He taunts, tugging the slim string of your panties down, over the smooth fat of your thighs, and letting it fall to your ankles. You feel the air brush over your inner thighs and your sensitive bud, already slick with your wetness.

“Shit…” Diego says, growing breathless himself as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy. He brushes his fingers over your folds for a moment, before slipping two of them inside of you.

He watches, entirely mesmerised by the motion of you taking his thick fingers. You huff, back arching and fingers curling as you fail to find something to keep you steady. He takes your hand, guiding it to his shoulder instead.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you furiously and you whine, clinging to his other forearm, “I know, baby girl, but I have to prep you first. Just come for me, come for me and then I’ll fill you up, I promise.”

He coos, slipping a third finger in, despite the resistance. You gasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as your hips spasm, coating his fingers with your slick in record time, “Good girl.” He praises, pecking your cheek.

“You’re making me wish I had the time to taste you.” He huffs frustratedly, watching your hips buck as he removes his fingers from you, chasing the fullness he’d left you without.

“Yeah?” You ask breathlessly, tilting your head to the side.

“Yeah.” He smiled. He took his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, and groaned. He kisses you again and tasting the remnants of yourself on his tongue only serves to make you want him more, “But… since I don’t…”

You watch eagerly as he pulls back slightly, his fingers unbuckling his belt with practised ease. And, God, your head feels so hazy right now, that even that is turning you on.

He smirks and kisses your lips as he strips down, letting you see all of him, “You’re so quiet tonight, baby.”

He gives his cock a few tugs and then he kisses your lips again. He smiles, “I want you to try and be louder for me. Want to hear those pretty moans of yours. Think you can do that for me?”

“Mm… yeah.” You nod.

He kisses you again, sliding his hand over your waist as he brings you closer, “Good.”

“Oh, fuck.” You gasp, hands grasping at his shoulders like a lifeline as he pressed his tip against your entrance, gently pushing in.

You felt yourself swallow him and you both let out a collective sigh, pressing your foreheads against one another. You didn’t think you would ever get over how good it felt to be so effortlessly full up by him.

“That’s it.” He cooed softly, rubbing your hip with his thumb as he pushed himself deeper, “Doing so good, baby, taking me so well…” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he bottomed out inside of you. You felt him twitch, and he groaned as he adjusted to the feeling of your perfect grip on him.

“Shit, baby…” He hissed through his teeth, beginning to move. The thump of the counter hitting the wall as he started to fuck you against it made you clench around him.

After letting you adjust to him, he started moving faster, causing your breath to hiccup slightly as you moaned, “Yeah? Is that good? Does that feel good?”

Your nails scraped over his back, trying to pull him ever closer. Your hands drove through his skin in time with his thrusts, leaving glaring red marks down his toned back. He groaned, biting his tongue. The sight of them only made your eyes roll back, as well as your head.

He caught his breath and chuckled, tongue in his cheek as he thrust harder, hands gripping at your love handles, “You like seeing the marks you’re leaving on me, baby?”

All you could do was nod as you looked up at him, hair tousled and lips puffy from your kiss. Your breath was made up of nothing but desperate, little whines as he pushed himself deeper.

He grinned slyly, tilting your head up and pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open, “Come on, I know you know the answer. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like leaving marks on me.”

“Mmph… I love it, love leaving marks on you.” You whine, head lolling back again.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He cups your face, keeping your head up and your eyes on him. He shifts his hips, his strokes delving deeper. Your eyes flutter shut and he practically growls at the sight of you - all pretty and fucked out, just for him. His girl.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You whine, writhing in his arms as you feel him bury his cock inside of you, deeper and deeper. His hand skims over your stomach and down to your clit, rubbing circles over it as he kisses along your neck.

“You close?” He asks, knowing the tell-tale signals of your body as you begin to clench around him. You nod, moaning and arching your back, grinding your hips down against him harder.

“Shit, yes…” You gasp, eyes fluttering shut as you roll your hips, desperately seeking release. Your hand clutches his bicep and you moan instinctively as your fingers struggle to wrap around it fully.

He grunts, trying desperately to keep his composure for a little bit longer, when you both know that he’s so fucking close to bursting. You moan, practically limp in his arms at these point as he fucks up into you, “Shit, yes, Diego, fuck…”

The only words out of your mouth at this point are incoherent babbling and Diego groans, pulling you back in for a messy kiss, “Fuck, come for me. Come for me, baby, I know you want to. Fucking come for me.”

And you do.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 4 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley unknowingly go on a date 

warnings (TW): swearing, illusions of past abuse, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, slight angst, affection

notes: thank you all for the engagement! hope you enjoy <3

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked an up to date masterlist of all the parts of this continuing series- hope you enjoy <3

word count: 3.9k

| masterlist | part v |

He had somehow managed to drag her out of the basement that day. 

Of course, he had been down there assisting her in any way he could. A high school dropout only knows so much about mechanical engineering and quantum physics. Still, she seemed happy enough to dance around the chalkboard she (he) had dragged downstairs, bouncing off ideas with him contently listening, trying to piece back together complex wiring to get the ominous inverted triangle on the basement wall to whirl back to life. 

She was even more spurred on when he actually engaged, not that he raised his hand like he was back in class (not that he ever remembered doing so when he was in class). She simply seemed grateful that he was attempting to learn anything to help her. To learn how to move this whole fucking thing along. 

She dragged him to the basement quite often now that the shack was half shut down for the winter. He had managed to see a few rounds of locals and tourists through the Murder Hut from early October until Thanksgiving when snow began to fall. Then tourists dried up, and only the locals frequented now, so Stan reduced his hours and gave some more of his time to helping her downstairs during the day. 

Every night was spent downstairs in the basement though, there hadn’t come a day since she stepped through that front door that they both didn’t wander down to the portal. Of course, this was usually then followed by convening upstairs in front of the T.V., Stanford’s journal passed between the two of them.

She had grown more frustrated as of late, raving about alien material and compatibility with human electronics. He did his best to understand, and he followed along very aptly. Always wanting to be an attentive sounding board, and even bouncing his own, albeit stupid, ideas. 

Not that she ever made any indication of them being stupid, and not that she would ever stop him from voicing them. 

Educationally, he felt it was the closest he’d ever gotten to an actual education. Said education being advanced quantum mechanics, but everyone had to start somewhere. 

But now they were out for dinner because, after yesterday’s long night of pacing and chalkboard rants, he thought they deserved to go out on the meager earnings of yesterday’s Murder Hut tour.

That and it had been exactly a year since he first laid eyes on her. Not that he was gonna tell her that. 

He could acknowledge that she may have noticed the amount of time that had past, hence her growing irritation with the lack of progress in getting Stanford back, and her growing hours spent in the dark of the basement. But she more than likely didn’t know of the significance of the exact date, or care, which he figured may be more likely. Especially with the anniversary of Ford’s disappearance having come and gone.

December had been hard for the both of them really, and some things had settled somewhat awkwardly between them from the previous week. 

They both handled the anniversary slightly differently, her with general avoidance, head somehow buried deeper in that god-forsaken journal. He found some semblance of self-soothing in diving head first into holding a conversation with any customer that walked through the front door of the Murder Hut that day. 

Sitting across from each other at the dinner table was hard that night, and for the first time ever, she poured copious amounts of wine into their mugs on a weeknight. The kitchen had been eerily quiet that night, the silence only broken by scrapes of plates and mumbled conversation.

He remembers being disgusted with his hands that evening. Remembers thinking about how he had shoved his brother away that day, how Ford had stumbled from one end of the room into the other just to disappear before his eyes. How his hands had reached for Stanford, calling for him. How the journal made its way back to his hands, but his brother hadn’t. His hand had been constantly grazing his shoulder that day, running along the raised scar, a sickening feeling sinking further into him throughout the day.

They had both shuffled around each other that night, and she had not said so much as good morning and goodnight in her mounting grief, it felt like. She had felt bad about how she handled that day but had felt even worse about failing Stan and Ford. She knew of the hope in Stan’s eyes that day when she had trampled in through the door of the shack, knew the relief he felt in her knowledge and presence. But a year had passed, and she could feel nothing but shame when she looked at him. She saw both twins that night while looking over at his hunched figure across the dinner table. She had said goodnight to Stan and Ford that night and had wandered upstairs wondering if she could wash the image from her eyes in the bathroom sink.

They had both returned to normal by Thursday but had grown more determined than ever before. So yeah, Stan figured a night out may be deserved. 

She seemed happier now, sitting crisscross from him in the Greasy’s diner booth, elbows on the table as she reached over to draw along the corners of his paper placemat with the crayons she had swiped from some kid on the way in. 

Something that made him chuckle for a little too long. He must be a bad influence. He had sticky fingers and she knew it. It now seemed to be a competition between the two of them, who could steal the most random of objects. 

Her hand was out, shielding the drawing on his placemat as she switched between the meager 4 colors the shitty diner crayon pack supplied. He nudged her hand aside as she giggled. 

“No! My masterpiece! Give me a second you grump.” 

“It better be good, Picasso, you’re hoggin all the crayons.” 

She handed over the red one, and he elected to reach across to her own paper placemat, beginning to draw his usual comic-book-style figures. One of the figures, oddly enough, began to look like her. 

Her face was so close to her drawing she might as well have been kissing the table, when she shot up, smiling at Stan and looking for approval. 

“Ta-Da!” She moved her hand, showing a mish-mash of red, blue, green, and purple. 

He stared contemplatively, sitting back in his seat humming. In truth, he had no idea what he was looking at, but he would entertain giving an “expert” review. 

“Hmmmmm, now the color selection may be controversial to some but I think the blue and the purple over here are just lovely. Truly an emotional piece mhm.” He nodded his head, pointing at the corner of colors. 

“You have no idea what it is, do ya?”

“Not a clue Doc.” 

She laughed, pointing to the blue and purple figures. “Okay so these are two llamas and they are totally in love. You can tell by the cool rainbow and shooting star I put by them.” She pointed at what he figured was the “rainbow and shooting star” between said “llamas”. 

“And they are here in Gravity Falls because I drew a bunch of pine trees behind them!” She pointed to what he supposed was the foreground and the mess of green sprigs she had tried to draw. 

He hummed again. “Very moving, very touching Doc.” He moved to wipe a fake tear, sniffling along with his act. 

“I ain't much of an artist, am I Stan?” She laughed, finding humor in her lack of skill. 

He gasped, fake clutching his pearls, an even faker mean expression on his face. “Don’t say that Doc! This is a masterpiece!” 

She smirked. “Okay, then that will be 50 bucks for said masterpiece, pay up!” Hand held out to him she made to grab his placemat. 

“Pretty steep price there kid, don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He conceded. 

She smiled again. “I knew you thought it was shit.” Shaking her head at him she moved to look at his own drawing. “Now what's this?” 

He smacked his hand palm side down on the corner image, a blush on his face. “Nothin’!” 

She nudged his hand now, trying to lift his hand finger by finger. “No! I had to show you mine now fess up! What ya drawing?” 

His hand clenched the corner of the paper placemat, ripping the picture of her from the corner of it and crumpling it up into his hand. 

“Nope!” 

“Yup!” She had risen up with her hands on the table, reaching for the corner paper now clutched above him in his fist. “Lemme see! Don’t do this Stan!” She giggled the entire time.

He panicked at her determination, fisting the paper into his mouth. 

“Gross Stan!” She laughed. “What the fuck!” 

He swallowed the paper, not thinking much of it. Saving himself the embarrassment of having to explain himself. He smiled across from her though, as she cracked up at his over exaggeration. 

She looked just right, under the shitty diner lights. Car headlights flashing as they went by from time to time, he began to wonder how long she would stay. If she would linger around, once Ford had returned. Wondered what it was that note said, that she brought in with her that very first day she burst through their front door. She had put it away after that day, and he never really did get to see his brother’s usual cursive gracing the paper. What was it he had said, to get her of all people out here?

She was too good to linger, he figured, and Gravity Falls felt far too small for someone like her anyway. Even if the unknown waited past their doorstep, they both hadn’t made the move to wander into the woods in search of the creatures Ford had spoken about. Something they had both voiced before over dinner, their shared hesitation to walk too far from their doorstep. If it was just himself he reasoned he would have wandered into the woods looking for signs his brother had been there, he wasn’t fearful of the unknown, he had done plenty of other things that were far scarier than what waited in their backyard. But she was here, and he felt some semblance of duty to watch her back in particular. So they had made a pact to not wander off too far from the other, and they had stuck to that deal even when coming into town. 

The townsfolk hadn’t seen Stan without her by his side since he trampled into the gas station in search of food that very first week. Surprisingly, not too many townsfolk approached her at all when they were out. If it was because he tended to glare at unknown men, she didn’t comment.  

“Order up!” 

Susan made her way back over to their booth, her hands full with two separate plates of short-stacks. 

“For you Mr. Pines.” Settling one plate in front of Stan, Susan moved to place the other in front of her. “And the other for you Mrs. Pines!” 

Brain short-circuiting, he freezes in his motion to grab his fork for his meal. His mouth began to move to correct Susan. 

“Thanks!” She said across from him, a panicked look in her eyes. Face creeping up into a flush as she thanked the waitress. 

Susan made her way away from the table after exchanging common pleasantries, all the while he sat in suspense. 

Only after he could swear Susan was out of earshot did he lean into the table, chest close to his plate to whisper across at her. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

She looked beyond guilty, ringing her table napkin in her hands as her eyes flickered to every corner of the diner that didn’t contain him. 

“I-I may have… accidentally… at some point, perhaps…” She sighs, knowing the drive home will be silent, absent of the usual radio. At least it would be if they couldn’t make it through the mistake she had made all those months ago. “Accidentally, sorta, maybe, kinda, let Susan think that we were married?” Her voice rising in octave, her hands running along the rim of the diner table now. 

He sits back, disbelief struck him. How the fuck had she managed that? 

She answers his question unknowingly. “Okay, so for your birthday in June, remember how I begged you to come to town?” A nod. “Well, you know how I snuck off to Greasy's to get you some birthday pie?” Another nod, remembering how she had been so happy to have correctly guessed his favorite kind that night. He hadn’t even chastised her about the money she had spent on him. 

She continues, hands now flying around, trying to flick the memory away. “Okay well, when I got the pie from Susan she had called my order and she called me Mrs. Pines. And I just…. froze up… and I didn’t know how to explain- well everything.” Her voice picks up speed. “I’m not good at lying, like I can do it, but she just caught me off guard. And we hadn’t discussed what we were gonna tell people- like what we were gonna tell people about us living together? And I thought of Ford and all that bullshit-“ she slumps further into the booth seat. 

“And well, ya I just…I just didn’t correct her.” 

Staring at him, expectantly now. Perhaps waiting for him to explode on her. But all he can manage to do is unravel his fork from his napkin and dig into his pancakes to finally take a bite. Chewing around it, he finally can ask something. He’s less likely to yell with his mouth full. 

But the question dies on his lips. He feels more confused by the second, and then more frustrated also. The silence she figured would follow in the car seems to have raced ahead and sits between them at the table now. Her appetite diminishes by the second, and she no longer waits for some sign from Stan, some indication of acceptance. She didn’t figure there would be, she knew she had fucked up. Or at least, fucked up by not telling him about all this sooner, but she had more or less forgotten in between work and well… enjoying living alongside him. But perhaps the arrangement she had unknowingly shoved him into wasn’t something he was comfortable with, which was understandable. She hadn’t ever really believed herself marriage material, and more or less figured she was even less so in Stan’s eyes. 

He knew she wasn’t the best liar, their old conversation concerning his name had rushed back to him. He hadn’t wanted there to be any lies between them, because he knew it would be difficult for her to upkeep them on top of everything else. That and he believed that their arrangement and reliance on one another wouldn’t work in the slightest if they were just spilling bold-faced lies back and forth to each other. But this arrangement she had stumbled headfirst into came as a surprise. Perhaps they should have rehearsed something to say to everyone who asked about them, but then again Susan didn’t really ask, she had just assumed that they were together, were married. He understood her stumbling into something like that, but he was struggling to find a way back out of it. Because he couldn’t allow her to live attached to him like this, didn’t want her to have to lie for their own comfort. 

A lingering worry in the back of his mind, concerning his past. What if it all came rushing back? What if someone was out there looking for him? What if they hurt her?

He was far past frustrated, not at her though. At all the scrapping and clawing he had to do just to get here, to wind back up in the comfort of lies to survive. But he didn’t want her scraping by with him through this, he wanted her to live. At least before today, he believed she could leave him behind if it all fell apart under him. Always an escape plan somewhere in the back of his head, a way out, a door to reach in the dead of night. But she had shut it, and he didn’t know how he was gonna get her out of it now. 

They finished dinner in silence, something that also rubbed him the wrong way. He was frustrated, and taking it out on her. She folded into an odd shape across from him, now looking dim in the diner light. It only served to frustrate him more. 

Susan didn’t comment or come by to further disturb them through dinner, which was odd for the waitress. She liked to talk, and Stan knew that the south half of town would know about their silent dinner by Friday night. 

Bill paid, they made their way back to Stan’s car. His coat caught up in her arms, he opened her door and shut it again after she entered the car without so much as a prompt. 

He didn’t voice a single word until he made it to his seat, he had been too wound up concerning what she had said. That and he hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear their conversation. To know about the lie she had sown, tying them unknowingly together. 

“So you’re tellin’ me that this town has thought that we’ve been a couple, no married, for about six months?” His hands tight against the steering wheel. 

“Well no, because it was just Susan. Like, maybe just a few people know?” She reasoned.

He shakes his head, chuckling. That’s not how small towns like Gravity Falls worked. “Nah, she told everyone. People in this town are nosey Doc. Everyone’s gotta know by now.” 

He adjusts himself in his seat again, reaching his hand out to the back of her seat, like he always does. She’s swallowed by his red coat, her hand meticulously passing the patch he had put across his right shoulder. Humming to fill the silence. He sighs. 

“This is gonna be hard, Doc. I get why ya shrugged off the assumption Susan made, really I do, but that doesn’t change the fact ya didn’t tell me.” His hand rubs his eyes, frustration seeping off of him. How the fuck was he gonna pull this off?

“What do you mean?” She interrupts. “It won’t be that hard Stan, we can manage this, it won’t be too hard.” She shakes her head, trying to smooth over his frustration.

“How am I supposed to convince this whole fucking town you married some sorry-sap like me doll?” He points between them, an intensity to his eyes. “Now this will be the hardest con. Because why the fuck would you have married me, huh?” He shrugs, throwing his hands up. 

Looking over his scarred shoulder, feeling regret seep through his bones when he sees her now. Sitting there, his winter coat hung off her shoulders, a look of disbelief on her face. An apology on her tongue, he could almost hear it now. 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “What’d I tell ya Doc, don’t apologize to me.” He turns back to face her now, still shaking his head. 

“No.” Anger blooming on her face. “No, why the fuck would you say that Stan. Why the fuck would you even think that.” 

She was fuming, a look crossing her face he had never seen before. He had never seen her this thrown before, and he hadn’t the smallest inkling as to why her anger grew tenfold in the face of his statement. 

“Because I ain’t no good and you damn well know it!” Voice raising, hackles rising. 

“No!” She shakes her head, fingers fisted into his coat sleeves. “You are good, Stan! I don’t wanna hear that utter bullshit from you, don’t say that to me. I don’t believe it, not for a second.” Shaking her head, refusing to leave his gaze. "You're kind to me, you're considerate to me. You're good to me." She reasoned. But he was only ever really good to her if anything. Only kind in the face of her everything.

He thinks of his parents then, their image mirroring their own, but only for a moment. Arguments in front seats of cars and in front of televisions. How they would bend and snap back to each other, how he figured his father would snap and his mother would lie, to soothe him. She would lie, to see the end of the argument, to soothe frustration and heal hurt. But he figured it had more to do with his father's temper more than anything, more to do with raised voices and raised fists. But she was a terrible liar, his Doc, and he would swear to be less of a terrible grump.

He slumps in his seat, turning glassy eyes ahead of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to have to lie for me, hun.” He hadn’t called her that in weeks, a flickering memory of that dream always made him flush at the enderment. But he enjoyed how she melted when he did call her that, so he’d concede his embarrassment for her. 

“Stan, we can do this.” She slides closer, into the middle spot of the long bench, reaching her hand to his chin and pulling him into an earnest gaze. “Stan we can do anything, we will do anything, to get your brother home. And if it means lying like this then I'm prepared to do it.” She chuckles, humourlessly. “Especially because I’m the one who got us into this mess.” 

She’s beautiful, he thinks, this close. Diner light seeping in through the dashboard window, her eyes looking deeper than he'd ever been allowed to notice. She's even more beautiful, as she giggles across from him, slipping a stolen diner spoon into his hand. Slipping her fingers around the stolen object and his fingers. He chuckles finally, he's a terrible influence. His heart settled into that familiar aching sickness, something he doesn't dismiss as much now. Now that it felt as familiar as her. There was a certain comfort he fell into when it came to the feeling and her now, one that made his heart race.

It wasn’t a mess though, what she had done, but it did solidify what he had to do next. 

He had been thinking about it for a while, thinking about what sitting in one spot would bring to his, their, doorstep. Thought of the crimes he had left behind, skipping from state to state. It's what had kept him up late at night during those early summer months. What had made him linger around the door late some of those nights also, what if it all caught up to him? Would she be safe? 

No, he figured now. Now that she had intrinsically tied herself to him, she was safest next to him. That she hadn't shut any door, that there was a way out, but only for the old him. So she wouldn’t be leaving, but that old part of him would have to. Protect her, them.

He sighs, ready for the conversation they would have to have. He would have to be more honest about himself, he warmed, kinda like her. But really only with her. 

“There's something I gotta do then, hun.” He shuffles, leaning into her warm palm along his cheek. “I gotta die.”

She pales next to him. 

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini, what about vampire Fyodor x vampire hunter reader (〜^∇^)〜 like you’ve been assigned to hunt down and bring the head of Fyodor Dostoevsky to uhh.. a king idk.

So you track Fyodor down and instead make a deal with him. You won’t kill him and actually let him feed off you and he lets you fuck him (ゝз╹)

At first he’s hesitant. A well ranked hunter coming to him and proposing a friends with benefits arrangement sounds pretty suspicious, but hearing the offer that you let him feed off you makes him agree since it’s an easy meal and he was planning on betraying you later on.

Thats until he’s bent down on all fours and being pounded like wild animals in heat. The vampire is so touch starved that he can’t handle the pleasure and tries biting anything he can (let’s just say you were left with a bunch of bite marks) After that experience he traps you in his manor and begs you to stay with him, maybe he turns you into a vampire as well

-🍮

I had so much fun writing this haha, and I had to brainstorm trying to fill in some plot holes

Dom!reader x sub!vampire!fyodor

Warning: teasing, pet name (lil’ vamp), pegging (I use dick), a tiny bit of dacryphilia, biting, hierophilia (blood), vampirism, contract sex

Edit: I think I’m based towards fyodor, this ended up so long again-

You were a mercenary, one specified in hunting down those bloodsucking monsters known as vampires. Your name was infamous among the humans and vampire race, known for your amazing methods and efficient execution. Though you don’t care much about fame, the only good things about it is it lands you many missions. Which is why you’ve been summoned to the castle of a faraway country, one that resides close to a forbidden forest.

These mysterious forests are strictly forbidden due to vampires living within them. It’s always dark and quiet in those places, befitting their taste. So you might think it’s alright if people just don’t go into the woods. Sadly something like that can’t be prevented. There are many valuable resources beneath these trees, and everyone is dying to get their hands on those. The price for material from the forest is also really high, and sometimes that’s the only hope for the commoners.

Even though it’s been agreed upon that humans shall not disturb the vampires for they own safety, your client, the king, wanted to raid the forest. He had his eyes set on the wood planted around the mansion of the monster, it had a beautiful dark colour and was very sturdy. Yet out of fear for the power of the entity, he didn’t dare set a single foot into the woods. That’s when you come into the spotlight, he wanted you, the most famous vampire hunter, to take care of this. Once the vampire is gone, he won’t be breaking any rules, right?

This was a common case for you, everyone used you to do their dirty work. That’s the life of a mercenary, disposable and self-destructive.

You walked through the lavish halls of the king, meeting him in his throne hall. He didn’t spare you more then one glance, shouting loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls, “y/n, vampire hunter. I have an honorary task for you. I want you to bring me the head of the demon Fyodor Dostoyevsky and for that you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Despite it sounding grandiose and imposing you knew how to stand your ground, asking for the exact amount you’ll be rewarded and an advance payment. The king on the other hand refused to answer, saying he doesn’t want you to run off with the money. What a joke, your previous feats aren’t just for show after all. There was no helping it, that’s life. You swallowed your anger and left, rolling your eyes as you prepared to set off.

The home of that demon was grande, almost as huge as the castle, he sure loved luxury. You circled around the house to secure your escape route before heading inside, the door opened with a climatic creak. What a cliche, does vampires not know how to take care of their home? Without sparing it too much thought, you stepped inside and called out for that monster, wondering why the ruler knew his name. They must have a long history between them.

“Fyodor! Heyyy, come out, do me a favour and make this easy.” You yelled, and soon enough, a shadow emerged from behind you. Before you got the chance to turn around, he mumbled with grace and elegance, “Y/n, the vampire’s greatest enemy. The one who pulled out the fangs of Dracula with your bare hand, and forced him to drink the blood of his comrades.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, it was low and pretty, enough to stir something inside you.

“That’s an exaggeration, I never did such things.” You turned around and chuckled, staring into his purple eyes. Before you stood a black haired young man with a puffy shirt and fitted pants. He wore many silver accessories, tons of necklaces hung around his neck. His appearance was very eye-catching, pretty features and pale skin, sickly so. “…but I may have a record of flirting with the enemy.” After seeing how beautiful he was, you decided to indulge yourself, flirting with him.

He didn’t pay your words any attention, instead he continued with his speech, “Mortal children strived to be like you, while we use your stories to scare the kids.” You stopped, a sense of pride engulfing you from the inside. “My, I am quite famous after all.” Fyodor furrowed his brows, as if he’s agitated, then he relaxed his expression and said, “I knew you’d come for me one day. And, I’m dying to try out your blood.” After saying that, he licked his lips before covering his mouth with his hand.

You laughed, catching him off guard. The sound of your voice was annoying, he felt like you were mocking him. Then you teased, “dear, do you really think you can touch my blood?” That was clearly a provocation, you looked down on him. He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. The moment you blinked, he rushed over to you, planning on taking you out with one swoop attack. You dodged him with ease, commenting, “not bad, but is this all?” And he ignored your remarks once more.

Seeing how serious he was, you’ll have to stop the joking soon as well. To be honest you weren’t in the mood for fighting, which is why you suggested, “How about this, fyodor-” “I didn’t give you permission to use my name.” He snapped, showing his fangs. “…then, lil’ vamp it is.” You chuckled, noticing how that pet name annoyed him further. “How about a deal? I’ll spare your life and you can have as much of my blood as I’m able to give you.” His pointy ears perked, intrigued by this proposal. It sounded enticing, but there’s nothing for free in this world.

“And what do you get out of this?” Fyodor asked, keeping his distance. He wasn’t going to heed the rules of a deal anyway, especially when made with a human. “Allow me to be a bit crude, but I want you to sell your body to me.” The boy froze in place, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Were you aware of the implications of your own words? Was this another one of your mockery, your way of insulting him? “What makes you think I’d agree?” He questioned you, staring at your face with his scarlet eyes, trying to read you.

“I’m simply proposing a deal, you can decline or agree, it’s up to you.” Somehow you managed to sound unbothered and cheery despite the situation. No matter how fyodor wanted to decline, he knew this was his chance. If you fought with him seriously, he would eventually lose. Now, with you giving him new opportunities, he had to take them and put it to good use. “I’ll accept this for now, so, show me how sincere you are.” The demon demanded, and you answered with, “my pleasure, please show me to your room.”

Who would have known a day like this would come, where he got shoved into his own room, pinned to his own bed and humiliated in front of a human. It didn’t take long until you got him bend over on all fours, face pressed into his soft pillows. Any of his attempts to overpower you were futile, because you were physically stronger than him. That allowed you to pretty much manhandle him, denying him access to your neck. Once you got him into this vulnerable position, you didn’t held yourself back, asking him one last time if your deal still stands. After he nodded, you went all in.

Now you were breathing heavily while slowly entering his hole. His rim was tight and didn’t allow you any entrance, but you stayed stubborn, gently pushing your way in. “You are so tight, lil’ vamp.” You muttered, occasionally glancing over at him to see how well his reaction is. “Nghhh…! S-slow down, it hurts!” Fyodor groaned, cheeks flushed red as he realized the situation he was in, and that he never shared such intimate moments with anyone before. “…if I go any slower I wouldn’t be moving anymore.” You tried to reason with him, leaning down to press your body against his.

“HnnGh… t-then pull out…” He snarled, glaring at you while he felt your skin against his back, pressing him down, reminding him of your presence. How did things turn out like this? Why was he participating in such vulgar acts with his greatest enemy…? “Do you want me to? Then you won’t get my blood as well.” You whispered into his ear, licking his earlobe and the earring he wore. “Ha-haahhhH…! No, d-don’t.” The boy gasped, and you weren’t sure what he meant. But he seems to be enjoying himself, so you continued.

His hands gripped the white sheets with all the remaining strength he had, his ass reddened as he struggled to take you whole. That poor guy’s entire body was shivering, shaking as he tried to get used to this pressing sensation inside him. He could feel you stretching him apart, rubbing against his squishy walls. You smiled as you observed his efforts, one hand clasped over his hand as you intertwining your fingers with his. He had sharp nails, you could even call them claws. So you were worried that he’d poke holes into his sheets.

Your other hand explored his body, trailing down his spine with your fingertips, brushing over his body as if you were caressing a flower. “Hmm..! Uh-uhhng..! It f-feels weird..” It tickled him, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least he thinks it wasn’t. Next, you stroke his silky hair before grabbing his hip and mumbling tenderly, “you are doing good, don’t worry I plan on being nice for today.” What do you mean for today…?

Soon, your hips met with his, and you stopped moving until you were sure he was alright. “Good job.” You said, rubbing his blushing cheeks slightly. Then you held your wrist right in front of him, inviting him to bite you, giving him your approval. Without any once of hesitation, he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking viciously. He was feeling so weak from your actions, he needed that replenishment. Since he was distracted, you took that chance to start moving again, making sure to take your sweet time. Well, he looked like he’d break if you weren’t gentle with him. He had such a slim and frail physic after all. Just look at his waist, it’s so skinny you fear you could accidentally break him into two pieces.

Fyodor suck on your wrist, mind getting cloudy from the taste of your sweet blood. It tasted amazing, and it made him feel all foggy inside. As if he was getting drunk on it, addicted even. He made sure not to waste a single drop, lips pressed against your skin while he gulped down more and more of your vitality. Apparently he was so distracted he didn’t notice you pounding his cute ass, not until it was too late. You fucked him slowly but roughly, each time you’d thrust yourself as deep inside him as you could, feeling him clench around you so sweetly.

“HnMnh, nghh…” the vampire only whimpered meekly as he sipped your blood contently, feeling pleasure blossom everywhere inside him. You eventually quickened your pace, now rutting into him without any care in the world. It was instantly met with his mewling, a high pitched noise as he screamed in ecstasy. Fyodor couldn’t pull his thoughts together, tongue hanging out as some tears rolled down his face.

Then you pulled your wrist away from him, saying, “that’s enough for now. If you want more, you gotta work hard.” His eyes bore such a pitiful look as he begged you for more, face melting as he moaned around you, some of your blood sticking to his lips. “Ahhh… it felt so good, I-i don’t wanna stop..” he admit, hands shaking underneath you, his primal urges kicking in, infesting his desires and hunger.

“What is it that you want, fyodor?” The way you voiced his name made his knees go weak, tremble even. He panted heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, to keep his composure. “I-I want more blood… I want your blood.” You smiled, seeing him so desperate fed into your own desires. And you felt like if you denied him any longer he was going to cry, considering his eyes were getting watery already. “Then come here, lil’ vamp.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sat up, positioning him in your lap.

His first response was to whine as he arched his back forwards, legs turning into pudding as his hands shakily let go of the sheets, now clutching your thighs. “Ah-nGhh.. it’s so- so deep inside me.. it’s so foreign..?” Out of nowhere you turned him over, and he wanted to immediately bite your neck, but you covered his mouth with your palm. “Not yet.” As soon as he understood what you wanted, he wrapped his arms around your neck, bouncing up and down your dick like he was in heat. Your hand was still over his lips, so his moans all got muffled as they seeped through, “mHhnff, HnnGh, hmm…!!”

He rode you with fever and need. On one hand because he needed you and your blood on a carnal level, on the other hand due to him starting to enjoy getting fucked by you. After a while you took your hand away from him, now squeezing his waist with both hands, guiding his movements. Fyodor nuzzled against your neck, pleading with you, hoping you’d let him have some of that delicious red liquid again. “Y/n.. ah-huuHhn~ l-let me fed off you..? P-please..♡♥︎～?” You giggled to yourself, entertained and delighted, duty all pushed to the side as you said, “go on, take as much as you need.”

Needless of say, you two shared a long night together, and somehow, both of you ended up in endless love bites. Ops, what’s this? Oh no, his door is stuck! It must be because it’s so old~ oh no, seems you’ll have to stay at the mansion longer than expected… and his impending heat is coming up ♡

My friend send me this after I told them what I was writing haha

[undeadcourier]

Ghouls are, put simply, humans suffering from advanced, prolonged radiation sickness and whose bodies have mutated such that gamma radiation extends their lifespan past natural limits.

The process of ghoulification is outlined in canon sources, but I wanted to make a guide that goes into more detail on the effects of radiation sickness in various cases, since the level and type of exposure significantly affects the outcome.

This is the first in what will be a series of posts exploring both real-life cases of radiation sickness and the sci-fi concept of ghoulification in some depth. Graphic descriptions of the physical deterioration of the body are included for informative purposes; reader discretion is advised.

For this first case study, I examine the effects on the human body of exposure to high levels of radiation in a short period of time, with a focus on the real case of Hisashi Ouchi.

On September 30, 1999, a lack of appropriate safety measures and the proper materials resulted in an accident that caused three workers at the nuclear power plant in Tōkai-mura, Japan, to suffer from severe radiation poisoning while purifying reactor fuel.

Point of Criticality

An uncontrolled fission reaction was produced when technicians poured nearly seven times the legal limit of uranium oxide into an improper vessel containing nitric acid. The men reported seeing a bright blue flash—indicative of Cherenkov radiation—when the mixture reached critical mass, flooding the room with radiation. The workers evacuated to the decontamination room, but already, the two who had been handling the reactive solution were overcome with intense pain from radiation burns, severe nausea, and difficulty breathing. Hisashi Ouchi, who suffered the highest level of exposure, also experienced rapid difficulties with mobility and coherence. Upon reaching the decontamination room, he vomited and fell unconscious.

~1 Hour Post-Exposure

Ouchi regained consciousness in the hospital about 70 minutes after the criticality accident, where doctors confirmed that he had been exposed to high doses of gamma, neutron, and other radiation.

The maximum allowable annual dose of radiation for nuclear technicians in Japan was 50 millisieverts. Exposure to more than 7 sieverts is considered fatal. Yutaka Yokokawa, the supervisor, had received 3 sieverts. The technicians who had been handling the uranium, Masato Shinohara and Hisashi Ouchi, received 10 sieverts and 17 sieverts, respectively.

~1 Day+ Post-Exposure

During the first few days in the ICU, Ouchi appeared to be in remarkably good condition, given the circumstances: the skin of his face and right hand was slightly red, as if by a sunburn, and swollen. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reported pain under his ear and right hand, which had received the most direct exposure, but he could speak normally, and he joked with the doctors and nurses attending to him.

6 Days Post-Exposure

Tests revealed that the high energy radiation that Ouchi had been exposed to had obliterated the chromosomes in his bone marrow. They were unrecognizable—some severed, some fused, all out of order. This damage meant that his body was unable to create new blood cells. The red blood cells that transport oxygen could not be replaced, and Ouchi's white blood cell count was near zero, leaving him extremely vulnerable to infection.

~1 Week+ Post-Exposure

Intensive treatments, including numerous skin grafts, blood and bone marrow transfusions, and revolutionary stem cell transplants were conducted in an attempt to stabilize Ouchi, but ultimately without lasting success.

The skin grafts couldn't hold; when medical tape was peeled from his skin, his skin came with it, and the marks left behind couldn't heal. Blisters like those of a burn appeared on his right hand.

Ouchi reported frequently that he was thirsty.

~10 Days Post-Exposure

By this point, Ouchi's oxygen levels were so low that even speaking required tremendous effort. Ouchi was placed on supplemental oxygen and required sedatives to be able to sleep.

2 Weeks+ Post-Exposure

Ouchi was no longer able to eat and required an IV. By day sixteen, most of the skin on the front side of his body had fallen off.

His low platelet count and lack of healthy skin meant that his blood and bodily fluids leaked through his damaged pores, resulting in unstable blood pressure.

Donor stem cells that were meant to allow his body to create new tissue were also destroyed by the radiation present in his body.

~1 Month Post-Exposure

On the 27th day following the accident, Ouchi suffered from intense diarrhea. The mucus layer of his large intestine had vanished, exposing the red submucosal layer beneath. His body could no longer disgest or absorb anything he ingested; even water was excreted as diarrhea.

The skin of Ouchi's right hand was almost entirely gone, leaving the surface of his hand raw and dark red. Blisters spread across his right arm and abdomen, then over his entire body. Gauze was required to replace his skin, and his fingers had to be individually wrapped to prevent them from sticking together. Without skin to keep him warm, Ouchi required an electrothermic device to maintain his body temperature while his bandages were changed—a daily procedure that took hours. Every time the gauze was removed, more of Ouchi's remaining skin went with it. His eyelids could not shut, and his eyes bled. His nails fell off.

Ouchi's right arm was necrotizing, leading to an increasing amount of myoglobin—a protein in muscle tissue—flowing in Ouchi's blood. Untreated, this could result in renal failure as the kidneys could not process the amount of myoglobin present.

Ouchi's body could not regenerate the platelets that form scabs, meaning the risk of hemorrhage was extreme.

By day 50, more than two liters of fluid seeped from Ouchi's damaged skin each day. The amount of fluid prevented skin grafts from adhering. Furthermore, he began to suffer from blood in his stool, and permeated blood seeped between his inflamed small and large intestines.

2 Months+ Post-Exposure

On the 59th day after the accident, Ouchi suffered the first of many heart attacks. His kidneys and liver were also failing. He no longer showed reactions to stimuli.

By day 63, Ouchi's macrophages—the immune cells that normally attack and consume bacteria and viruses—were attacking his own healthy blood cells.

After 67 days, Ouchi suffered internal hemorrhage. He bled from his mouth and intestines.

Ouchi would continue to suffer from heart attacks, as many as three in one hour. Each time, he was revived, but he suffered increasing brain damage, until multiple organ failure ended his life after 83 days in the hospital.

Ouchi's colleague Masato Shinohara underwent numerous successful skin grafts and a stem cell transfusion as well as radical cancer treatment, but he, too, died of multiple organ failure after seven months. Their supervisor, Yutaka Yokokawa, was treated for minor radiation sickness and was released from the hospital within three months of the accident.

This detailed chronology was referenced from the book A Slow Death: 83 Days of Radiation Sickness by Iwanami Shoten, translated by Maho Harada. My post, of course, focuses on Ouchi's physical condition in his final months, but it’s important to remember him not just as a victim or a patient. He was a loving husband and father whose sense of humor and resilience left an impression on everyone he came into contact with. The book is available in its entirety here and provides a moving, nuanced account of the incident and the efforts to save Ouchi's life.

[moonstruckme]

I feel like Poly!marauders are sooo caring so maybe a dynamic where the reader is like an overly-insependent person and is not used to this kind of care and affection. Maybe it is reader’s first relationship so they have a hard time with the concept of leaning to others for support. Thank you in advance love!

Lmao this came wayyy too easily because I've definitely done all of these things! Thanks for requesting lovely <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

"Where you headed off to, gorgeous?" Sirius looks up from his laptop as you step into your shoes.

"Grocery store," you say. "I'm thinking of making souffle tonight, would you want some?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." He grins at you in that way of his, and you know he knows your knees just went wobbly. "Want a lift?"

"Thanks, but the bus goes almost directly there."

Remus looks up from his book with eyebrows already furrowed in disapproval. "It's nearly dark out, love. You shouldn't be walking around by yourself this late."

You roll your eyes. Men. "I can handle myself, been doing it for years," you say as reassuringly as you can, slipping out the door before either of them can argue with you further. "I'll be back soon!"

You keep a hand close to the rape alarm attached to your bag as you maneuver your way through the shadowy streets. You've been tired since you woke up that morning, so a ride would have been nice, sure, but you don't want to become one of those girlfriends who relies on her boyfriends for everything. That was your biggest concern with getting into a relationship: losing the sense of self-reliance you've cultivated over your life. You don't need help from anyone, even if the big, strong men think you do. You huff a laugh to yourself.

The grocery shopping goes quick, soon you're back at your own front door. Sirius and Remus are almost exactly as you left them, both curled up on the couch, but now James is home from the gym. You know this, because he apprehends you as soon as you walk through the door, hair wet from the shower and dripping on your paper grocery bags as he attempts to take them from you.

"I've got them," you laugh, dodging him.

James gives chase. "You're carrying three! Let me take a couple."

"I can handle it." You kick at his ankle playfully, sniffling.

He pauses, and you take the opportunity to whisk the bags into the kitchen, setting them on the counter victoriously. "You feeling alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah." You wave him off. "It's just chilly outside. Go relax, I'm about to start dinner."

James pouts but goes, flopping dramatically over the side of the couch. His head lands in Sirius' lap, and the other boy starts combing his fingers through the tangles of James' wet hair absentmindedly. Satisfied, you start setting out the ingredients you'll need, but a moment later Remus materializes beside you.

"You've been running around all day," he says. "Let me make dinner. You go relax."

"I don't mind," you say, slightly affronted. "I can handle dinner."

"Baby," Sirius pipes up, turning to look at you over the couch, "just let him do it. Take a—" he stops as you sneeze. "Are you sick?"

"No," you sniffle. "I don't think so."

Before you can move away, Remus has a hand on your forehead. "You're warm!" he says, in the same tone as one might say You're killing people and burying them in our backyard! A bit dramatic, in your opinion.

"Oh," you say, covering your face with your elbow as you sneeze again.

"Aw, angel," James says, your sole ally as Remus and Sirius look at you accusingly, as though they suspect you've been keeping this from them on purpose. Which....to be fair, isn't outside the realm of possibility. "Come sit with us, let us take care of you."

"Go," Remus says, moving his hand to the back of your neck and pursing his lips at whatever he feels there. "I'll make dinner, and some tea for you, yeah?"

You shake your head. "That's alright, I can—"

"Don't say you can handle it."

You huff, but it's clear you're not going to win this one. You go to the couch, where James accepts you with eager arms.

"Our poor girl," he coos, kissing every inch of your cheek sloppily. "Fuck, you are warm. You just need to take some time to rest, yeah?"

You sniffle grouchily, but Sirius pokes at your side, eliciting an unwilling snicker. "You could stand to let us help you out every now and then," he says, already seeming less upset with you. You suspect you have your illness to thank for that.

"I can take care of myself," you argue, but the fight is going out of you as you finally give into the cold you maybe sort of knew was coming on all day.

"We know you can, dove," Remus chimes in from the kitchen. "And that's what you've always done, but letting us take care of you sometimes isn't going to suddenly make you helpless, either." He shoots you a knowing look, too perceptive for his own good. And yours, apparently.

You sneeze again, jerking away from James so you don't spray on him. You feel disgusting, and pathetically vulnerable. Is this what they want you to succumb to? "I don't want to get too used to this," you say, voice small as you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "and forget how to manage without your help."

Each of your boyfriends, even Remus, softens like butter in the sun.

"Baby." Sirius wraps an arm around you, looking at you with eyes so soft you feel like you could cry. "You won't forget. You're tough, and that's not gonna change just because you let us do some things for you, yeah?"

You look at your lap, contemplating. He's not not making sense. The idea of accepting help is so unfamiliar to you, it feels like a betrayal of your core values. But you love Sirius, and Remus, and James, and if what they want is to help you, maybe you can try to let them. Some of the time, at least.

Sirius curls a finger under your jaw, his thumb resting on your chin as he tilts your face up to his. He must see the concession in your eyes, because he smiles softly. It's almost an apology, and you know that he's aware of how difficult this is for you to give up.

"You're gonna have to get used to this, sweet thing," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to your overwarm forehead. "Because we're not letting you go."

[metamatar]

When electronics manufacturing took off in China in the 1980s, rural women who had just begun moving to the cities made up the majority of the factory workforce. They didn’t have many other options. Managers at companies like Foxconn preferred to hire women because they believed them to be more obedient [...]

Hiring a young, female workforce in India comes with its own requirements — which include reassuring doting parents about the safety of their daughters. The company offers workers free food, lodging, and buses to ensure a safe commute at all hours of the day. On days off, women who live in Foxconn hostels have a 6 p.m. curfew; permission is required to spend the night elsewhere. “[If] they go out and not return by a specific time, their parents would be informed,” a former Foxconn HR manager told Rest of World. “[That’s how] they offer trust to their parents.”

[...] the Tamil Nadu government sent a strong signal welcoming Foxconn and other manufacturers: Authorities approved new regulations that would increase workdays from eight to 12 hours. This meant that Foxconn and other electronics factories would be able to reduce the number of shifts needed to keep their production line running from three to two, just like in China. [...] Political parties aligned with the government called the bill “anti-labor” and, during the vote, walked out of the legislative assembly. After the bill passed, trade unions in the state announced a series of actions including a demonstration on motorbikes, civil disobedience campaigns, and protests in front of the ruling party’s local headquarters. The government shelved its new rule within four days.

Indian Foxconn workers told Rest of World that eight hours under intense pressure is already hard to bear. “I’ll die if it’s 12 hours of work,” said Padmini, the assembly line worker.

For the expatriate workers, the slower pace of the factory floors in India is its own shock to the system. A Taiwanese manager at a different iPhone supplier in the Chennai area told Rest of World that India’s 8-hour shifts and industry-standard tea breaks were a drag on production. “You have barely settled in on your seat, and the next break comes,” the manager lamented.

In China, Foxconn relies on lax enforcement of the country’s labor law — which limits workdays to eight hours and caps overtime — as well as lucrative bonuses to get employees to work 11 hours a day during production peaks [...] five Chinese and Taiwanese workers said they were surprised to discover that their Indian colleagues refused to work overtime. Some attributed it to a weak sense of responsibility; others to what they perceived as Indian people’s low material desire. “They are easily content,” an engineer deployed from Zhengzhou said. “They can’t handle even a bit more pressure. But if we don’t give them pressure, then we won’t be able to get everything right and move production here in a short time.” [...] At the same time, the expat staff enjoy the Indian work culture of tea breaks, chatting with colleagues, and going home on time. They recognize they are helping the company spread a Chinese work culture that they know can be unhealthy. [...]

On the assembly line, Foxconn’s targets were tough to reach, workers said. Jaishree, 21, joined the iPhone shop floor in 2022 as a recent graduate with a degree in mathematics. (With India’s high level of unemployment, Foxconn’s assembly line has plenty of women with advanced degrees, including MBAs.) [...] “At the start, during my eight-hour shift, I did about 300 [screws]. Now, I do 750,” she said. “We have to finish within time, otherwise they will scold us.” [...]

Mealtimes are an issue, too. In December 2021, thousands of Indian Foxconn employees protested after some 250 colleagues contracted food poisoning. In response, the company changed food contractors, and increased its monthly base salary from 14,000 rupees to 18,000 rupees ($168 to $216) — double the minimum wage prescribed by the Tamil Nadu labor department for unskilled workers. [...]

Working conditions take a physical toll. Padmini has experienced hair loss because she has to wear a skull cap and work in air-conditioned spaces, she said. “Neck pain is the worst, since we are constantly bending down and working.” She has irregular periods, which she attributes to the air conditioning and the late shifts. “[Among] girls with me on the production line, some six girls have this problem,” Padmini said. Workers said they regularly see colleagues become unwell. “The day before yesterday, a girl fainted and they took her to the hospital,” [...] Padmini, at 26, believes she is close to the age where the company might consider her too old. “They used to hire women up to age 30, now they hire only up to 28,” she said.

[david-talks-sw]

The OTHER type of Star Wars fan

We've already covered (through this longer post and this addendum) that research shows George wasn't that involved or interested in the derivative material of the Star Wars franchise, also known as the Expanded Universe (EU). Aside from approving a few points, he let Howard Roffman and Lucasfilm Licensing handle it.

He is the first to say that he ain't as knowledgeable about Star Wars lore as we fans are.

Thing is... he's also not as passionate as we are.

Recently, I was watching some Q&A videos of George R.R. Martin, the author of Game of Thrones... and it occurred to me:

Martin is what most Star Wars fans wish Lucas was.

Think about it.

He's a talented writer who likes to focus on morally "gray" characters and complex political plotlines,

who created a series of novels for a mature audience in which his narrative merely asks questions and lets the reader draw their own conclusions,

knows and engages in the lore behind his creation and will often respond to those lore-heavy questions, and has gone on record stating that canon is the glue that holds a story together and keeps it coherent.

Contrast that with George "continuity is for wimps" Lucas, who:

Wrote a movie franchise which is also, partially, political... but he makes it for kids, and he's explicit about how this is thematically a clear-cut story about how the conflict of "good vs evil" is really about "compassion vs greed",

with flat dialogue, boring cinematography,

and whose approach to lore and canon can be summed up in his answer to how Anakin got his scar:

"I don't know. Ask Howard [Roffman]. That’s one of those things that happens in the novels between the movies. I just put it there. He has to explain how it got there. I think Anakin got it slipping in the bathtub, but of course, he's not going to tell anybody that." - Pablo Hidalgo’s set diary, August 2003

And as a Star Wars fan, I will admit that some of his casual retcons felt disrespectful, growing up.

"Boba Fett is NOT Mandalorian?!"

I had the same reaction when I saw an interview of Kathleen Kennedy stating she was a fan of Star Wars... from a filmmaking perspective. That seemed like such a finagling cop-out for me, at the time.

"Just say you're not a real fan, God!"

And it's easy to divide it in two camps, like that. You have 1) the fans, who will delve into deep lore, and you have 2) the average moviegoer.

But looking back on it... holy shit, that is actually a completely valid way of being a Star Wars fan.

Yes, Star Wars is a transmedia franchise, it's books, it's video-games, it's deep lore, it's lightsabers and Jedi and Sith and bounty hunters and Ewoks and Jabba and High Republics and Tython and Revan etc.

But before it was that, Star Wars was a filmmaking revolution. A juggernaut of innovation for the silver screen that inspired most of today's filmmakers.

So, sure, George Lucas isn't an avid lore-loving Star Wars fan like you and me. But he is a movie fan.

"I'm not that passionate about this story. I like it, it's fun and I enjoy doing it. But it's definitely not my life. I'm a bigger movie fan than I am Star Wars fan. I like making movies. At the end of nine years of making Star Wars, I was not ready to continue it. I was completely burned out on it. I was more passionate about raising my kids than making movies and especially making Star Wars. So I made other kinds of movies and TV shows and advanced the technology I needed. It's not a matter of passion. My passion is for filmmaking. I'll go and do filmmaking that is easier to do, where you can realise your ideas better. And nine years is a big part of your life, and to commit to another nine years, I didn't wanna do that right away." - EMPIRE, 1999

And you can tell this, when you watch the Star Wars films.

There are honestly so many homages and interesting filmmaking techniques, peppered throughout the six films, which only a nerd for cinema history like George would know how to implement.

C3-PO being based on the droid from Metropolis (1927) is a perfect example of this.

And that's interesting.

Because there's essentially this entire other dimension to the films, where it's not just the story unfolding, but to filmmakers it's also a series of techniques that make them go "I wonder how they did that!" or homages that make them go "OH! I know where that's from!" like we do when an comics characters appears in live-action.

Here's other examples:

CINEMA HOMAGES

All of Star Wars is absolutely littered with homages to cinema history.

I mean, you may already know this, but Flash Gordon is what George originally wanted to shoot, but the copyright holders said they only wanted Fellini to direct it (ironically, George wasn't artsy-fart enough for them). So he decided to write Star Wars instead.

As such, the inspiration from Flash Gordon is also present visually and spiritually throughout the two trilogies.

"It was like a Republic serial, a 1930s-style matinee adventure. The idea was that you came in, saw Episode IV, had missed the first three episodes, and wouldn't get to see the rest of it." - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

The dialogue that a lot of people refer to as "campy" and "flat" is actually a mix of George being an experimental filmmaker who doesn't give much of a fuck about dialogue (and is by his own admission, not the best at it)...

"I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. [...] I just wanted to get from point A to point B. This film doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing because it's not about snappy one-liners.  I think that Lethal Weapon-style dialogue is overused, it's a necessary aspect of high action films where you have to have the smart retort. You have to say "I'll be back baby" and stuff. It's not my style. It takes away from the integrity of the movie. [...] I'm aware that dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem." - EMPIRE, 1999

... which is convenient, because it helped him simulate the dialogue of 1930s matinee serials, such as Flash Gordon.

"Let’s face it, their dialogue in that scene is pretty corny. It is presented very honestly, it isn’t tongue in cheek at all, and it’s played to the hilt. But it is consistent, not only with the rest of the movie, but with the overall Star Wars style. Most people don’t understand the style of Star Wars. They don’t get that there is an underlying motif that is very much like a 1930s Western or Saturday matinee serial. It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

But beyond that, literally it's everywhere.

The scene where Palpatine ascends to being Emperor as Anakin slaughters his political rivals parallels the final scene in The Godfather, where Michael becomes the Don while his goons do the same thing.

This video compiles all the tributes beautifully. Check it out.

Even The Clone Wars has whole episodes that are direct homages to cult classics. The Zillo Beast episode is a clear reference to Godzilla, the episode The Wrong Jedi is inspired by The Wrong Man, etc.

"CINEMA VÉRITÉ" CINEMATOGRAPHY

I've already written a whole post (one of my favourites) showing how his fascination with cinéma vérité documentaries is reflected in the cinematography of all six Star Wars films, and it's part of what makes the entire franchise feel so immersive.

You can check it out here:

KUROSAWA

We've gone over how he's a big fan of Akira Kurosawa, and how big an influence Hidden Fortress was on both the Star Wars trilogies...

... but so is the mise-en-scène and the way George approaches production design. The reason Star Wars feels so "lived in" is also a lesson George learned from Kurosawa, which is that by making everything just a bit off-kilter, a bit dirtied-up and imperfect...

... and yet keeping it all consistent, in a way, you manage to make the film feel grounded and immersive, no matter how alien it is.

"[It] may sound odd in a movie like this, but credibility and realism, even in the most unrealistic situation… to sorta create that sense of realism is very important to making the story work and making you feel like you’re actually in the environment that transports you and gives you the suspension of disbelief that you need in order to enjoy a movie. [...] Kurosawa used to call it “immaculate realism” which is to make it slightly off-kilter, slightly eccentric, like things are in real life. Even if it’s a very predictable situation, give it that little funny edge that takes it away from that and makes it realistic. And I had to struggle very hard, in the Star Wars films, to make them appear to be realistic, even though they’re totally fantasy." - The Phantom Menace, Commentary Track #2, 1999

POST-PRODUCTION & VFX

Another one of the more impressive aspects of the first Star Wars was the dogfights and the trench raid of the Death Star. The camera pans with the spaceship, the dynamism of the cuts. The space battles is what made George creat ILM in the first place.

He was determined to do the opposite of what 2001: A Space Odyssey had done with that opening scene where the space ship moves into frame slooooowly...

... so he gave the team a collection of WWII dogfight footage to give them ideas.

(note: this was the same approach he would take years later with Dave Filoni, when teaching the latter how to edit and craft dogfights in The Clone Wars)

The attempt to film the trench run eventually led to the creation of the first motion control camera dolly.

Best analogy I can think of, when describing George's approach to Star Wars, is the following:

An avant-garde esoteric contemporary artist - y'know, the type who puts a blue dot on a white canvas and calls it art - creates a comic.

Why? Because he wants to make this one art installment for a gallery exhibition. After that, he intends to move on to other things.

But the comic is really good! And like, its audience quickly expands beyond just gallery visitors, no, everyone likes it.

Suddenly, the comic develops a cult following, and the entirety of comic book geek culture has zeroed-in on the artist and they're all asking him to make more art! And he makes more! And more!

Then he stops for two decades, moves on to other art projects, raises his kids. Years later, he discovers new ways of drawing, and he's like "I'm making a Prequel to the comic, y'all wanna see it?"

Everyone cries out gleefully: "Oh God, yes! Finally! Show us!"

But this motherfucker makes a manga.

Why? Because he feels like it.

And of course he does, he's just creating art, right? He discovered the graphic tablet, so he's having fun with it, because he's always innovating and pushing the envelope with his art.

And the movies are fine, by manga standards. But by comic book standards, they obviously suck! The comic book audience is mad. They wanted another comic book, not a manga. Why is it in black and white? Why is read right-to-left? This comic sucks!

(And arguably, they have a point... as a savvy businessman, he's made a whole lot of money off this comic, he built a media empire out of it, and instead of giving them what they want, he made something else)

But again... this guy isn't a comic book illustrator, and has been very explicit about saying this.

He's an artist who - for a very specific project - drew a comic.

Many things can be true at once:

the fact that these creative decisions didn't always hit their mark for the average moviegoer, or fans of "Star Wars, the space fantasy movies and expanded universe" (usually the lore-loving geeks like myself)...

... and the fact that they were meticulously and carefully crafted in a way that fans of "Star Wars, the revolutionary film" (aka fans of cinema and filmmaking) can appreciate.

There's a spectrum of the fandom, and there is a spectrum in the way we can appreciate Star Wars. Which kinda reminds me of that scene in Chef (2014) where Carl goes on a rant explaining the intricacies of making his chocolate lava cake to a food critic.

It's not just undercooked chocolate.

It's molten.

Conversely, it's not just flat, campy dialogue. It's an homage to the 1930s matinee serials à la Flash Gordon.

It's not just boring cinematography. It's a reproduction of cinéma vérité documentary-style camera work which effectively grounds the film.

Having considered all this, when I hear that Tony Gilroy or Kathleen Kennedy were more in the latter camp, I go "fair enough".

First of all, because like it or not, so was George. He clearly didn't give a single crap about the comics and books, besides signing off on minor plot points. He's not a "sci-fi movie director", he's an experimental filmmaker who makes movies set in space.

But secondly, because - aside from children - it's clear the audience he was targeting was these cinema-savvy folks who'd get his references and would be inspired by the filmmaking techniques.

Not the fans or the critics.

[angelsdxmise]

ORPHIC

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 when Bakugou is paired with a girl that’s not spared a glance for a project, he wants to explode. Why does his mind keep going blank when he looks at you then?

Contains: g/n reader, profanity, midoriya trying to be ur friend 😭. if I forgot anything, tell me please ❤️

a/n: oml 2.3k words. doesn’t seem like much but this is actually my longest fic and im debating a pt 2.. btw, send requests please! 💕

PART TWO

Monotone. Dead. Bored. Creepy?

When Bakugou thought of you, he thought these four words exactly. Unable to even recall the last time you smiled, laughed, or even spoke really. 

Not like he found any interest in you. He didn’t think of you on the daily, which is why he let out a groan at the announcement from Aizawa, saying you two would be paired for a research project on each other's quirks.

Which means you two are required to talk. Adding onto that, today was the only day you could work in class since there was no time or reason to put project hours into valuable class time.

“You have 10 minutes before the next bell. Go meet up with your partners, and no, I am not switching anyone.” Aizawa grumbled in his constantly tired state, slumping down in his sleeping bag and knocking himself out.

Bakugou huffed as he spotted Kirishima and Kaminari throwing a thumbs-up his way, smiling and winking at him. He was already thinking of how to kill them but set it aside as he made his way over to you.

Uninterested is an understatement. All you did was stare at your notebook with your head resting on your palm. Occasional sighs came out if anyone was lucky that day.

Bakugou took the seat in front of you and faced you in his chair. “L/n, are you dead or something?” Fury built up inside of his head as you didn’t even spare him a glance.

He slammed his palm against the desk, and you flinched at the sound, finally looking straight at him. Of course, it filled his ego in the slightest when he scared someone. “Meet me at my dorm at 5:30. Don’t be late, extra. I’ll tell Aizawa you’re slacking if you even dare giving me extra crap.” He grunted. 

“Ehh.. mkay.. I guess.” You muttered. Your eyes turned away from him and looked out the window as if you just wanted to get this over with. It wasn’t necessary to look at Bakugou anyway, you could feel the wrath coming from him. Did I just make him more mad?.. What did I say? You pondered as you avoided his hellish and terrifying gaze to say the least.

Bakugou scoffed before he could get to screaming at you for no reason. He stood with his hands in his ridiculously baggy pants and sulked away as you sighed and thanked your guardian angel.

Unfortunately, 5 came faster than you had thought. You wanted to cry as you put your face in your pillows, really not wanting to deal with someone like him.

He was unfit for you. You distanced yourself from everyone for a reason, there’s too much noise, unnecessary excitement, and a waste of your time. These were the things you thought to justify your actions.

The truth was, you wouldn’t be lonely if you chose to. The most insistent ones were Mina and Hagakure, a friendship that you believed the devil brewed up in hell just so they could annoy the absolute shit out of you.

They did seem truly disappointed when you continuously declined their advances.

I guess I do feel a little bad..

The clock hit 5:24, and you groaned as you sat up in bed to grab your laptop and notebook, stuffing it in your bag. You let out a strained sigh and made your way to his dormitory.

You hesitantly raised your fist up to the door, quickly knocking and awaiting a response.

Is he not here? you stared at the door, a bored expression on your face although you wanted to rip all your hair out at what was lying on the other side.

 

“Door’s open.” A raspy voice came from within. The handle turned and you were met with Bakugou and his materials to get the project done sprawled out on the bed. You felt like a lost puppy.

“Are you gonna stand there or work on this?”

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you took skittish steps toward his bed. You carefully moved a few things out of the way and put your back against the wall, and took your laptop and notebook out. You nearly died when you forgot your pencil and came to the conclusion that you’d have to ask for one.

It’s just a pencil.. I’m fine, right? Oh god.. I’m gonna jump out the window. You sprawled deeper into your demise. A voice snaps you out of it and you realize sweat is forming on your hairline. “I already added you to the slides. You’ll do the bottom half and I’ll do the first including the introduction. Got it, extra?” 

“Sure..” You gulped, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t get mad at you for just a silly pencil, right? Surely that’s ridiculous.

“By the way, do you have an extra pencil? I kinda forgot mine just cause—” You felt something hit you right in the forehead, thankfully on the eraser side. “Are you kidding? Can’t even bring a pencil. I’m failing this for sure.” He growled, a hint of malice in his tone as he glared at you.

“It’s just a pencil.. relax.” You shot back at him.

“Don’t tell mE TO RELAX!!” 

“Oh my god, you’re turning red from how angry you are.” You snickered. Why are you entertaining this? “I know practically enough about your quirk, so I’m clear for my slides. No help needed.”

“Hah? How? I’ve never spoken to you a day in my life.” He asked. A bead of sweat glided across your cheek as that was one of the worst questions he could’ve asked.

What actually happened was that you had asked Midoriya for his notes on Bakugou. Truthfully, you thought you had said, “Hey Midoriya, can I see your notes on Bakugou?” but you assumed that Midoriya must have thought you were going to stab him to death if he didn’t give you what you wanted, due to how monotone and serious your tone and voice was.

You debated between saying Midoriya or no reason at all. If you went with the second option, he would probably think you're a stalker. You cared about your reputation even if you didn’t have many people around.. which made people assume things about you without anyone telling them what was true or not.

“Don’t get mad because I know he’s your absolute nemesis. Midoriya gave me his notes on your quirk and how it works.” You muttered out, a little stammer in your voice as you realized Bakugou was giving you an, “I’m going to kill you and that damn nerd” look. 

Your eyes wandered away from his as he tried to keep his cool when he realized he was staring a little and observing you.

You did have emotions and weren’t a robot. In fact, you were kind of charming. You were expressive when you spoke to someone too. He blinked out of his trance when he saw you take your notebook and open it to underline the most important details about his quirk. 

“Are you gonna explain your quirk to me or not?” He growled, trying to forget the fact he was just crushing on you for a moment.

You fought back a dramatic sigh “Right..”

You stretched your back and cracked your knuckles as you came to a realization.

What time even is it?

You look down to the corner of the screen. 7:42 PM. Good enough. I’m not surprised we haven’t talked for 2 hours despite the fact we’re sitting next to each other.. You close your laptop and it seems to bring Bakugou’s attention to yourself. 

“What’re you doing? There’s still more work to be done, extra!” He hissed, a deadly look sent your way. “I’m.. leaving? We’ve been at work for over 2 hours straight.” 

“And?” Bakugou toned down a little suddenly. Wait, why the hell am I trying to get this random to stay? He thought.

“And I just so happen to have the desire to leave, so bye.” She quickly got up and closed the door while leaving before he could protest further. 

A sigh of relief left your lips upon being free from his room. God, talk about being nervous. You walked back to your room, set your bag aside, and flopped face-first on your bed. 

You rolled over and could feel sleep creeping upon you, and you accepted it although you realized you hadn’t changed into your pajamas. Oh well, tomorrow was the weekend anyway.

The sun rose and you could hear the birds singing a familiar tune, as they did every morning. Light peeked through your drapes as you let out a tired groan. You could hear the chatter of your classmates downstairs. A yawn left your lips as you sat up to stretch your back.

Deciding between passing out again or showering and starting your somewhat lazy day, you choose to freshen up and wear pajamas for your day. You wanted to finish the project quickly so you could have the rest of the day to not worry about due dates or grades, so you decided to tinkle your slides a bit on your own time.

You also worried about Bakugou’s aggression and malice while drying your hair some more. “Wonder who put a stick up his ass.” You chuckled to yourself as you applied your skincare.

Your classmates didn’t seem to spare you much of a glance when you walked into the kitchen, as per usual. You did want it this way, right? Even if it hurts you a little when you realize they were spending time together. Even if it hurts when you realize they made breakfast for everyone.

Bakugou, Asui, and Koda weren’t downstairs but you had seen leftovers for them on the counter with their names on it.

You did not find yours, and when you realized a bit of embarrassment dared to show on your face. As you were sulking off to spend your day in your dorm, bored, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“L/n?” 

You turned around and were met with Midoriya's face as he held a plate of food. Wonder what he needs me for. “Yeah..?”

“I saw when you were coming down since you came a little after I did, and the class left me some of the food but I wasn’t really hungry and didn’t see any out for you so.. are you uh.. hungry perhaps?” Midoriya stammered out with a small smile. You had the tiniest smile on your face. 

“Sure I am. Thank you.” You chimed. You never would’ve thought Midoriya was paying attention. But, that’s what he did right? He paid attention to every little detail. What you and Midoriya had both failed to notice was when Bakugou came down to get food and was staring directly at you from where he stood with his friends.

He felt a hint of jealousy at the sight of Midoriya being able to get you to smile. A small hint of regret at not coming down earlier and being the one to offer food. But, Bakugou doesn’t do that nice crap. It’s a waste of time.. right? So…

Why did he start to get a desperate desire and drive to make you smile like that at him? To show any sort of emotion? And why is it that he wanted the specific emotion to be happiness?

Walls of anger dissipated when he looked at you. He was staring. Again. Have you always been this enchanting? You made him question his thoughts. No way he was falling for some extra who barely even had emotions.

He didn’t know if you were opposites or similar in some ways. 

He snapped out of his trance once again, attempting to focus on the conversation his friends were practically begging for him to join. You started walking away a little while after having a little chat with Midoriya. 

And boy, did he look really happy after he spoke to you. Bakugou has never felt more.. irritated. Midoriya was getting another thing that he wants. Another accomplishment and doing something Bakugou can’t dream of doing.

God, what was he saying? Why was his mind so hyper-focused on you?

Little did he know, you’d been sweating because you could feel his eyes practically burning your flesh away. You had to admit to yourself, you were growing to enjoy Midoriya's presence after that meeting.

He sighed and dismissed his friends as they groaned and Sero barked out a “Did you really think he cared?” as he left for his room.

Finally, upon his arrival, he closed the door behind him and sat on his bed, lost in his thoughts. He thought of how you would be in fact, meeting later today. A growl left him as he denied his emotions. Of course, he could never care for some extra who just so happens to be attractive and in the same class and just so happens to be similar to him in a way.

Of course not. A waste of time is all it is. He doesn’t have time for you. 

Right?

7/4/24 ~ Thank you for reading, please consider reblogging/liking/following, or if you want a pt. 2. 🫶🏽

[windcarvedlyre]

Thinking about Venti's role as an archon and how he might be doing his job- as Celestia intended- better than we think.

Archons, in Gnosticism, rule over the material realm and prevent souls from leaving it. Barbatos, in the Ars Goetia, "reconciles disputes between friends and those who hold power".

Everything we know about Venti implies that he hates Celestia and opposes all forms of tyranny, but if their goal is to keep humanity from advancing, realising the truth of the world and taking actions that could threaten the status quo...

...isn't the best way to prevent rebellions and slow progress to make the people you rule content with what they have?

Venti is all about making his people's lives leisurely and seemingly free (I'll get to that in a second). It's in his gemstone quote, the thing which summarises his approach as an archon:

"Still, the winds change direction. "Someday, they will blow towards a brighter future… "Take my blessings and live leisurely from this day onward."

We see this reflected in Mondstadt's culture and economy. There are still hardworking individuals in the Knights of Favonius, the Church of Favonius and the Adventurer's Guild, but this attitude isn't universal even within those organisations and the rest of Mondstadt's people generally have a slow, relaxed approach to life relative to other nations. They haven't produced any internationally notable industries outside of alcohol, and why would they? They have everything they need, graciously provided by the anemo archon himself*, so why strive for more?

This has already left them vulnerable to the whims of more powerful nations, incapable of meaningfully opposing the Fatui without inviting consequences they can't handle.

*Also see Jean's story quest for a scaled-down version of this. Mondstadt's general population relies on her hard work a bit too much and she enables them.

We also see Mondstadt have a softening effect on outsiders multiple times in-game. There are at least three cases of people questioning their life choices because its people and/or scenery are that nice. Two are branches of hangout events, one is a soon-to-be-ex treasure hoarder chilling on Cider Lake's coast. I've joked that Mond is a lotus eater hotel scaled up to a nation based on this, but what if that's somewhat intentional?

But why would he do this?

It could be an unintended side effect of efforts to improve people's quality of life. He was allegedly naive enough not to forsee the aristocracy situation, after all. But at the same time... he's a god of freedom and hope in a world where his people have no hope of freedom.

-Harmost's Notes (II), Remuria.

He knows what happens to human civilisations that advance too far and attempt to rebel against this world. He likely knows a god much like him, themed around music and desperate to free his people from fate, tried and failed horribly. He lives in the shadow of a celestial needle. The Cataclysm would only reinforce this perceived futility of resistance. He still hopes for a brighter future, but he may be pinning all of his hopes on a descender taking pity on Teyvat's people and choosing to help them. To quote the description of Mondstadt Statues of the Seven:

A monumental stone statue that watches over Mondstadt. Legends say that it was sculpted in the image of the Anemo Archon. "Seeds brought by the wind will grow over time." The statue silently anticipates the arrival of a noble soul to arrive, while thousand winds of time will soon unfold a new story...

Apart from that, what else can he do besides be passive and complacent? Besides make his people comfortable and hope they don't rock the boat too much before liberation is actually possible?

And the thing about resolving disputes with those in power worries me. It could just translate into his pacifism, but it could also mean he's less willing to act against Celestia than we'd hope. Why did the Tsaritsa, the only archon named after a saint and willing to take a stand against Celestia, fall out with him? He has reasons to be pissed at her methods but I suspect that won't be the only factor.

All we can do is wait and see.