#Advanced Inverter

[okayapowergroup]

DIY or Expert Care: The Ultimate Guide to Inverter Battery Maintenance

When it comes to reliable power backup, inverter batteries are the backbone of homes and businesses alike. Proper maintenance not only ensures efficiency but also extends the lifespan of your battery. While some tasks are simple enough to handle on your own, others require professional expertise. Let’s explore how to balance DIY maintenance and expert care, and how Okaya Inverter Batteries make this process hassle-free. DIY Battery Maintenance: What You Can Do Yourself Some basic maintenance tasks can be handled by users with ease, especially with the user-friendly features of Okaya Inverter Batteries. Here are the top tasks you can manage:

Water Level Monitoring and Topping Up

A. Use Okaya’s ceramic water level indicators to check water levels at a glance.

B. Refill distilled water with the spill-free float design, eliminating the hassle of removing plugs. Cleaning Battery Terminals A. Regularly wipe terminals with a dry cloth to prevent dust and corrosion buildup. B. Use a corrosion removal solution for stubborn grime and ensure all connections are tight. Visual Inspections A. Check for visible signs of damage, such as bulging, leakage, or cracks on the battery casing. B. Ensure the battery is placed in a ventilated area and kept clean for optimal performance. When to Call in the Experts While DIY efforts go a long way, certain tasks require the precision and expertise of professionals. These include: Electrolyte Level Management

A. Experts use specialized tools to monitor and balance electrolyte levels.

B. Okaya batteries feature advanced vent systems to reduce evaporation, but periodic professional checks are still vital. Performance Testing A. Professionals conduct load and Certified Backup Hours (CBH) testing to ensure your battery delivers reliable power. B. These tests, offered by Okaya’s service network, are crucial for heavy-duty applications. Repairs and Troubleshooting A. Complex issues such as sulfation, internal short circuits, or plate damage require professional repairs. B. Okaya provides PAN India service support for quick and efficient resolution of such problems. Specialized Maintenance for Advanced Applications

For batteries powering medical equipment, telecom systems, or large-scale setups, expert care ensures optimal performance. Benefits of Professional Maintenance 1. Technical Expertise: Experts identify and address hidden issues that might escape DIY inspections. 2. Enhanced Safety: Professionals follow safety protocols when handling high-capacity batteries. 3. Extended Battery Life: Timely interventions prevent premature wear and ensure longevity. 4. Optimized Performance: Specialized batteries like Okaya’s SJT and TT models thrive under expert care. Okaya Inverter Batteries: Maintenance Simplified Okaya Inverter Batteries are engineered to reduce maintenance demands with features like:

Ultra-Low Maintenance: Designed with low antimony alloy for minimal upkeep.

Advanced Tubular Technology: Robust design for long-lasting durability.

Faster Recharge: Reduces downtime, making professional servicing efficient.

Spill-Free Maintenance: Float designs and vent systems simplify water topping tasks. Striking the Right Balance While DIY efforts such as water topping and cleaning terminals are manageable, advanced tasks like performance testing and troubleshooting should be left to experts. By combining routine DIY care with professional interventions, you can maximize the efficiency and lifespan of your inverter battery. Okaya’s cutting-edge technology and extensive service network ensure that maintaining your inverter battery is seamless and stress-free. Conclusion Battery maintenance doesn’t have to be daunting. With Okaya Inverter Batteries, you get a combination of user-friendly features and expert support to simplify the process. Perform basic care at home and rely on professionals for advanced maintenance. After all, a well-maintained battery is your key to uninterrupted power and peace of mind. For more insights and tips, explore our blog: Battery Maintenance: Should You Do It Yourself or Call an Expert?.

[pickaropoprocks]

Day 29!!

[aaiieell]

YOU CAN DOWNLOAD THIS SHEET IN PDF FORMAT HERE : https://www.aprendeinglesenleganes.com/inverted-conditionals.php INVERTED CONDITIONALS Today, we'll explore the intriguing technique of inverting subjects and verbs in conditional statements, adding a touch of elegance and emphasis. Discover how a simple rearrangement of words can create a whole new dynamic in expressing hypothetical situations. Dive in and unlock the secrets of inversion in conditional sentences! NOTE : You may need to invert conditional sentences in the key word transformation part (use of English part 4) of the C1 Advanced and C2 Proficiency exams. #c1advanced #c2proficiency #caeexam #cpeexam #ieltsexam #TOEIC #TOEFL #cambridgeenglish #cambridgeenglishexams #englishlearningtips #englishteaching #ConditionalSentences #inversioninenglish #invertedsentences #AdvancedGrammar #englishgrammar #inversion

[techdriveplay]

Revolutionizing Home Convenience: Samsung Unveils AI-Enhanced Family Hub Refrigerator in Australia

Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd. has recently unveiled its highly anticipated AI Family Hub French Door Refrigerator, now available across Australia. This advanced appliance represents a significant leap forward in the integration of artificial intelligence within home devices, offering unprecedented connectivity and smart capabilities. Launched just two days ago, the AI Family Hub is designed to…

[digitalfilipina]

SOLIS' NEW INVERTER TO MAKE SOLAR ENERGY ACCESSIBLE TO MORE PINOYS

  The S6 Advanced Power Hybrid Inverter, launched during the Future Energy Show Philippines, can work as an independent power center to help meet the power demands of a Filipino Household. To address the problem of unstable power supply causing frequent interruptions in Filipino households, companies are taking steps to make solar technology more accessible to middle-income families. Among the…

[shorthaltsjester]

last ep really reignited (not that it was ever really unignited) my love for fjorester man. a girl who grows up learning only to mediate her life through tropes from romance novels and a boy who grows up literally chiseling off the parts of himself that he thinks stain him and hiding the parts he can’t literally shed himself of. and like. the way that jester becoming aquatinted with reality doesn’t completely undo her Romance Goggles™ but instead inverts it and has her take on the handsome hero role to fjord’s damsel in distress. like. in practice they switch who’s the damsel and who’s the hero but in terms of overall arc. jester is the handsome roguish figure on the run from the law who runs into the uncertain and floundering figure trying to figure out who he actually is. (and obviously they’re both these things in different ways. what makes fjorester so delicious is that their arcs have such similar shapes but with different focuses) but like. jester who starts out flirting trying to play at being like her mother and like the characters from the romances she’s read only to end up romancing fjord in the moments when she subverts that. when she’s crying in front of jellyfish and carefully asking him about a past only she’s been privy to and confiding to him that she’ll give up her life if it stops the evil that’s coming. meanwhile fjord is courting danger and dying in front of her and blushing when her advances are mort overt and like. the way they both romance each other in ways that suit each other. jester checking in with him in quiet moments (always thinking about jester’s hesitant ‘how are you?’ in ep 117 that makes fjord break out into the sweetest surprised and endeared smile) and fjord doing big romantic gestures in response. the way that’s encapsulated in the ways they tell each other they love each other for the first time, jester quietly snuggled up against him in the middle of the night and fjord after conjuring rain that they can kiss in. jester giving ashton romance advice that assumes ashton’s role as the masculine pursuer and then doing exactly what she recommended he do to fearne to fjord. her little addendum after the silliness of “and then you just tell her how you feel” (i can’t recall the exact line). and just. fjord and jester as these people with so much bravado and masks that they have both because they find enjoyment in putting them on but also because of burdens they’ve taken on but both of them also having a person they can unbuckle in front of without sacrificing the like. playfulness a mask grants, they’re just also allowed the safety of being seen. do you get it? do you get it? they make me lose my mind.

[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. 

[arctrooper69]

Mine

Here's my piece for the wonderful @isaidonyourknees for the @cloneficgiftexchange! So sorry it's a day and a half late! 😂😅

Warnings: Suggestive spice (nothing explicit), unwanted advances, jealousy, angst

--------------------------------------------------

"Leave me alone, Crosshair." The order meant to be snappish slipped out instead with a tired sigh.

"No," came the reply.

You sighed again as you felt him shift and sit down a few feet away. No more words were exchanged - the silence felt both peaceful, yet suffocating.

"Why are you up here pouting?" He finally spoke.

You glanced at him sharply. "I'm not pouting!"

"Yes you are."

"No. I'm not!"

He huffed dryly. "Sure looks like it to me."

"Hunter benched me!"

Crosshair shifted and sighed, "It's for your own good."

You scoffed, "And how would you know what's good for me?"

"You're exhausted. You're off your game."

"I'm fine. I feel fine."

He sighed again and you could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "That constant tapping of your foot and the way you're shaking tells me you're trying to run on stims and caf."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "And how would you know?"

He was silent. "Because I've done the same thing."

"So that makes you think you're better than me?"

"No."

You crossed your arms, turning away from him. “I’m still not pouting.”

“Sure.”

You glared at him out of the corner of your eye. “Just go away.” This time the words did deliver the sharp edge you’d wanted before, but now you weren’t sure it was exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t know what you wanted.

“Fine, came the equally snappish response. Crosshair stood and headed back down the wooded trail. A sudden disappointment threatened to overtake you and a heat burned in the back of your throat as you tried to swallow it back.

“Crosshair wait…” you called out, turning to face him as he paused and turned back.

“What?”

“I…” You stopped. No. Crosshair had better things to do than to deal with emotions that you yourself couldn’t even decipher. “Nevermind.”

For a second he paused, almost as if waiting for you to once again change your mind. He shook his head and turned around once again, disappearing into the woods, leaving you on your own.

Fine. It’s fine. You’d asked for privacy and that’s exactly what he gave you. Yet, it felt lonely nonetheless.

Crosshair was confusing to say the least. One moment it felt like he was trying to make an emotional connection, and the next he acted like he wanted nothing to do with you.

The roar of engines echoed through the trees from the base of the hill as the Marauder soared into the sky and disappeared into the atmosphere.

***

It seemed like forever ago that you'd met the surly sniper on a job. It was forever ago. So much had changed since a heated exchange of angry words led to a moment of heedless passion. One night. A romance ignited by the very intensity that divided you. The same fingers that rested pompously on the trigger of a rifle soon pulled through tangled hair and moved with purpose against your warmth. Tongues once sharp and taunting, now slotted through parted lips with desperate pleas for more.

And then it was over. Back to the cold realities of war. No words were spoken, only awkward avoidances and inverted eyes.

Talk to me, you'd wanted to say. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.

Perhaps that's all it was to him. Maybe you'd given him everything he wanted in that moment. Maybe that's all you were to him - a distraction - a soldier's relief from the stress of a never ending war.

You'd wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. Then the galaxy changed and as the Republic fell, so did your hopes.

And now after so long, he was back.

***

It was nearing dusk before you finally pushed yourself from the ground and headed back down the path.

Fueled by a growing sense of hunger and the need to be around others, you found yourself walking towards the local cantina.

The music blared from somewhere above, pumping a bass that rattled your bones.

Despite the club-like atmosphere the lighting was dim, illuminating the same bar scene that haunted almost every planet in the galaxy.

The air was thick with the scent of spice and the sound of raucous laughter. You sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Despite the bustle, it still felt lonely.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

Fingers ran across your back as you spun around to face the unfamiliar voice.

A large nikto smiled drunkenly over at you as he leaned against the bar.

“You look lonely. You here alone?”

His breath reeked of alcohol. “You're real pretty,” he slurred, reaching out to grab your arm.

You jerked away, shooting him a glare. "Back off," you growled, voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

The nikto persisted, his grip tightening. "Come on, don't be like that.”

“Dude,” you rolled your eyes, “leave me alone.”

He sighed, seemingly annoyed at your refusal.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone in a place like this. Let me at least walk you home, baby.”

“Don't call me that,” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grip.

His jaw stiffened as he stood up straighter.

“You should be more grateful that I'm even giving you the time of day, bitch!”

Now it was your turn to stand. The nikto grabbed your arm again. Your fingers curling into a fist, ready to strike the stupid smirk from his drunken face.

"She's not yours to touch."

A familiar voice growled from behind as the nikto’s hand was wrenched from your arm with a cry of pain.

Crosshair.

What was he doing back already? You turned to face him standing behind you, expression dark and dangerous. His hand rested on the blaster at his hip, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

The nikto's eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, asshole?”

Crosshair glowered, taking a menacing step forward. “I'm the guy who's going to put an extra hole in you if you don't leave immediately.”

The nikto paused, unsure if he was bluffing or not.

Crosshair clicked the safety off, loosening the blaster from its holster.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," he said, voice low and threatening.

The nikto had enough. “Geez, okay fine! I'm leaving!”

Without another word, he turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood silently watching as Crosshair stepped forward, his practiced eyes scanning every inch of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, “Did he hurt you?”

You let out a shaky breath, “No,” you murmured, “I'm fine.” A smile flitted across your face as you looked up.

Honey brown eyes stared sharp, pierced with concern and something else.

Jealousy?

“Good.” He replied. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the courage to do so.

But this time something rose within your own chest, warm and encouraging.

“Crosshair?” The words came timidly despite their bold intent.

He looked sharply, “What?”

“What did you mean by that? ‘She's not yours to touch’?” You asked. His hand, still on your arm, gripped a bit tighter, pulling you close. Something flashed in his eyes. It wasn't the hardness you'd come to expect from him.

“It means you're mine. You've always been mine.”

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi!! I'm sososo obsessed with Satyr König oml you're a genius (also I've binge read your whole yandere könig tag it's so perfect). Okay so sorry in advance for my English, but:

I can't stop thinking about a shy (and kinda pervert lmao) nymph reader who sees him, sees how big and strong he is and how well he secretly protects all her sisters (and how irresistible his big, thick cock is) and really falls in love and is wildly attracted to him, BUT she's very shy and the idea of telling him her feelings is too mortifying, so when he's out in the woods she sneaks in his den, tidies the place up, brings him some flowers as gifts (yeah im inverting the usual roles lol), snuggles in his bed of furs (maybe touches herself fantasizing about him-) and König, well, notices the changes in his house and is VERY perplexed, so one day he returns earlier than usual and sees this cute, soft and unaware nymph moaning and whimpering in his den, her face against his furs, all wet and willing and ready to mate while she quietly moans his name, eyes closed and face red- he'd go FERAL

The idea of desperately horny satyr König with a more than willing needy nymph makes my brain melt oml

(And btw, do you think you'll ever write Satyr König again, in general?)

Satyr!König goes absolutely feral, yes.

He noticed the lingering sweet scent at the mouth of his den already, a sugary, floral scent that he knows so very well. He knows it to his core, because his nose wants to follow that scent whenever he catches it.

Only nymphs smell this sweet, like flower meadows and moonlight, like spring water and honeycombs. The distinct scent of a kore is eerie, and only gets stronger when he walks further into his lair, but what’s more is that he recognizes who this particular scent belongs to… He has memorized her in his loneliness, and every time he catches a whiff of her in the air outside, he can’t help but grow hard.

He barely even notices the absence of his usual mess, that someone has washed all his cups and put his wine pots in order. His den has seen a lot of brooming, and there are fresh flowers placed on his oaken table, thoughtful bouquets hanged from the roots of his oak. But before he gets to inspect those odd little things further – he’s used to trampling flowers out in the wild, he never even thought of using them as decoration, but they do look kind of nice, don’t they? – he hears a soft whimper from the back of the den.

From where he sleeps, and isn’t it peculiar how he can now smell something else, now, too… Something irresistibly heady, something that demands action at once, making his cock stir and swell to the point where it’s almost painful. There’s another soft moan, calling to him like an enchanted flute: his whole den has changed from a dark dungeon into a soft, scented temple, echoing with the sounds of a maiden in heat.

He finds her spread over his thick, musky furs, furs that have seen countless lonely nights, and have to be changed every turn of the moon because they’re so grimy. She doesn’t seem to have any trouble with laying down in his filth, the rough furs that smell of seed and satyr sweat, of old musk and maybe a few tears. Satyrs cannot cry, they say, but that’s only because no one ever sees them do so. He’s spilled more than his fill of salt on that makeshift bed, and not all of it was ropes of hot seed…

“P–please…”

She sees him, sees how surprised he is catching her here, in the place all nymphs always try to evade. She sees how hard he is while watching her bare and panting there, all over his furs, lips swollen from lust. Both up and down, her lips are wet and quivering; she’s completely ready to be taken, and only the tiniest sliver of respect prevents him from fucking her senseless right here and right now.

“Please, I beg of you…”

But when she begs for it like that…?

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He simply cannot.

And why waste time on thinking how she got here (or more importantly, why she got here?) Why mull on the hot question of why isn’t the loveliest creature on earth trying to get away from him?

“No need to beg,” he grunts as he lays himself upon her, cock hot and already leaking as it finds her entrance.

The smell of ambrosia envelops him as he glides inside, the whimper from his nymph a song of paradise. She smiles softly at such immediate lust, or is it the sun that comes out of the clouds, somehow reaching under the branches of this oak?

She welcomes him with open arms, a tear falling down her temple and into her hair as he tries to be gentle with her. But it’s not really his size or his lust that makes her cry. Her hands trail up and down his sides, they try to desperately wrap around his wide torso. She looks into his eyes while he starts to rut her, amazed to have been granted such a blessing at all.

“I’m in love with you,” she sighs into the air between them, her eyes glimmering with worship in the dim, earthy dusk of his den.

He messes up with his thrusts, breathing out his shock while hovering over her. She’s so delicate and frail, and so desperate for a nymph who’s supposed to be frolicking in the open fields… She should be climbing in the tall trees and giggling at centaurs from there, she should be admiring the full moon and the stars, she should be playing in the freshwater with her sisters.

He always thought this one feared him the most, slinking into the shadows beneath the trees whenever she saw him. Casting her eyes down as if she didn’t want him to notice her at all, never mocking or teasing him like the others did. That’s why he left her alone: because he didn’t want to break her. She was far too pure for someone like him.

But now she’s here, with flowers and a hot, wet body, trying to grab him so hopelessly in her fragile embrace…

“You can’t say things like that, little one,” he warns, feeling something akin to fear for the first time in his life.

“Why not…? It’s true,” she chimes there beneath him, a few more tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

His chest is burning, but the only sound that comes out of him is a low growl. A warning and a plea.

“You shouldn’t tease an old faun.”

“And you shouldn’t stop what you only just started...”

He blinks at her answer, at her soft smile.

Then, he shoots down to kiss her neck.

She moans from love when he opens his mouth, careful not to puncture her delicate flesh with his teeth: he only devours his nymph with soft hunger, licking and sucking her soft skin. Her giggles and sighs drive him to the sweetest madness as he starts to make love to her under the earth.

His home has never heard such cries of joy, felt or seen such displays of devotion… He returns her confessions thousandfold, in every way he can. These silly little creatures always fear a satyr’s love is only about lust, and therefore escape such hollow adoration, but he’s not here to just ease the pain in his sacks.

He’s now forever bound to her, whether she knows it or not…

[okayapowergroup]

Okaya Inverter & Battery 2025 – Fast-Charging Power Backup for Home & Office Use Need a reliable power backup solution for your home or office? Discover Okaya’s Advanced Inverters and Next-Gen Batteries with 15% faster charging, 100% load support, and certified backup hours. Find trusted performance and best inverter battery combo at affordable prices today.

[sugar-grigri]

Denji is awake, Asa is already inside and Yoshida is Chainsaw Man's ally

We interpreted the last chapter in reverse, so why not continue the exercise?

I haven't read any reaction, but I know in advance that Yoshida will be shown in the same way: as a cold being always there to make Denji's situation worse. But the observation is quite the opposite: he's the one who's constantly negotiated for his situation. Worse still, interpreting him as an ally makes everything absolutely clearer.

I know what I'm saying may come as a surprise, after all, he's the one who announced Denji's dismemberment and doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop it. But don't interpret things that way, the whole answer is in the title.

The title refers to the ambient sounds of Denji's dismemberment, having no words at all, whereas titles usually refer to the dialogue in the chapter. Why is this? Because the answers are in the scenery and the unspoken words.

For example, the answers lie in the questions that seem to be answers (stay focused): for example, we learn that Denji slept for a week… OK… but why exactly did they let him sleep for a week ? The protagonist asks Yoshida: why didn't you wake me up before?

In addition : why wake him now?

The chapter deliberately focuses on a cold Yoshida, who announces that he's put him back to sleep. But why wake him up to tell him all this and then put him back to sleep? After all, the contract had already been broken, Denji couldn't negotiate.

Because it's been a week since Yoshida negotiated to give Denji one last chance. In any case, the time that has elapsed shows that there have been negotiations about what to do with this out-of-control Chainsaw Man. Why is Yoshida doing this? Because more and more, he starts trying to protect him, even though he's supposed to control him. We'll see that his principles and his own way of surviving will also be increasingly undermined.

Yoshida knows that Asa has a connection with devils, whether it was when he prevented Denji from revealing his identity after fighting Yuko or or when he assisted Yoru during the aquarium arc. Telling her to stay away from Denji was a means of protection, as he knew that she was a disruptive element, which could lead Denji to either reveal his identity or transform and thus put himself in danger.

In chapter 132, Yoshida appeared in an extremely dominant position with a bound Denji, with Yoshida looking almost antagonistic. But in reality, the direct consequence of Yoshida's intervention was an equal negotiation around a table about Nayuta and being Chainsaw Man in the chapter 133 that followed. Above all, Yoshida presented himself as a malevolent force when, in reality, Nayuta arrived earlier than expected, a sign that she was safe and already freed.

Above all, we know that there is a mole because the information leaked to the detriment of the church, the public hunters were aware of the attack to the point that Quanxi stopped it before it went off at 5pm. Worse than a leak, there was an exchange of information because the church was not at all destabilised and had already planned its response with the fire demon.

If you're still not convinced: then interpret Fumiko as the strict inverted product of the system that Yoshida has become. Fumiko is a hunter who presents herself as younger than she is, calling Denji senpai even though she's older than he is, while Yoshida never behaves like the teenager he is.

Fumiko also presents herself as Denji's ally, showing that she sees him as a child, whereas she has never had the will to protect him and has always dehumanized him. Yoshida does the opposite, presenting himself as Denji's enemy, playing on the fact that he's the only figure among the public hunters to negotiate with him and face his wrath, preventing him from doing what he wants while secretly helping him.

Yoshida is beginning to worry about Denji, otherwise he'd be totally indifferent to the fact that he doesn't grasp the stakes of the dilemma the hunters are imposing on him. The aim of the public hunters was to send a hunter around Denji's age for more connection, but in reality it's Yoshida who is becoming more sensitive to Denji's actions than Denji is to Yoshida's words.

By being this mediator who enters into direct negotiations, he feels that he is not only responsible for what Denji may do, but by dreading the fact that he breaks the rules, he also begins to dread the consequence of having broken them: Denji will be in danger.

Negotiations then took place for a week to improve Denji's situation, but failed given the way Chainsaw Man behaved out of control. Yoshida could do nothing officially, so he turned to the last resource he had left: the war devil.

When Yoshida confronted Asa, we sensed that he himself was unsettled by what he was doing. We also feel this unease expressly in this chapter, when he sees the state Denji is in.

But what interests us most is that he apologizes to Asa for attacking her, even though she had followed the rules. It's as if Yoshida realised that, even if he made sure that we totally complied with the State and its conditions (Asa had to stay away from Denji, Denji mustn't transform), that wasn't enough to guarantee the security they were hoping for in return.

All this overturns Yoshida's principles in two ways. From a relational point of view, Yoshida sees solitude as a way of life less likely to be hurt, and we also see that his criteria for normality are the fact of being isolated. But the hunter's tactic backfired: instead of not getting hurt, he became increasingly concerned about the fate of the man he was supposed to dehumanise.

On another level, Yoshida's survival strategy is to trust the system, to trust it blindly and to accept its logic, hence his eyes without a glint in them, like Kishibe's, who had integrated them so as not to suffer. But more and more, he realises that this is not enough to guarantee safety. He realised this when he attacked Asa himself. But above all, Denji himself has never broken the rules. He never revealed his identity to anyone. And when he turned into the Chainsaw Man, the contract had already been broken by the actions of Barem, who attacked his dogs and cat. In reality, Denji trusted Yoshida's words, he had fully integrated them, but the state failed to protect him as it had promised.

It is easier, even if only politically, to accuse a 17-year-old teenager of not honouring his commitment than to recognise that the state was unable to protect dogs and a cat from the actions of the church to prevent this transformation.

But above all, and this is what's fascinating, is that Yoshida uses this very political way of presenting this state failure when he opens the doors and is heard by Fumiko and the other agents, as if to convince them that he's still on their side. Yoshida thought it was enough to be alone and trust the system, but Asa and Denji proved that it wasn't enough. This trust in the state can be represented by the tako-tsubo trap: the octopus enters these cylindrical jars thinking it can protect its fragile constitution by sticking to the sides, but in reality, the octopus remains at the bottom of the trap.

Yoshida becomes aware of the trap he is in and helps Denji more and more. When did he have this realisation? I can't date it, but what I can say for sure is that in chapter 156, he intends to help Denji. He wakes him up to talk to him one last time, he gives him information, if only temporal, and Denji only confirms the failings of the system: Yoshida doesn't know Nayuta's fate because the state has completely failed to protect her.

But more importantly, takotsubo is also a fairly rare heart condition that can be brought on by a great emotional shock, which Yoshida wants to avoid by isolating himself. But as we said, he's already in the trap, so he's already become more emotional.

So Yoshida wants to help Denji, but how? By doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do, bringing Asa back into the equation by warning her about Denji's situation and his position.

The dismemberment of Chainsaw Man is a more than secret operation, and Fumiko asks Yoshida for confirmation, a sign that he is one of the only people with the most reliable information about Chainsaw Man's fate. No-one else could have warned Asa. But above all, Yoshida's information is going to help the war demon: by redeeming himself.

Denji has one leg removed, then the other, but what's left? His arms, right? Whereas Asa's legs are shown at the very end. But what was she missing? Her arms, right?

And what are these doctors doing, harvesting limbs and obviously? On top of that, it's a big number... 26... 27... what the public hunters are surely doing is to weaken Chainsaw Man as much as possible by dividing him up, but to accentuate his division, they're pulling on Denji's strap to force his regeneration while playing on his sleep to leave him unconscious. A large number of Denji's body members are harvested.

And who cut off Asa's arm? Yoshida. What could he do? Place her arm among all Denji's arms. To leave her with a weapon of choice within these walls. Warn Asa, and take advantage of her severed arm by recovering it, was Yoshida's plan B.

I know your headache's already there, but let's get on with it. What's the chapter title? Ambient noises, right? But who hears them?

I'm going to say the first sounds are those of the helicopter. The others are those of the dismemberment operation. But who hears all these successive noises? Isn't Denji supposed to be asleep?

Quite simply because Denji has woken up, not physically but to recover his senses a little, hence the detail of his clenched fist and the fact that he can now hear. How is this possible? Probably because Yoshida made sure not to shoot him completely. Why not? Because not only does he need Denji to remain at least minimally conscious, he also needs him to stay awake out of fear for the uncertainty surrounding Nayuta's fate.

We can see that Nayuta's fate agitates Denji and even makes him semi-conscious. Telling her that she was fine would have had the opposite effect, as Denji would have had no desire to get up. I think you can see where I'm going with this, but it was in Denji's interest to frustrate him even more about Nayuta and that's exactly what Yoshida did.

Let's make a brief philosophical and legal point: Leviathan by Hobbes is a work that forms one of the bases for thinking about the relationship between man and the state. Hobbes wrote this essay while traumatized by the English civil wars, for whom the only way to avoid chaos would be to give our liberties to a powerful monarch.

Man is a danger to social well-being; his natural reflex is domination, enslavement and violence.

Giving our freedoms to the state provides a powerful arbiter who in turn ensures security and social peace - the social contract. Why Leviathan? Leviathan is none other than the State, a creature invented by men, against which no individual can compete. Yoshida works for the state and therefore symbolically for Leviathan, the octopus demon.

The quid pro quo of this contract with the State, the Leviathan, is security, which is not guaranteed, as Yoshida can testify. So what does Yoshida do? He helps the figure whose popularity threatened that of the State as the guardian of social peace. But above all, he is helping the element that the state fears most - civil war, i.e. war within its borders. Within its walls.

If Yoshida and Asa have one thing in common, it's that they prefer to be alone to avoid suffering. What they do, however, is join forces to prevent Denji from stopping suffering, to enable them to move forward just like the legs they lack.

Just like friends would do.

[oofmybad]

hi baby! could you write something about billie’s gf being a pole dancer and billie watching her perform for the first time? if not thats completely okay!! thank youu xx

First time

ofcccc lovey! such a good idea. i hope this is the kinda thing you were after! love you

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, pole dancing

a/n: my fingers actually have slices in them from the strings on my new guitar so it hurts to type lol. excuse any typos teehee

~~~~~~

sat in front of a litted vanity mirror, you meticulously place jewels onto your face using a pair of tweezers and some eyelash glue. you’re sat backstage at the local burlesque club - you were honored to recieve an invite to perform tonight as a guest.

the door to the dressing room creaks open slightly followed by a gentle double knock on the door.

“come in” you shout into the void.

in walks your beautiful girlfriend, billie, holding a bouquet of pink lillies wrapped in deep red tissue paper - all held together by an olive green ribbon.

you gasp loudly, making eye contact with billie through the mirror. you leap up from your seat, and skip over into billie’s arms.

“hi, mama!” billie excitedly says into your ear, her free hand wrapping around your waist. “these are for you” she leans back from your hug to present you with your gift.

“they’re beautiful, bil. thank you” you make eye contact with her, all doe-eyed.

“you look so beautiful, baby” billie says, her eyes raking up and down your body. you’re wearing sweatpants on your bottom half, and the bra you will be performing in on your top half.

“thanks, it’s only half the outfit, but i had to put the top on before i got ready so i don’t get makeup on it” you explain - doing that oh-so-typical thing of reasoning away any compliments you get.

“oh yeah? show me the full outfit then” billie says, her pointer finger pulling back the waistband of your sweatpants so she can peek into your pants.

“hey!!” you push her hand away, “no peeking!” you turn around and lay the bouquet onto the dressing table, bending down every so slightly.

billie chuckles as she walks up behind you, her right hand lightly cupping your ass. “i cant wait to see” she says in a low tone.

you ignore her flirty advances - aware that this will be the first of many tonight - and tell her where to go, instead.

“i saved you a seat in the front row. there’s a seat with my name on it, you can sit there.”

“when are you on?” billie asks you.

you look up at the analog clock above her head before answering, “in half an hour. shit, i gotta finish up, baby.”

“good luck my love” billie pecks your cheek, careful to avoid any glitter on them.

once billie has left you alone again, you finish up your makeup, putting on the finishing touches. you change out of your warm up clothes, and strap into your heels.

looking in the mirror you speak to yourself:“you’re hot shit. you got this”

****

“please put your hands together for, pixie!”

applause erupts around the room, your girlfriend’s cheers being the loudest.

from the side wing, you hear the stage tech counting you in.

“you’re on in 1… 2…and… go”

bitch better have my money begins to bleed from the speakers as you smoothly strut onto the stage to the beat. your heels click in time with the drums.

the crowd gets even louder when dollar bills start shooting out of a gun you’re holding. bills shooting into the air with each ‘brap brap brap’.

you throw the gun to side stage and begin climbing to the top of the pole. once you’ve reached the top, you invert into a straddle, your hands are the only thing holding you in place. as rihanna sings ‘knock me off the to-o-op’ you suddenly drop to the ground, your body reverting so you can land in a slut drop.

billie is sat there, front and center, screaming her damn head off. clutching her dogtag in slight fear. she’s never seen what you do before, so she has no idea what to expect.

much to her delight, you’re soon shaking ass in front of her.

bent over, ass to the crowd, your hand reaches through your legs and strokes over your clothed pussy. you turn your head to make eye contact with billie as you do so, sticking your tongue out.

billie charades as though she’s been shot, her body collapsing into the chair she’s sat in. your friends sat next to her laugh at her antics.

stood straight again, and continue your routine. you elegantly flow around the chrome pole, your body moves like water in time with the music.

when the song slows down, so do you. now, you’re facing the audience - body wave after body wave as you descend into a box straddle. your body crawls forward and you approach billie who’s mere feet away from you.

she’s holding a whole wad of cash, waving it in front of you. your lips creep into a side smile, and you crawl towards her.

as she makes eye contact with you, she mouths, “can i?”

you nod as you sit back on your heels in front of her legs. billie counts the bills of 20s in her hand, and stuffs them one by one into your bra. as you sit on your knees, your pointer finger enters your mouth and you seductively chew on the tip of your finger, never breaking eye contact with her.

once she’s about to put the final bill into your bra, you grab her hand and bring it towards your mouth - grabbing the money with your teeth - leaving a lipstick stain on the paper.

happy with your work, you turn around on, still on your knees, to face backstage. you place your hands in between your knees so you can throw your hips up and slam the balls of your feet down onto the vinyl flooring.

you slowly stand yourself up, bending one knee to make sure the audience has a good view of your ass.

you walk towards the pole, climbing once, twice, three times so that you’re high in the air. your legs open in a straddle - either side of the pole - before you quickly cross your legs over one another. now sat crisscross on the pole, your head drops down with the final beatdrop.

as you spin in a layback, you undo the tie on your bra. all the money that once tucked in it is now flying across the stage like a cloud. with your bra disgarded on the floor, your tits are left completely bare except for a pair of cherry red pasties with tassles hanging from them.

you spot billie sat in her chair, legs manspread, as she’s nibbling on her bottom lip. she looks… hungry. you chuckle to yourself, bracing yourself for what’s to come later on.

the tassles on your chest sway with the momentum of your spinning body. you slide down the pole into a handstand on the ground and then handspring out of it, landing in another box straddle, but this time, your back is to the audience.

slowly, you lie back onto the floor as your caress the fat on your chest. your legs bend up slightly, allowing you to lie all the way back.

you end in this pose, your back arched off of the floor, one hand on your tits, one hand covering your clothed core, as give the audience a wink.

the song fades out as you lie there - slightly panting from the 3 minutes of cardio you just did. the audience raises to give you a standing ovation. you blush at this as you roll out of your straddle and stand on your feet.

dollar bills are flying everywhere - the audience loudly showing their appreciation for the show you just put on for them.

suddenly shy, you half-heartedly bow for everyone.

“that’s my baby!” billie screams out, her hands cupping her mouth, causing the audience to giggle in unison.

you giggle, too, before picking up your bra and running off of the stage to the wings.

you walk back to the dressing room as quick as you can through the maze that is backstage - suddenly feeling slightly exposed.

once you reach the room, you open the door to billie standing there, waiting on your arrival.

“what’d you think?” you ask her, still stood there breathing heavily.

billie silently walks towards you and roughly grabs your face in her hands, leaving a warm, passionate kiss on your lips.

you smile into the kiss before pulling away for air. “you liked it, then?” you teasingly ask her.

“baby, i dont even know what to say… you’re so, so sexy” billie says, one of her thumbs stroking your cheek.

“yeah?” you ask her, looking for reassurance that she’s not just saying that to appease you.

“hell yeah. i’m so lucky i get to have you all to myself” billie whispers with a smirk.

“yes you do” you laugh, before leaning in for another kiss. the kiss starts to become heated, billie’s hips grind into yours.

“not here, bil. lemme get changed and we can go home” you mumble into her lips. but she’s relentless.

she pulls you up into her arms, using your ass as leverage.

“ah!” you lightly yelp with a giggle, quickly kissing her back. billie spins around and sits you onto the vanity dresser before pulling away to stare at your chest.

her hands go up to feel you, but you stop her.

“just wait, lovey. like half an hour, max.” you try and coax her.

“urghhhh!” billie groans as her head falls back. “you’re such a tease, y/n.”

“i’m not a tease, i’m just doing my job” you retort.

“what, it’s your job to make me horny?!” billie slightly raises her voice.

“no baby” you softly place a hand on her chest, “it’s my job to dance on stage. not my fault if that makes you horny” you shrug your shoulders with a laugh.

“fineeee” billie whines like a toddler, “but be quick. i’m taking you home and blowing your back out.”

“is that a promise or a threat?” you question with a half smile, teasing in your voice.

bille kisses her teeth before stepping out of your hold, “god damnit, just get dressed and quit tempting me” she rolls her eyes jokingly.

“yes, ma’am” you say, hopping off the desk.

[milkywayes]

okay so happy pride month or whatever, no one asked but here’s my garrus vakarian dating history headcanon:

he has had 5 casual hookups pre-normandy, which isn’t a big number compared to his peers, and you’d think it’s because he’s an obsessive little freak who’s bad at being a turian, which evens out his good looks and swagger (and for some it does - cue some very frustrated crushes being forcibly stamped out because ‘really? that guy? he yelled at our superior last week in full view of the entire canteen’) but really he just didn’t notice half the advances made at him and the other half he turned down because he was busy thinking about important stuff (like gun mods, or cases, or math) and after careful consideration and weighing the pros and cons decided his time was better spent elsewhere. two of the 5 were with men, the other three with women, all turians. no repeats. he has had zero relationships pre-shepard if you don’t count the homoerotically-charged friendship he had as a teenager, one year before and one year into boot camp, before their very different abilities got them postings on opposing ends of the galaxy (read: elite sniper units on stealth patrol ships vs guy that assists the guy that fixes the lights in a backwater colony). he thinks no one knew about this, but his whole family did know and just tactfully didn’t bring it up. during the archangel years he has 1 hookup mostly because everyone tells him he’s so high-strung and needs to get laid more than he needs oxygen, but he bows out early on because his depression isn’t really conductive to the proceedings (read: she came but he didn’t.) this somehow ends up adding to the archangel urban myth, a true hero of the people asking for nothing in return, wink nudge, which makes him the butt of his team’s jokes quite literally until they all die bloody. he has never been in love until shepard, is initially unable to even categorize the feeling, and unfortunately for him, dealing with uncertainties and gray stuff and undefined parameters are about the only thing he’s actually bad at (besides the whole model turian stuff, if you count that as a skill). so basically his skill tree gets inverted as soon as he catches feelings. previous hookups would have described him as a gallantly attentive but emotionally unavailable, doesn’t save your omni-tool address but remembers your name kind of guy, which he mentions once to shepard. doing so is a faux-pas, though she doesn’t point this out and instead laughs uproariously because just that day he dented his newly-polished armor in his attempt to hold the elevator for her

send post

[invenusworld]

shatabhisha

shatabhisha natives are highly prominent in their arenas and often unconsciously set the 'rules,' standards & framework for their respective fields

johann sebastian bach, shatabhisha moon, is arguably the most prominent composer of the baroque era of classical musical, his name and works often overshadowing those of his contemporaries'

shatabhisha is deeply entwined with the notion of boundaries — a symbol of shatabhisha is an enclosed circle and the planetary ruler of shatabhisha is rahu, who is associated with labelling, defining (thereby limiting) and categorization. the innovation, genius & creativity of shatabhisha is often sparked by self-imposed limitations and rigid guidelines. this is perfectly encapsulated by john m. reese in his essay 'Concepts of the Composition Style of J.S. Bach'

"Bach is legendary for his mastery of counterpoint, particularly in late works such as the Musical Offering and the Art of the Fugue. When I try to explain to musical novices the challenge Bach faced in writing some of these works, I use the analogy of writing an essay of 500 words or more, where the entire essay forms a palindrome (reading the same from front to back), where you are not allowed to use the letter "e", where all the syntax is correct, and where, finally, the end result makes perfect sense.

Bach performed similar feats in writing fugues that were invertable in their entirety (e.g., could be played upside-down), canons woven around an existing melody in which the answering voice is augmented and transposed to a different key, and canons on an existing melody in which the answer is inverted, and which was also playable with the entire canon inverted. It boggles the mind that such sophisticated thought, rivaling that required of computer scientists, was being done in the early eighteenth century"

(shatabhisha relating to technology and all forms of technological advancements)

ultimately, this is a fascinating nakshatra with seemingly infinite creative potential and the ability to find inspiration in the most mundane. with a highly observant disposition and a keen eye, these natives see the world through a lens of synchronicities and patterns. shatabhisha is of the infinite, vast, all-pervading ether element & these natives' works and influence penetrate and permeate through the ages ϟ

[failbettergames]

You dream of rain. You dream that the ink that is your flesh is running off the page, smeared into dark rivulets on the vellum. When you wake, you can still feel a stiffness in your back; as if your spine is being held tautly by yarn.

In the dark of the cabin, your mind enumerates sensations as your eyes adjust: The sway of the gondola. The vibration from the engine in the starboard nacelle above you, rattling slightly – still no replacement for the broken fuel intake.

The noise of water rapping against a porthole window.

Hello, delicious friends. It appears that time, very disrespectfully, has chosen to march on until it is very nearly April. The time has come to talk about our major future plans for Fallen London.

A new major storyline

Firmament is Fallen London’s next major expansion, a main story arc that adds on to the game’s ongoing progression. Acquire an airship – permanently, this time. Fly to the Roof. Explore the stalactite fields ruled by the Starved Men, the carved paths of the Moon-MIsers, the inverted jungles of the Antipelago, and more.

This expansion focuses on the Roof. Just like the unterzee gets stranger and darker as you zail away from familiar shores, so do the upper airs of the Neath contain more than what you know about. As these castles on the ceiling open to you, you will learn more.

Firmament will launch over the course of April, with a prologue becoming available on April 11th, and the full first chapter on April 18th.

While Firmament is in some ways a follow-up to the Railway storyline, we are aware of how long it takes to get to the very end of the game’s (current) highest-level story. When Firmament launches, you will be able to start it as long as you have already begun the Railway storyline and reached Ealing. While you will need to advance your railway further to access the latter parts of Firmament, there should be ample time to catch up on the Railway in between Firmament chapters.

New mechanics

The Railway arc added new advanced skills. During the Zeefarer cycle we added revamped Zee travel and the new Boon/Burden mechanic. This set of updates comes with its own mechanical expansions to the game.

New item slots

Airships make their return as full-fledged items. Much like zeefaring ships, they serve you mostly in air travel – Aerial Prowess and Aerial Armament also make their return. But we’re also adding a few other item slots, while we’re at it.

Adornment includes all manner of jewellery and accessories – rings, necklaces, earrings, neckties, brooches, and more. Previously, items in this vein would appear in slots like Gloves or Clothing, leading to the somewhat odd mental image of wearing your Pendant of Helicon Amber and nothing else. With this update, these items gain their own space, enabling more player expression and empowering players to reach slightly higher stats.

Several existing items will be shifted to the Adornment slot, slightly buffing them by allowing them to stack with other existing items. Adornment is intended to be a part of the game from relatively early on – around the later parts of Making Your Name. A new Bazaar store, selling Adornments, will be added in a future update.

Crew is a complement to both ships and airships. We’ve long wanted to give ship crews (distinct from the vessels themselves) a bit more personality. Are they experienced or green? Are they Admiralty men through and through, or a band of privateers and villains? These kinds of concepts never really fit the Companion or Affiliation slots, so we are creating a purposeful slot for them.

Crews will be made available in a future update, initially accessible to players who have a ship.

Luggage may seem like a slightly odd addition, but so much of Fallen London, and Victorian fiction in general, is about travel and the mystique of travel. A battered steamer trunk that’s been everywhere. A briefcase full of secrets. Phileas Fogg’s carpetbag. Luggage is intended as a midgame slot. In a future update, you will be able to assemble some initial Luggage items in the Bazaar Side-Streets.

New Skills

We are conscious of not adding too much complexity to the game, especially not all at once. Firmament doesn’t add a full suite of new skills, like the Railway. It adds one new skill, and two new qualities of a somewhat skill-like nature.

Chthonosophy, the study of the root of things, has already been teased – but you’ve not really been able to obtain it, thus far. It is the major new skill for Firmament, playing a role similar to the role Zeefaring had in Evolution.

Inerrant and Insubstantial join Neathproofed as its two other counterparts. Like Neathproofed, these will appear more as additive benefits; they help your checks with other skills, more so than being checked in themselves. They exist to add a little extra, to help differentiate otherwise-similar items, and to act as an occasional bonus. As part of Firmament, we are pushing to make more use of Neathproofed, and carve out that space for its new counterparts, also.

Roof Travel

I won’t go into too many details about Roof travel, other than to set expectations. Yes, there is a new map. No, Roof travel is not quite a fully-fledged activity like zailing is.

We aimed it at a sort of middle ground between Railway travel (which is convenient and fairly predictable) and Zee travel (which is a whole venture unto itself.) Traveling from point to point on the Roof mostly takes one action; very occasionally, two. But it is drastically more variable than rail travel. There’s a broad variety of different things you can encounter in the upper airs of the Neath. And as you progress this storyline, you will encounter stranger things as you travel through the air.

And other delights…

Of course, we have other things planned for the rest of 2024. Our usual festivals will run as usual. A new Estival. Monthly Exceptional Stories. Various other surprises, including a series of more grounded new stories set in London. But we’ll talk about these things in detail sometime after Whitsun, which should take place, as usual, in May.

[redux-iterum]

It’s going to be interesting to see what happens with Bramble and Squirrel next arc, since you’ll have replaced the core aspects of literally every plotline they will be involved in. Random insane theory: Squirrel and Leaf will be Scourge kits. No real basis for this, but Fireheart isn’t having kits of his own and this will ironically invert the starting positions of the duo (Bramble will be the family of the beloved hero, and Squirrel is the child of one of the clan’s nightmares)

I won't spoil anything regarding Bramble and Squirrel, but I'll take the opportunity, since you brought him up, to give y'all a warning about Scourge on the advice of my patrons:

We've had a good ol' time theorizing on who Scourge is going to be, and what he'll do, and how crazy it's going to be when he shows up, but I want to make this clear now - Scourge is not going to be the main focus of the next book. He's in it, to be sure, and he plays an important part in moving the plot forward, but the focus is largely going to be on his followers and how the events of the story affect them and have affected them all this time. I've described Scourge on Patreon as a tool of the story more than a major villain, and that feels about right to say here too. I won't give any more than that publicly, but I've talked about him a good deal on the Patreon's Deputy tier, so if you want more info and don't mind some spoilers, you can check that out in the link above.

I say this now because I really want to get ahead of potentially disappointing anyone. People have sent many asks hyping Scourge up in this next book, and I haven't said anything yet because I wanted to save it for later, but it's better to lower expectations of his significance as a character further away from the next book. Apologies in advance if this bums you out; this is just how the next book ended up being crafted. Those who know more about him think we're heading in a very good direction with the narrative and pacing, so I have some confidence that y'all will like what we do. I understand if it's not want you wanted, and if it's a bit of a let-down, I'm sorry. Just want to tell you now to get you ready.