#Less than container load

[eshippro]

The Benefits of Outsourcing Logistics Services

In the dynamic landscape of modern business, achieving efficiency and cost-effectiveness is crucial for maintaining a competitive edge. One of the smartest strategies businesses adopt to achieve these goals is outsourcing their logistics services. By delegating logistics to specialized third-party providers, companies can streamline operations, improve service quality, and focus on their core competencies. Outlined below are the major advantages of entrusting logistics services to specialized providers:

Cost Savings Outsourcing logistics can significantly reduce operational costs. Logistics providers have established networks, bulk shipping rates, and advanced technologies that help them deliver services more cost-effectively than an in-house team. Businesses save money on:

Warehousing and transportation infrastructure.

Maintenance of vehicles and equipment.

Hiring and training logistics personnel.

By leveraging economies of scale, third-party logistics (3PL) providers can offer competitive pricing that small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) might struggle to achieve on their own.

Expertise and Specialization Logistics providers are experts in their field. They are equipped with the knowledge and skills to handle complex supply chain challenges, ensuring efficient and reliable services. Their expertise extends to:

Regulatory compliance for domestic and international freight shipping.

Effective route planning to minimize transit times.

Handling specialized cargo such as hazardous materials or perishable goods.

Partnering with a professional logistics provider ensures that businesses benefit from the latest industry best practices and innovations.

Scalability and Flexibility Outsourced logistics services offer scalability that aligns with business growth. Whether it’s peak season or a sudden surge in demand, 3PL providers can quickly adjust resources to meet changing requirements. This flexibility allows businesses to:

Expand into new markets without logistical constraints.

Adapt to seasonal demand fluctuations without additional investments.

Scale down operations during low-demand periods to save costs.

Focus on Core Business Activities Managing logistics in-house can be time-consuming and resource intensive. By outsourcing, businesses can redirect their energy and resources toward core activities such as product development, marketing, and customer service. This focus enhances operational efficiency and fosters innovation, ultimately driving growth.

Access to Advanced Technology Third-party logistics providers invest heavily in cutting-edge technologies to optimize their services. Businesses that outsource logistics gain access to:

Real-time tracking and monitoring systems for cargo shipment.

Advanced analytics for supply chain optimization.

Automation tools to reduce manual errors and improve efficiency.

These technologies provide visibility and control over the supply chain, enabling better decision-making and customer satisfaction.

Improved Customer Satisfaction Reliable and timely delivery is crucial for maintaining customer satisfaction. Logistics providers ensure:

On-time delivery through efficient supply chain management.

High-quality handling and transportation of goods.

Transparent communication and tracking for customers.

Outsourcing logistics enhances the overall customer experience, helping businesses build trust and loyalty.

Risk Management The logistics industry is fraught with risks, including shipment delays, regulatory changes, and fluctuating fuel prices. Experienced logistics providers are well-equipped to mitigate these risks through:

Proactive contingency planning.

Insurance coverage for goods in transit.

Compliance with international trade regulations.

By outsourcing, businesses transfer the burden of managing these risks to their logistics partners, ensuring smoother operations.

Global Reach For businesses looking to expand internationally, logistics providers offer a global network of resources and expertise. They simplify the complexities of:

Cross-border shipping and customs clearance.

Navigating diverse regulatory environments.

Managing multi-modal transportation solutions.

This global reach allows businesses to tap into new markets without worrying about logistical challenges in international shipping services.

Enhanced Supply Chain Efficiency Outsourcing logistics promotes a seamless supply chain by leveraging the provider’s extensive networks and streamlined processes. Efficient supply chains lead to:

Reduced lead times.

Lower inventory carrying costs.

Faster response to market demands.

These benefits contribute to a more agile and competitive business model for ocean freight cargo and less than container load (LCL shipping).

Sustainability and Environmental Benefits Many logistics providers prioritize sustainable practices, such as:

Optimizing delivery routes to reduce fuel consumption.

Utilizing eco-friendly packaging materials.

Investing in energy-efficient transportation modes.

By outsourcing to environmentally conscious providers, businesses can enhance their sustainability efforts and reduce their carbon footprint while partnering with sea freight forwarders.

Conclusion

Outsourcing logistics services offers a wealth of benefits, from cost savings and efficiency to enhanced customer satisfaction and global market access. By partnering with experienced freight forwarders, businesses can streamline their operations, mitigate risks, and focus on their core objectives. In an increasingly competitive marketplace, outsourcing logistics is not just a cost-cutting measure but a strategic move toward long-term success.

Whether you’re a small enterprise or a large corporation, embracing outsourced logistics can pave the way for growth, innovation, and sustainability in your supply chain. For tailored solutions, consider working with a global freight forwarder offering door-to-door shipping and instant freight quotes to meet your needs.

[eshippro12345]

Tracking LCL Shipments Singapore

Less than Container Load

https://e-ship.sg/assets/img/blog/tracking-lcl-shipments.jpg

Tracking LCL Shipments: Ensuring Visibility and Efficiency

In today's globalized economy, efficient logistics management is essential for businesses engaged in international trade. Among the various challenges faced in shipping, tracking LCL (Less than Container Load) shipments stands out as a critical aspect of ensuring timely delivery and customer satisfaction. This blog explores the importance of tracking LCL shipments, methods used, and best practices for effective management.

Why Tracking LCL Shipments Matters?

Tracking LCL shipments provides crucial visibility throughout the shipping process. Unlike Full Container Load (FCL) shipments, where a single consignment occupies an entire container, LCL shipments combine multiple smaller shipments from different consignors into a single container. This consolidation offers cost-effectiveness and flexibility but also requires meticulous tracking to monitor each consignment's progress.

The Methods of Tracking LCL Shipments

Online Tracking Platforms : Many freight forwarders and shipping lines in Dubai and across the UAE offer online tracking platforms where shippers and consignees can enter their shipment details to monitor its status. These platforms provide real-time updates on the location and estimated time of arrival (ETA) of the container.

GPS and Container Tracking Devices : Some advanced shipping companies utilize GPS tracking devices placed within containers. These devices transmit location data at regular intervals, allowing stakeholders to track the container's precise location throughout its journey.

Communication with Freight Forwarders : Establishing clear communication channels with your freight forwarder in Dubai is crucial. They can provide updates and address any concerns regarding the shipment's progress and potential delays.

The Tracking Process: Step-by-Step Guide

Booking and Documentation : The tracking process begins with the booking of an LCL shipment with trusted freight forwarding companies in Dubai. Proper documentation, including packing lists and bills of lading, is essential for accurate tracking.

Loading and Departure : Once loaded into a container at the origin port, often managed by logistics companies in UAE, the container's journey begins. Tracking starts as soon as the container is sealed and dispatched.

Transit Updates : Throughout transit, stakeholders receive updates on the container's location and estimated arrival times. This information helps in planning downstream logistics and preparing for customs clearance at the destination port.

Arrival and Discharge : Upon arrival at the destination port, managed by cargo shipping companies in Dubai, the container undergoes unloading. Shippers and consignees receive final notifications confirming the shipment's arrival and readiness for pickup or onward delivery.

Best Practices for Effective LCL Shipment Tracking Use Reliable Partners: Choose freight forwarders and shipping lines in Dubai and the UAE with robust tracking systems and a reputation for reliable service.

Proactive Communication : Maintain open lines of communication with your freight forwarder to address any issues promptly and ensure smooth tracking.

Document Management : Keep all shipment documentation organized and readily accessible, as accurate information is crucial for effective tracking.

Utilize Technology : Take advantage of digital tools and platforms offered by global shipping logistics providers for real-time tracking updates.

Conclusion

Tracking LCL shipments plays a pivotal role in supply chain management, offering transparency and control over the shipping process. By leveraging advanced tracking methods and adhering to best practices, businesses can optimize their logistics operations, enhance customer satisfaction, and maintain a competitive edge in the global marketplace. For more insights into optimizing your logistics strategies with freight forwarders in Dubai and logistics companies in the UAE, stay tuned to our blog for future updates and industry insights.

[actlogistics]

Get cost-effective and secure Less than Container Load (LCL) shipping solutions in Adelaide. Perfect for small to medium shipments—flexible, fast, and tailored to your needs.

[moe-broey]

LIKE..

[3liza]

Sanitation by boiling or microwave treatment has been shown to significantly reduce the bacterial load of kitchen sponges19, 21 and can therefore be regarded as a reasonable hygiene measure. However, our data showed that regularly sanitized sponges (as indicated by their users) did not contain less bacteria than uncleaned ones. Moreover, “special cleaning” even increased the relative abundance of both the Moraxella– and Chryseobacterium–affiliated OTUs (Fig. 3B). Presumably, resistant bacteria survive the sanitation process and rapidly re–colonize the released niches until reaching a similar abundance as before the treatment (Fig. 6A). This effect resembles the effect of an antibiotic therapy on the gut microbiota40, 41, and might promote the establishment of higher shares of RG2-related species in the kitchen sponges. Although further analyses, including controlled sanitation experiments, are needed to substantiate these findings, our data allow careful speculation that a prolonged application of sanitation measures of kitchen sponges is not advisable.

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-017-06055-9

[bluegummieshark]

Danny gets a Pass

Ok here goes another kinda silly dp x dc prompt since ya'll liked the first.

It's simple really, Danny Fenton gets a pass. Not because of phantom or his powers but just because of everyday normal Danny being Danny. Maybe it's a hero maybe it's a villain but whatever the case is when they see it's Danny he gets passed.

Sorry can't arrest the kid, like sure he was hired as a goon but its Danny I totally owe him one, or hey yes we are 100% planning to steal all this money and blow up the building so we need hostages but not him.

The first one to see it happen was Duke. He was still learning compared to the others in the batfam so he hadn't questioned why Harley would let this kid go. Of course he was also dealing with a concussion and glitter so when she skipped glitter bombing some kid with nothing more than a hair ruffle and a cute top comment he was just happy she didn't bedazzle another civilian. To be fair it was a cool top given it was one of those rare vintage Ember band t-shirts so maybe she was just a fan of good music who was to question the slightly unhinged women when really it just meant less clean up for him.

Then it was Dick who had seen more than one cop turn away a criminal or two. This time was different though. They were supposed to be doing a bust. Stopping a group of workers who were loading crates onto the docks all filled with stolen goods. So when Dick turned and saw another officer undoing the hand cuffs to one of the dock workers he was pissed but not surprised. What surprised him when he got closer was just who the other cop was releasing. It wasn't the normal richer guy who could bribe his way, or shady leader to one of the criminal underbelly but rather a kid. At least they looked like a kid somewhere between 13 to 15 if he had to guess. He looked just as scared and confused as most kids would probably be. Maybe that's why Dicked stopped. He watched his teammate take the cuffs off, slide the kids a 20 and point to an alley. Once the kid was out of sight he turned back stepping next to dick and sharing a simple, "he's a good kid." And well Dick couldn't say if that was true or not but he had to turn a blind eye before so he could do it again. After all he did look like a good kid.

It was the next time he got passed up though that really sealed the deal and put him on the Gotham's radar. When it came to strange things happening in Gotham it was just another Tuesday. Buff Zombies taking over most of downtown was barely in the top 10 of anything crazy but seeing those buff zombies actually let some kid pass by them without a glance that was confusing. Even more confusing was when Bane caused the muscle zombies outbreak stopped mid rant to let the kid pass by when he said excuse me.

After when Batman had stopped the zombies, and had Bane contained, he had to ask who the kid was. Of course as Bane was taken away the only real answer he could get was "O, that's Danny, he gets a pass."

Thing is when Batman did track down to ask Danny himself why he got a pass he couldn't really tell the furry why. After all Danny was just being Danny he couldn't think of anything special on his end that he did.

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

Harley wasn't going to attack her favorite/only pet sitter. Bud and Lou loved him after all.

Officer John couldn't arrest Danny when the kid volunteered at his Nana's nursing home. The kid was just short on cash and picked up a gig online he didn't know so the least he could do was buy the kid dinner and keep him out of trouble.

As for Bane well that's Danny his favorite food delivery boy. For Bane his only concern was that the kid was polite, always got there on time, and even started trying to learn some Spanish just to talk to Bane when he learned it was the man's first language. What sealed the deal though was when he stopped bane the first time they met to help him. Just stopped him in the middle of the street at night because he saw a crack. A small part of the venom container on his back was leaking from damage due to a fight and this kid didn't even think twice about running away from Bane. He stopped his bike and was fixing his tank and tubbing faster than Bane even noticed the problem. Then he drove off on his bike leaving to continue on his delivery. After that even Bane could see he was just a good kid and decided to give him a pass.

[vaginalvr]

OMG reader is a babysitter for JJ and when reid goes and visit her kid he gets babyfever and just wants to creampie her

yes ofc I just got over my pregnancy scare!

cw: baby fever, soft dom!Spencer, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PIV (established relationship), creampie, domestic themes, possessiveness, slight breeding kink, aftercare

REQUESTS OPEN!

JJ was running late, unsurprisingly. A local case had them scrambling to close paperwork, and you were more than happy to help by watching Henry for the evening. He’d just fallen asleep after an exhausting hour of hide-and-seek and story time. His little hand had curled against your shoulder before you laid him gently in his bed, watching his chest rise and fall.

You loved babysitting Henry. He was sweet, polite, and easy. You didn’t mind JJ’s late nights either—her trust in you meant the world.

You were halfway through cleaning up blocks from the living room floor when a knock startled you.

You padded barefoot across the rug and cracked the door open.

“Spencer?”

He gave a soft, sheepish smile and raised a small paper bag. “JJ said you were here tonight. I brought dinner. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”

You blinked at him, touched. “You thought right. Come in.”

He stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak. He looked… different here. Less stiff, more boyish. The cardigan and soft blue dress shirt made him look impossibly cozy. Domestic.

You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest as he looked around JJ’s house, eyes scanning the toys and coloring books scattered on the coffee table.

“She always tells me how much Henry loves you.”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “He once said you make the best dinosaur roars.”

You laughed, blushing. “That kid has too much dirt on me.”

You sat together on the couch, eating takeout out of plastic containers, the occasional baby monitor buzz drifting from the kitchen. At one point, Spencer’s eyes drifted to the hallway toward Henry’s room.

“Can I… see him? Just for a second?”

You paused, then smiled softly. “Yeah. He’s fast asleep. Come on.”

You led him quietly into the nursery, watching as Spencer leaned into the doorframe and gazed down at the little boy curled up under a blue blanket.

His face changed—eyes softening, mouth parting just slightly. His usual anxious energy had melted into something else entirely. Reverence. Wonder.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured. “I remember when he was born.”

You watched him, heart tugging.

“You ever want one?” you whispered.

He looked at you then, and something in his eyes flickered—like you’d flipped a switch he didn’t know he had.

“All the time lately,” he admitted, voice low. “It’s strange. I never used to think about it. But now I can’t stop.”

“Why now?”

He looked back at Henry, then to you, gaze dropping to your lips.

“Maybe because I finally found someone I could see it with.”

Your breath caught. The room was still, heavy with that quiet, loaded confession.

And suddenly you weren’t in the nursery anymore.

—

Back on the couch, neither of you was saying much, tension thick in the air. You could feel his gaze on you as you tucked your legs under yourself, playing absently with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d be a really good dad,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He didn’t smile. Not this time.

“I’d want to do everything right,” he said. “Be present. Be patient. I’d read all the research. Buy the safest crib. Cook every meal from scratch. I’d… hold them on my chest and sing them lullabies in Latin.”

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Of course you would.”

He shifted closer. “But only with someone who’d love them just as much as I do.”

You turned toward him—and he kissed you.

It started soft, but quickly deepened, all the weight of longing pouring into the way his hands cupped your face, how his thumb grazed your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He kissed like a man who’d dreamed of this a hundred times and didn’t want to wake up.

When you gasped against his lips, his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers in his hair, heart pounding.

“I can’t stop thinking about you like this,” he whispered. “Here. In this house. Holding a baby. Wearing soft things and calling me home.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips instinctively. “Spencer…”

“I want to see you pregnant,” he groaned, lips dragging down your neck. “Swollen and glowing. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your panties were soaked.

He slipped his hands under your shirt, fingers trembling slightly as he lifted it over your head. His mouth dropped open when he saw you—bare, flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking gently, tongue flicking your nipple until you whined. Your hips rocked again, pressing against the growing bulge in his slacks.

“Bedroom,” you gasped. “Or we’re not gonna make it.”

You led him down the hall like you belonged there. Maybe you would, one day.

—

JJ’s guest room was small, cozy, and dim. The second the door shut, Spencer had you against it, kissing you like he’d die if he didn’t.

You reached for his belt, but he caught your wrists, guiding you to the bed instead.

“Let me,” he whispered.

You laid back, trembling with need, and watched him undress. His shirt slipped off first—soft chest, pale skin, lean and familiar. He kissed your ankle, then your knee, then your thigh, spreading your legs gently.

“Stay quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t want to wake the baby.”

You nodded frantically as his mouth lowered to your soaked panties, dragging them down your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was slow, savoring.

You clutched the pillow, biting it to muffle your cry.

He ate you like he meant it. Like your pleasure was a prayer. He licked deep, slow circles, flicking over your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth.

You came with a soft sob, shaking in his arms, and he kissed you through it—whispering praises against your skin.

“So good for me… so beautiful…”

He lined himself up without hesitation, eyes locking with yours.

“Ready?” he asked, stroking the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Spencer…”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low when he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he rasped. “So warm… so tight…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as he started to move. Each thrust was slow, deliberate—like he wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life.

“I want to fill you up,” he whispered in your ear. “Want to see you dripping with me.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You want that too, don’t you?” he asked. “Want to be full of me? Walking around with my baby inside you?”

Your walls fluttered. “Yes—Spencer, yes—”

His pace faltered as he buried himself deep one last time, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and overwhelming.

He held you through it, hips rocking slowly until you both came down.

—

Later, he stayed pressed against you, hand resting on your belly like he could feel the future there.

“Someday,” he whispered. “If you want.”

You turned to him, brushing hair from his face.

“I think I do.”

He smiled, slow and real. “Then someday, it’ll be ours.”

You kissed him again, and in the next room, Henry stirred—but didn’t wake.

[smiteswrites]

A Different Kind of Pain - Blueberry Pancakes

Description: After losing a gem of a next door neighbor, Jack worries what the new resident will be like. Instead of a young obnoxious college kid, he meets you. Instantly struck by your warm nature (and good looks but he won't admit to that), Jack finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn't experienced in years.

A/N: hi all! I’ve been having a rough week and writing the second part to this series has been uhm- not happening. I really want to do it justice, so I’m taking my time and waiting for when I have the capacity to do well. But! I don’t want to abandon this series because I love it, so have this little blurb/idea I had for these two a while back. I imagine this takes place maybe a month or so after when the first part ends. I hope you all enjoy!

You can tell Jack has been having a bad week. After your first walk together you take advantage of the ice being broken and start texting him on occasion. Just to check in, be friendly. How was your day off? He tells you about getting drinks with Robby, or his never ending list of chores and errands.

Or if it was nice out, and his truck was still in the drive when you got home: Going for a walk in 10 if you want to join.

Sometimes you’d make too much food, or bake cookies and don’t want to eat all of them alone. So you drop containers off by his door on your way out the door for when he gets home: Had extra pasta from last night, left you some.

Jack asks about you too of course, checking in about how research is going, making sure you’re taking proper care of yourself. You’re always quick to reassure him that things are going well. Even if research often leaves you frustrated to the point of tears, and you come home exhausted and then can’t sleep, and you can’t find the time to cook, so you live off whatever you can whip up for less than $5 dollars in under 10 minutes.

But this week is different. Jack rarely texts you back, not unusual, he is a busy man and your schedules are far from similar. What is unusual is that Jack has not once asked about your week, and instead of answering your queries has been sending one word responses. At first you think you must have done something to upset him, but after a few days of his truck being gone well before he needs to leave for shift you start putting things together.

It’s Saturday morning when you finally catch him coming home, close to 9. When you hear his truck pull in you’re quick to throw on some slippers and wander outside. You watch him come up the front steps, standing in your snoopy slippers and sweats, coffee mug in hand.

“Mornin’ Jack.”

He looks like he’s been hit by a truck. You can tell his leg and back are killing him just by the way he stands. His eyes crinkle when he gives you a tired smile, dark circles bordering on purple. “Hey kid.”

“When was your last day off?”

“I have the next two nights off, courtesy of Robby fucking with the schedule.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

He shrugs in response.

A beat passes, and you’re desperate to do something, anything, to show him that you care. That he isn’t on his own, or at least he doesn’t have to be.

“Well, if you’re gonna be up for a bit I was about to make pancakes.” You weren’t, but he looks like he could use some. And you doubt he has any food in his fridge by this point. “I could bring you some?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up for a bit.” He nods, hands shoved in his scrub pockets. “Only if you’ve got extra though, don’t wanna put you out sweetheart.”

“Don’t be silly, always got extra for you, Jack.”

You let him wander into his unit, presumably to shower off the grime of the ER. Shit, now you have to make pancakes.

Luckily, you have the basics: eggs, milk, butter, pancake mix. You also rummage through your freezer and find a ziplock bag with potato pancakes, a few stray breakfast sausages, and some frozen blueberries. Perfect.

Half an hour later you have a fully loaded plate, covered in foil, and a thermos of freshly brewed coffee (decaf, that you’d bought just in case you ever caught him for coffee in the morning).

You knock on his door, waiting only a few moments before he opens it.

As you suspected, he had showered and changed into sweatpants to match your own. A black worn t-shirt covers his chest, and his prosthetic had been switched for crutches.

“Made you breakfast,” you say, lifting the plate slightly in indication. “Also, coffee. It’s decaf.”

“Thanks.” You can tell his brain is slow to process, eyes locked on yours, but not making any move to take the plate. With how burnt out he must be, you aren’t shocked. You invite yourself in to put the plate and thermos on his coffee table, guessing it might be a challenge to carry both with the crutches. He doesn’t protest, watching blankly as you enter his living room.

You push down the part of you that feels giddy at being in his space, refusing to look around beyond what you need to to put the food down. You won’t take advantage of his vulnerability and overstep more than is necessary to make sure he eats.

Seeing you stand awkwardly by his couch, Jack’s brain finally catches up. “You uh- didn’t need to do all this, but thank you.”

His face betrays how touched he is, a mix of shock and gratitude. Maybe relief. This must be the first time in a long time that someone has taken care of him, rather than the other way around.

“It was nothing,” you smile. Taking a deep breath, you begin to show yourself out.

“Let me know how everything is, and then get some rest, okay?” You touch his shoulder lightly as you speak, walking past him again to stand in his doorway. “I’m here if you need anything, anything at all.”

“I will, go eat your food, kid.” And if Jack has a lump in his throat from how good it feels to be checked in on, no he doesn’t.

You leave him be, returning to your own plate of cheesy eggs, sausage, and blueberry pancakes drenched in syrup. You’ve only just tucked in when your phone vibrates.

Jack: Blueberry?

You: Yes.

Jack: How’d you know?

You: Lucky guess.

[strawberrymochin]

The cum analysis

A slight analysis on how jjk men would cum | Gojo satoru; Geto suguru; Nanami kento; Ryomen sukuna; Toji fushiguro |

Gojo Satoru

Gojo cums hard and a lot. Like insanely a lot. He would shudder from the build up pleasure with a series of moans as he spurts his load into you. You could say you're milking him rather than making him cum. Sometimes he might cum prematurely while foreplay, which is practically a chance for you to display your dominance and overstimulate him. And when I say he cums a lot, I mean even if he wears condoms to prevent it ending inside of you, the intensity of him cumming would either end up leaking out of the condom or breaking it. If he fucks you raw, his one orgasm would end up filling your cervix upto the brim.

His cum would be thick, creamy and milky white. Super jiggly in texture almost resembling jelly. It would have a slight odour and would taste sweet considering the amount of sweet he consumes in his diet.

Geto Suguru

Geto cums a lot, but he tries to edge himself along with you wanting to sync both of your highs. He would be totally focused on making you feel good, drawing circles on your clit with his tip as his other hand focuses on streching your tight velvet walls for him to make it fit, curling his fingers inside you, drawing orgasm after orgasm, totally neglecting his throbbing penis. When he finally buries himself in you and starts thrusting himself chasing the doors of heaven he gets to experience, rolling his eyes back, swallowing his moans, he would feel his balls getting heavy and his muscles around his pelvic region starting to contract. He would not be able to contain himself and finally cum as he furiously drives you through another orgasm pinching your oversensitive nipples. He would cum in spurts filling you up so good that his cum would be oozing out your vagina messing the sheets even though he hasn't pulled out yet.

His cum would be slick and creamy. It would the prettiest pearly white you've ever seen as it trickles down your legs, when you stand up. His cum would be odour less and might be sweet or salty depending upon his current diet.

Nanami Kento

Damn. He hates making mess, you know right? He's lowkey a clean freak and would hate to mess things up, except that one time where he would lose his shit and cum uncontrollably as he fucks you on the kitchen counter, in low spurts messing the kitchen floor and you both. You just wanted to bake some vanilla cupcakes for him, however he had you now bend over the counter ass fucking you while the cup cake batter laid aside in neglectance. He would twitch uncontrollably as he fucks you senseless while his balls rams on your pussy with each thrust. The fact that he's fucking you mindlessly as both of your slick pool down, in his kitchen made his cock even more hard, as he continues cumming. He cums a decent amount of his load enough for you to feel more than satisfied.

His cum would be sticky and might smell a bit metalic. His texture would be somewhat between creamy and watery. It will be sticky as said earlier and I dunno if it's weird to describe it that way but if you swallow his load your mouth would feel sticky like umm....well.....prime from dark web...what the heck I'm even babbling.... forget you ever read this....but like all those reels if you have seen you would know the texture I'm talking about....whatever let's move on.

Ryomen Sukuna

Hail lord sukuna!! Sukuna- sama's cum would make your head go dizzy. It's almost so addictive that you would be begging him to fill you up to the brim again. And I'm not even kidding when I say this but once you've had it there's no backing away. He cums a heck lot and even after cumming three times or more his still hard cock would be pounding into your pussy mercilessly. He ejaculates fast with lots of load, thus you wouldn't have time to leak out the previous one as another one fills you up, he would creampie your pussy and press his big palm on your lower stomach just to see his cum spurting from the sides of your hole stuffed with his dick. Sukuna- sama and his dick- sama both are merciless. I don't need to explain more....Ig

His cum would be thick and slippery, and so much in quantity that you could save it up and use it as a lube in future. :⁠-⁠) His cum would stink a bit and you love the nasty humid sex smell it gives off. Might even taste metalic or salty. Have fun.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji— the dilfushiguro would cum a decent amount to get your entire lower region sticky and sloppy with his mess. Your ass would pound up and down forming sticky strings, exhilarating the sound of your skin slapping as the moans of you two echoes through the empty room. His fingers would tangle itself, rolling the slick of you both only to stuff it into your mouth wanting you to lick his finger clean. He might also tell you to lick his dick clean after you both ride down your high.

His cum would be sticky, sloppy and thick. I believe it might be slight off cold like of pale white, since being broke baby wouldn't have a proper diet, that still doesn't affect the quality of sperms yk. Also his cum would be odourless.

Other parts of this series- The moan analysis | The Dick analysis

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[eshippro]

Finding a Freight Forwarder: A Comprehensive Guide

Introduction

Finding the right freight forwarder is crucial for ensuring a smooth and efficient ocean freight shipping process. A reliable freight forwarder acts as an intermediary between you and the carriers, handling all the logistics involved in moving your goods from one place to another. Here’s a detailed guide on how to find a freight forwarder for ocean freight forwarding.

1. Grasp the Function of a Freight Forwarder

A freight forwarder manages the logistics of shipping goods, including documentation, customs clearance, warehousing, and transportation. Key responsibilities include:

Negotiating with carriers to find the best shipping rates.

Coordinating pick-up and delivery of your cargo.

Handling customs documentation and ensuring compliance with regulations.

Providing insurance and tracking services.

2. Determine Your Shipping Needs

Before you start looking for a freight forwarder, define your specific shipping needs. Consider the following factors:

Type of Goods: Are they perishable, hazardous, or oversized?

Destination: Where are the goods being shipped to?

Volume and Frequency: How much and how often do you ship?

Understanding your needs will help you find a forwarder with the right expertise and resources.

3. Research Potential Freight Forwarders

Start by creating a list of potential freight forwarders. Use various sources such as:

Industry Associations: Organizations like the International Federation of Freight Forwarders Associations (FIATA) provide directories of reputable forwarders.

Referrals: Ask for recommendations from industry peers or business associates.

Additionally, consider logistics companies in Dubai and shipping companies in Dubai, as they have extensive experience with cargo shipping Dubai and can provide valuable insights.

4. Evaluate Their Experience and Expertise

Look for freight forwarders with experience in handling ocean freight shipments, especially those similar to yours. Consider:

Business Tenure: What is their duration of operation?

Specialization: Do they specialize in certain types of goods or regions?

Track Record: What is their success rate with similar shipments?

Consider top freight forwarding companies in Dubai and best cargo service in Dubai, as they have proven expertise in international cargo shipping and logistics and supply chain companies in Dubai.

5. Check Their Network and Partnerships

A well-established network is crucial for efficient shipping. Ensure the forwarder has:

Strong Relationships with Carriers: This ensures better rates and priority handling.

Global Network: Offices or agents in key locations to handle your shipments smoothly.

Customs Expertise: Familiarity with customs regulations in both the origin and destination countries.

Look into global shipping logistics and international logistics companies for extensive networks and partnerships.

6. Assess Their Customer Service

Good communication and customer service are essential. Evaluate their responsiveness and support:

Availability: Are they easily reachable and responsive to queries?

Transparency: Do they provide clear information about costs, procedures, and timelines?

Support Services: Do they offer additional services like insurance, tracking, and warehousing?

Consider the customer service of freight forwarding companies in Dubai and freight forwarding companies in UAE, as they often have a strong focus on client satisfaction.

7. Compare Costs and Services

Request quotes from multiple freight forwarders and compare their costs and services. Look for:

Competitive Rates: Ensure the rates are fair and include all necessary services.

Service Inclusions: Check what services are included in the quote (e.g., documentation, insurance, tracking).

Payment Conditions: Familiarize yourself with their payment terms and conditions.

Evaluate the quotes from sea freight companies in Dubai and the best shipping company in UAE to find competitive rates and comprehensive services.

8. Verify Credentials and Certifications

Ensure the freight forwarder is reputable and compliant with industry standards. Check for:

Licenses and Certifications: Such as FMC (Federal Maritime Commission) licensing for US-based forwarders.

Industry Memberships: Memberships in organizations like FIATA or local trade associations.

Insurance: Adequate liability and cargo insurance coverage.

Verify the credentials of freight forwarders in Dubai and customs clearance agents in Dubai to ensure compliance with regulations.

9. Request References and Case Studies

Ask the freight forwarder for references or case studies from previous clients. This provides insight into their reliability and service quality. Consider:

Client Testimonials: Feedback from other businesses they have worked with.

Case Studies: Examples of how they handled specific challenges or complex shipments.

Consider references from top freight forwarders in Dubai and international cargo services in Dubai for proven reliability.

Conclusion

Finding the right freight forwarder for ocean freight forwarding involves thorough research and evaluation. By understanding your shipping needs, assessing potential forwarders' experience and network, and comparing their costs and services, you can choose a reliable partner to ensure a smooth and efficient shipping process. A good freight forwarder not only handles the logistics but also adds value by providing expert advice and support throughout the shipping journey.

Explore options such as logistics companies in UAE, logistics and freight forwarding services, and digital freight forwarding companies for a comprehensive solution to your shipping needs.

[kisses4kaia]

patrick and degradation hi

you weren’t even thinking when you said it. he was pissing you off so fucking badly and there was so much happening, you couldn’t contain it.

“you’re such a fucking idiot, patrick. so fucking stupid, you’re such an asshole, god.” you grit out between groans. you’re straddling his meaty thighs, slamming yourself up and down on his obscenely hard cock, and he’s gone. his head isn’t on earth, his conscience a mere cloud of you and heat and you and pleasure and pain and you and you and you.

“fuuuuuck,” he groans out, face twisting up into an expression you’ve grown so familiar with. it’s a look of agony and desire, a red flush spreading like a forest fire from his cheeks down his neck and taking roots in his pecs. “oh please, fuck, gonna cum, baby, shit,” he’s sputtering out, abs flexing as his moans grow louder and more often reoccurring, and it’s not made any better by your biting.

dragging your teeth along his collarbone, biting down on the sweating sheen of his flesh, all the while growling the meanest fucking words that patrick is melting to hear.

“fucking pathetic, so dumb, got you brainless, don’t i? maybe i should get you like this more often, so you don’t say stupid shit anymore, hm? bet you’d like that, fucking freak,”

and he’s shaking through his orgasm, busting a gooey load into the latex of his condom as he praises your name, over and over. you slow down momentarily, allowing him a break, but a few seconds later, you’re back to chasing your high like your life depended on it. he lets you, lying whimpering and liquid for you as you meet your own peak. patrick’s limbs are tingling still, blotches of warmth making him a pied beauty underneath you for your eyes only.

less than a minute later, your gasping for air as your climax rams through you, biting your lip so patrick’s name doesn’t slip through and feed his everest comparable ego. “who knew you’d be so into me talking shit on you? you would love to hear what me and my friends say when you aren’t around,” you chuckle, still catching your breath as you fall down next to him.

“it’s my kind of dirty talk, baby.” he leans over to kiss you on the cheek, and you groan, pushing him off of you before dressing yourself and leaving him, alone in his hotel room. it’s almost like you were never even there.

[argumate]

transgenderer said: very confused by your characterization of TV as beneficial and social media as harmful. either position seems plausible, but not both at once. id consider TV as more harmful than social media, as someone who spent a lot of time watching tv in my childhood and a lot of time on social media in my teens

for TV you have to compare it with the cultural environment pre-1950 and the effect it may have had on why society got so much nicer post-1950.

now of course there were many dramatic changes going on at the same time: child mortality plummeted so we weren't surrounded by tiny skeletons all the time, birthrates slowed and family sizes dropped, we got much richer and ate more food and suffered less disease, lifespans lengthened, everyone learned to read and children started spending more time in school and less time in factories and on farms, etc.

but it's noteworthy that everyone also started spending a couple of hours a day watching television, a giant experiment in mass media (one of many giant experiments we ran on society post-1950).

now, many people assert that it had a negative effect (television shows feature sex, violence, and commercials!) but few people say it had no effect (humans gonna human) and hardly anyone seems to claim it had a positive effect, and I find that a little strange when you think about what television typically shows: highly moralistic narratives that both reflect social norms but also shape them by modeling what we consider to be good behaviour, good relationships, and idealised families, in a context that almost everyone shares, inflected by new elite ideas about psychiatry and psychoanalysis that were obviously very clumsy but a huge leap on what came before.

compare what a child in the '60s or '70s or '80s will learn about what it means to be a child and how adults should act and parents should engage with children and with each other and how the world works compared with a child in the '20s or '30s or '40s; I think the kid raised by television may well have a better baseline in many ways!

this is all anecdotal -- maybe some enterprising academic could do a study where they try to correlate the spread of television with some metrics of social health and disentangle it from the spread of leaded petrol lol -- but there are innumerable examples of the way television is loaded with positive messages, from The Brady Bunch to The Simpsons, even television that was often viewed as antisocial or subversive or potentially harmful at the time.

I mean I was just watching the first few episodes of SVU the other day and amongst all the hard-boiled detective shenanigans and the sensationalism it basically consists of authority figures saying "people do bad things to each other, and even worse sometimes society is unkind to the victim; also rape is a serious issue and women can be cops btw" -- even as copaganda it's a progressive show for the time.

an argument that television is harmful on net needs to account for where the harm is coming from and how it influences people; there are clearly things that would be much better than television as practiced in the 20th century but it seems like a significant improvement on the culture and media environment that preceded it, whether that was vaudeville or public executions.

social media on the other hand is more complicated to analyse because there are so many disparate unrelated things happening on there, it's individualised more like the telephone network or email than broadcast television, even if some general trends are evident.

and social media obviously contains many positive elements -- I love it myself -- but the negative elements are equally obvious; whether it ends up negative on net depends on how you account for them, but it's looking like a much more complicated story than television.

some factors to consider:

the way social media selects for viral spread leads to content that is far more inflammatory than television

"doomscrolling" makes the nightly news broadcast look tame

social media creates an explicit status/attention hierarchy for the world and puts almost everyone at the bottom of it; if the message of television was "you're special" then the message of social media is "you're nothing"

social media permits mob harassment in a way that makes old shows like Jerry Springer look good by comparison

social media appears to be having effects on politics which are not necessarily positive, I would say

social media appears to be damaging gender relations for young people in ways we're still figuring out

youth suicide rates appear to correlate with social media usage

anyway, I think as a society we will develop better cultural antibodies to the worst aspects of social media over time, but so far I think AI in the form of chat bots appears to be more like television (good) and less like social media (bad).

[syndrossi]

Hey, after reading the latest AU Restoration, I’d like to ask you—could you add a short scene between Dany, W Jon, and the kids?🥺

Standard disclaimer that this is not necessarily how Restoration will go but it's a possible meeting of Dany and the boys.

x~x~x

The wait was the worst part. Daemon had promised Daenerys that he and Caraxes would be victorious over the Usurper’s forces, and yet his confidence had not extended to allowing her to ride alongside him into battle to free his sons at Winterfell.

My brothers, she reminded herself. The tale that Daemon had told her was a strange one, and yet there seemed no other explanation. He was Daemon Targaryen, son of Baelon Targaryen, rider of Caraxes, wielder of Dark Sister—a man two centuries dead, yet alive and breathing before her. He and his young sons had been drawn here by sorcery, separated.

Viserys had told her what histories he recalled from his lessons at the Red Keep, and he had greatly admired Daemon Targaryen. His first marriage had yielded twins, she vaguely recalled. Girls, and yet these were sons, Jon and Rhaegar. Viserys must have been mistaken.

Stranger still had been his insistence that his sons had been reborn, one as her slain brother, Rhaegar. The other he had not yet found, though Daemon’s face had seemed carved of grief when confiding that he believed him to be dead as well, betrayed and murdered at the Wall.

You were Rhaegar’s sister, so you are as to me a daughter, Daemon had declared.

Viserys had been Rhaegar’s brother, though that had not stopped Daemon’s dragon from swallowing him when he had tried to kill their kinsman in the night, adamant that he was little more than an upjumped Blackfyre who sought to steal their birthright.

If he speaks true, we are descended from his line. His claim seemed no less than Viserys’s, and he rode a dragon.

The wind was cold in the kingdom of the North, even in summer, penetrating through the cracks in the walls of the abandoned tower they had claimed as a temporary outpost. Daenerys shivered, moving herself and her precious cargo closer to the fire.

Dragon eggs. They had been meant as a wedding gift to her from Magister Illyrio, but the magister had very quickly surrendered them to Daemon under threat of dragonflame. She ran her fingers over the tops of each, and whenever she caressed the darkest of the three, a deep black with swirls of ruby, she could swear that she felt something: a flutter of her heart, a flicker of warmth.

Her head jerked up at the familiar sound of dragon wings flapping from a distance. Daenerys closed and latched the chest that contained the precious eggs, gathering its hefty weight in her arms, and hurried to the tower’s entrance.

Daemon was already half dismounted, his hair grey with ash and his face light with joy. He ran to her, and she set the chest down just in time for him to gather her in his arms, spinning her around as he roared victory. She found herself grinning with him as he set her down, his fire infectious.

“You found them,” she said.

“I found them,” Daemon said, and she could see trails of gray down his cheeks, where the tears must have flowed. “I found Jon,” he added, with an emphasis that told her he meant the other Jon, the one he had thought dead along with her brother. His smile contorted briefly into a snarl. “And that pig of a Baratheon is dead. Come.”

The dragon eggs and the remainder of her belongings were loaded into Caraxes’s saddlebags, and Daemon told her of his triumph. It had been a slaughter, the Usurper and his men caught entirely off guard at Winterfell. There, Daemon had found that Lord Stark, Robert Baratheon’s staunchest ally and oldest friend, had kept his sons and Jon alike safe, though he seemed irritated that it had been under the guise of Lord Stark’s bastards.

Lord Stark had believed them to be Daenerys’s own younger brothers, Daemon’s sons by her own mother, and Daemon had not bothered to claim otherwise. It was a fantasy she would have gladly lived, she thought with a pang, rather than roaming Essos as penniless orphans, dependent on the charity of men like Magister Illyrio, forever fearing that the Usurper would send assassins after them.

Viserys had stopped speaking of their mother as the years passed, but when she had been very little, he had enthralled Daenerys with stories of her. How beautiful she had been, how gentle, how lovely her voice. Daenerys had dreamed of being held in her arms, safe and warm and loved. Though those tales had often ended with a reminder that Dany had been the one to kill her.

And now she had Daemon, who had burned a Dothraki horde to secure her freedom, for a father. Brothers in his sons. And apparently a nephew in the other Jon. My eldest brother’s son by Lyanna Stark, hidden away lest he meet the fate of his half-siblings.

Her heart raced nearly the entirety of the short flight to Winterfell, and their arrival was met mid-air by two younger dragons who danced merrily around Caraxes as they escorted him to the holdfast. Daenerys watched them with delight, recognizing them from Daemon’s accounts. Qelebrys and Shadow.

“This is my daughter,” Daemon announced to a near-silent crowd once they had landed. The courtyard was still partly aflame in places, and the smell of burnt flesh reached her nostrils with every stir of the breeze. “Princess Daenerys Targaryen.”

Lord Stark seemed still in a daze, though he greeted her with a bow and a kiss to the hand. His wife, Lady Stark, watched Daemon with fearful eyes that flicked between him and her children, who were a gaggle of red-haired boys and girls, save for one young girl with dark hair like her father’s.

But her eyes were for the other cluster of children, one older boy of an age with her, and two smaller ones of equal height. Jon, she thought, looking over the eldest first. Her nephew. It was a strange thought, given that he was older than her by more than a few moons.

He looked nearly as stunned as Lord Stark, holding himself as one unsure if he belonged with Daemon’s twins, and her own heart ached in sympathy. She too knew what it was to have her life upended by Daemon Targaryen, and the pain of feeling forever out of place.

It was easy to see how Lord Stark had kept him hidden. His hair was dark like his uncle’s, and his eyes nearly the same grey. But where Lord Stark’s face was harsh and plain, his was soft with youth. He was pretty, his lashes thick and dark, his nose fine and straight. She could see herself and Viserys in him the longer she looked, his Targaryen blood peeking through the camouflage of his Stark features.

Her gaze went next to the younger child to his right and she could only stare for a moment. He looks like me. And yet also Daemon, as though he could have been her mother’s son with him. Rhaegar. For some reason, she had expected someone like Viserys, but her brother’s features, though handsome, had often been pinched and angry. He looks like me, she thought again, and for some reason, that was what filled her eyes with tears.

It was not that she hadn’t believed Daemon when he insisted that her brother was his son reborn. But the tears in Rhaegar’s eyes as he stared back, their purple dark with sorrow, made her feel as though she were gazing at her long-dead brother, the one she had been told was kind and beautiful and valiant.

She reached for him, enveloping him in a tight hug, her sobs shaking in time with his as she held his head to her chest. It is not fair. She wanted that life so badly she could hardly breathe, the lie that Daemon had told Lord Stark. The one where her mother had lived, and Viserys had not grown bitter and cruel, and she had chased little brothers through the yard of a grand estate that would have been home. Where she would have run to be swept up in Daemon’s hugs and brought to see Caraxes, and Shadow and Qelebrys would have been tiny hatchlings, small enough to hold, and perhaps a hatchling of her own.

“Do not cry,” she said into Rhaegar’s hair, remembering when Viserys had whispered them to her. We are the blood of the dragon. “We are together,” she said instead.

Past his shoulder, she could see Daemon’s Jon—Baelon—also staring at her. He looked so much like the other Jon that she knew Daemon was right. He is his son reborn. But Baelon also bore a striking resemblance to Rhaegar, and it was easier to find Daemon in his mouth and eyes. There was less Stark, though it was a puzzle to see it at all, and the grey of his eyes held a hint of purple in its murk.

There was a sadness in his face, but a fondness as well—almost as though he knew her—that took Daenerys by surprise. She beckoned him, and he let himself be gathered into her embrace. “Hello, little brothers,” she said in High Valyrian, and her heart swelled as they answered her in kind.

Once the tears had subsided, hers and Rhaegar’s both, she eased back, though she kept a hand on each child’s shoulder, reluctant to release them fully. That left Jon, still lingering at the edge of their family group. She approached him at last, and he tried to maintain that distance, bowing and then murmuring, “It is an honor to meet you, princess,” but she hugged him as well, not relenting until his instinctive stiffening had relaxed, and he returned it.

“We are family,” she said. “You must call me Daenerys. May I call you Jon?”

[actuallybean]

Truth Hurts* | Part One

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Two Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The motel room smelled like cheap coffee and gun oil, and the rain outside tapped against the windows like a metronome counting down the moments before everything came undone.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through a local police report on your laptop. Sam paced behind you, reading aloud from the thick journal he’d been annotating since breakfast. Dean was slouched in the armchair by the window, polishing one of his pistols with casual precision—and absolutely not looking at your bare legs, even though you were sure he had at least three times already.

“Weird symbols carved into the chest,” Sam muttered, flipping a page. “Victim found in a locked room. No forced entry.”

“Witch,” you said, not looking up.

Dean smirked. “You say that like it’s your personal vendetta.”

“It is.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “You weren’t the one who spent three hours coughing up beetles the last time we dealt with one.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, yeah. That was gross. But I did hold your hair while you threw up, so I think I deserve partial trauma credit.”

Sam snorted. “That’s not how trauma works.”

Dean gestured vaguely with the gun oil rag. “Tell that to my dry-cleaning bill.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart warmed. This was your favorite part of the job—quiet, close, the three of you orbiting each other like gravity didn’t apply anywhere but here. You felt safe with them. Anchored. Loved, in a way that had never been spoken aloud but radiated from every shared glance, every brush of Sam’s hand when he handed you a file, every cup of coffee Dean slid silently across the table when you looked tired.

Still, the unsaid things weighed heavier than the salt rounds in your duffel.

Like how Dean’s gaze lingered a beat too long on your mouth when you smiled. Or how Sam’s fingertips would rest against your lower back for just a second more than necessary when you passed each other in tight spaces. Or how your heart ached for both of them, in different ways—but equally, deeply, stupidly.

You were too afraid to ruin it. So you didn’t say a word.

“Okay,” Sam said, snapping the journal shut. “There’s a pattern. Victims all worked at the same antique shop downtown. We go in tonight, after hours. Check for hex bags, maybe a cursed object.”

Dean cocked his gun and stood. “Cool. Witch-hunting on a Wednesday. Guess I’m skipping karaoke night.”

You laughed, stuffing silver bullets into your belt. “Since when do you sing in tune?”

Dean held a hand to his chest. “Wounded.”

Sam slung his bag over one shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can sing to the witch.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “That a kink I didn’t know about, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You grabbed your jacket, walking between them, hyper-aware of the heat that radiated from their bodies on either side of you. Dean opened the door and you stepped into the rain, your skin already tingling—not from the cold, but from the tension hanging thick between the three of you. Fragile. Unspoken.

Something was about to break.

And you had no idea that in less than 24 hours, you’d spill every secret you’d tried so hard to swallow—and they’d both be there to catch every single one.

✦

The antique store sat at the corner of a quiet block, shadowed by overgrown trees and cloaked in moonlight. The sign above the door was barely visible, letters faded and warped: Griffin’s Relics – Est. 1889. The air felt thick here, like something ancient was watching.

Dean jimmied the back door open with practiced ease while you and Sam kept watch, guns loaded with silver rounds just in case. The second you stepped inside, the hairs on your arms stood on end.

“This place smells like regret and lavender,” you whispered, nose wrinkling.

“Definitely witchy,” Dean muttered, flashlight cutting a path through the gloom.

Sam nodded toward the far corner. “Back there. Office space. That’s where the last victim was found.”

You moved as a unit—sweeping, scanning, breath tight. Glass cases lined the walls, filled with dusty jewelry, doll heads, rusted blades. The air hummed with residual magic, and you could feel it crawling along your skin like static.

“This place is a freakin’ cursed-object buffet,” Dean said, shining his light over an old porcelain mask. “I vote we torch it and grab burgers.”

You crouched beside a display case. “Hold on. These runes—they’re Norse. Protection and binding magic.”

Sam joined you, brow furrowed. “Definitely witch work. But why those? Protection for what?”

That’s when the trap triggered.

The second Dean stepped over the threshold into the office, the air snapped—like a rubber band pulled too tight. A sigil on the floor flared crimson, and an invisible force slammed the door shut behind him. You and Sam rushed forward, but it was too late—the room was sealed.

“Dean!” you shouted, hands on the doorknob. It was burning hot.

Dean’s voice was muffled from the other side. “I’m fine! Just pissed off—son of a bitch warded the room!”

Sam turned to the wall of shelves, searching for anything remotely magical. “There—look!”

You followed his gaze to a wooden idol—small, horned, its mouth carved open in a twisted grin. You both reached for it at once, and the moment your fingers touched it, a shockwave pulsed through the room.

Your knees hit the floor hard, vision swimming. You could hear Sam calling your name, feel Dean pounding on the door—but none of it made sense. There was a rush of heat, then cold, then—

Your chest heaved as the pressure faded, and Sam knelt beside you, wide-eyed and pale.

“You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Just… dizzy.”

Dean burst through the now-unguarded doorway, eyes wild. “What the hell was that?!”

You stood shakily. “It was cursed. Some kind of defense charm.”

Dean looked you over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I… I think so,” you breathed, blinking. “Everything feels weird.”

Sam hovered beside Dean. “It was a curse. Some kind of magical tripwire.”

Dean’s hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding. “What kind of curse?”

You looked at them, heart pounding, and tried to say “I don’t know.” But what came out was: “I ate the last slice of pie last night and I blamed it on Sam.”

Dead silence.

Dean blinked. “…What?”

You clapped your hands over your mouth. “That’s not what I meant to say!”

Sam’s brow furrowed, curious. “Wait. Try again. Say something you know isn’t true.”

You hesitated. “I hate coffee.”

You tried, but instead what came out was: “I once stole one of Dean’s flannels and sleep in it when I miss him.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Dean made a sound that was absolutely not appropriate for the middle of a witch hunt.

“Okay,” Sam said carefully. “You’re cursed. It’s a truth-binding spell. Classic magical compulsion—you can’t lie.”

You groaned, dragging both hands down your face. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

Dean looked entirely too amused. “So, just to clarify… you did eat the last slice of my pie.”

You glared at him. “And I’d do it again.”

Sam chuckled under his breath, but you could see the tightness behind his eyes—the worry. He wasn’t laughing at you. He was already working through how to fix it.

“We need to break the curse,” he said, scanning the shelves. “There’s probably a totem somewhere. Something binding the magic. If we find it—”

Dean nudged you gently, leaning in close. “You okay handling this until then? We won’t push.”

You nodded. “As long as no one asks me anything deep, I should survive.”

Dean smirked, but didn’t press.

Sam gave your shoulder a brief squeeze before stepping toward the back room. “Let’s find the source before you start telling us how you really feel.”

You smiled tightly, following them. They didn’t know it yet—but that was exactly what scared you most.

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god