#Rim Seal System

[kaijuposting]

Jaegers of Pacific Rim: What do we know about them?

There's actually a fair amount of lore about Pacific Rim's jaegers, though most of it isn't actually in the movie itself. A lot of it has been scattered in places like Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters, Tales From Year Zero, Travis Beacham's blog, and the Pacific Rim novelization.

Note that I will not be including information from either Pacific Rim: Uprising or Pacific Rim: The Black. Uprising didn't really add anything, and The Black's take on jaegers can easily be summed up as "simplified the concept to make a cartoon for children."

So what is there to know about jaegers, besides the fact that they're piloted by two people with their brains connected via computer?

Here's a fun fact: underneath the hull (which may or may not be pure iron), jaegers have "muscle strands" and liquid data transfer technology. Tendo Choi refers to them in the film when describing Lady Danger's repairs and upgrades:

Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system.

The novelization by Alex Irvine makes frequent references to this liquid data transfer tech. For example:

The Jaeger’s joints squealed and began to freeze up from loss of lubricant through the holes Knifehead had torn in it. Its liquid-circuit neural architecture was misfiring like crazy. (Page 29.)

He had enough fiber-optic and fluid-core cabling to get the bandwidth he needed. (Page 94.)

Newt soldered together a series of leads using the copper contact pins and short fluid-core cables. (Page 96.)

Unfortunately I haven't found anything more about the "muscle strands" and what they might be made of, but I do find it interesting that jaegers apparently have some sort of artificial muscle system going on, especially considering Newt's personnel dossier in the novel mentioned him pioneering research in artificial tissue replication at MIT.

The novelization also mentions that the pilots' drivesuits have a kind of recording device for their experiences while drifting:

This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions. (Page 16.)

It was connected through a silver half-torus that looked like a travel pillow but was in fact a four-dimensional quantum recorder that would provide a full record of the Drift. (Page 96.)

This is certainly... quite the concept. Perhaps the PPDC has legitimate reasons for looking through the memories and feelings of their pilots, but let's not pretend this doesn't enable horrific levels of privacy invasion.

I must note, though, I haven't seen mention of a recording system anywhere outside of the novel. Travis Beacham doesn't mention it on his blog, and it never comes up in either Tales From Year Zero or Tales From The Drift, both written by him. Whether there just wasn't any occasion to mention it or whether this piece of worldbuilding fell by the wayside in Beacham's mind is currently impossible to determine.

Speaking of the drivesuits, let's talk about those more. The novelization includes a few paragraphs outlining how the pilots' drivesuits work. It's a two-layer deal:

The first layer, the circuity suit, was like a wetsuit threaded with a mesh of synaptic processors. The pattern of processor relays looked like circuitry on the outside of the suit, gleaming gold against its smooth black polymer material. These artificial synapses transmitted commands to the Jaeger’s motor systems as fast as the pilot’s brain could generate them, with lag times close to zero. The synaptic processor array also transmitted pain signals to the pilots when their Jaeger was damaged.

...

The second layer was a sealed polycarbonate shell with full life support and magnetic interfaces at spine, feet, and all major limb joints. It relayed neural signals both incoming and outgoing. This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions.

...

The outer armored layer of the drivesuit also kept pilots locked into the Conn-Pod’s Pilot Motion Rig, a command platform with geared locks for the Rangers’ boots, cabled extensors that attached to each suit gauntlet, and a full-spectrum neural transference plate, called the feedback cradle, that locked from the Motion Rig to the spine of each Ranger’s suit. At the front of the motion rig stood a command console, but most of a Ranger’s commands were issued either by voice or through interaction with the holographic heads-up display projected into the space in front of the pilots’ faces. (Page 16.)

Now let's talk about the pons system. According to the novelization:

The basics of the Pons were simple. You needed an interface on each end, so neuro signals from the two brains could reach the central bridge. You needed a processor capable of organizing and merging the two sets of signals. You needed an output so the data generated by the Drift could be recorded, monitored, and analyzed. That was it. (Page 96.)

This is pretty consistent with other depictions of the drift, recording device aside. (Again, the 4D quantum recorder never comes up anywhere outside of the novel.)

The development of the pons system as we know it is depicted in Tales From Year Zero, which goes into further detail on what happened after Trespasser's attack on San Francisco. In this comic, a jaeger can be difficult to move if improbably calibrated. Stacker Pentecost testing out a single arm describes the experience as feeling like his hand is stuck in wet concrete; Doctor Caitlin Lightcap explains that it's resistance from the datastream because the interface isn't calibrated to Pentecost's neural profile. (I'm guessing that this is the kind of calibration the film refers to when Tendo Choi calls out Lady Danger's left and right hemispheres being calibrated.)

According to Travis Beacham's blog, solo piloting a jaeger for a short time is possible, though highly risky. While it won't cause lasting damage if the pilot survives the encounter, the neural overload that accumulates the longer a pilot goes on can be deadly. In this post he says:

It won't kill you right away. May take five minutes. May take twenty. No telling. But it gets more difficult the longer you try. And at some point it catches up with you. You won't last a whole fight start-to-finish. Stacker and Raleigh managed to get it done and unplug before hitting that wall.

In this post he says:

It starts off fine, but it's a steep curve from fine to dead. Most people can last five minutes. Far fewer can last thirty. Nobody can last a whole fight.

Next, let's talk about the size and weight of jaegers. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters lists off the sizes and weights of various jaegers. The heights of the jaegers it lists (which, to be clear, are not all of them) range from 224 feet to 280 feet. Their weights range from 1850 tons to 7890 tons. Worth noting, the heaviest jaegers (Romeo Blue and Horizon Brave) were among the Mark-1s, and it seems that these heavy builds didn't last long given that another Mark-1, Coyote Tango, weighed 2312 tons.

And on the topic of jaeger specs, each jaeger in Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters is listed with a (fictional) power core and operating system. For example, Crimson Typhoon is powered by the Midnight Orb 9 power core, and runs on the Tri-Sun Plasma Gate OS.

Where the novelization's combat asset dossiers covers the same jaegers, this information lines up - with the exception of Lady Danger. PR:MMM says that Lady Danger's OS is Blue Spark 4.1; the novelization's dossier says it's BLPK 4.1.

PR:MMM also seems to have an incomplete list of the jaegers' armaments; for example, it lists the I-22 Plasmacaster under Weaponry, and "jet kick" under Power Moves. Meanwhile, the novelization presents its armaments thus:

I-22 Plasmacaster Twin Fist gripping claws, left arm only Enhanced balance systems and leg-integral Thrust Kickers Enhanced combat-strike armature on all limbs

The novel's dossiers list between 2-4 features in the jaegers' armaments sections.

Now let's move on to jaeger power cores. As many of you probably already know, Mark-1-3 jaegers were outfitted with nuclear power cores. However, this posed a risk of cancer for pilots, especially during the early days. To combat this, pilots were given the (fictional) anti-radiation drug, Metharocin. (We see Stacker Pentecost take Metharocin in the film.)

The Mark-4s and beyond were fitted with alternative fuel sources, although their exact nature isn't always clear. Striker Eureka's XIG supercell chamber implies some sort of giant cell batteries, but it's a little harder to guess what Crimson Typhoon's Midnight Orb 9 might be, aside from round.

Back on the topic of nuclear cores, though, the novelization contains a little paragraph about the inventor of Lady Danger's power core, which I found entertaining:

The old nuclear vortex turbine lifted away from the reactor housing. The reactor itself was a proprietary design, brainchild of an engineer who left Westinghouse when they wouldn’t let him use his lab to explore portable nuclear miniaturization tech. He’d landed with one of the contractors the PPDC brought in at its founding, and his small reactors powered many of the first three generations of Jaegers. (Page 182.)

Like... I have literally just met this character, and I love him. I want him to meet Newt Geiszler, you know? >:3

Apparently, escape pods were a new feature to Mark-3 jaegers. Text in the novelization says, "New to the Mark III is an automated escape-pod system capable of ejecting each Ranger individually." (Page 240.)

Finally, jaegers were always meant to be more than just machines. Their designs and movements were meant to convey personality and character. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters says:

Del Toro insisted the Jaegers be characters in and of themselves, not simply giant versions of their pilots. Del Toro told his designers, "It should be as painful for you to see a Jaeger get injured as it is for you to see the pilot [get hurt.]" (Page 56.)

Their weathered skins are inspired by combat-worn vehicles from the Iraq War and World War II battleships and bombers. They look believable and their design echoes human anatomy, but only to a point. "At the end of the day, what you want is for them to look cool," says Francisco Ruiz Velasco. "It's a summer movie, so you want to see some eye candy." Del Toro replies, "I, however, believe in 'eye protein,' which is high-end design with a high narrative content." (Page 57.)

THE JAEGER FROM DOWN UNDER is the only Mark 5, the most modern and best all-around athlete of the Jaegers. He's also the most brutal of the Jaeger force. Del Toro calls him "sort of brawler, like a bar fighter." (Page 64.)

And that is about all the info I could scrounge up and summarize in a post. I think there's a lot of interesting stuff here - like, I feel that the liquid circuit and muscle tissue stuff gives jaegers an eerily organic quality that could be played for some pretty interesting angles. And I also find it interesting that jaegers were meant to embody their own sort of character and personality, rather than just being simple combat machines or extensions of their pilots - it's a great example of a piece of media choosing thematic correctness over technical correctness, which when you get right down to it, is sort of what Pacific Rim is really all about.

[honeydjarin]

TO THE BONE PART II

DIN DJARIN X READER

Crowds part for the Mandalorian, eyes averted, a constant path standing clear before him even in the busiest places. By the time you realize exactly why his kind is so feared, it’s too late for you. Your silence just might be your downfall.

warnings: fem!reader, soulmates, non-consensual drug use, Dr. Pershing conducts tests on unwilling subjects, canon typical violence

word count: 6,800

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the kind feedback on the first part of this series! I’m so excited to continue this journey together.

I have several parts written, and hope to post every two weeks. That may change towards the end depending on how long it takes to get the end written.

EDIT: reposting because the previous version wasn’t showing up in the tags

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST || AO3

It’s been a while since you were last in hyperspace. You’ve forgotten the strength of the initial jump, the atmospheric turbulence transitioning into something much smoother. You’ve forgotten the lurching in your stomach as your body tries to adjust to going far faster than should be possible for a human.

If you don’t think about why you’re traveling, or who is keeping you company during the journey, you just might find this jump through hyperspace peaceful. There are only the stars streaking by around you, clear of your path as you hurtle along the various hyperlanes throughout the galaxy. 

Traveling with the Mandalorian is even quieter than most of your journeys through the galaxy have been. The starliners were always busy, loud, and often ran late, as is to be expected from any sort of public transportation hub. But when you left home to travel the galaxy, the commercial ships had been the only way for you to see new star systems, or at least the only way that wouldn’t put you at risk of having a bounty on your head. The passenger liners always served your purpose despite the constant noise of those also seeking to planet hop. 

You could get a flight at a reasonable cost, and travel between most of the well settled planets regardless of where they were in the galaxy. Even the Outer Rim has its fair share of ports, constantly shutting people for work or trade between planets, or even just for the sake of sightseeing. You could pretend you were running towards a new future for yourself, one that didn’t include the Force, unchanging destinies, or bounty hunters. You could pretend that it wasn’t really your home that you were running from, or that you weren’t really just trying to escape from yourself.    

Even later, when the future you had fought so hard against began to pass, your fate sealed because of the skills your mother had taught you instead of letting your gifts fade to nothing, when you became a target, there was constant commotion in the starships. Passenger liners were no longer a safe way for you to travel, and the smaller, privately owned ships rang out with a different type of noise. Too much sabacc, too much alcohol, too much money lost. These things always led to raised voices and stray blaster fire. 

You felt safer there than you do now. Each moment the words on your forearm weren’t spoken was a promise that you would survive at least one more day.   

The Mandalorian’s starship isn’t like those other transports. It’s quiet, near silent, more so than the scarcely populated Arvala-7. This is the quietest journey across the galaxy you’ve ever been on. There is no conversation, no threats, no blaster fire or raucous laughter. Just a single warning. 

“Don’t touch this,” the Mandalorian said as he locked up his extensive arsenal of weapons upon your entry onto the ship. You doubt you could find a way to crack open the door even if you wanted to. Not without the Force. Then he herded you towards a short ladder, one that reaches up to a second level above, before undoing the restraints just long enough to reattach them to a rung just below the height of your chest. It was high enough to be uncomfortable but low enough that you wouldn’t risk losing feeling in your arms. The action was just more insurance that you won't touch his stuff, it seemed. He left you there alone in the hull and took the still unconscious child up the ladder with him. At least he didn’t shut the door to the cockpit behind him. 

Now, you’re left to wonder if you’ll spend the whole journey like this. 

You almost think he forgot about you. or he finally decided you’re not a flight risk. He has you trapped on his ship with nowhere to possibly run. He only needs to worry about what you might do to the starship itself. 

He doesn’t come back down from the cockpit, even when he clearly has the ship on autopilot. You stretch back as far as you can and watch from below as he turns towards the pram floating beside him, rocking it gently a few times. Grogu must still be asleep. It is a sweet gesture, or it would be, if the hunter wasn’t still planning on turning you both in to whoever the latest client is. It is only then, after he finishes checking on the kid, that he climbs back down the ladder from the cockpit to check on you again.

He removes your binders completely and your arms fall instantly to your sides, not knowing what else to do with them. The Mandalorian makes no indication of wanting to put the restraints back on you. He doesn’t speak, and doesn't show you any further signs of acknowledgement. He just steps back and climbs up the ladder to the cockpit once more. 

It’s too quiet in the Mandalorian’s ship, the silence stretching on from the moment he released you from the restraints. With no chatter, no attempt by the armored man to make you comfortable, no sign of where it is he’s taking you, the silence settles like a heavy weight that pulls you into the floor more firmly than the ship’s artificial gravity. It’s suffocating.  

The Mandalorian intends to hand you off to the client, take his reward, and then forget about you and the child. You know you’re just a job to him, even if he is your soulmate. So you intend to leave as much of an impression as you can. He only told you not to touch where he stores his weapons. He didn’t say anything about the rest of the starship, so you can touch everything else… right? 

You cast a lingering glance towards the carbonite freezer. There are no bodies that you know of on the ship right now, but you’re certain the bounty hunter is more than willing to use it on a quarry. Would he freeze you if he caught you touching his things? 

If he needs you alive, then you doubt it’s a risk he is willing to take. Not when 60% of those put in carbonite don’t survive the process, and the ones that do often face other side effects such as hibernation sickness and temporary blindness. Still, you'll just have to be careful in your meddling. 

As if he can sense your intentions to snoop, the Mandalorian returns for you.

“Come into the cockpit,” he states, leaving no room for argument. 

He helps you to struggle up the ladder, your arms half numb from being restricted, just to make sure you don’t fall and crack your head open, before he makes you sit in one of the remaining unoccupied seats of the cockpit. Your hands remain free, the Mandalorian considering you to not be a threat—it’s almost pitiful. His gaze holds steady on the galaxy before him, trusting that you couldn’t hurt him even if you tried. He still doesn’t speak to you, and you're not really sure if he is comfortable in the silence or not. You are once again reminded that he is most likely used to being completely alone while traveling through the galaxy. 

It’s a thought that almost makes you sad.   

—☾—

He brings you to another desert planet, one you’ve never been to before and really don’t want to be on now. 

It’s more populated than Arvala-7, the entire population of the previous planet likely not even the equivalent of half the faces you see milling about before you here, especially now that the Niktos no longer have control of the bunker. 

There were no towns on Arvala-7, just some farms, some Jawas, and the hideout, but it didn’t feel gloomy there, even when you were trapped in the bunker walls. The sun would always filter through the slatted windows—they were too small to climb through but just enough to give you a glimpse outside the walls and remind you of the galaxy beyond the well guarded building. The sunlight would glint on the dust particles and show you how they danced through the air, almost as if they were alive. 

Here, everything is dark. The earth is black, burned from the same magma that created it, the sky turned grey with the ever smoldering cinders of the planet. It looks as though a raging storm is coming, but the lack of moisture in the air indicates otherwise. 

You can taste the planet burning on your tongue. Do the people around you taste it too? Or has everyone here grown used to the acrid ash filling their lungs? The Mandalorian pulling you once more by the restraints down the ramp of his ship doesn’t seem to notice. The filter in his helmet keeps all impurities in the air out of his body, just another form of armor against any adversary he might face. 

The docking area, not so much a bay as an expanse of flat land outside of the town limits, has several worn down starships settled in it, the old yellow paint detailing on the Mandalorian’s ship being one of the only things that makes it stand out from the other docked ships. The hunter leads you through the bustling shipyard and pulls you directly to the main street in the town. 

The town’s entrance is framed by a giant stone archway made from the same grey material as everything else around you. The top is almost more square than round, and crumbling from age in different parts. It is still magnificent despite its weathering. The structure towers above everything around it, no building in the town coming close to the height of the arch. 

You stumble slightly as you gawk, too busy paying attention to what lies above you than what rests on the ground before you. You fail to see the uneven dip of the unpaved path, and the toe of your boot catches on the solid earth. The Mandalorian’s grip on you is the only thing that prevents you from tumbling to your knees. 

“Keep up,” he demands, his tone giving away his clear irritation despite the lack of change in his body language. But he still pauses, gives you just a moment to get your feet back under you, before he continues into the town once more. It’s another moment resembling kindness, even if it’s over in a flash. He returns to pulling you forward through the threshold, Grogu floating by your side.

While the street around you is wide, it feels as though the edges are pressing into you, the walls growing closer as the number of sentient lifeforms increases. All around you are vendors stationed at various market stalls—the smell and smoke of cooking food wafts your way from many of the stands, the scents barely stronger than the natural smell of the planet. Groups and individuals of all species are shouting and laughing, some stopping at the stalls while others push through the crowd, heading to some other destination. The commotion in this place is the complete antithesis of the last few days spent on the Mandalorian’s starship. 

The child watches from his spot close by your side, curious about the new location. He doesn’t know that soon your safety will not be guaranteed. He coos slightly each time you’re hit with a new smell, reaching a clawed hand out towards whatever food catches his interest. Even though he ate a ration bar not long ago, the kid is hungry once more. 

In other circumstances you would like to stop and look at the different stands. You would find some real food for the kid to eat, making sure he ate slowly so as not to upset his stomach, as he is prone to do. But the rations have all of the nutrients he needs, and you don’t have that kind of freedom.    

Despite the close press of the crowd, no one jostles into you, even when many keep their eyes away from your form, gazes directed instead at the Mandalorian in front of you. It’s obvious that the majority of those wandering the streets here are not the most law-abiding of people, if the number of blasters and vibroblades you see looped around belts and strapped to thighs is any indication of their character. 

The Republic has little control over the planets in the Outer Rim, creating the perfect breeding ground for those living outside the law, the distance from the rest of the galaxy offering a sense of freedom that often goes too far beyond the line of what’s considered moral by most. But even here the crowd parts for the Mandalorian to pass through. You and The Child receive little attention compared to the armored man directly in front of you. 

The Mandalorian shows no sign that the staring bothers him. He hardly changes his trajectory as he pulls you through the market, the dark visor of his helmet never wavering from the path in front of him. 

“This way,” he grunts, tugging you in a new direction without any further warning. Your new course takes you down an alley. 

There are far fewer people here than there were on the main street. Somehow all the clamor and commotion fades away almost immediately, leaving nothing but the rising fear behind. It bubbles in your gut and turns your stomach sour. There is nothing to distract yourself with now. Nothing but the dull reflection of the churning firmament off the Mandalorian’s helmet, and the dented cuirass—which no longer looks bloodied, the paint instead like rust, in the grey haze of this planet—that has lost almost all of its integrity since he first began dragging you with him from the bunker. 

You wish you could beg, or cry, or even just speak to him. You should do something to stop this, anything to keep him from turning you and the child in for the bounty. If you could just talk to him things could be so different. But you’ve spent your whole life building up resentment for the man, and something that looks like compassion doesn’t mean it is kindness.

 He could still be cruel, and speaking to him may lead to a far worse outcome than you’re already facing. You’ve spent your whole life determining his character without even meeting him and now you can’t bring yourself to reveal the truth. You wish you weren’t so stubborn. 

You wish stubbornness didn’t feel so much like fear. 

The hunter drags you down several other streets and alleys, twisting and turning along the town’s winding passage ways, up and down short flights of stairs until you are too lost to even think of making your way back to the main street—not that doing so would provide any real safety, not when a Mandalorian is after you.

Finally, he brings you to a halt in front of a nondescript door in the back of an alley. He lifts his free hand up to knock on the door, the sound of his fist against metal reverberating off the walls inside in a dead and hollow clang. 

For a moment nothing happens, and you almost think the Mandalorian managed to get lost in the streets himself. Then, a camera the shape of an eye stalk extends from a hatch beside the door, speaking robotically in a language you don’t recognize but must mean something to the Mandalorian. He holds something up in front of the camera, receiving a response in that same unknown language, before the camera disappears in the hatch once more. 

The door hisses open slowly, a cool gust of air breathing against your face, raising goosebumps on your flesh. What lies behind the steel barricade is enough to make your blood run cold. 

The helmets that stare back at you aren’t supposed to exist anymore—at least, not attached to a body. They shouldn’t adorn walking, talking, living beings. But the ghostly figures clad in cheap white armor are clearly alive, and when you turn to look at the man who brought you here, the T of his visor that had seemed so neutral to you before begins to look more terrifying by the second. Suddenly you understand why crowds part around him, why people grow silent and avert their eyes in his presence, or keep their stare trained on him, ensuring that they are not the ones he is after. 

The ghosts usher the three of you into the hall behind the door, and as it slides shut once more you are confronted with the fact that you wasted any chance you had to run. You should have tried harder, fought tooth and nail to protect the child and yourself. Your knowledge of your connection to the Mandalorian allowed you to grow complacent during the journey here, but he doesn’t have the same knowledge as you. He has no reason to change his routine when he is oblivious to the truth. 

You hate him even more for his unwilling ignorance. 

One of the stormtroopers grabs onto the edge of Grogu’s pram, rocking it harshly. You want to scream at him to let go, to get away from the kid, but you can’t. Only now your silence isn’t a choice, it’s a product of fear. Even if you tried to open your mouth to speak, no words would make it past the thick shard of terror sinking down your throat—but you don’t have to speak. The Mandalorian interjects first, his tone sharp enough to send a chill up your spine.

“Easy with that,” he states, visor trained on the trooper. For just the smallest moment you feel hope, not enough to fill you up, to make your chest swell and your mind swarm with thoughts of escape, but just a little flicker. It’s another act of not quite kindness. A small part of you can’t help but think that maybe he won’t leave you here, even if you know there is no reason for him to take you away from this place. He intends to collect on the bounty regardless of your desires, regardless of the fact that you have done nothing to warrant this fate.  

You know It’s a silly thought as soon as you see the client. 

He’s an ex imperial officer. Rather, he should be ex imperial, but the troopers around you and the clear command he holds is evidence that despite the fall of the Empire, the Empire is not truly dead, and now you and the kid are just two more not quite Jedi in their hands. 

If your hands were free, everyone in the room would be tossed aside already, mere rag dolls when confronted with an energy far greater than any individual can ever truly comprehend, but the Force acts as an extension of your body, one you can’t access when your own hands hang uselessly in front of you, bound by your hips. 

You can’t think, can’t breathe. The men around you are talking but you can barely process what they’re saying. All you can do is watch as the kid is passed around, concerned eyes blinking up at you, and then at the Mandalorian. The hunter keeps his own gaze angled towards the client. 

“Yes, very healthy,” you hear someone say, but the words do not fully process in your mind. Suddenly, there is a hand grasping your jaw, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks like talons, forcing you back into the present. Cold eyes bear down on your own, lips pulling taught over teeth in a sharp grin. 

This is what you’ve always been destined for.

A light shines at you, bathing your skin in a red glow, scanning for something. Whatever it is that the sensors pick up only makes the officer’s grin grow wider. He finally releases you from his grasp.  

“She will do well,” the officer claims, his tone carrying barely suppressed excitement that sends a shiver down your spine. 

Beside you, Grogu is crying. A man with wide, round glasses begins to pull you and the kid along behind him, heading towards a door away from the officer and the Mandalorian. You can’t bring yourself to turn back as the two discuss the hunter’s payment. 

You can’t let the Mandalorian see how the air has become too thick for you to breathe with ease, filling your lungs but providing no relief. You must hide the way your eyes have finally blurred with the tears you managed to keep at bay until this moment. And you cannot bring yourself to look at the man who the Force determined to be more entangled with you than anyone else in this vast galaxy. You don’t want to see him again.  

Even without turning, you can feel his eyes on you, burning as the spectacled man guides you and the child through the door and deeper into the building.

Suddenly you are glad for your silence. You are grateful for the whispers and less than subtle looks that led to you learning to always hide your mark, because a life with a man who would leave you in the hands of the Empire is not a life you want to live.      

—☾—

It appears that the scan was just the first test. The spectacled man tells you as much. He tells you his name is Dr. Pershing. He tells you that he is the one who will be conducting the tests, and that there will be many more to follow. 

“This will be much easier if you cooperate,” he says. “Otherwise you will be made to comply.”

He guides you to sit on a metal table, the chill of its surface immediately seeping through the thin layer of your clothes. The pram floats silently beside the doctor. Grogu’s large ears are lowered against the sides of his head, but at least he’s no longer crying. 

The tests begin simply. Pershing asks questions that you choose not to answer and that Grogu is unable to answer. Instead of responding, you look around the room, taking in the sterile smell and excessively white walls. It reminds you of a medical facility with big machines, tables, and tubes laid throughout the room. Two stormtroopers remain by the door, watching silently. This is not a place you want to be. You would rather be back with the Niktos. 

“When did you first realize you could do things others could not?” 

“Did you have training that fostered your connection with the Force?”

“Have you ever been tested for your Midi-chlorian count?” 

Your lack of cooperation becomes a growing frustration for the doctor as he continues to ask you more questions. A crease forms between his dark brows, a slight frown tugging at his lips, growing deeper each time you ignore him. He looks up from the holopad he was likely intending to take notes on before he realized you don’t plan on speaking, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose once more before speaking directly to you. 

“May I remind you that your cooperation will make this whole process run much smoother,” he nearly hisses. But there is something more than frustration in his expression, despite the sharp tone of his words. Something like fear seems to flash in his eyes, even if it is only for a brief moment. 

“You may,” you state, tone flat, hiding the storm of your emotions, “but it will not change anything.” 

Dr. Pershing huffs out a sigh before setting the holopad back on a table. 

“Then I will move forward with the other tests,” he says, stepping towards you. He attempts to guide you to lay back on the table, his brow creasing in concentration as he does, but you don’t budge.   

Suddenly, there are more hands on you, pushing you down, the cold metal of the table causing your muscles to spasm in a desperate attempt to avoid contact with the uncomfortable material. The Mandalorian’s binders were removed from your wrists sometime during your initial meeting with the Imperial officer (despite the clarity of the faces around you, you can’t seem to remember anyone removing your restraints), only to be replaced with something less permanent but somehow more painful. These temporary binders are removed now, but before you can relish in the freedom of your hands and attempt to sooth what you’re certain is bruising along your wrists, your arms are once again being restrained. 

Grogu ends up on a similar table. It’s more of a machine really, and you begin to panic.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you beg. 

“I will do what I can for the child, but results will be expected,” Pershing states, his words sounding almost truthful, and you hope it’s not some sick sort of mind game, something he’s saying solely to obtain your compliance.  

When he goes to draw blood from Grogu you fight to get to the child, pulling against your restraints even though doing so agitates the already sensitive skin and risks further damage to your flesh. The troopers are there to make sure that your struggle doesn’t amount to anything, and the Doctor is able to collect the blood sample that he needs. 

He returns to your side to collect a sample from you as well, even while you continue to struggle as much as possible. There is not much room to move between the restraints and the stormtroopers holding you down. Pershing begins to unravel the fabric wrapped around your arm. The cloth has, thus far, protected your veins and, more importantly, your soulmark, from the doctor. He starts from the top, quickly revealing the skin of your elbow.  

“Stop!” you beg. “Please don’t!” You’re not sure if he’s listening, if he takes some sort of mercy, or if he just doesn’t understand the real reason why you are pleading with him, but he unravels the fabric only enough that the second half of your mark is exposed. 

I can bring you in cold. 

From the moment you met the Mandalorian, your survival hasn’t been guaranteed. If the officer didn’t care if you were dead before, he sure doesn’t care if you survive what’s coming next.     

It quickly becomes apparent that Dr. Pershing doesn’t care about the mark, just the tests, which require him to collect your blood in order to conduct them. You continue to struggle, but it doesn’t stop the doctor from reaching his goal. 

The site where the needle enters your skin will surely form a mark because of your wriggling, another instance of your own foolish actions resulting in more pain than necessary. The doctor’s patience seems to finally reach its limit. 

“I told you this would be easier if you cooperate,” he states, setting the blood sample aside before grabbing something else from his table. “One way or another you will comply.”

You feel another prick, followed by a chilling numbness that spreads from the crease of your elbow out towards the tips of your fingers and towards your chest, the sensation rapidly extending to the rest of your body. Your mind numbs with it, growing foggy and distant. For just a moment longer you think about escape, but thoughts are growing more fleeting by the second. 

It becomes impossible to keep track of what is happening. Grogu is quiet beside you, the Doctor continues to flit around the two of you. Time passes but you're not sure if it’s mere moments or entire hours.

The lights go out, a quick flicker. Then another begins flashing above the door. 

People rush around you. The child lays still beside you, looking around but remaining quiet.

The room is empty. 

Time still passes.   

—☾—

Sounds travel to you slowly. They are clouded and warped, as if they are passing through thick fog on a cold night, ringing out from directions that shouldn’t possibly be able to produce them. In the distance, or what seems to be the distance but really could be anywhere around you, blaster fire screeches out. The high pitched whine barely registers in your sluggish mind. It isn’t in the room and that’s all that matters. 

There are calls for action, screams of pain and shouts of fear, more blaster fire. 

Beside you Grogu remains still, dark eyes blinking towards you, unafraid. You blink back at him, your own eyes struggling to open again once they close. Everything is just so heavy. 

The door slides open with a hiss, and for just a moment all of the noise sounds just a little closer. It’s all still clouded, but the commotion is not such a distant thing even if it still doesn’t seem real. A figure clad in silver armor steps through the door, reflecting the swirling red light of the lab in the same way every other surface around you flickers and shines, a warning. 

It’s your Mandalorian.

As soon as the door seals behind him he rushes over to you. You can’t help but stare at his new armor—this is what your bounty was worth. More shouting comes from beyond the door and your eyes roll back in its direction, taking a while to finally reach their destination. No one else enters the room.    

“Hey. Hey!” your Mandalorian says, lightly tapping your cheek until your eyes return to him. “What did they do to you?”

You can barely keep your eyes on him, your vision constantly being drawn to different things—like the child cooing next to you, or the way the flashing light reflects off the silver of the Mandalorian’s new beskar armor (real beskar, durable and rare). When you fail to respond, he begins to tug on the restraints closest to him.  

Through the cloud of your mind you are aware of just one thing. You need to hide your soulmark from him. He cannot see the words he said to you scrawled across your forearm in sharp Aurebesh. You twist your arm in your restraint, doing your best to try not to think about just how heavy your muscles feel, or how much your arm aches, as you shift your soulmark so it angles towards the table. You are grateful the hunter occupies himself with the other arm first, working quickly while trying not to hurt you.  

He rips away your restraints with ease, and a small part of you wonders, if you had your full strength, could you have gotten out on your own? But the thought doesn’t linger, your mind unable to focus on anything for longer than a moment.

The Mandalorian turns from you to The Child, setting him free as well. You take the opportunity to rewrap your arm, covering your soulmark once more. It’s a sloppy process, one that is difficult to complete with the weight of your muscles and ache of your wrists. Your fingers seem to have as much function as they would in the freezing cold, and keeping your mind on task proves to be difficult. You’re lucky the fabric used to cover your mark was only partially unwound. 

 The hunter retrieves Grogu, placing the child back into his protective pod, before helping you down off the table, tucking you into his side. Your legs collapse, unable to hold your weight, forcing the Mandalorian to bear the brunt of it, although he likely anticipated this outcome. You take a moment to get your legs back under you, just enough so that he doesn’t need to carry you. He pauses, giving you time to adjust, just as he always does.  

You can’t fully comprehend what is happening as he tugs you through the building. Flashes of blaster fire cross your vision, fading into darkness as they pass. The time between blasts is never long enough to let the shadows linger. Some are aimed at you and some directed towards the stormtroopers blocking your path, courtesy of your Mandalorian. 

He tries to keep you behind him, standing strong as you stumble along, shielding you and the child as much as he can with his body. 

A bright red bolt, burning hot, streaks past your face and nearly makes contact. You’re too out of it to react, eyes shifting in its direction long after the shot has passed, finding nothing but shadows behind you. The hunter turns towards you for just a second, taking any oncoming fire with the shining new beskar on his back. 

His leather clad hand cradles the side of your head for a mere moment, eyes burning through his visor into your own, hotter than the plasma that came so near to the place his hand now holds. His helmet flickers red as more shots go wide around the three of you. He nods, chin barely tilting down in acknowledgement of your continued safety. Then, certain that you are alive and well, he turns towards the oncoming fire once more.

You don’t know how much time you spent in the hands of the Imperials. It could have been hours or weeks, or something in between. Realistically very little time actually passed, no more than a day, but your perception of time is wrong, its passage still something you are unable to cling onto. You’re not even entirely sure how long the Mandalorian has been fighting to get you and The child out from where you've been held. 

All you know is that when the hunter finally gets the three of you outside of the building, back onto the volcanic soil and into the acrid air, it’s night. There are no stars here, not like on Arvala-7. Just the ashy sky, tumbling like a storm but always too dry for rain. Or maybe it’s just your own vision that’s swimming. Now, with the horizon farther in front of you than just a wall across the room, with alleys and streets stretching long before you and lined by rows of buildings, you can tell just how far off its axis your world has become.  

Everything is spinning, and you would be dragged along in the current if it weren’t for the Mandalorian’s grip on you. At some point during the firefight he passed the kid to you, freeing up his other hand. You can barely hold The Child’s weight, terrified that your grip will be too loose and you’ll lose him—or worse yet, too tight. 

The Mandalorian’s words echo in your mind the closer to the ship you get, though you’re not entirely sure where his voice ends and the voice inside your head begins. What did they do to you? 

You reach the main street, familiar to you despite the haze in your mind, but it looks much different than you remember. The stalls that had once been bustling are closed down for the night, the noisy crowd and plethora of smells long gone, but the street isn’t empty. There are others, bounty hunters, gathering around you on all sides. 

The world spins faster. Fire streams from the Mandalorian’s wrist, stretching out towards those around you before eventually sputtering and dying once more. The night seems a little darker after that, the blaze of the flame still burning your already weak eyesight even when it’s extinguished. 

You’re dragged and pushed, hidden and pulled—helpless in the face of your adversaries. All the while the Mandalorian stands before you, risking his own life to save yours and Grogu’s. He doesn’t know you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t know that you have been bound together since before your lives even began. This is a choice entirely his own. You can��t allow yourself to think about what that means right now, partially because of the circumstances you are still in, partially because you physically can’t concentrate on anything, and partially because you just don’t want to. 

Time blurs again as you push further towards the starship. The arch framing the entrance of the town looms before you, a silent witness to the events that you cannot comprehend. 

The world spins and then you see double, triple, quadruple of the Mandalorian. 

No, that’s not quite right. The world is spinning but that is not the cause for what you see. The Mandalorian to your left wears beskar painted a color too dark for you to distinguish by the light of blaster fire. Your Mandalorian stands before you, painted in the colors of the fight around him. 

You cannot concentrate on what they say when they exchange words, only picking up on a single repeated phrase:

“This is the way.”

Then, you are on the move again, stumbling forward, always forward, towards the arch above the town. Towards the ship. Towards your destiny.   

—☾— 

The starship is quiet.

You hadn’t realized just how loud the blasterfire had been, even through the fog in your brain, until the ramp finally raised behind you, sealing you off from the rest of the galaxy. The only sound comes from the Mandalorian’s vocoder, warping his heavy breathing into static. But he doesn’t take long to try and catch his breath. To do so would be to risk being caught once more. 

He lifts you up without warning, slings you over his shoulder like it’s nothing—to him it probably is nothing, even after fighting for his life. 

Somehow he manages to cradle Grogu in the same arm that he uses to keep you stable, a precarious balancing act. Then, impossibly, he manages to begin climbing the ladder to the cockpit. It’s ridiculous, you think, like a stack of farm animals standing on each other’s backs—a Mandalorian warrior, a not quite Jedi, and a 50 year old magic baby piled on the ladder. 

You can’t stop the laugh that rips through your throat, the tone wobbling as the silver pauldron presses into your stomach and releases during the climb. Grogu laughs too, unaware of what exactly you find funny, just happy to join in. When a particularly rough jolt up the ladder causes your laughter to turn into a wheeze, the Mandalorian pauses. He readjusts his grip on you and the kid, then keeps climbing.

First he sets the kid down, temporarily plopping Grogu in one of the passenger seats. Then he does the same to you. He straps you into your seat, not wanting to risk you being launched onto the floor or the control panel as he brings the starship off the planet. You just stare at him, at the glint of his new, unpainted beskar and the steely gaze of his visor. 

The hunter picks Grogu up again, placing him on a cuisse covered thigh and leaving a hand on the kid to act as a seatbelt. The ship starts with a purr, engines whirring as the Mandalorian presses a series of buttons and flips several switches. There’s some turbulence as the ship cuts through the atmosphere before leaving the ashen planet behind. In no time at all you are among the stars, body lurching as you make the jump into hyperspace. 

The Mandalorian’s armor catches the light of the universe as the stars blur all around you, the transparisteel surrounding you allowing for every inch of him to be bathed in the flickering glow of distant suns. It’s as if the galaxy has come alive on his armor, painting the beskar in ever-changing streaks of light and color. It shifts and dances even more as he moves from his spot at the helm. 

He returns the child to the second passenger seat, the hunter no longer needing to worry about the kid falling as he had feared during the ascent. Hyperspace offers protection, freedom. You can’t help but stare at the Mandalorian as he returns back to his seat, his own gaze angled towards the stars before him. Your mind is still hazy, but you are unable to focus on anything other than the resplendent man who sits before you.        

You’re so beautiful, you think. 

For a moment you fear you’ve said the words out loud. The Mandalorian’s shoulders grow stiff, back straightening slightly from where he sits in the pilot’s seat. But he doesn’t turn towards you, and he doesn’t speak. Surely if you had spoken he would have something to say as well, something along the usual lines of “I’ve been waiting for so long,” or even “Why didn’t you say anything?” It must just be the fog drifting through your brain, an unfounded paranoia. Your exit from the planet was rough, after all, both the firefight and the atmospheric turbulence. Some lingering tension is to be expected. 

It’s not until you’re well on your way through hyperspace, safe from any of your would be pursuers, that the Mandalorian says anything at all. His star stained helmet turns towards you, the black of his visor burning just as bright as it had when he cradled your head not so long ago. 

“My name’s Din,” he says. “Din Djarin.” 

NEXT PART

a/n: Next chapter we will get some of Din’s perspective!

taglist: @unmitigatedsuperiority @haven-is-happy @sorrow-has-a-place-here @unofficialavenger90

I don’t have a taglist form, but if you would like to be tagged on future chapters you can let me know in the tags/an ask/etc. this is a sideblog so I can’t respond to replies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[eggcompany]

Virgin's First Popped Knot Part 1

Shinsou goes to Aizawa to learn how mating really works. Aizawa and Hizashi give him a live demonstration. Hitoshi however hasn't ever had a knot and he hasn't ever popped a knot before and this is his first time with a heating omega. Thankfully Shota and 'Zashi are very good teachers. (No student x teacher. No underaged.)

“See if you sit back on your own heels, you can feel the either dense wall that seals off the channel or the rim of the channel if they’re in full fertile heat or the soft thin wall of they’re in infertile heat. Right now since Hizashi’s not nearing a heat, his wall is thick and dense. It does still feel nice, doesn’t it?” Aizawa explained to the young hero as he shifted his weight onto his butt which rested on his heels. He looked down at his husband who looked rather bored.

Hizashi smiled and nodded. 

“Yep. Feels like when you get your feet rubbed.” Hizashi said and Shinsou looked confused. 

All of it was so confusing 

He’d come to Aizawa, his hero course teacher and idol, for advice about how to knot. However Aizawa tried to explain to him but he’d called Hizashi and they decided to give him an in person demonstration. It wasn’t uncommon to ask your ‘guide’ to physically show you how to knot or handle a heat. Most of the teachers were licensed guides for young adults or adolescents. However Hitoshi wasn’t confident or brave enough to ask anyone else for help. 

Now here he was, sitting in Hizashi’s radio chair that they rolled over to the bed, paying attention closely as his teacher talked like he wasn’t balls deep in another guy. 

“Does it not- um does it not like feel like good? Like um arousing?” Shinsou asked. He’d gotten over being embarrassed when Aizawa had told him about Omega pre-heat purges and binges. (Omegas basically ‘clearing their systems’ and then eating all heat.) He’d tried to ask any questions that had come to mind. 

“Not really. Now there’s a spot a little- oof! Yeah there! A little closer to the entrance that feels really good!” Hizashi said and smiled a little breathlessly. As Aizawa pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along Hizashi's prostate. 

“Everyone has that though. It’s called your prostate and yes even alphas have them. They’re similar to a female g-spot. It doesn’t take much to hit it either. On either side of it are the slick glands so if your partner isn’t slicking without a little encouragement, it’s easy to stimulate with your fingers, or gently with just the tip of your penis. Usually if you want to tell them where it is, it’s half way up their cock, and the size of their thumb.” Aizawa explained and then showed Shinsou. Aizawa reached up and took both of his thumbs and placed them on either side of Hizashi's small cock, right in the middle. 

Shinsou nodded, that was something he’d never heard about. He thought it’d be much… bigger. He’d watched a lot of porn and it always seemed like something that should be a large target of a sort. 

“See even out of heat a bit of stimulus and they give. I’ll bring you some wipes when we’re done, sorry honey.” Aizawa said as he reached down and gathered some slick that was starting to bead around his cock. He wiped his fingers, once showing Shinsou, onto his discarded underwear. 

“It’s fine. No harm no foul.” Hizashi mumbled as Shinsou intently watched his hole. He noticed that Aizawa’s cock was at a rather extreme angle, pointing up into Mister Yamada s hole and not…. Straight. Not just in. 

“But what if it’s too much pressure there? Like if you, hypothetically, have a kinda thin… skinny partner. Wouldn’t it hurt their stomachs?” Shinsou asked. He knows his cock is big. Big for a seventeen year old. And well… if he was gonna share a bed with Denki… he didn’t want to hurt his hopefully to be mate. Even through the muscles of Mister Yamada’s stomach there was a bit of a bump.

“Well I wouldn’t know. You know everything you say to us right now we will not hold against you or anyone else you mention.” Aizawa said when he saw the panic on Shinsou's face. Shinsou breathed deeply for a second and thought it over. It’s best to get all questions answered properly. 

“Um… it’s Denki Kaminari… we’ve been dating since I got to the hero course. We won’t do it in the dorms! We got a place at a hotel… um but I don’t wanna hurt him by doing.. that .” Shinsou said and pointed to where Hizashi was laying on his back with his hips pulled up to sit on Aizawa's. It was an odd position but he’d seen it in porn and he knows it’s common. 

“Oh yes, young Denki is quite thin. Perhaps not this position then. Hizashi can you just present for me please?” Aizawa said after thinking of it. The young blonde was NOT a person he thought the lavender headed boy fancied. But he understood, loud blondes are a type. 

Hizashi pulled at where Aizawa was grasping his thigh and pulled. 

“Yeah yeah, lemme have my legs.” He said as Aizawa pulled himself out of Hizashi's wet hole. Shinsou thought that Mister Yamada would be a good guide for Denki. Someone who was thin and had lots of experience. 

Hizashi rolled to his stomach and then got on his hands and knees on their bed. His back was straight for a moment before Aizawa rubbed his calf. Then his back dipped and arched. 

‘ Wow… real presenting. I wonder how long they’ve done this…’ Shinsou thought as he looked at how relaxed and calm they both were. They must have been guides for years now. 

“This is usually what comes most naturally  but if not it’s easy to manipulate. Hands and knees at first. It’s easiest to perform any foreplay and to stimulate the slick glands here. They can either be up on their hands, like this, or down on their elbows.” Aizawa explained as Hizashi dropped down so he was down on his elbows, arms crossed in front of him.  “Thank you Hizashi. When the actual coupling begins, you should be up either on your knees, some prefer to stand if they’re quite a bit shorter than their partner, see how I’m not quite even?” Aizawa said as Hizashi yawned and rolled one of his ankles, relaxing deeper into the position. Aizawa moved to stand up on his knees and scoot to be in between Hizashi’s spread legs. Aizawa had shorter legs than the blonde so the omega’s hole was higher than his cock. 

“Ye-yessir” Shinsou said . This was the position he’d seen the most. A breeding stance. If you wanted babies you did this. This was a baby making pose. He felt dirty being there while they were in this position. He almost laughed at himself because of the thought because it was so… childish to think like that. Everyone who got heat or rut was shown this pose and the meaning of mating and he was blushing like a cherry just seeing it. 

“Easily fixed. Simply spread their knees out a bit more and that brings their bottom lower. If they get a bit uncomfortable because of how they’re spread, offer a pillow to support. Or two.” Aizawa explained and pushed Hizashi's knees with his hands so the other man’s ass was a bit lower than his cock. He then pulled two pillows from the head of the bed to put under the omegas stomach and hips. 

Hizashi let the cushions at his weight. 

“Thank you.” Hizashi mumbled and laid his head on his arms. It was nice laying here after a long hard day at work. His mate smelled nice and happy, his nest was clean, and he had just eaten dinner and showered. His alpha took such good care of him. Hizashi knew that young Hitoshi was a calmer, more timid young man so it was all the better if he himself stayed nice and calm. Lucky enough that was easy for Hizashi right then. 

“It’s your duty to make sure they’re comfortable and that they also enjoy it. That’s why it’s so important to make sure they’re slicking properly. If you feel them tensing or their slick glands start throbbing, immediately stop and ask if anything’s wrong. Slick glands are usually extremely sensitive during heat. Most people will freely slick during heat but if they grow sore from nervousness during sex they can tear and that is… horrible. You never want to tear a slick gland.” Aizawa explained and pushed himself back into Hizashi's wet hole, all the way over his knot. Aizawa rubbed at Hizashi's hip for a moment while speaking. 

“Okay, um… Mister Aizawa?” Shinsou asked, amazed at the way Mister Yamada stretched so easily over Mister Aizawa's… huge knot. 

“Yes Hitoshi? You can just ask.” Aizawa said in a more teacherly nice voice. He was trying to make it easy for young Hitoshi to just ask any questions. He’d been a guide for a dozen years, and in his opinion Shinsou was doing very well. 

“Um… I’ve never um I’ve never popped a knot before .” Shinsou whispered and leaned forward and looked at Aizawa's eyes. Hizashi almost awed, boy’s usually popped their first knot during eighth, ninth grade. Not their fourth year of highschool. Shinsou’s anxiety probably delayed him. 

“Who’s going to be your guide if you’re at a hotel? One of the graduated students? Denki’s mother?” Aizawa questioned. A first coupling and a first knot? No wonder Shinsou needed to ask for help. Usually an older friend or mother of the omega would be their guide. 

Shinsou looked down nervously, picking at his hands. 

“we don’t have a guide.” He mumbled. They knew they needed one but Denki's mom was busy and they didn’t know any upperclassman or graduates that liked them or that they trusted. 

“Hitoshi, you should know better. We’re both licensed but we understand if you’d-“ Aizawa scolded but was cut off by the young hero. 

“Will Mister Yamada talk to Denki cause he’s really nervous too but he wouldn’t come ask for you to show him how to do this.” Shinsou said quickly while looking down at where his teachers were still connected. It was strange being scolded by a man who was linked to his mate. 

“Yeah. Yeah we’ll be your guides. It’s a great idea to have both an alpha and omega guide if it’s your first knot. Give us a date, we'll have everything ready.” Aizawa said after Hizashi nodded tiredly. 

“Yeah, I’ll help Young Kaminari. Now I am beat, so go talk alpha shit in the living room.” Hizashi said and kicked Aizawa in the butt.

[shaolinrouge]

Okay, so I rewatched PR:U for the first time since its release, and I definitely had some thoughts.

To begin with, what is with the really bizarre product placement in the beginning. Jake did not need to hold up those Oreos so blatantly lmao.

PR:U jumps straight into the action in a really identifiably different way than Pacific Rim does. In PR, Raleigh narrates the Kaiju War and then we see him and Yancy get into the Knifehead fight, and it flows really well overall. On the other hand, PR:U starts with a quick relay of the Kaiju War, and then we're introduced to Jake in the regions still affected by past Kaiju attacks (i.e. half-destroyed mansion, which I also have some thoughts on). So it quickly becomes clear he's got some black market dealings going on, and the first action sequence of the movie is Jake running from these random Jaeger scrappers (??). It's just really throwing compared to the first one, since we at least have a general idea of what's going on with Raleigh.

Side note: I'm assuming they're in the Bay Area that was largely evacuated considering they head toward a Jaeger scrapyard, so how does that mansion have like...any utilities.

So then we're introduced to Amara, who can build a sickass Jaeger but has no security system? I don't know, she seems really careful about being discovered for obvious reasons, so I feel her hideout would at least have an alarm or some kind of traps, But Jake essentially just strolls in.

Of course, then we have November Ajax vs. Scrapper, which I actually do like. Its nice to see what the new Jaegers look like, and see what Scrapper, the first single-pilot Jaeger, is capable of. This scene also really seals the tone of PR:U as kind of lighthearted and jokey while also having action and death, which isn't really the case in Pacific Rim.

Another thing I like: Amara and Jake's relationship. A lot of things about this movie feel funky, but I think the actors did a very good job of forming a very genuine-feeling bond between these two characters.

Mako's introduction just feels. very bizarre. I understand that she obviously can't be there in person, thus the hologram, but the whole situation just has a weird vibe that I can't place. I'm not sure if it's because Jake and Mako act so familiar with each other even though Jake was never mentioned in the movie, or because I'm just not a fan of the hologram bit.

Contrary to popular opinion (at least what I've seen), I really like the Jaegers in PR:U. I hate that they removed the realism from their movements that was always present in the first, but there were some very interesting weapons and new designs introduced at the same time, so I can let it slide. Except the giant rotating ball of blades on Bracer Phoenix, it can go die.

Mako's death is genuinely my least favorite scene in the movie for obvious reasons. She was essentially killed off for no reason, since we don't see much of Jake's grief, meaning they wrote her off for pointless plot purposes, which I hate.

I do enjoy the villain bait with Liwen, although it's a shame Newton ended up being the villain. They were definitely setting her up as an antagonist since she was on a side somewhat opposite to Mako's, and because it becomes clear that Shao Industries is somehow evil before having her turn around and attempt to stop Newton no matter the force necessary.

While on women in the movie, not a huge fan of how Jules was treated, but she's also not present that much so I won't go on and on about female characters being used a tool to create tension being male characters blah blah.

The fight against the Mega-Kaiju was...something. Suresh dying was completely out of the blue, and I hated it. I think the cadets all being so young is an odd decision to make, especially because in the first movie most of the Jaeger pilots come into the program in their very late teenage years at the least (besides Chuck and Raleigh, iirc). They try to justify the whole. child soldier-esque training by saying the Bond is stronger at a young age, but they didn't even have that young of recruits in the first PR and that was during a war so idk.

Raleigh not being mentioned at all is also a crime btw. Or Herc, for that matter, but he could at least make a little more justifiable sense than Raleigh.

Anyway, this was a really scattered collection of musings on the movie, but there we go.

[scoops-aboy86]

Last part! This was so fun to write, thanks everybody who’s been following along. I’ll put it up on ao3 one of these days.

🔞 Seven Christmases pt. 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Home pt. ii (951 words; total fic length 11,913)

rated: T | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, weight gain, belly kink, stuffing, fluff, they’re in love, little bit of soft d/s dynamic, subby steve

He comes back to himself still lying on his back, but blissfully naked and cleaned up because his boyfriend is a literal angel. Steve is already plastered against his side, naked except for a pair of Hanes, and rubbing his belly with trembling hands. One thumb brushes around the soft rim of Eddie’s deep belly button, making him shiver in spite of how sated and boneless he feels. Petting soothingly over ribs that haven’t made an appearance since just after the last gate was sealed, across his lower belly with just the faintest scratch of fingernails that would make Eddie arch if he could still move. 

“‘Tevie,” Eddie mumbled, still panting to catch his breath. He might never catch it again, and that’s okay; right now there are too many feel-good body chemicals swirling around in his system to feel as though anything bad ever has or ever could happen to either of them. 

The sensation is so complete, backed up by his heaviness and how cozy he feels and how expertly his boyfriend is taking care of him. This is what it feels like to truly hit his limit and come out the other side; now he knows. 

“That was,” Eddie sighs dreamily. 

“Incredible,” Steve finishes for him in a rough voice, sounding like he’s barely holding himself together. He kneads gently at Eddie’s belly again, brushing down over the tattoo of a dagger on his hip that’s grown broader along with him. “Six meals in here. You ate all day, baby. You just didn’t stop, everything in front of you, it’s, you’re so…”

Eddie shushes and draws him in for a kiss. It’s delicate, like Steve is worried that even his tongue would be too much to force inside Eddie’s body right now but also shuddering at the very thought with a muffled moan. “You’re good, Stevie,” Eddie sighs back, eyes closing again. “Been so good today. Take what you need now.”

“C-can I…?”

“Yeah baby, anything you want.”

As food-drunk and fucked out as he is, Eddie already knows what Steve wants. They’d talked it through in the days leading up to this, Steve making the request almost shyly at first but building confidence when he saw how much Eddie liked the idea. (As long as he can tap out if it makes him too queasy to keep going, which was also part of the conversation.)

Now, Steve scrambles out of his underwear and straddles him. The stance he has to take to kneel to either side of Eddie is wide and wanton, his bare cock rubbing and grinding into the stretched but still jiggling underside of Eddie’s belly and fuck. Yes. 

The top of his belly is still packed mind-meltingly tight and every thrust that jostles it lights his whole body up like a goddamn Christmas tree in a decadent twist of pain and pleasure. He’s warm all over, almost too warm despite being completely exposed, so tired and stuffed to the brim that he’s just letting it happen, wheezing as the overwhelming everything of it all nudges him towards a second peak. 

It doesn’t take long for Steve to finish, spilling and shuddering and smearing his come over Eddie’s belly. He shifts down immediately to lick it clean with a moan, pausing only to spit in his palm and stroke Eddie’s cock while he does. Mouthing, biting, kissing, nibbling, fucking his tongue through every fold and into his navel, wet and slurping—and Eddie tips over that blissful edge again with a broken cry. 

Steve devotedly licks his softening cock and underbelly clean while Eddie wobbles his way back to exhausted stillness. Just lays there trying to catch his breath, so ready for a really long sleep that he can barely keep his eyes open. 

“Good?” Steve asks after a moment, crawling back up at his side and dipping in for a soft kiss that tastes of both of them. 

“Good,” Eddie moans. “I gotta—ha, help me roll over, would you sweetheart?”

When he does, Eddie can breathe easier, melting into the mattress like a butter pat on warm bread with a deep and sated sigh. Feels Steve snuggle up against him from behind, not caring that he’s all sweaty or that his stomach is still grumbling as it settles down to digest for the night. He wonders distantly if he’ll be hungry again by morning, a curious tickle at the back of his head that would make him twitch if he weren’t so spent. 

Because yeah, he doesn’t do this every day, isn’t actively trying to put on weight… but it’s definitely happening, and he definitely likes it. So maybe that will change at some point, but for now he’s content to coast along purely on impulse, no goals or thinking of it as progress, just amazement (for both of them) at how much he can put away and still be insatiable. 

For now, he’s exhausted. All he wants to do is be cuddled into oblivion and Steve, fitted snugly against his curves like a matching puzzle piece with one arm draped over his side and fingers tracing whisper-light over the red indents from his pants across his engorged belly, is already doing a wonderful job of that.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sinking deeper and deeper towards sleep. 

“Mm. Best Christmas ever,” Steve mumbles. 

Eddie drifts off with a smile on his lips, because it really, really was. 

(And Eddie doesn’t know it yet, but Steve still has that pants button. He’d stowed it somewhere safe while Eddie wasn’t looking and intends to bring it back out on some special occasion. He has a plan.)

… Maybe they should do this again for New Years. 

[cosmicswritings]

Powering down during interface is one thing. Waking up with a spike still lodged inside of him, well, that is another thing. Especially when the owner of said spike is far too exhausted to pull out. Usually for Starscream, this isn't that much of a problem, but when he has work to do in less than an hour, that complicates things and he must get loose.

Luckily for him, he's always up for a challenge. Especially when Megatron's involved.

OR

Starscream has way too much fun attempting to dislodge himself from an extremely tired Megatron's spike (and ends up losing in the process).

rating: explicit

_

Starscream couldn’t remember when the power down took place.

When his optics came back online, the world around him was still dark and his processor was a mess of static and mush. And speaking of mush, Starscream had felt something very large, hard and wet lodged in between his legs, pushed deep into his stretched and extremely moist valve. It didn't take him that long to realize that something or rather someone, had their arms wrapped around him tightly.

Ahh…

Now the thoughts were coming back to him as his processor whirled to recall the events of the previous night, or actually, the previous hours.

He and Megatron had interfaced again, and this time it seemed like it took a lot out of both of them. Pangs of pleasure ran through Starscream’s wires as he shifted back just a bit, realizing that Megatron had quite literally fallen asleep, spike lodged inside of him. And when Megatron had a power down, it was extremely hard to wake him (at least during in times of peace – Starscream would never forget the days he'd hard stare at Megatron when he was powered down, wondering if he wanted to kill him, only for Megatron's optics to snap open, confused and angry).

His arms were locked around Starscream, holding him tight and pulling his smaller frame closer. His spike was heavy inside of the seeker, occasionally tickling Starscream's inner nodes the more he attempted to squirm out of his grasp. Not that Starscream minded being like this; it was quite common if they were both stressed that day, for them to end their interface like this. A forceful power down to cool their systems. 

But unfortunately for Starscream the sun was rising, and he was needed in his office soon for political matters.

"Megatron…" Starscream couldn't exactly turn around. "Do you think you can pull out?"

Silence . And shamefully Starscream was happy for that. Still he has to at least pretend to break free from the former Titans grasp. Perhaps he could release the lock himself, or at least get a sleep-ridden Megatron to.

Starscream gently shifted his aft back against Megatron's frame, slowly moving his hips as Megatron's spike continued to lodge itself in in his deeper array. Starscream held back a whimper as he felt it move in his insides. Still full and pressurized, it dug further the more Starscream grinded against Megatron. There was certainly a knot of some kind, making it nearly impossible for the spike to budge. He could fill it distended just below the entrance of his valve.

Still Starscream tried, but to no avail. He continued to move his hips in a circular motion, fighting annoyance and arousal. The more he tried to wedge and wiggle his valve away from Megatron's massive spike, he just seemed to get more stuck.

Much to his annoyance as well, his wires began to tingle with excitement. Before Starscream noticed, he felt his valve getting wet all over again. Attempting to separate Megatron's spike from his array had resulted in the gigantic thing roughly rubbing against his interior nodes. Over and over again until that familiar itch of pleasure traveled down his spinal plates and processor and to the rest of his system. He was stimulating himself, badly, and there was no stopping that now.

Trans fluid began to gather at the sealed entrance of his valve, looking for a way to escape. The rim burned ever so slightly at the desperate twitch of Starscream’s hips, attempting to dislodge himself from Megatron’s unbreakable lock. 

He was about to overload, at the worst possible moment. His legs began to shake, his wires tingled at the smallest sensation. Oh—Megatron was demonic for this. “No matter what,” Starscream had to clutch the berth, this overload was coming fast. “I’m always going to be stuck with you!!”

Unfortunately for him, he could not overload normally. His valve was practically sealed shut.

Desperately needing a fix before his system shut down, he was quick to rub his codpiece until it cracked open, his spike pressurized. It quickly expunged the transfluid that his valve could not, and the surface beneath him was stained with pink liquid; his thighs were coated in his own fluid.

Starscream moaned in response, this time grinding himself against Megatron for pleasure, not really attempting to escape.

He’d given up already. Work be damned, there was no way he was winning against Megatron. Especially not a Megatron that powered himself down.  It was amazing, the old mech didn’t even need to be awake to completely to drive Starscream crazy; that was his impact.  Starscream shifted himself more, violently thrusting himself against Megatron’s spike, grabbing his own and roughly rubbing the tip as hot streams of transfluid streamed down his shaft.

His valve stretched, interior nodes screaming at this point as Megatron rubbed against them. Starscream violently bucked his hips against Megatron, fighting to stay awake with every thrust. He continued to overload, continued to thrust himself , escaping no longer on his mind. This just felt so good.

Suddenly, the grip around Starscream tightened and a low, and seductive growl heard from Megatron, vibrated his core.

Megatron was awake it seemed, or at least, something akin to it. Starscream did not sense that he was actually ‘active’, but he was slowly pushing through his power down. He was mostly asleep however, as his spike was still pressurized. 

His embrace grew tighter around Starscream, and as if to get back at Starscream for either waking him or making a mess of the berth, Megatron in his nearly woken state, rammed his hips forward. His spike dug farther into Starscream than before, practically breaking through his forge and cockpit chambers.

Starscream bit his hand to hide the scream of pleasure that was likely to follow. He did not expect that from Megatron.

Megatron did it again, stronger this time and deeper, much deeper. Megatron’s hold on Starscream also changed; he dug his digits into Starscream’s thighs as a way to ground him, and continued his forceful surges into the seeker. He took one thigh, the thigh that wasn’t resting  upon the berth (the one shaking the most) and moved it outward, spreading Starscream a bit. Then he pushed even more, over and over again, the pressure between Starscream’s sealed valve and his knotted spike growing tighter and tighter. 

Then, he himself eventually overloaded.

Starscream cried at the rush of hot transfluid entering his systems, burning liquid flooded his vale, and forge chambers. A combination of Megatron’s coding and energon filled him full, his processor barely able to take it all. Megatron continued to move, grinding himself into Starscream’s valve meticulously, as if he was carving the insides of him. 

read and support the rest on ao3!

[spokewar]

VERSES UPDATE: 1/?

POST-TCW : Path of the Wayseeker.

what is it?

a good ending where Palpatine is outted as a Sith

The Wayseekers were a discontinued sector of the Jedi Order from the time of the High Republic through the end of the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan had grown interested in them during his padawan years, but it wasn't until Chancellor Palpatine was exposed as a Sith and the Separatists mostly disbanded that his curiosity became action. Being member of the Jedi Council had left him arrogant and willing, and that arrogance had cost years of suffering for the Clone Troopers, civilians, and fellow Jedi under his care. There was no future in which he could continue hold his seat in power, so he quit the Council, telling them he would remain faithful to the Force, but could no longer serve an agenda. He didn't like who the war had made him and he had to make up for it with or without the council's approval. It wasn't a statement they took to well, but whether is be nepotism or his many sacrifices throughout the years, no one argued with his decision. Along with his new padawan, @valorums, Obi-Wan left for the edges of the galaxy, helping outer-rim planets who struggled to get resources and political aide. A few months into their work, they traveled to the planet of Lothal and it was there—for the first time in years—that he felt an insistence from the Force. In fact, it was less of a suggestion and more of an urgent demand that the duo visit the Jedi Temple buried deep within the mountains of the desert. It was not a difficult journey and once inside, they discovered a trove of Jedi Wayseeker documentation that had been sealed away at the time of their disbandment. They told stories of Jedi who had done unsung deeds of overthrowing dictators, putting an end to flesh traders, helping war-torn villages rebuild their homes, and bringing attention to the struggles that were so often overlooked by the Jedi Order. They looked into all the suspicions civilians brought to them, from government conspiracies to corruption within the Order itself. They did not act as the voice of the common people, they were merely an amplifier to what was already there and they were relentless in their work. They operated outside of the watchful eye of the Council, of the senate, and they had the freedom to help where they saw fit. They didn't need approval before acting, and they needn't stay neutral in battles where there was so obviously a wrong side. It all had the potential to go horribly wrong (and Obi-Wan understood why the Order had feared them), but he knew the Force was telling him that he needed to revive the Wayseekers, that they would bring back a balance the universe had been missing. (And with how spectacularly the old system failed them, a little experimentation couldn't hurt, right?) The new Wayseekers would be Jedi, yet not Jedi all the same, not Grey, nor Sith. They would be the accumulation of the will of the people and of the Force. After establishing a team, Obi-Wan hopes to form a circle of trust with community leaders (not politicians) from different planets to help guide them.

tldr: Obi-Wan gives up his council seat and reestablishes the Jedi Wayseekers who are basically elite Jedi that act without the council's strict oversight and can get involved in plenty of nonjedi-like things

when will i be using it?

a lot

it will be my secondary verse after my main which is mid-tcw

more notes:

With the Separatist party splintered, there are a bunch of new people competing to fill the power vacuum

Obi-Wan is walking on real thin fucking ice with this stunt

Jedi Wayseekers are not Jedi Shadows, they have much more freedom of movement and are not restricted to the neutral opinion that Jedi are supposed to have

think of it like vigilante justice kinda

it's Controversial because the only people who can really keep them in check are each other

obi-wan's plan is to make a team of self-deprecating people with no sense of self worth

they yeah :// they can kill people :/?

[southeastasianists]

From ancient Funan to the Siamese kingdom of the current Chakri dynasty, Thailand has had its huge share of diverse monies—a wide variety of oddities in the field of ethnographic numismatics.

At the Bangkok Coin Museum, an institution run by the Treasury Department, curious visitors can learn the fascinating history of Thai currencies. Despite its proximity to the National Museum and the Sanam Luang Park, it's a lesser-known and under-appreciated tourist attraction, making it a neat oasis from the tropical heat and sightseeing crowds outside.

At first glance, the museum seems quite small with only a single exhibit room on the first floor. There are educational panels on the general history of money, from the invention of coinage in ancient Lydia to the development of modern Thai baht. But join the regular guided tour and you'll be led into hidden chambers full of numismatic curiosities.

The tour starts in the "Beginning of Currency" room, a multimedia exhibit emulating a prehistoric cave. Played on its projection screens is a 4D-animated movie on the concept of money, from barter to the discovery of precious metals, which led to the dawn of coinage.

It is followed by a section exhibiting a variety of "primitive money," including the cross-shaped copper ingots of 19th-century Katanga, the rai stones of Yap Island, and the tin animal money of Malacca, to illustrate the diversity of the concept.

On the second floor, room after room of exhibits focuses on the history of Thai currencies, starting with the ancient kingdoms of Southeast Asia such as Funan and Srivijaya. In the late medieval Thai kingdom of Sukhothai, pod duang or "bullet money" came into common use. This was a kind of silver ingot in the form of a bar bent into a roundish shape, stamped with royal seals, and continued to be issued by the kings of Siam until modern machine-struck coinage took over in 1904.

Another oddity is the Chiang Mai tok, which was used in the Lanna kingdom in the 17th and 18th centuries. An oyster-shaped ingot of debased silver, it is often found with a blackened top with a yellowish-brown underside (or vice versa), giving it an unusual appearance. Bizarre legend has it that it was caused by the chemical reaction of the alloy mixing with egg yolk or chicken blood during the casting process.

There are also Lao silver ingots nicknamed by coin collectors as the "tiger tongue," flat coins with wrinkly flower-shaped patterns called pak chee, and porcelain gambling tokens of various shapes, from Chinese cash imitations to hexagons to cuttlefish.

The museum also showcases diverse usage of coins in folk beliefs, circulating coins from 174 countries across the world, minting processes (with a strong emphasis on coin rims), and an artistic representation of monetary evolution hung in one place like a meteoric shower, from cowries to E-banking systems all through the historical development of coins.

From ancient Funan to the Siamese kingdom of the current Chakri dynasty, Thailand has had its huge share of diverse monies—a wide variety of oddities in the field of ethnographic numismatics.At the Bangkok Coin Museum, an institution run by the Treasury Department, curious visitors can learn the fascinating history of Thai currencies. Despite its proximity to the National Museum and the Sanam Luang Park, it's a lesser-known and under-appreciated tourist attraction, making it a neat oasis from the tropical heat and sightseeing crowds outside.At first glance, the museum seems quite small with only a single exhibit room on the first floor. There are educational panels on the general history of money, from the invention of coinage in ancient Lydia to the development of modern Thai baht. But join the regular guided tour and you'll be led into hidden chambers full of numismatic curiosities.The tour starts in the "Beginning of Currency" room, a multimedia exhibit emulating a prehistoric cave. Played on its projection screens is a 4D-animated movie on the concept of money, from barter to the discovery of precious metals, which led to the dawn of coinage.It is followed by a section exhibiting a variety of "primitive money," including the cross-shaped copper ingots of 19th-century Katanga, the rai stones of Yap Island, and the tin animal money of Malacca, to illustrate the diversity of the concept.On the second floor, room after room of exhibits focuses on the history of Thai currencies, starting with the ancient kingdoms of Southeast Asia such as Funan and Srivijaya. In the late medieval Thai kingdom of Sukhothai, pod duang or "bullet money" came into common use. This was a kind of silver ingot in the form of a bar bent into a roundish shape, stamped with royal seals, and continued to be issued by the kings of Siam until modern machine-struck coinage took over in 1904.Another oddity is the Chiang Mai tok, which was used in the Lanna kingdom in the 17th and 18th centuries. An oyster-shaped ingot of debased silver, it is often found with a blackened top with a yellowish-brown underside (or vice versa), giving it an unusual appearance. Bizarre legend has it that it was caused by the chemical reaction of the alloy mixing with egg yolk or chicken blood during the casting process.There are also Lao silver ingots nicknamed by coin collectors as the "tiger tongue," flat coins with wrinkly flower-shaped patterns called pak chee, and porcelain gambling tokens of various shapes, from Chinese cash imitations to hexagons to cuttlefish.The museum also showcases diverse usage of coins in folk beliefs, circulating coins from 174 countries across the world, minting processes (with a strong emphasis on coin rims), and an artistic representation of monetary evolution hung in one place like a meteoric shower, from cowries to E-banking systems all through the historical development of coins.

[iviarellereads]

System Collapse, Chapter 2

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the legal complexities are a bit overwhelming.

When they're out of sight of the B-Es, Murderbot takes its weight off Ratthi, and he asks if it's alright. It says it is, but Iris suggests it stay with them for the last router. MB agrees, and Art recalls its shuttle. MB hopes this might encourage the B-Es to believe they've left.

The original B-E team told Art's team that the new ship was a scheduled arrival, not in response to the beacon. Seth thought that was a lie, so they've been operating under the assumption that B-E have more reinforcements waiting at a nearby wormhole. Unfortunately, no support ship from Art's university has been as forthcoming.

"Phase I of Plan A: Get the Hell Out of Here" involved getting decontamination routines into the locals' MedUnits, so they can decontam themselves of the alien remnants. Everything was proprietary and antiquated, so it took longer than expected. At least everyone's level of paranoia about contamination was up to MB's standards, so they didn't have as much trouble as they might have.

Phase II is the legal case for independence, which Pin-Lee is also working on. To summarize without the technical details, B-E has to make a case that the contamination can be effectively sealed to colonize it, and if they can't, the old colonists become salvage. So, the next step is to ask the colonists what they want, but it's unclear who to ask as they've split into even more factions. MB recounts a conversation between Thiago, Karime, and Mensah about how the colonists have been dealing with what they did to each other. MB thinks they should first get somewhere they won't be corporate slave labour THEN deal with their feelings.(1)

The last router isn't too far, and by the time they get there, the other operation, that MB would have been monitoring security for before the redacted incident,(2) is in progress. Karime, with Three, have arrived at the second colony site, where the colonists went after they discovered the pre-Rim site's contamination. MB monitors things from afar.

Iris and Tarik start on fixing the router. MB thinks about how, if the shuttle failed, the humans could walk in the direction of the space elevator until Art's drones found them and it sent down another shuttle. Meanwhile, MB could walk in the other direction and… it tags the rest of that thought for deletion.(3)

MB notices that Three's body language is a little too stiff, and asks if it's running the human gait code. Three says it is, but makes some adjustments, and says it's difficult. MB says it's doing great. It thinks how they don't want the colonists to know Three is a SecUnit, because they'll still remember how intense Art was about bombing the planet to get its SecUnit back.

Art is monitoring everything, because it's still unhappy with its humans being on this planet at all. (MB shares a transcript of a conversation demonstrating how intense it was about it when planning all this. It then adds some context, describing how Iris explained its behaviour: Art has just been through a trauma, and will act out verbally until it's fully processed. In response, Thiago said Art just enjoys terrifying people, and Iris smiled politely and ignored the comment so they didn't have to fight about it. This makes MB realize in realtime that Iris is Art's Ratthi.(4) MB then clarifies that Thiago wasn't quite right: Art doesn't enjoy terrifying people, but it does enjoy getting its way, and terrifying people is one of many tools it uses to do so. But, Iris is correct that Art is still processing, and MB would worry about the fact that Art had such great success with arming its pathfinders, but it's got a lot on its plate right now.)

It's difficult to watch Karime go into this meeting, and it's almost as difficult to watch Three being so awkward, trying to be human. MB knows it must have been that awkward at some point as well, but that doesn't make it easier. They're meeting with Bellagaia, who leads Faction One who want to cooperate, and Danis and Variset, who lead Faction Two who don't know what they want or who to trust. Karime was the best candidate, not only as Art's best negotiator, but also as one of the least threatening-looking.

As the meeting gets underway and the nicenesses observed, Tarik is carrying the tools back to the shuttle, while Iris tunes into the team feed to watch the meeting, and Ratthi watches Tarik walking.(5)

At the meeting, Bellagaia tells Karime there's another colony here. After some confusion, she clarifies that she means another colony site at the pole, where there's some terraforming still going on. Art cusses, and when Karime clarifies privately, Art suggests maybe Bellagaia is intoxicated. They debate whether their imaging could have revealed it, but they didn't expand much past the terraforming equipment, so likely never would have seen it.

Bellagaia continues that they split when the contamination first became obvious. The equipment blocks some comm signals, so they haven't been in regular contact in some time. Then when the latest outbreak started, they worried about spreading it to a community that was never infected. Danis mutters that they only think the pole colony was never infected, and they could be dead by now.

Karime says they can go to the pole and ask them what's going on and warn them about B-E, but asks if B-E knows about them yet. Danis says Faction Two would never tell them, though Variset is less confident in that, and even Danis acknowledges subfactions might have done so.

Another human points out that the colony site wouldn't have been on the charter, because it wasn't meant to be a secondary site. On Art, Seth groans, and it takes MB a moment to figure out why: this means another revamp of the forged charter, while they're already running out of time.

More debate in the feed about how they missed the site.(6) The unnamed human is named, Corian, who uses vi/vir pronouns, and is the local historian and record-keeper. When Karime asks if there's anything else to know about the other colony site, Corian says contact ended twenty years ago, and there have been reports of attempted connections, but no verified contact since. The group was separatist already, so the lack of communication isn't so surprising. And, vi has no records of where the official site was set up. There were only rumours that it was in a cave system.

This leaves Karime a little visibly sunken, and the rest of the team visibly shaken as well. Karime asks if vi thinks it's another contaminated site, and Corian says either way, the problem is obvious.

Mensah taps MB in the feed, so MB loops her in as well. Some of the other colonists are protesting that there's no evidence of another contaminated site, but Bellagaia looks exhausted, and Karime's still just listening intently to Corian, though vi has little more to add.

Mensah had had time to review the feed video. She muttered, “Oh, you have to be kidding me.” Yeah.

=====

(1) A truly noble goal. Though, I'm not sure we'd be better off if more humans were able to detach/compartmentalize enough to do that. (2) Surely this can't last all book right? We have to get an answer eventually? (3) Even aside from its old traumas, Murderbot is dealing with such big fresh ones. It's so much. My poor blorbo. (4) This is one of the little quotes I was spoiled for, and I'm so pleased to find it in its original context. And, we haven't spent a lot of time with Iris, but I can see it. But, this also indicates a little bit of... Well, Ratthi's always been there, but Mensah's always been MB's focus-human. It's interesting that it considers Ratthi its primary human, since that seems to be Art's dynamic with Iris. (5) Another bit I was spoiled for, and WHO CAN BLAME THE GOOD PEOPLE OF TUMBLR?! (6) This is a little bit wearing on me, I feel like they're just repeating over and over to confuse and add tension? Also I don't remember mentions of air bubbles in Network Effect over the settlements… It's all just a bit odd to me.

[hirocimacruiser]

The road to No.1. New appearance

RACING/G7

PROFESSIONAL 3PIECE WHEEL SYSTEM

The world's first ultra-lightweight full-fledged three-piece created using racing technology

RACING/G7 was born from a wealth of racing experience.

Developed with the world's strongest RACING/G7 system RING, twice the hardness of conventional

Six complete 3-piece wheels. What's more, it is the world's first ultra-lightweight street wheel created using racing technology that can be made wider by rearranging it. RACING/G7 sealing has a perfect structure, completely sealing the heat-resistant rubber to the metal and eliminating any misalignment, completely sealing the contact surface of the rubber and the curved surface of the rim, preventing air leakage, and demonstrating amazing power at racetracks around the world. Masu. Furthermore, the RACING/G7 rims use a new alloy with a different composition from conventional ones, and the RACING/G7 center disks C8 and C5 are designed with the same excellent aerodynamics and cooling performance as the racing specs.

BMB

Technical Research INC

1911 Mita, Minato-ku, Tokyo 101

03(457)0071

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ❝  𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬,  𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥.  𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.  ❞ ~𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲

                              ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. ( @realmyths )

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 a double-take, as though what he’d seen had really been a mirage or otherwise a ghost — something that wasn’t really there. Shit, he’s spent so much time and energy running from the before that he’d nearly succeeded in forgetting it existed. Of course, when he really looks at it, the memories will always be there — if not in his head, then on his body. There’s still a lot of guilt scarred on his heart, too. He’d always put himself in front of the other kids — didn’t matter which of the many homes he’d been in, that part of the story was always the same. When he ran away, he knows that he left some of them to rot. He also knows that he inevitably wouldn’t have survived the alternative.

      He’s lost contact with all of them now — because Westley van der Sterren no longer exists — he’s Westley McCarthy now. In the end, that old piece of him had disappeared into oblivion the same as the boy who had been the breaking point into him finally doing it — finally running away where no one could ever find him. Better to be on his own. He’d gotten a taste of love and family once — enough to know that the life he had been living prior hadn’t been fated to him. He’d just had to grab the notion of fate and turn it upside down.

      Persephone looks happy — much different now from the young lass who often cried herself to sleep at night. Good for her. Westley imagines a lot of kids don’t get through the hell that is the foster care system in one piece — he surely hadn’t.

      He looks over the rim of his coffee as he takes a sip. He shouldn’t be here or doing this — tiptoeing back into the past and opening up doors he’d sealed off with a hammer and every nail he could find. “Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I like to people-watch. I’ll make up epic grand adventures of their lives, and then sometimes I’ll introduce myself — see how close I was. Or how wrong. Usually I’m wrong. I think there’s beauty in that. The not-knowing.” It’s safer, too. The not knowing. The not getting close enough to know. “People can be whatever you want them to be. The world can be a thing of beauty again. I gotta admit, I don’t quite have you figured out. You look happy — I almost don’t want to ask.”

[accessdoorsandpanels]

Insulation 101: Benefits and Types of Insulation

Commercial building owners invest in quality insulation materials because of their numerous benefits. Insulation helps enhance the overall performance of any commercial building, decreases harmful greenhouse gas emissions, and helps keep your energy bills from increasing.  

In addition, adding insulation to your establishment can also reduce the number of noises coming in and out. This is beneficial mainly for establishments that require better acoustics or sound barriers. Let's learn more about the different types of insulation material available now.

Batt Insulation

Professionals use batt insulation efficiently, one of the most affordable options available today. It comes with two options; with or without facing. Professionals must place this per specifications to resist water vapor transfer. Most insulation today contains recycled materials such as sand. Fiberglass also includes sand which is an environmentally friendly content source.

Batt insulation can either be fiberglass, cotton, or stone wool blankets. Fiberglass is the most common type out of the rest. It is the perfect insulation for attics, walls, ceilings, crawl spaces, and basements.

Blown-in Insulation

When it comes to blown-in insulation, proper installation is a must. Professionals should utilize special equipment and safety measures to ensure long-term function. In addition to being primarily recycled, cellulose blown-in insulation also contains fire-retardant properties. It also resists insects, rodents, and mold and impressively creates a good sound barrier. Once the professionals finish the application, there are also available products with insulation that you can incorporate to enhance your commercial building, such as an insulated roof hatch.

Spray Foam Insulation

If you prefer an insulation material that forms an air barrier, then spray foam insulation should be the option on your list. This material can effectively cover your walls, floors, and ceiling cavities against air movement. This includes spaces around electrical outlets, light fixtures, and walls that meet windows and doors.

Professionals use spray foams in open cavities, like in new construction, crawl spaces, rim joists, and attics. You can also use this on remodeled homes. You can apply the spray foam if the cavities are unrestricted and accessible. Here are the two varieties of spray-foam insulation;

Closed-cell SPF- is a type of spray foam insulation that adds structural strength and is a rigid, vapor-resistant foam that doesn't require replacement in case of a flood.

Open-cell SPF- spray foam insulation that offers identical insulation advantages but does not act as a water barrier or vapor retarder.

Air Sealing

Controlling the air leakage of an establishment is critical to effective insulation. You can do a great job protecting an establishment, but if air can seep through gaps or cracks in the building envelope, you lose your valuable heated or conditioned air.

Concrete Block Insulation

A concrete block's center contains insulating materials such as polystyrene, polyisocyanurate or polyiso, and polyurethane. The hollow centers of concrete blocks can be filled by pouring and injecting loose foam beads or liquid foam. Some professionals create concrete blocks that support rigid foam inserts.  

Reflective System

Unlike most typical insulation, which resists convective and conductive heat flow, reflective insulation works by reflecting radiant heat away from your commercial building. These insulation types are best for hot and humid climates, primarily if you have cooling air ducts in the attic. According to research, radiant barriers can lower cooling costs by up to 5% to 10% when utilized in a warm, sunny temperature.  

There are still other insulation options available. Ensure to collaborate well with your architect, engineer, or contractor to choose the best insulation option based on your commercial building's needs and your project budget.  

Did you find our blogs interesting? You can find more exciting blogs at Best Access Doors! We also offer various top-quality access doors and panels for any commercial building application. You can dial (800) 483-0823 to learn more about our products.

[goronska]

Whump Drabble #1

Intro: This dribble was inspired by me learning how there was a whole industry during the French Belle Epoque that dealt exclusively with making beaded memorial wreaths for the deceased, like this thing below:

It happens as a prequel/spin off from the major plotline of my OCs: Lady Shiroi and Adam.

CW / TW: abuse, whump, slavery, swearing

He'd kill to not be assigned to this task, but now he would just kill not to be in the room at all. He didn't let out as much as a "tsk" when his damn elbow pushed the box with the glass beads from the table, not to alarm anyone. They didn't make any noise as well, scattering all over the lucious blue carpet.

The plan was, before it gets dark or someone comes to check up on his progress - whichever comes first - he'll just pick it and put it back in the box. Which proved to be a daunting task given the glass beads were fucking transparent, and the only way to find them was to get on all fours and trust in your sense of touch not to focus on how soft the carpet here was.

Adam's plan was sound to the point of the check up coming early, and in the worst possible form. Lady Shiroi, his owner. The women he learned to despise. And that was despite her exterior of a plump, loving lady in her 40s, sending all the people she worked with sweet smiles and innocent looks.

I like seeing you on your knees, Adam - she said jovially. - But I usually have to make you kneel. To what do I own this pleas-

She halted seeing the mostly unfinished beaded wreath she wanted to offer to the queen after the king has passed. Her eyes narrowed, as Adam was frozen to the floor, not looking her in the eyes, nor making a sound.

You are not only careless with the materials, you think your talented, precise fingers will save you from consequences - her voice went deadpan cold. - Come here!

Before Adam could get to his feet, she barked.

No, on all fours, like the lazy hound you are!

"Why didn't I think of this earlier?" he thought to himself when slowly making his way to the door noticing that the glass beads are much more painfully and surely detected by his kneecaps.

Once he was just in front of her, she just stepped on his neck, pressing his face abrubtly to the carpet, and then yanked one of his feet up in the air. The tattood one.

This here - she pointed to the rose as blue as her hair on the bottom of his heel - proves you are the most useful, obidient and tamed servants in the whole country, that's a frikking seal of an approval, MINE approval.

Yes, My Lady - he muttered in reply through his clenched teeth. Nobody would see now, if he tackled her over and punched her in that face made mostly of cheeks and pursed lips. Maybe she'd lose a few front teeth.

And if you cannot finish a simple task I give you, I will literally give YOU as the present to Her Highness. Merahtua is just in need of a new slave, because she's apparently just freed two. She's out of her damn mind!

"The Queen..? She freed servants..? No, impossible, she's the one keeping the system in place! She must be-" and this is where Shiroi's pointy shoe slammed into the soft of his stomach and made him fall on his side. He took a sharp inhale, and in a brave display of defiance spat on the rim of her dress.

She didn't move. And neither did he. A red angry color filled her cheeks and her voice has a hint of tremble when she spoke:

OK, Adam, I see that before you are gifted, you must have a 24-hour refreshing course on obedience. I bet we will have so much fun and so little sleep downstairs…

[netsolwatersblog]

Who Is The Best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer In Delhi ?

On an average 140 litres of fresh water are consumed daily by an average person for domestic tasks including cooking, bathing, washing clothes plus utensils, & various other household duties. Statistical approximations can vary.

However, after this contaminated water leaves our application area before the wastewater is processed in the Commercial RO Plant as a whole, pipeline networks serve to empty it through sewer lines connected to every locality. For this reason, commercial RO plant units are made to filter raw water from residences, workplaces, apartments, colonies, & industrial sites.

Rainwater that has accumulated on sealed surfaces, like highways or roofs, is occasionally mixed with this wastewater. Netsol Water stands out as the leading commercial RO plant manufacturer in Delhi, which is located heart of the Country. We have years of experience with the newest commercial RO plant technology at our disposal.

In Delhi, the operations of the commercial RO plant in the industrial area are still in its early stages.

India's population is already around 1.51 billion, & before the end of this decade, it is predicted to have increased by almost 2% annually. This suggests that by then, there might be a 50% shortage of potable water. Many Indian administrations, especially those in Delhi, have gone beyond the norm in controlling wastewater in the area.

The solution to the wastewater issue lies in Delhi's commercial RO Plant facilities.

Regretfully, the rapid rate of growth has led to an increase in pollution levels in our surroundings. Among the pollutants released is the effluent water. In Indian cities, the need for commercial RO Plant systems to manage wastewater is growing. This is especially important in Delhi, where treating raw wastewater is essential to preserving the community's sacred purity.

Netsol Water, based in Delhi, provides a wide range of raw water treatment plants featuring advanced membrane technology or more traditional, high-end equipment. Netsol Water offers its clients the best results possible for their commercial RO plant projects. Netsol Water integrates modern world-class technology while offering simple, yet flexible, solutions at a reasonable cost.

Netsol Water leads the market for complete water management systems in the raw water treatment plant manufacturing sector. Our water treatment systems can handle wastewater from residences, companies, & industries while continuing to abide by Central/State Pollution Control Board laws, among other things.

What makes our raw water treatment facility unique?

Our wastewater treatment facility runs efficiently & in financially economical manner. Customers have given our commercial RO plant with good theoretical point of views & performances with high marks due to their durability, ease of operation, low maintenance needs, resistance to corrosion, & extended service life.

Their volume of the tank can vary up to 500 KLD, depending on the current condition. There are several alternatives for completely-automated types of Commercial RO Plants. Netsol Water also provides expert Commercial RO Plant operators for various locations.

This Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer incorporates equipment technologies that are determined by the quality of the output water.

M.B.B.Rs & M.B.Rs 

Sequence batch reactors (SBRs)

Fluidized Aerobic Bioreactor: High-rate activated sludge technology has been implemented in BIO-FOR for its creativity in biological filtration as well as for the oxygenated reactor.

Submerged Aeration Fixed Film & Fixed Bed Bio film Activated Sludge Methods

Circular clarifying agents adjacent to sludge suction clarifiers that are with rim flow & bio tower

Features with their Characteristics

Compact & small in size.

Eliminates every harmful component from raw untreated water.

Both containerised & non-containerized options are available.

Simple to put together.

Beneficial & affordable. 

Entirely mechanized.

Quick speeds of processing.

Little running & maintenance expenses.

The best possible method for recycling of treated wastewater.

Conclusion

The Indian water treatment sector is expected to expand quickly in the next years, & private businesses will be expected to assist governmental authorities in Delhi by creating innovative raw water management plant systems & raising public awareness. The centralized government's national water strategy highlights raw water as a potentially lucrative sector for municipal water & waste-water projects. Netsol Water is always happy to help in this way as a commercial RO plant manufacturer in Delhi.

[penandpaper25]

6 Benefits of Tubeless Tyres for your motorcycle

Tubeless tyres in Sri Lanka are a type of tyre that does not require an inner tube to hold the air. Instead, they create an airtight seal between the tyre and the wheel rim. Here is how they work:

Airtight Seal: The tyre's edges, called beads, fit tightly against the wheel rim, creating a seal that keeps the air inside. This eliminates the need for an inner tube.

Valve System: The valve, which is used to inflate the tyre, is directly attached to the rim, allowing air to be pumped in and retained without the need for a separate tube.

Puncture Handling: If a tubeless tyre gets punctured, the air escapes more slowly compared to traditional tyres with inner tubes. This slow deflation reduces the risk of a sudden flat tyre, making the ride safer.

These tyres are popular on motorcycles, cars, and bicycles because they offer benefits like improved safety, better performance, and easier puncture repairs. You can buy tyres online in Sri Lanka through reputed dealers and manufacturers, at varying tyre prices in Sri Lanka, depending on brand.

Six benefits of tubeless tyres

Tubeless tyres offer several advantages for motorcycles. Here are six key benefits:

Reduced Risk of Sudden Deflation: Unlike tube tyres, tubeless tyres are less likely to suffer from sudden deflation during punctures. This is because air escapes more slowly, allowing the rider more time to react safely.

Better Fuel Efficiency: Tubeless tyres are generally lighter than tube tyres, which reduces the overall weight of the motorcycle. This can lead to improved fuel efficiency.

Improved Safety and Handling: Tubeless tyres offer better stability and handling due to their ability to maintain air pressure more consistently. They also provide better grip on the road, enhancing overall safety.

Easy Repair: Repairing a puncture on a tubeless tyre is often easier and quicker than with a tube tyre. A simple plug can usually fix a small puncture without removing the tyre from the rim.

Enhanced Ride Comfort: Tubeless tyres can be run at lower pressures without the risk of pinch flats, providing a more comfortable ride over rough surfaces.

Lower Maintenance Costs: Since there’s no inner tube to worry about, there are fewer components that can fail. This can lead to lower maintenance costs over time.

The next time you want to change your motorcycle tyres, choose a tubeless brand. You can easily order tubeless tyres online in Sri Lanka, and have it delivered to your home.