#gross power dynamic loading

[agneaul]

thinking about hawks and the up-and-coming reporter he takes a liking to

[hyewka]

᭄⁑　txt as yanderes | thoughts

warnings: yandere, noncon, baby trapping, mention of knife play, slapping, perversion, not proofread

yandere!jjun is the type to be too sweet, sickly sweet. like barfed cupcakes and sprinkles, he pretends to care, he love bombs, he kisses you like he truly loves you, like there’s no one else but you and maybe its true, maybe there is no one else but you in his eyes. but its not romantic. not when he has blood on his hands, figuratively or literally, he’s responsible for innocents lost.

“i didn’t lay a single hand on them, how many times do i have to tell you! doll, baby, believe me. please.” his voice cracks, like he’s about to cry. you scoff and turn your head to the side, disgusted, feeling like you could very much vomit right now.

“stop fucking calling me these—these words!”

yandere!jjun, the type to crumble to his knees and beg, holding onto your leg like an abandoned puppy despite having much more power than you, both in strength and status. lips trembling, eyes wide and crazed, full of pitiful tears, giving you a false reality, sense of hope that he isn’t that much more powerful than you could even imagine.

now yandere!soobin on the other hand is the type you don’t even realize is mentally out of it, not until you’re literally two years into a relationship with him with a stable history of 7+ year of friendship. he’s been jealous here and there, one instance of him breaking down over you having coffee with a male colleague that you had to craddle him, rocking back and forth as he sobs and hiccups— that keeps you up at night sometimes, but he’s so convincing you don’t even notice how often he manipulates and gaslights and manipulates. the way he slithers his long arms around your waist, pressing your bodies flush, holding you tight, whispering random “love you’s”, you almost completely forget. almost.

when yan!soobin’s fucking you senseless, lost in pleasure, tongue out dumb like the horndog he is, you manage to warn him again, “b-baby, not on—hah birth control”

don’t cum inside. don’t cum inside. you told him that before you got too into it, and he agreed, he promised he won’t. of course he won’t.

so why’s he shaking his head? why’s he refusing now? your eyes widen a little, trying to push him but he leans to kiss you, drowning out your protests, turning them to mere mewls. “baby—wanna—wanna make you have babies..”

the alarm bells ring again. and again. and suddenly you remember the few warnings from your friends, the offhanded comments about how he’s a little off, a little weird, that he seems obsessed.

“you won’t leave me when you have my babies, you can’t—” suckling on your nipples through your shirt as if to prove a point, he wets it completely, making it see through with his spit. you feel gross. you feel—“can’t leave me,” he says one last time, moans straining as he empties his load in you. a generous load.

yandere!beomgyu is my favorite in the most deranged way possible. he’s not too sweet, he’s not the meanest, and he isn’t the most pathetic, but he’s definitely the craziest. beomgyu would be the one to go as far as to lock you in his home, keep you chained, bondaged—he’s fucking insane. the type to be into knife play as well, he loves the switch in power dynamic. instead of the past bossy, in control at all times y/n and her pretty lanky best friend who’s probably “head over heels” for her, it’s you on your knees, cold hard wood, getting your throat brutally abused like his personal sex doll.

he loves finally being the one in control. he’s so addicted. sometimes it feels like he’s only inflicting his craziest perverted dreams on you, and you were just his nearest victim, but oh no, out of the five, he’s definitely the most ‘in love’.

“let me out…beomgyu…please.”

his back is pressed against the bedroom’s door, listening in to your sobs that barely transcend the sound proof walls. he sighs, frusteningly running a hand through his hair.

“why—why don’t you love me?”

and suddenly its silent on your part, the sobs not reaching his ears anymore. its enough to cause more cracks in his heart, making him undeniably more bitter but god forbid he gives up on it—on making you love him back, he’ll risk everything for it.

yandere!taehyun is the most cruel but he’d also be considered the least delusional and the most delusional at the same time. he knows you won’t love him back, he could care less (well…debatable actually), it’s about protecting you at the end of the day. that’s where the delusion comes in, he thinks he’s your white knight and you’re only acting out like you’ve always been. stubborn and hard headed. when it comes to the sex, this man has you at all times legs spread up, with your hand restricted, supplying your pussy like a free breed whore. other than the humiliating position, he makes sure you’re aware at all times of what you are to him.

his saliva and cum covering your body like filth, using you like a rag, truly. he’s the type to slap when you act out—a strike against your face, pussy, tits, he’d do it all. and yet he still wholeheartedly believes he’s protecting you from the world that ���corrupted” you.

yandere!hyuka is beyond pathetic but you’ll never know because he doesn’t act on his desires. well, in the sense that he doesn’t scratch the eyes out of every one of your boyfriends and doesn’t have you tied to him at all times—he’s the pussy type. in the dark, following, each and every step. that was the beginning. then it was jerking off on your balcony peeking between the blinds as he watches you undress. then it was stealing panties, sniffing, licking, as his hands go manic on his poor dick—it hurts, it’s dry but he keeps going, because he is so fucking addicted he doesnt wanna stop. whining n’ squeaking as he lets out your name out of his mouth over and over and over again.

your scent when he hugs you drives him mad, when you kiss his cheeks he embarrassingly spots a boner, he’s just pathetic with horrible horrible dirty thoughts in his head.

[konigsblog]

tw: stepcest, dubcon, coercion&manipulation, slight age gap (20s-30s)

older brother!soap and younger stepsister!reader is rotting my brain away -- slowly. :3

johnny has a thing for manipulating his little stepsister into wanting him. he coerces you — guilt tripping you for not immediately having sex with him when he came home from deployment. it's gross. you know it's gross. it's depraved for johnny to be like his towards you; his younger, naive stepsister.

he knows there's a power dynamic, especially with how easily influenced you are!! you take his criticism and work towards whatever expectations he has of you. so when johnny complains about you being a prude, you desperately try to fulfil his needs by becoming a whore for him.

coming over to his apartment on the occasion and doing whatever he asks. you always feel used afterwards, like your nativity and sensitivity was taken advantage of. he knows how you take whatever he says as criticism, and he uses it against you!!

“ye’ dinae show enough’ skin, bonnie.” he mutters, watching how you swallow his cock greedily, on your knees before him. your lips are tightly wrapped around his thick, meaty shaft, gagging on him with mascara ruining your cheeks, rolling down along with your tears. you gulp, uncomfortable, but pressured and desperately wanting to prove yourself as a good girl — an obedient stepsister. slowly, you take your shirt off, tensing up at he sound of his hoarse chuckles.

“good lassie.”

he leans back, head cocked to the side. he tuts quietly, catching your attention as you pump him. “up--c’mere. wanna get a better look at those tits’.” on shakey legs, you straddle his lap, pussy already wet and slick as you ease down onto his hard, throbbing dick. your tits bouncing in his face was already driving him utterly insane. he couldn't help but touch you, grope your ass and breasts while you needily worked your hips down onto him in an attempt at getting compliments and love from your stepbrother.

johnny does feel sympathy, he feels pity for you. you take everything to heart and you're so, so sensitive. you sulk when he tells you you're covering up too much, and you especially can't help but cry when he tells you that you're being a horrible stepsister for not letting him fuck you when he's home from his hardworking job.

don't you care about his needs? he's a man, your stepbrother... surely you trust him, right?

—you allow him regardless, crying into his pillow as he fucks and degrades you for not listening.

“jus’ relax onto me, doll.” he whispers, pushing you down. he feels as you fuck and ride him, holding back tears when he drags his cold fingers down your hardened nipples. he sucks them, pushing your tits against his face as you buck and rock your hips. you pant breathlessly, bouncing so that he can reach his orgasm, following along with his little game just so you can be a good stepsister — a people pleaser.

he bucks into you, covering your nipples into saliva, looking up at you with cruel, lovesick eyes. your nipples puffy and his lips glossy, his load covering your gummy walls in a thick layer of his semen, oozing into you.

“such a good, dumb lass, ain’t’cha? so precious, always followin’ along so well, jus’ like ye’ should for yer’ older stepbrother, aye?”

[macfrog]

faire l'amour sex on fire chapter five

alright babies. grab the nearest museum tour guide, don your finest gumball machine jewelry, strap into your lifejackets and get ready to fall in love in paris - we go again one last time. i could've written about these two in france forever; i kinda want them to retire together and just move to europe and live out their days drinking good wine and baking in the sun. anyways hope u enjoy love u bye!!! 💘

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: it’s your last day away with joel. impulses are getting harder to control, feelings are getting harder to hide, and secrets are threatening to spill over…

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, sugardaddy!joel, cursing, mention of oral (m receiving), ostentatious displays of wealth, probably inaccurate french language, jean-marc makes reader feel uncomfortable, some objectification, alcohol consumption, protective!joel, lil bit of fluff, teasing and excessive flirting obv, a Totally Not Romantic boat trip, reader (nervously) shares personal stuff with joel, themes of heartbreak and guilt, reader sort of panics/spirals a little again, daddy kink, facesitting (f receiving), assplay/fingering, softdom!joel, unprotected piv sex, creampie, angst?? kinda??

word count: 9.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs. You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears. “Sit,” he instructs. You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move. “Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

The suite is drowned a milky blue in the morning light. The sky is white – cloud cover as far as you can see. You tug your robe tighter around your body and turn from the window, rounding the bed to join Joel in the bathroom. He’s in the shower, humming some song you’re distantly sure played that night in the dive bar.

You’re meeting Jean-Marc in an hour, in the penthouse of his hotel. He owns four across the city. Joel has told you three things so far: he’s pretentious, he’s a little in your face, and he’s always wearing a blue velvet robe.

He hasn’t told you much more than that.

You click your toothbrush on, and it whirs around your jaw for all of ten seconds before cutting out. Your thumb presses the button twice more, pulling it out of your mouth to find the red light at the base of the handle blinking. Like it’s snickering at you.

“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back.

“’s wrong?” Joel asks, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel.

“My toothbrush just died. Do you have a charger with you?”

He shakes his head, wrapping the towel low over his hips.

“You didn’t bring a toothbrush charger?”

Joel walks around you, eyes never leaving yours in the steamy-edged reflection of the mirror until he’s by your side, when you watch him glance down to you. “Is my toothbrush the one that’s dead, baby?”

You sigh, sliding the brush across the marble countertop.

“Here,” Joel says, chuckling, “just use mine.”

“Uh,” you hold a hand up, grimacing, “no, thanks. Gross.”

“What?”

“You want me to use your toothbrush? That you’ve already used? In my mouth?”

“Same mouth you had wrapped around my dick half an hour ago?”

You stare him down in the mirror, jaw slack with shock, eyes thin. Trying to form words, but he’s smiling so cockily, so amused by the look on your face. He’s proud of that one, ain’t he?

You slap his arm away but snatch the toothbrush from his hand without a word, loading it with toothpaste and flicking the button.

Joel laughs again, nose nudging into your hair as he hooks around you, dappling kisses up your neck, still sticky from the shower. “You look hot when you’re pissed.”

Your words, though muffled by the white, minty foam, are clear enough that they make him laugh even harder. “Fuck off.”

Finding an outfit you think appropriate for breakfast with one of Joel’s rich friends – is Jean-Marc a friend? You don’t know enough about him to call it – whilst also staying in the realm of professional work trip is tough. You want to look nice, look…Parisian, but also look personal assistant. And definitely, definitely avoid looking I’m-sleeping-with-my-boss, by the way.

You settle for a deep red floral dress, split hem running just above your knees, and a pair of white heels that wrap around your ankles. Joel approves, judging by the placement of his hands when he appears behind you in the mirror. You lean back into him as he lifts your skirt, running a light touch up the inside of your thigh, a low growl passing his lips when his fingers meet your lace –

The suite phone jolts you back to reality. Joel sighs, shifting off to answer it.

“Yep?” he says into the receiver. Car’s here, he mouths to you. “Alright, thank you, ma’am.”

He nods toward the door and you follow after him, swinging a clutch under your arm and giving your hair one last toss in the mirror.

“What’s he like?”

“Huh?”

You lean back against the elevator wall, watching the rustic arrow arch across the floors of the hotel. “Jean-Marc. Aside from the blue robe and pretentiousness, what should I expect?”

He clears his throat. Sniffs. “Uh,” he scratches the bridge of his nose, “he’s fine. He’s…You’ll do fine. Don’t overthink it.”

Alright.

But Joel’s being weird. He’s silent when he ushers you into the back of the car, he forgets to put his hand on your thigh until you take his wrist and guide it there, and he doesn’t even hear you when you gasp and point out two white poodles on the street. He barely says a word until you’re being welcomed through a huge golden doorway into a regal penthouse suite, gleaming floors and decorative walls.

Very in-your-face. Very Jean-Marc, going by the little you know.

“Joelie!” he sings, coming over to meet you both with his hands out, shaking Joel’s and patting him roughly on his bicep.

He’s a small man – smaller than Joel, anyway. Hair more salt than pepper. Clean-shaven, pointed chin. And no blue robe, disappointingly. He’s just in a white shirt, unbuttoned far lower than you would’ve left it, had it been up to you, and smart blue trousers. A pair of patterned loafers, too, a huge gold buckle on the top of them.

Joel turns, robotically, to introduce you, and places a hand on the small of your back. You step forward into Jean-Marc’s open arms. He leans in, places a kiss to each cheek, and leans back out, almost like he’s surveying you. Up and down, and back up again. Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your back.

“You are the assistant,” Jean-Marc remarks, clapping his hands. “How beautiful! You are much too beautiful to be in such a boring job. Blegh.”

You laugh, not entirely sure why. Probably nerves. Sometimes it’s easier to laugh uncomfortable moments off, makes them pass quicker, though it pisses you off. Joel’s hand presses a little into your skin, you feel his fingers grip around the material of your dress.

“We are eating on the terrace.” Jean-Marc steps away, fingers snapping to beckon you both forward. “It has a fantastic view of the city, doesn’t it, Joel?”

Joel smiles, but doesn’t say anything. You fucking wish he would. Why is he so quiet?

You both follow Jean-Marc outside, sun peeking weakly through the clouds onto the paved patio, fenced by an intricate wrought iron railing, and covered in what looks like a jungle of vibrant green plants. He leads you over to a huge glass table, set with spotless white crockery and shining silver cutlery, wine glasses at each setting.

“Please,” he holds his hands out, “sit.”

Joel pulls one of the chairs out and looks to you, waiting for you to slide into it. When you do, you watch as he sits silently next to you. And then he finally fucking does it.

His hand slips onto your thigh under the table. Gives the top of your knee a gentle squeeze. The relief washes over you like waves of cold water on a scorching day. Your lungs fill with air and your shoulders relax.

“So, you have worked for Joel for…how long?” Jean-Marc asks, pouring his first glass of wine. He holds the bottle up to you and Joel and you both hold your palms up in unison, opting for the freshly squeezed orange juice instead.

You answer politely – you answer all of his questions politely, with a tight smile on your lips that hurts when you hold it for too long. He asks what you do for Joel, whether you like it much, how you’re finding your trip to Paris. All the while, Joel sits beside you, feeling more stone than human, observing, listening and grunting in answer anytime Jean-Marc makes reference to him.

On your host’s second glass of wine, a flurry of waiters in all white spawn from the penthouse and lay dishes of extravagant food before you. Eggs benedict is about the only thing you recognize, aside from the toast in the rack in the middle of the table, and a bowl of fresh cut fruit beside it.

A tall, black-haired assistant swings over to Jean-Marc when he clicks his fingers, craning around the old man like a raven perched on his shoulder.

“Ce serait bien d’avoir un joli visage comme celui-ci travailler avec nous, non?” Jean-Marc utters in the man’s ear, and they laugh. A little too hard. Laughter that hits your ear like a foul ball.

You decide to break your porcelain polite smile, laughing with the two men. The tall man straightens and glides off behind the table, and Jean-Marc wipes the corners of his mouth before turning to you.

“So,” he says again, another question approaching, “what did you study? At university?”

“Business management,” you reply neatly, lifting your glass.

Jean-Marc’s head wobbles in a nod as he cuts into his meal.

“And French.”

Joel chokes into his glass of orange juice. “Sorry,” he sputters, coughing into his fist, covering a laugh. “Sorry.”

You mask your own smile behind your drink, the sound of Joel choking on his juice making your shoulders shudder with a giggle which escapes in short bursts through your nose.

Jean-Marc’s eyebrows rise, amused and…fascinated. “Even better, hm?”

Joel’s still clearing the orange juice from his airway. Patting his lips with his own napkin. He pauses and his hands fall to his lap when Jean-Marc asks, “Where have you been hiding her, Joel?”

You wince. It’s a gross question, it is. And you know Joel thinks so, too, maybe even worse by his reaction. He sucks in a deep, sudden breath, eyes narrowing toward Jean-Marc. His chest rises and falls abruptly, jaw clenches tight. And then his hand is back on your leg, and you quickly lay yours atop, softly squeezing it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

His thumb strokes your fingers lightly, but he doesn’t react more than that. He doesn’t say much for the remainder of the meal, either. Just cuts pieces of egg and bacon roughly and – though this might just be you knowing him well enough – pretty aggressively, dragging them off of his fork with gritted teeth.

You keep up lighthearted conversation with Jean-Marc; the weather, your flight (at least the PG parts of it), how much of Paris you’ve seen since you landed. You study him when he’s not staring you down, watch the way his delicate fingers slice through his food, throwing it into his mouth in tiny pieces and humming to himself as he looks around at the skyline.

He’s like a mouse. Like some small creature with enough brains and quick wit to keep you on your toes. Everything is like a dance – you find yourself picking up on nuances in his conversation, words which point one way and yet, a shift in tone which points in the complete opposite.

It’s always when that tone shifts, and your eyebrows pull together, polite façade slipping some, that you find yourself leaning more into Joel. And he’s there each time. Steady as a rock, quiet, watchful and protective. A scent that comforts you, grounds you anytime you begin to feel yourself floating off with one of Jean-Marc’s stories.

“Madame,” a voice murmurs behind you, and you turn to find the raven man stood over you like a shadow. He hooks his fingers, nodding over to the edge of the terrace.

“Ah, yes,” Jean-Marc nods, “go, please. My assistant will be happy to show you the view. It is a panoramic view of Paris.”

You nervously stand, letting go of Joel’s hand. He watches you follow the tall figure over to the black railing, where he points to landmarks you’ve already seen from your own terrace. When his ghostly finger points out the Arc de Triomphe, you sneak a glance over your shoulder back to Joel.

Jean-Marc is now sat in your chair, leaning into Joel and talking at him. Chittering, like a bird in his ear. Joel’s face is flat, he looks thoroughly unimpressed at whatever the hell Jean-Marc’s saying. Looks pissed, if you’re honest.

Suddenly Jean-Marc leaps from the seat and claps his hands, announcing that he’d like to take you and Joel on a drive. But as soon as he’s finished the sentence, Joel’s broad figure is standing up to height beside him, towering over him.

“Actually, we, uh…we have other plans today. Maybe some other time.”

He nods quickly to you and you almost throw yourself to him in response. You collect your bag from the table and line yourself beside Joel, nodding graciously to Jean-Marc and thanking his assistant for showing you the view.

“Anytime,” Jean-Marc says, taking your free hand. “It was wonderful to meet you. I hope that we will again soon.”

Before you can respond, Joel’s dragging you off the terrace and through the penthouse, muttering, “Thanks,” as you pass more servers into the elevator again.

“What’s wr–?”

“Nothing,” he cuts in, exhaling when the doors close over. His stare won’t lift from the floor. “Nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. It’s nothing.”

“Ooookay,” you reply, lifting your eyebrows. The elevator plummets; you both fall into silence with it. Joel’s shifting between feet, arms crossed, hands tightly squeezing into his upper arms.

“What’s next, then?” you ask, trying to crack him.

His shoulders rise with the breath he takes. “Nothing, baby.”

“Stop that. Answer me, Miller.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “I am answerin’. I got nothin’ for the rest of the day. I’m all yours.”

The elevator stops and slides open. Joel leads you out through the lobby, toward the front door through which you can see Denis’s car waiting.

“Then, why aren’t we flying home today? Why wait until tomorrow? I thought you had big work stuff all weekend.”

“Because. I didn’t wanna come here just to work. Why’d you think I brought you here, if I was just gonna work the entire time?”

You toss him a look and he laughs.

“Alright, no,” he says, opening the car door for you. “I wanted to spend time with you, darlin’.”

You scoff, settling in the backseat. “Hi, Denis!”

Denis nods in the mirror to you, cheeks plump with his warm smile, then looks to Joel. “Where to?”

Joel turns to you. Lifts his eyebrows, opens his hands.

“Wh–? Me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “where d’you wanna go, pretty girl? We’ll do whatever you want.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded. But then he smiles again, so sincere, so gentle, and you fold.

Since you were a kid, old enough to hold a pencil, you drew. Crayon doodles of you and your mom stuck to the refrigerator turned to being hunched over a sketchbook in art class, wrist aching by the end of the day when you’d rush home with it between your fingers to show her what you’d drawn. And that turned to tiny sketchbooks you’d carry in your purse for when college became too boring, sneaking them out to draw the face of the professor, stern lines in black ink as she detailed the components of a business model. And that turned to an entire corner in your apartment dedicated to canvases and paints, sketching pencils and watercolor inks – your very own little studio for whenever you had the time.

It'd been on your bucket list probably since that first crayon made its way into your little hands. You imagined wandering around for the day, drinking in all the art, marveling at the size of some of the paintings, walking two, three times around the sculptures. Seeing the Mona Lisa.

“The Louvre?” you ask Joel, tilting your head.

“The Louvre, Denis,” he says, and takes your hand in his.

----------

It’s like a dream. You’re sure you’ve looped the same rooms twice, maybe three times over. And it still doesn’t feel real.

Joel’s been following you the whole time, his fingers intertwined with yours – watching as you lean as close as possible to each painting, eyes studying the detail intently, and then back again, taking it in in its entirety; pointing to the tiny plaques with the information on each piece, reading them to you as you muse over each one.

Your neck aches from turning all over the place as you walk around, looking from wall to wall, up to the ceiling panels, ornate in gold and bursting with colorful, dreamy paintings of the skies.

When you reach the Mona Lisa, you queue for twenty minutes. Joel stands by your side the entire time, one arm comfortably slung around your back as you meander across the wooden floor toward the glass case. He asks you which piece has been your favorite so far; you tell him the one right after he almost got hit on the head by some kid with a selfie stick. He lowers his brows and shakes his head at the memory, and you hit his chest playfully, trying to conceal your laughter from his grumpy face.

When you reach the center of the painting, the enigmatic face staring straight back at yours, Joel taps your shoulder.

You spin around.

He’s holding his phone up, leaning back to get both you and the soft-smiling face behind you in shot.

“Joel,” you laugh, and he waves his hand.

“Smile,” he tells you.

And you do. You prop one elbow on the wooden barrier, lean in to the frame like you’re snapping a pic with a best friend, and push your cheeks up. The camera shutter sound echoes from his phone, and he brings it down, checking over the picture.

“Cheesy,” you mutter, leaning in to get a better look at your upside-down face.

“She’s beautiful,” he replies with a smirk, scooping you off to round the room toward the exit.

You glance back at the Mona Lisa, arm linking with Joel’s. “She is, right?”

He doesn’t respond. When you turn back, he’s smiling to himself, eyes on the floor.

You click alongside him in your heels, weaving between tourists taking photos and guides showing groups of wide eyes and slack jaws around. As you pass them, Joel leans in close to you.

“I don’t wanna take you away from all this,” he utters, “but I got somethin’ booked for us.”

“Somethin’ booked?”

He nods. Hands you a guilty look, and asks, “Mind if we call it a day?”

You shake your head, a little more enthusiastically than you meant to, but you’re trying to tell him you don’t mind. At all. Whatsoever. He’s paid for this entire trip, and apparently has more instore. What you feel right now is the complete opposite of minding.

You let him take you back up the escalators and out of the museum.

Denis sits by the curb, waiting for you both like he always is. He drives you, hand in hand, around the city to the edge of the Seine, where Joel leads you out of the car and begins strolling down the riverside.

The early evening sun bounces along the water, reflecting ochre and amber in gentle ripples. Your arms cross over one another, hands rubbing the cold skin above your elbows, and without a word, Joel pulls his jacket off and sits it loose over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you whisper, as he wanders along beside you. “So, where we goin’?”

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling. “You really loved it in there, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nudging into him, “thank you for taking me.”

“Didn’t know you were artsy. You knew your stuff.”

“You don’t know a lot about me, do you?”

There’s something in his eyes when he looks back at you. Words behind them that he thinks twice about letting slip. Instead, he says, “You keep surprisin’ me.”

You’re walking under the shade of a line of trees, benches sat in between each trunk holding couples enjoying the view, families snapping photos. You turn to watch a couple of kids run by, hoping that by the time you turn back, your cheeks are a little less red.

“Hm,” you muse, “I always wanted to be an artist. A painter. Wanted to sell my stuff, make money turning people into portraits. It was my stupid little pipedream.”

“’s not stupid. Not a pipedream, either.”

“You haven’t seen my stuff.”

“Alright, then show it to me.”

You scoff, tightening your grip around your body. “Maybe. Maybe when we’re back home.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

You smirk, brushing the hair out of your face. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your pipedream. You wanted to be a businessman your whole life?”

Joel’s eyes are fixed on the pathway in front, widening a little as he nervously laughs. “I, uh…Not my whole life, no.”

“What was it before, then?”

He seems to stiffen. Runs his fingers through his hair, unglues his eyes from the ground and looks across the water. “Me ‘n my…my brother, we had this idea to buy a ranch. Raise sheep, cattle, few horses maybe. Out in the country, y’know? Looked into a few places, but…I guess life got in the way.”

Joel Miller, a farmer. Moreover, Joel Miller, a brother. How come, in three years of knowing him better than most, you never knew he had a brother?

He answers awkwardly when you ask. “Just don’t see ‘im much, is all. He lives out west.”

His gaze falls again and you know that’s as much as you’re going to be able to draw from him. Know he’s keeping that particular card close to his chest.

You turn back to the view ahead, eyes flitting from bench to bench as you pass, catching on something in the distance. Something small, red, tucked behind one of the uniform trees. The glass sphere atop it shines in the wilting sunlight.

“Hey.” You take Joel’s elbow, dragging him over to it.

“A gumball machine? What are you, ten?”

“’s not gumballs. It’s a lucky draw. Like, toys ‘n stuff.”

“Alright, what are you, five? C’mon.”

You stay where you’re standing, crouched to look inside the glass dome at the small multicolored balls, each one filled with a tiny prize. “Joooel,” you groan, and he turns back.

“Baby, we’re gonna be–”

“You said we do whatever I want. I want a fuckin’ toy outta the French gumball machine.”

His lips widen, ready to say something back, and then he thinks better of it. You know him, and, equally, he knows you. You won’t walk away from this damn machine, no matter what he says.

“You know what…?” He steps forward, fishing in his pocket for change. “I notice I’m payin’ again, by the way. First the jukebox, now this.”

You clear your throat, lower your voice, and mimic his Southern drawl, repeating what he said in the Gucci store yesterday. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Joel lifts a finger, pointing at you. His voice is short. A warning. “Cut that.”

He slots a euro in the silver contraption and steps back, holding a hand out for you to do the heavy lifting. You leap forward, twist the lever, and a small red ball rolls down the chute, falling into your open hands.

For a man who wasn’t interested in the machine ten seconds ago, Joel leans in pretty quick to watch you pop open the plastic ball.

“A ring!” you exclaim, slipping the ruby ring from its globe and holding it up in the light.

“It’s plastic. It’s a plastic kids ring.”

You slap his chest. “I like it.”

Joel shakes his head and takes your wrist, pulling you further along the river’s edge as you survey the newest addition to your jewelry collection. It’s tiny – he’s not wrong about that – and it only just fits on your pinkie finger, but you wear it proudly as you follow him along the cobbled pathway to…

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Joel turns, smug grin on his face. “Nope!” he calls, stepping down onto the bank to a private fucking boat.

“You have a jet and a boat? Tryna kill the planet one form of transportation at a time, aren’t you, Miller?”

He snorts, helping you down alongside him. “I rented it, and you’re fuckin’ welcome. Thought it’d be a nice way to end the trip.”

“It is nice,” you concede, feeling a little embarrassed. “It is. I’m just…You said I keep surprising you.”

He holds his arm out as you step over the edge of the varnished wooden boat, wobbling a little when you land. A man in a navy button up greets you, shows you down a couple steps where there’s a white leather couch and a table, bucket of champagne sat on top.

“Damn…” you whisper, feeling Joel’s weight behind you.

“We can get back off, though, if you wanna go play some more with the gumball machine.”

You roll your head back to look at him and he smiles. Gleeful. Like a little kid.

Probably like you did, when you uncovered your ruby ring.

Different strokes for different folks.

Joel settles back against the leather couch and you stand, looking down at him for a second before he’s gesturing you to join. The boat sets off as you shuffle in beside him, leaning back until your body’s encased in his, his arm wrapped around your waist, hands interlinked at your tummy.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, watching Paris sail by, feeling the cool breeze as it whips across the surface of the river and lands gently on your face, and smelling Joel all over you. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet, and it’s still, and it’s…totally not romantic at all.

None of this should be romantic. None of it should have your heart skipping beats, praying Joel can’t feel them through his fucking coat still on your shoulders.

So why does your breath catch when he leans down and quietly asks if you’re okay?

“Yeah,” you say in a choked voice, feeling his beard scratching your ear. “I’m g–I’m good.”

You’re thankful when he gives you something else to think about, in the form of a question: “You like the view from Jean-Marc’s terrace?”

Your shoulders jerk with a laugh. “Ha. It’s not as nice as ours.”

“Nah. That assistant guy say much to ya?”

“No. Why would he?”

Joel shrugs. “No reason.”

He says it like there is a reason, though. Like your answer caught him off guard. He was expecting you to say something else.

You draw shapes in the palm of his hand. “You gonna tell me what Jean-Marc said to you yet?”

“Nope. None of your business, pretty girl.”

You smile. “He was alright, you know. Bit on the nose, but he had a cool outfit. Cool plants, too.”

You feel the rumble of Joel’s response on your back – the way his chest vibrates with the noise he makes. A typical Joel grumble, a Yeah, but also no. There’s a tension between you two, some sort of roadblock with the name Jean-Marc scrawled into it. It feels awkward, and sticky, and those are things you’ve never felt before with Joel.

His fingers are twirling the ruby ring on your finger, round and round. Your eyes fix on the way the sun lights the plastic gem, burning it into your corneas before your brain finally forces something out in attempt to break that weird wall down.

“Bet Martha hangs me out to dry for this when we get back,” you snort, “I can hear her now: Two different rings off a’ two different men!”

Joel’s fingers stop. You feel his cheek turn, his jaw brushing against the side of your head.

“Two rings?” he asks.

Fuck. Wrong thing to say. Fuck.

“I, uh…You know. That was just a joke.”

“What d’you mean two different men?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I meant, like…I meant…”

You sigh and sit up straight. You meant what you said before: there’s a lot Joel doesn’t know about you. One huge thing in particular, that you only happened to share with Martha one night after Joel had left the office – the two of you working late, checking off a to-do list the length of your arm and relying on caffeine to stay awake. Sharing stories and secrets in the dark office, freeing skeletons you figured you’d never have the guts to let roam in daylight.

Well, you just hammered the whole closet down. Accidentally.

“If I tell you this, it’s between us, okay?”

Joel clasps his hands. Nods once. “And Martha.”

“…Yeah, and Martha. Whatever. She doesn’t know very much about it, anyways. But no one else. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“’cause I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Baby. I got it.”

The words are drawn from your lips like blood from a stone. They’re heavy, come tumbling out of your mouth like they’re made of lead.

“I…I was…engaged. Years ago.”

“Right.” Joel points to your ruby ring. “I got that much from the rings part.”

You sigh again. Why is this so fucking hard? It’s only Joel.

But then: it’s Joel.

“Not for long, or anything. It was a kind of high school sweetheart thing. We were together for, like, six years – all through senior year and college. Blake Carter. He studied, um, computer science. And on the night we graduated, he proposed. Right on campus, right on the quad. Had this big diamond ring, I think it was his grandma’s, or something.”

“And you said yes?”

“Well, I– Yeah, I said yes.”

Somewhere in the conversation, you’ve leaned back down, back against Joel’s body. Head turned into him, eyes scanning the riverbank, watching the buildings and the trees and the people pass by. You barely even notice until he shifts, clears his throat, and asks:

“’n then…it ended?”

“I ended it. Two days later, I…ended it,” you repeat, with a certain nod. A definite nod, like you’re still trying to convince yourself that yeah, you ended it, and yeah, it was the right thing to do. All these years later.

“Why?” he asks, earnestly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no prying. He just wonders.

“Um…” You shift now, tossing answers over in your head before you land on one that makes you think fuck it. “Just…realized I was more turned on by the degree in my hand than I was by the man on one knee in front of me.”

It draws a laugh from Joel’s lips. A laugh that vibrates through his chest, through your back, and pulls a smile across your lips.

“I was,” you say, holding back a nervous giggle, “I know that’s bad, but I was.”

“And you said yes to ‘im anyway?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Said yes in the moment ‘cause I didn’t wanna look like an asshole, but…well, you’re an asshole either way, aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Joel mumbles, and you almost slap him playfully. But then he says, “You’re an asshole,” with a sarcastic dryness, and you realize he’s not teasing, he’s disagreeing. Genuinely disagreeing.

You sit up again and turn to face him. “I’m not an asshole if I say no to someone asking me to marry them?”

He’s just as defensive as you are. “Not if you don’t want to. What’s asshole about that?”

“Joel, he was on his knees with a ring in his hand.”

“And you didn’t want to marry him. Big deal. I’m sure he found some other girl who wanted that ring on her finger instead, didn’t he?”

You scoff, turning away to look out over the water. He’s being blunt about it, a little uncalled for, but he’s not wrong. You tell him as much.

“He married some girl I don’t know. All I know is she works at some firm, and now they have a son. I check his Facebook every now and then. They just got back from Hawaii with his parents. He cut his foot on something at the beach.”

Joel keeps up the sarcasm. “Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.”

There are a million thoughts racing through your head. More you want to tell him; more you feel the need to confess. More to justify what you did, more to explain yourself and convince him that, sure, you broke Blake’s heart, but now he has a wife and a kid, and he seems happier. And you’re happier, too, so it wasn’t that bad after all.

But Joel doesn’t expect it of you. None of it. He doesn’t make any snide remarks, doesn’t ask questions that frame it as if it were all just one big bout of insane impulsivity. Just accepts what you’ve told him, takes it in with a nod of his head, and then stops talking about it.

He’s so fucking nonchalant it drives you crazy. Everything just is what it is.

Defeated, tired, and quite frankly stunned by how little anything you say seems to bother him, you quietly stare at the water, the yellow orbs of light from the street above bobbing in the black reflection.

Then Joel takes a deep breath, squeezes your knee and asks, “Wanna go get some dinner?”

“Yeah,” you nod gratefully, “that’d be nice.”

It’s a short walk back to the hotel once you’re off the boat – back along the riverside and down a couple of small, quiet streets. Joel holds your hand the entire time and, when you complain about them hurting, carries your heels for you.

Your eyes stay glued to the sidewalk, watching your shadow as you pass under orange streetlights. Your figure, barefoot, skirt swaying as you walk, hand linked to Joel’s, his frame taller and wider, a pair of heels dangling from his right hand.

He orders room service. You vote for pizza, and within twenty minutes, Joel’s bringing it through to where you lay on the bed, already stripped down, makeup wiped off, wrapped in your bathrobe. He made you put the Bart Simpson socks back on. Said they were the comfiest ones you own, baby, he’d chuckled. They’re rolled halfway up your leg, his impish grin on full display.

You pick up a slice of pizza as Joel scrolls through the channels on the TV, eventually settling for American Pie before he lays back alongside you. You blow on the piping hot cheese and take a bite.

“Nice?” Joel asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “’s hot.”

He leans over and hits a switch on the wall above the bed, drowning you both in the dull dusk seeping in from outside – aside from the screen which lights Joel’s face in a pale white, like moonlight. There’s a wash of warm light creeping in from the hallway, futilely clawing its way across the walls by the bedroom door but dying on the beige surface when it meets the glow of the TV. Like the sun and the moon blending together. Like day and night mixing right in front of you.

When you’ve had enough pizza, Joel shifts the golden tray from the bed onto the floor, flopping back down on the springy mattress with a sigh. You lay back, upper arm brushing against his, cheek leaning on the tip of his shoulder. It jumps every now and then whenever something funny happens onscreen and Joel snickers. You’d be laughing, too, if you were paying attention, but Joel’s voice is still echoing around your ears.

Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.

Sure. A lot of fun. Slipping that diamond ring onto your finger, and waiting for his grass-stained knees to lift him back up to you to kiss him on the mouth and say Yes over and over, and then run back to your friends and show off the ring and clink champagne glasses, and then go pick a huge, obnoxiously white dress that makes your mother cry and girls you haven’t spoken to since middle school comment on your Facebook posts –

Joel murmurs something with a laugh and your eyes find the screen again; Stifler just walked in on his mom and Finch. It holds your attention for all of three seconds, before you’re back to picturing maple trees swaying and his suit trousers stained green and thumbs on your knuckles and –

– and then meet him at the end of a ridiculously long aisle covered in rose petals, and swell with his kid inside you and raise it and convince yourself that you love it despite the puke and the piss and then stand bouncing it on your hip in an emergency room while it screams the fucking roof down, all the while your boring, bland husband has the sole of his foot sewn up after two weeks playing card games with his even more boring, bland parents and hearing about their neighbor’s new Prius and why it’s not actually any better for the environment, that’s just what the companies tell you to get their claws into you and –

“Baby, you–”

A whole lot of fucking fun.

“–okay?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Joel’s sitting up. The film’s paused. He’s staring at you, eyebrows arched, hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

He tugs on your arm and pulls you up to him, hand cupping your face as he studies you intently.

The sun’s setting outside, washing the sky a faded pink which dies out as it climbs higher. The city’s lights blink at you, like a million eyes peering in from a distance.

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” you lie.

“Went somewhere. You were starin’ off into space.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’m watchin’ the movie.”

But he’s looking from your lips to your eyes, passing across the bridge of your nose as he goes. And you can feel the heat from his body even through two layers of terrycloth, can practically feel his pulse through the huge, steady hands he has resting along your jaw. And there’s a feeling brewing in your stomach – like pain and hurt that mixes up and confuses itself for longing – which drifts further down until it’s an ache between your legs. And that feels easier to deal with, simpler to untangle. Especially when Joel’s right fucking here.

“Just…c’mere,” you breathe, pushing his shoulders back down onto the bed and leaning over him, legs parted.

You want him to fix it. Fix you. Use his hands, and his lips, and his body to make you better. Kiss away any memories of Blake, and that fucking ring, and the way his face twisted when you told him you were leaving. Do more than just kiss them away – tear them from your mind with his teeth on your skin, each mark he leaves just more evidence of your belonging to someone else, someone new.

Someone you wouldn’t recognize if you met her five years ago.

“Baby,” Joel whispers into your mouth, kissing you back as roughly as you’re kissing him. His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you fumble with the belt of his robe and tug    it open.

His lip still on yours, he hauls the shoulders of your robe down, the curve of your breasts spilling out over the white fabric. You sit up and untie the belt, shaking it off yourself properly before you’re back on him, pulling his arms free from his sleeves and pinning them down on the mattress.

“Let me – fuck you,” you breathe, grinding your core down on his already bricked length.

Joel’s hands rest on your hips; he’s looking up at you almost awestruck. Words stopping short in his throat.

“Need to fuck you,” you repeat, cunt slipping around him. “Need it, daddy.”

“Alright, babygirl,” he says finally, hips moving in time with yours. There’s a look in his eye that makes you think he knows what you’re doing, understands every one of your thoughts and worries without need to voice them. “I got you. I’m all yours. Just – come here.”

His hands scoop under your ass, lifting you from his waist, and he tilts his chin up. Pushes on the back of your thighs, nudging you further up his body.

“Joel,” you breathe, and his fingers squeeze into your skin.

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs.

You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move.

“Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

He angles his jaw up again, almost like he’s desperately reaching out for your body, and this time, you meet him halfway. Widen your legs, lower your hips until his lips are on you, and you fold forward with a gasp.

Your left hand hits the mattress above his head, right lowers to grip his hair. Joel’s arms wrap around your thighs, a tight, inescapable hold as his mouth opens wider, tasting more and more of you with each stroke of his tongue.

His tongue which dips inside of you, collecting your slick and fucking you gently, soft and wet and warm. He’s groaning as he tastes you, a low moan which vibrates against your cunt and elicits a similar sound from the bottom of your throat.

You need this. You fucking need this. Need the distraction, need the attention. Need to push every thought out of your brain for five minutes, replace them with pure pleasure. Replace them with Joel.

You’re grinding, rutting against his mouth as your knees slacken, all of your weight held up by your one palm splayed out on the bed, fingers curling around the sheets as you’re edged closer and closer to your high by Joel’s lips.

His hands become rougher, moving up to hold your ass, squeezing the soft skin until he’s running his hands between your cheeks, fingers pushing on that same sensitive muscle as last night.

“Fuck–” You jolt with a gasp, head rolling back in pleasure, core rocking hard against his lips.

Joel mutters a, “’s okay, babygirl,” and cups his mouth around your clit. He nudges one finger against your tight hole, pushing in slowly, and that feeling overcomes you all over again – your body pulling him in, throbbing around him, cutting your breath short and shocking you motionless until he removes his finger.

You whine, opening your eyes and catching a hazy glimpse of the ceiling for one second before he’s inserting two fingers, tight together, drawing a loud cry from your lips.

“’attagirl,” he mumbles against your cunt, only coming up for air long enough to utter that one word before his lips are back on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud as his fingers push deeper.

You pant, whimper a weak, “Daddy…” while Joel moves faster. “’m gonna cum,” you whisper, and you feel him nod under your vice grip, encouraging you to fall.

Your hips move in time with your chest, heaving with the breaths escaping your lips as he pulls you down harder, heavier on his mouth. He’s fucking covered – beard soaked in your arousal, swollen lips pressed against yours, moving, kissing, fucking you so good you start to feel lightheaded.

“Keep – going – daddy, fuck, yeah…”

The feeling starts between your shoulder blades. A sparkling, tickling feeling, creeping up your neck and wrapping around your body, warm and snug. Running across your bare chest, focusing on your hard nipples, and then plummeting down between your legs like a bullet, coming to a climax right where Joel’s lips are.

You scream out, your right hand forced from his dark hair to hold yourself up as your orgasm bears down on you. Your hips grind against his mouth, rocking back and forth as your body is overcome with sensation, with pleasure, with him.

Joel moans beneath you, your soaking cunt all over his tongue, giving you both what you each should’ve had yesterday, before he cut it short.

You figure he’ll never do that again. Never deprive you of it again, never deprive himself of it again. The sounds he’s making, the way his jaw shudders around you, it’s like he’ll never again be able to go a day in his life without tasting you, without feeling you contract on top of him, your sweet release washing over him like an oasis.

And you figure you won’t, either. Won’t ever stop thinking about this feeling, replaying it over and over in your mind. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his face beneath you. His hand massaging your ass, fingers curving somewhere deep inside you. Dragging your hips across his open mouth, his nose bumping gently on your clit as you come down.

Your orgasm fading into gentle ripples of pleasure, Joel slips his fingers out of you and you push yourself off of him, sliding back down until you’re straddling his naked waist again. His hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass when you settle.

“That better?” he asks, voice rough and strained. “You get what you needed?”

“Mhm,” you moan, flicking your hips and running your sensitive folds up and down his shaft.

In an instant, he’s got you in his arms, flipping you over and throwing you down on your back, bouncing on the soft mattress beneath you.

With a squeal, you take hold of his shoulders, smiling as he lowers his jaw and trails wet kisses along your neck, stopping when his lips line with your ear.

“Gonna let me do my job now, pretty girl?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you purr as he lines up. He’s so fucking turned on, so hard that you’ll be surprised if he lasts two minutes.

But then he pushes in, slow, and you realize he’s not looking just to cum. He’s not chasing any kind of high. He wants to feel you, wants you to feel him, too. He wants to really fuck you. Properly. If you were reading into it any deeper than just sex, you’d swear he wanted to answer your silent request. You’d swear he wanted to fuck the pain away.

You both groan, your wet soaking him, his thickness already pushing you open before he’s even halfway inside. He holds you steady by the hips, filling you up inch by inch, your back curling more and more the further he goes until you’re chest to chest and full of him.

You’re so tight, and he’s so fucking big, that feeling him inside you at this angle steals the air straight from your lungs. Your mouth lies open in a silent moan, your brows knitted together.

“Take it, baby,” he groans, arms scooping around your shoulders as he starts to slowly pump in and out. His expression mirrors yours. “Know you can take it all.”

“Joel – fuck – daddy – right there,” you’re whimpering, forehead stuck to Joel’s, eyes flitting from his lips to his dark lashes.

“Yeah?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you repeat, “keep doing that.”

His hips drive deeper, still hitting the same spot, same pace, only harder, with more weight behind it, sending you into a dizzy blur of pleasure and pain. He takes one of your hands in his, lifting it to pin it down on the sheets above your head; your free arm wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Something digs into the skin around your little finger, something sharp. You hiss, craning your head up – noticing Joel doing the same – and your eyes land on your little ruby ring, still wrapped tight around your pinkie, digging marks into yours and Joel’s hands with each movement.

When your chin lowers again, face to face, he presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue – you and Joel, your bodies and your wet, mixing as one between breaths and whines and whispers of one another’s name. You moan into his mouth, his hips smacking into you quicker now.

It’s working – whatever the fuck he’s doing. He’s driving every thought straight out of your mind before it’s even settled. Scaring them all away, sending them back to the shadows. You’re overcome by him – the sound of him, the feel of him, the smell and sight and taste of him.

And he’s sent spiraling by you – every sound which passes your lips is echoed by Joel; your gasps filter into growls from behind clenched teeth, your whimpers translate into groans from the bottom of his throat.

His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time; whispers of praise make the short journey between your lips – ‘atta fuckin’ girl, my good girl, look so pretty like this, feels good, doesn’t it? They pass your own desperate mutterings on their way – all the places you need him, all the ways you want him to do it. Harder, daddy, faster, fuckin’ me so good.

And then you’re pulling him in in more ways than one, clenching around him, feeling him twitch deep inside you. You’re both right there, right on the other side of that thin glass pane.

“Want – to,” you pant, “to cum – together.”

Joel nods, glancing down to watch where your bodies connect, where his hips push into yours, his cock burying deep between your legs.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asks, eyes still glued to your sex.

“Uhuh,” you moan, head falling back.

“Show me,” he whispers, lifting his head and taking your neck in his teeth. “Show me how good it feels.”

The glass pane shatters. Joel takes you in his arms and sends the two of you hurtling through it.

You scream out, knees pull together around his waist, pussy clenches tight around his cock which throbs, shooting cum somewhere deep inside you.

His head falls limp in the crook of your shoulder, the moan which escapes his mouth vibrating off of your body – your name laced through a whine driving into your hot skin.

And he stays there, for what feels like hours, just lying on top of you, chest meeting yours when your lungs fill, and unsticking when you exhale. His length relaxing, still deep inside you; face still buried in your soft skin, glistening with sweat, lips pressing barely-there kisses in the curves of your collarbone whenever he musters the energy.

He’s still panting. Shoulders rising almost violently, jumping when you ghost your fingers over them. You run your nails through his hair, soaked with sweat, and massage his head, pulling another whimper from Joel’s lips. His head turns, lips against your ear, glazed eyes fluttering open to stare at the city view.

“You okay?” you ask the quiet dark.

There’s nothing between you. No clothes, no sheets, no air, nothing. The room feels huge; you and Joel feel tiny. Lost in your own little world, lying in the blue hue of the still image on the flatscreen. Feeling your hearts thrumming against one another, like they’re communicating through the walls of your chests. Like they’re exchanging words you two haven’t heard of yet. Haven’t learned the meanings of.

“Yeah,” Joel eventually whispers, voice muffled by the way his lips press against your skin. “Never been better.”

----------

Late in the morning, Joel passes you his toothbrush without a word. Without some dumb joke to go with it. Likewise, you take it silently. Rinse it once, load it with toothpaste, and flick the button. He kisses the crown of your head and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

You feel split open. Like you’re walking around with a huge, gaping wound in your chest, your heart on full display. And not just flesh and blood, but the secrets that live in there, too. Secrets that now, Joel knows. He’s heard them pass your lips. Filled in the blanks himself, the parts you held back.

You feel scared. Small. As if every head turns to look at you when you walk into every room.

The only thing that helps is…well, him.

Joel.

And that scares you just as much.

The way he leads you out of the suite and into the elevator, always first, always in front. The way his body is big enough to hide yours behind it, wide enough that you can pull yourself as close to his back as possible and sneak by anyone as though you’re one person.

He only breaks apart from you twice: the first time is outside the hotel, to help Denis lift the cases into the trunk. You linger by the open car door, staring up at the hotel building, the lion heads cast in stone watching over the avenue below. Joel calls over to you and asks if you’re ready to go, and you slip into the backseat alongside him.

The second time is at the airport, where he does the same thing. Gives your hand a squeeze and then jumps out to help his driver hoist the luggage from the car over to the jet. You slowly follow them, this time staring at the white plane in front of you and feeling yourself being slowly dragged back to real life, claw marks in your Parisian dreamscape as it’s pulled from your clutches.

Denis’s smart suit struts toward you and you feel a light hand on your shoulder.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip,” he says, as softly as he can over the rumble of the plane’s engine.

“I did,” you reply, though the nod of your head probably does better to communicate than the pathetic whisper of your voice. “I don’t wanna go home.”

He smiles warmly. His gray eyebrows lift, blue eyes twinkle beneath them. “You are welcome anytime. You will have my email address, please let me know if you are ever back in Paris.”

You return his grin, mouthing Thank you, and he taps your back once more, sending you off in the direction of Joel, who’s waiting for you at the bottom of the steps.

“You good?” he asks, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder.

“Mhm.” You nod, and glance over your shoulder as Denis’s Maybach rolls away back toward the airport and, with it, takes every last drop of the last couple of days.

The plane cabin feels smaller, somehow. Less spectacular than it was when you were flying over here. The pristine walls feel plain, almost boring. And claustrophobic, like you’re in a padded cell or something.

You sit in the same seat by the window, Joel takes his place opposite you, and you fasten your seatbelts for takeoff. You watch through blurry eyes as Paris shrinks to nothing but shapes from the sky – roads like scratch marks in the surface of the land, the Seine you were sailing down less than twenty-four hours ago now like a tiny, winding snake.

Joel’s watching you. You know it, can see him from your peripheral. You’re deliberately ignoring the look on his face.

He leans forward and rests a hand on your knee. “You wanna go lie down?”

You shake your head, wrapping your fingers around his. “Wanna stay with you.”

“I’ll come,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing across your fingers. “I’ll come, darlin’.”

You lift your head and look him in the eye, finally seeing his expression. And it’s not one you usually spot on lighthearted, borderline-blithe, kinda-cocky-about-it Joel Miller. He looks…he looks concerned. Looks imploring, trying to work out what’s gotten you so quiet all of a sudden.

You offer him a weak smile, an attempt to convince him you’re okay that doesn’t land with him at all, and you know it. So instead, you take a deep breath and nod, and Joel instantly stands up, folds his laptop under his arm and lowers his hand to you.

You take it, letting him lead you back to the bedroom, where he pulls back the sheets and lets you climb in.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Joel whispers, and then slots in beside you, settling the laptop back on his knees and leaning over to shut the window shade. He’s mid-reply to some email from Ken. Another painful reminder of the normalcy you’re hours away from returning to.

You hook your elbow around his, press your cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt sleeve. Watch his wide knuckles as they move across the keyboard, typing about buyouts and dividends and other corporate words that all fade into a blur of black strokes on a white screen as your eyes start to roll closed.

The last things you remember are these: the light feeling of Joel’s shoulder moving as he types, the smell of his cologne, and the sound of your voice mumbling something to him. And then you pass out.

----------

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(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

hey mate I enjoy your writing and I think you're good at it but have tou not heard that calling Drifter 'Rat' is p racist? (he's Chinese and so the word has got quite a loaded history)

Ok, well, I suppose it's time.

Cut for length and to respect those who don't want (or cannot mentally afford) to engage with this topic.

Fair warning in advance: My blog is not a platform for hatred. People being shitty to each other in comments will get blocked, regardless of whether you're for or against what I have to say.

And I absolutely know some people are going to block me over talking about this at all. I am saddened by that, but I accept your judgement. This is something I feel everyone needs to think critically about and come to their own reasoned responses, not just knee-jerk outrage react, even though I know there will be knee-jerk outrage reactions. I still love you even if you must go. I will miss you.

If you feel the need to quote me and shit on this post on your blog (or in Discord or wherever), I can't stop you. If you choose to do this, I hope you have the decency to actually engage in what I am saying rather than deliberately misinterpreting my words to mean something they do not. But the lust for ragebait attention is strong so I am not going to be surprised when it happens, just disappointed.

First, the obvious:

Racism fucking sucks. It's systemic. It's a gross disease of human culture based in power dynamics and cruelty, and it's extremely shitty: up to and including the use of racial/ethnic slurs to describe a group of people.

The use of rats, mice, cockroaches, locusts, and anything that falls under the umbrella of 'vermin-type animals' as derogatory ways to describe any group of people of pretty much any racial or ethnic background that isn't whatever group is privileged and in power at the time (usually White, but not always) is a well documented historical fact.

It has happened. It has happened a lot. Many, many times. It has never not been shitty. It will never be ok.

It has been used against people of Asian heritage. It has been used against people in the Middle-East. It has been used against Indigenous people on every continent except Antarctica. It has been used by racially White groups against another White groups but predominantly it's been used against People of Colour.

It is a thing. It has always been a thing. It is a thing right now. People do this right now. It is not funny or irrelevant. It is objectively wrong. It would be nice if humanity could get to the point where we aren't shitting on each other like this but I'm not holding my breath on that one and neither should you.

I live in Canada. My grandmother was a Residential School survivor. If you don't know what that is then don't look it up unless you've got a strong stomach for mass child abuse and genocide. The abuse from my grandmother's experiences continued generationally. I have had so much taken from me because half of my heritage was considered to be literal vermin (written into the laws of the country I am a citizen of) and determined to be in need of being 'civilized.'

The other half of my heritage is Ukrainian: a White ethnic group that has been seen as vermin, had their culture erased, and is currently dealing with another, more powerful White ethnic group taking over their entire country by force in the name of 'bringing order.'

Both groups in my own personal ethnic background have historical documentation referring to them, specifically, as “rats” in the ethnic cleansing “gotta call an exterminator” sense and both groups have been victimized by regimes who treated them (and still are treating them) as exactly that.

I am speaking to you as a person who is intimately familiar with the effects and consequences which happen when one group of humans dehumanizes another, considering them vermin in need of extermination (or “colonization” or "relocation" or "civilization"), and treats them as such – including, and in particular, the word “rat.”

I have also looked very closely (with a full academic literature education background training me to look for these things) at all instances of the word "rat" within all the Destiny 2 lore I have been able to find.

The Drifter's Asian heritage and features (I believe he is canonically at least partially Vietnamese but that is based on some very fuzzy details) in the game are depicted in loving detail. Aspects of his ethnicity are well researched and beautifully represented. He is not a racial stereotype. He's a glorious instantiation of several tropes combined with some genuinely unique, complex, and interesting character depth, breadth and development.

The insult of "Rat" when used for him in-game is based upon his behaviour, his mannerisms, his professions (salvager, skeezy fight club organizer, criminal, etc.), and his individual character history. He is also not the only person with Asian features and/or heritage in the game. No one is running around calling Ana Bray a rat.

There is also an extremely strong and direct reference being made by the specific use of "Rat" for the Drifter: It's a shout out to The Stainless Steel Rat, the intergalactic criminal and con-man main character in a series of Science Fiction books written by Harry Harrison in the 1970s which the character of the Drifter is clearly based upon. I read every single one of those books as a child.

In addition to all that, the Drifter's specific situation, where he became a complete murderhobo/Dredgen for a while from the sheer trauma of living through humanity’s collapse in the Dark Age is eerily reminiscent of what happened Universe 25, a famous Psychology/Behavioral Science experiment on societal collapse, in particular the collapse of a utopia, performed on rats. Don't look that one up unless you have a strong stomach for animal cruelty. It's not nice.

Based upon my own personal lived experience with my own personal background having a very relevant relationship to groups of people people being systematically treated as vermin (and in particular called “rats”) and based upon the use of the word in-game being specific to that character, to his circumstances, to the character in another book which he was based off of, and the likely influence of an infamous animal behaviour experiment, I genuinely do not feel that Destiny 2's use of "rat" as an insult-turned-loving-pet-name for the Drifter is racially or ethnically based.

But, ok, what if it's not intentional? Is it still just blanket-not-thinking knee-jerk always-forever unacceptable to ever reference a character with Asian physical features as "Rat" in any fiction ever, no matter what the circumstances, because historically that group was one of the many groups in human history who have been called rats?

I don't think so, but I do feel this is something where the logic gets far more fuzzy and indistinct.

And before I get into the reasons why I feel this way I need it noted here that because I am not, myself, a member of the targeted group, I understand that some people will feel that anything I say about the matter should be disregarded.

And I further need it noted: that opinion, while I do not agree with it, is valid, should be listened to, has weight, and is something that not only should be, but must be, handled with respect and empathy.

Microaggressions exist. They happen. And they don't have to be intentional.

Just because I genuinely believe that calling the Drifter "Rat" within the Destiny 2 universe is not racist doesn't mean it isn't hurting someone. And furthermore, it doesn't mean I'm not wrong.

The root of what I believe on this topic is that, by using the same logic, any non-white character in any situation referred to as any sort of vermin-type animal would then be a racial/ethnic slur.

Furthermore, (and this is the contentious part): unless it is racialized in context of its use, I feel calling someone vermin is not a de-facto automatic reference to ethnicity.

And yes, I know what a dog whistle is. I just don't think this is one.

I don't feel use of "rat" toward an individual is the same as other clear and well-documented racial slurs because its use isn't specific to any individual group. (I'm not listing them - but you can look up on Wikipedia for a list of documented known ethnic slurs. And, please note, "rat" isn't on there for the same reason: it's been applied to too many different groups of people in human history to be pinned down to any particular one.)

Is calling any group of people "rats" and referring to them as vermin due to their heritage racist? Yes. It is. It absolutely is. No argument. This is true.

Is one fictional character calling another fictional character who isn't White "Rat" automagically racist regardless of context because any connotation of any non-White person with vermin becomes instantly race-based no matter what? I don't think so, no.

And I further believe that restricting the range of creative expression to only "safe zones" to avoid offending people "just in case they misunderstand and get the wrong idea" results in "only-good" stereotypes and creates depictions of fictional People of Colour that don't ring true as people at all. It causes any POC characters to become flat, boring, poorly written caricatures, which runs counter to good representation in fiction and is, itself, a form of racism.

But (and I cannot stress this enough) just because I feel this way, and feel strongly and have tried to be diligent with my research, and think critically about it, doesn't mean I'm some sort of authority on this topic. And just because someone else, regardless of their ethnic background, feels differently, doesn't make them right (or wrong). Because this is one of those situations where objective and/or technical right and wrong don't actually matter all that much. What matters is how people feel and why they feel that way.

I have observed that the bulk of the commentary around calling the Drifter "rat" comes from, broadly, three main mindsets. Some of them are well meaning, and others really very much not.

Some of us have workplaces with strong equity diversity and inclusion policies. I work in one of them. People who rage against EDI and similar initiatives are toxic asshats who need to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. The "just don't go there in case you might offend someone" approach is absolutely the correct one for a workplace. It doesn't matter if you're right or not. If someone says that calling them something offends them in the workplace you stop doing it. Period. That's basic human respect.

Calling the Drifter "Rat" as a deliberate insult from one character to another in fiction is not the same as speaking to a real person in the real world. If I worked with the Drifter out in the real world (putting aside the fact that the work would probably either be highly dangerous and/or illegal) and I called him "Rat," a trip to HR would absolutely be warranted and it wouldn't matter whether or not I was right regarding my use of it. I would be contributing to a hostile workplace environment and my job would absolutely be justified in firing my toxic ass.

But Destiny 2 is a videogame. It's a fictional post-apocalyptic world full of robots and aliens and space wizards. It's not a workplace. It's art. Art needs to be able to use things like allusions and metaphor and poetic resonance and dramatic effect and it needs to be able to depict things like insults and harassment and complex interpersonal relationships that absolutely would not be ok in a workplace. I believe it is acceptable to depict such things in fiction and for them not to be inherently racist just because someone points a finger and goes “that word is bad!” Context matters and I feel that, while it is well-meaning, this argument is reductive and not accurate in this situation.

The second reason I see people being 'concerned' about fictional characters calling the Drifter "Rat" being racist has nothing to do with racism and it’s the reason I see most often (although I probably have considerable selection bias in play). The bulk of the time I've seen this argument, it does not appear alone.

And I'd like to take a moment to thank the person who asked this question for not being like this. Their question was asked from a position of empathy and I recognize and appreciate that. This is not about them.

But this is another situation where context matters, and it matters, not in the use of the word in the game or in fanfiction. It matters in the context of when the argument comes up online. When you see people talking about calling the Drifter a rat being racist, take a look at their statements before and after they say that. The vast majority of the time someone brings this up (from what I have seen), it's in the same vicinity as an attack. It doesn't take much to see that this argument's primary use in the wild online isn't about racism at all: it's just a convenient excuse to hurt people. This specific flavour of criticism of the use of a term in fiction is overwhelmingly brought up to only be followed by (or preceded with) unrestrained shittiness targeting a non-fictional real-life human or group.

This is not the first time racism has been raised as a pitchfork in "shipping wars" but one quick glance around every time you see it mentioned should be enough to show you that it's absolutely a major tool in the arsenal of a particular subset of people who, for whatever reason, really really hate the idea of two specific fictional people kissing. Because yes, most are already blocked by this blog (or already did me the favour of blocking me - thanks!), but there are some people out there who hate the concept of Drifteris so much they attack real live human artists, writers, developers, and anyone else that so much as hints that they like the idea of those two characters being in a relationship, with any and every possible verbal assault they can think of, including accusations of racism. They openly celebrate when these humans lose their jobs to layoffs. They insult them on social media. They send abuse and threats and feel not a shred of guilt over it.

Because to this sort of person, it doesn't matter if there is any truth to their justification. Critical thinking left the building long ago. What matters it that they hate something, and in their minds anyone who loves the thing they hate no longer gets to be treated like a human being deserving of empathy or respect. By coming up with racism as argument for why the person they are attacking ‘deserves it,’ they've now given themselves carte blanche to be a 'hater' and spew venom in white hot catharsis and cruelty.

And that particular (and unfortunately quite popular) use of the 'issue' of calling the Drifter "Rat" in D2 is not only just generally shit behaviour that should be grown out of well before people reach an age where it's legal to be on most websites (never mind being old enough to play Destiny 2) it's also excruciatingly shitty to use the very real, very much happening right now out in the real world, problem of racism to try and win internet outrage points in a petty tantrum over the 'wrong' fake people kissing.

But, that aside, there is a third reason people get concerned over calling the Drifter "Rat" and, in my opinion, it's the most valid one, because it comes from a position, not of fear of offending the morality police, not of hatred of fake people kissing, but from empathy. And that's the fact that regardless of whether or not I think calling the Drifter "Rat" is racist, there are victims of real-world racism, harassment, and general human cruelty who might encounter the use of the term and feel targeted and/or triggered by it.

I am non-neurotypical and have my own triggers. I don't need to agree with you in order to respect yours. The argument of "when I read this, it makes me uncomfortable" is not something you answer by telling someone "your feelings are wrong." It's something you listen to and, if you have a shred of empathy within you, try to find a way to accommodate.

While I do not agree that calling the Drifter "Rat" is racist, I absolutely want to make sure that anyone who does feel that way can still feel safe reading my writing, and I've taken the approach of treating it how I would want my own triggers treated: with appropriate tagging so that if someone does find the use of the term upsetting (or even just offensive) they can filter all instances of it out and not have to deal with seeing it. I've shifted my use of the #moonrat tag to reflect this on Ao3, Bluesky, and here. Unless I've screwed up (I am human and make errors but I've tried very hard to check thoroughly for this), if I use "Rat" to refer to the Drifter in a story or its title, I make sure it is tagged as #moonrat so that it can be filtered out. If I reblog something that references it, I tag that with #moonrat the same way I try to tag anything that someone has told me they find upsetting. Like the content I can't read without getting a panic attack, the point is not censorship, it's respect.

At least, that is the intent.

So while I don't think that the context within which the term is used within in the game (which is the context I am mimicking with its use in my fanfiction) is ethnically based, I also don't think I get to decide how other people feel. And I hope anyone reading this who feels I am wrong at least recognizes that I am attempting to engage with them with empathy and respect, not dismissal or derision (unless you're using accusations of racism as a weapon in shipping wars - then absolutely I have nothing but derision for you - fuck off and don't come back until you obtain a healthy dose of emotional maturity and figure out how to not treat people as things).

Microaggressions, racial slurs, and treating humans like vermin are heavy topics that need to be treated with respect and empathy. They have hurt me personally. They hurt other people every day. If you feel that calling the Drifter "Rat" is racist, I'm not going to argue with you. But, like all appeals to emotion, I invite you to think critically about it and, even if you disagree that there is context and nuance involved, please treat other humans who think differently from you as humans with basic dignity.

I find the way that Eris' calling the Drifter "Rat" has shifted in D2 from pointed insult to cherished affection to be exquisitely beautiful. I feel it honours their bond and displays a complexity that other terms cannot. I use it in my writing because it matters to me. The Drifter's ethnicity is likewise beautiful and something to be cherished and appreciated. The way the writing within Destiny 2 has developed "Rat" has been to move it from something initially derogatory and personally cruel to something that is gentle and kind, signifying affection and acceptance and care. That is the context in which I am intending by its use in my own writing. However, I understand that I don't get to decide how other people feel, and again, I respect (and want it respected by others) if you feel otherwise.

I write what I write out of love. My fanfiction is a gift. If my gift is not to your liking, that is ok. If you feel that tagging instances where I use the term is insufficient accommodation, that to use "Rat" to refer to the Drifter at all is propagating racism and that there can never be any other interpretation for it, then that is your belief and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Reason is an ineffective argument against an idea based in belief.

However, this is me here and now telling you that my stories are made with love… for the characters, the story, and the readers who interact with them. In my mind, racism, dehumanization, and treating humans like vermin is not part of the love I am putting out into the world. I feel I have a reasonable and logical basis to support my own beliefs about this. Yet, I am cognizant that, for me, that, too, is a belief, and perhaps I am wrong and am emotionally attached to the term because of my own lived experience which informs how Eris calling the Drifter "Rat" makes me feel.

But art is about how we feel, is it not? That's the point. That's the difference between a human and an algorithm that just regurgitates ideas stolen from others, vomited up in a predigested remix based on what someone types into a prompt.

I write what I feel.

I love the Drifter. I love his ethnicity. I love how he and Eris are written within Destiny. I love writing stories about them loving each other. I love and cherish everyone who reads my words. I want to send more love into the world.

If I have failed, and my attachment to the beautiful use of a term others deem unacceptable taints everything for you, then so be it.

But the love is still there. And to me, it is the love that matters.

Aiat.

[lonestarflight]

Space Shuttle Development, Phase B: North American Rockwell and General Dynamics B9U/NAR-161-B

North American and General Dynamics B9U / NAR-161-B proposed their final Phase B shuttle proposal on June 25, 1971.

"The fully reusable 'B9U / NAR-161-B' configuration would now weigh 2,290t at liftoff vs. the Phase-A limit of 1,587t and the total estimated cost of the development project had doubled, to almost $10 billion. The thrust of the space shuttle main engines had to be increased from 1,850KN to 2,450KN. Part of the problem was the shuttle now would have to be a much more versatile and capable vehicle than originally anticipated, since the space station and the manned lunar/planetary program evaporated in 1970. Critics in Congress contended that it was 'a project searching for a mission.' As a result, the new space transportation system was instead increasingly being promoted as a low-cost 'space truck' for unmanned NASA & USAF satellites."

"The North American Rockwell 'NAR-161-B' orbiter was designed for carrying a crew of two plus up to ten passengers in the forward crew module. Note the four deployable landing jet engines on top of the vehicle; NASA was planning to use modified F-15 or B-1B aircraft jet engines on some missions and for ferry flights from test sites or alternative landing fields. But the jets would be omitted for heavy-lift missions since the additional weight greatly reduced the shuttle's payload capability. The thermal protection system was based on silica tiles. The blended wing/body design was chosen for uniform load distribution. It would have produced a 2300-kilometer crossrange capability to satisfy USAF reentry requirements; North American also decided to replace the wingtip fins with a single vertical tail. The 2,450KN main engine thrust upgrade was motivated in part by the need to have a single engine-out abort capability. Analysis showed that the orbiter still would be able to return to the launch site after a single orbit in case one of its two main engines failed during ascent, but only if the engines were powerful enough. Unlike McDonnell-Douglas (who proposed to use RL-10s), North American favored a brand new oxygen/hydrogen 45KN-thrust orbital maneuvering system (OMS) engines. Three OMS engines would have been carried for orbit insertion, orbital changes and the de-orbit burn."

"General Dynamics' final 'B9U' booster design differed considerably from the earlier straight-wing 'B8D' concept. The landing jets were moved from the nose back to the delta wing in order to reduce the launch drag & heating effects and to minimize the jet engine exhaust effects on stability, control and drag. General Dynamics felt the delta wing would provide better stability & control over the entire flight regime than the B8's straight wing. It would also create more room for the main landing gear and jet engine installation. The gross liftoff mass was 1,886.2t including a jet fuel load of 62.2t for the 850km flight back to the launch site. The high staging velocity (3300m/s) and altitude (73.8km) created some problems since the booster would have to be very large, require a relatively advanced thermal protection system and carry lots of jet fuel for the return flight. The contractors also examined downrange landing sites or in-flight propellant transfer in order to reduce the amount of booster jet fuel. NASA also seriously considered a proposal to use gaseous hydrogen rather than jet fuel since it would have saved thousands of kilograms, but decided against the idea in the end since it would have increased the technical risk."

North American Rockwell Phase-B shuttle orbiter docks with modular space station.

"Payload capability (without landing jets): 29,484kg into a 185km 28.5 deg. Orbit; 18,144kg into a 185km 90 deg. polar orbit; 11,340kg into a 500km 55 deg. orbit with landing jets installed on orbiter and 20,411kg without landing engines.

Cost per mission: $100-200/lb. [1970 rates] or $950-$1900/kg in 1999. 75 missions/year max. Space station rescue mission capability within 48 hours of emergency call.

Liftoff Thrust: 2,606,810 kgf. Total Mass: 2,188,488 kg. Core Diameter: 10.4 m. Total Length: 98.0 m.

Stage Number: 1. 1 x Shuttle R134C-1 Gross Mass: 1,886,200 kg. Empty Mass: 290,000 kg. Thrust: 29,370-32,233.575 KN. Isp: 442 sec. Burn time: 209 sec. Isp(sl): 392 sec. Diameter: 10.4 m. Span: 43.9 m. Length: 82 m. Propellants: Lox/LH2 No Engines: 12. SSME Study

Stage Number: 2. 1 x Shuttle R134C-2 Gross Mass: 383,260 kg. Empty Mass: 121,560 kg. Thrust (vac): 5,624.8 KN. Isp: 459 sec. Burn time: 264 sec. Isp(sl): 359 sec. Diameter: 4.6 m. Span: 32.6 m. Length: 62.8 m. Propellants: Lox/LH2 No Engines: 2. SSME Study

- information from "INTRODUCTION TO FUTURE LAUNCH VEHICLE PLANS [1963-2001]" by Marcus Lindroos: link

SDASM Archives: 08_00941, 08_00943, 08_00944

Mike Acs's Collection: link, link

Numbers Station: link, link, link, link, link

source

Boeing image: 71SV13043

[thebeesareback]

I have Shower Thoughts which may be incomprehensible

I feel like we have seen plenty of pieces of media which, in some way, subvert the class hierarchy. Triangle of Sadness is the one which springs to mind, but there are loads of other examples. The thing is, they usually come from the minds of wealthy people and therefore explore how class subversion affects the formerly powerful. Which is fine, and Triangle of Sadness is excellent (&gross).

What I would find more interesting, though, is the same concept but from the perspective of a working class person where the film explores their changes. Would they become power-hungry and exploitative? Would they be compassionate because they know what it's like to have nothing? Would there be differences along racial/gender lines? How would someone who, for example, attended a private school on a scholarship fare? Presumably, this would vary between characters, & I'd like to know how their dynamic works out.

[icharchivist]

so icha. how are we feeling about lodi?

oh dear, that's the question huh.

mhmmm i'd say we don't have enough for me to care strongly into either direction i'd say, but there is a possibility for him to be an interesting character in further event, especially if Kolulu was a real influence on him.

Overall his set up is pretty interesting in itself. The contrast between the outgoing, loving and giving idol persona, and the empty, starving actual persona is really interesting as it is.

I do think the little commentary on how he is an idol because thanks to his emptiness he can afford to give away and give away without ever feeling like he's actually sacrificing a part of himself, is, kinda grim but an interesting take on what an idol character can bring.

His powers... i'm actually not a big big fan of the axe being turned into a mic and him having a music related power on principle, but it's utilized relatively well in the story especially when it combines with Felix's ability, so i don't have any real complain about it.

My only problem is him stealing Kimi to Boku No Mirai >:( that's MC's song!!!!! at least make your own song instead of constantly taking ours and not having ANYONE comment on it!!!

anyway like i said i do really like the contrast on outgoing idol VS actual empty shell, it's just that so far as it was just set up, i don't think we explored in depth what could be interesting about this concept.

I'm REALLY curious about why he feels this undeserving of feeling anything. Is it just something natural for him, is he naturally apathic, or was it another result of the Child Abuse Event that he probably had to deny himself so much that now it's as natural as breathing?

i think it's possible it's the later because of how he actually reacts to Kolulu insisting on showing him kindness and feeding him. You see too many times that he's genuinely puzzled by the fact she insists, and when he flashbacked to it he especially remembered Kolulu speaking about how, despite growing into poverty, her parents loved her so much they made sure she was well fed, so it's important. I feel like there would be a set up on how to make him realize that perhaps this emptiness isn't so normal.

Especially with implications that he was present during the cult Manamel's sister was a part of in the past. Considering how Manamel's parents, who were part of this cult, killed themselves once the cult dismantled, and that Manamel points out that Lodi's empty stare reminds her of the look her parents had when they killed themselves in front of her.... there's some loaded stuff going on here.

In his profile it's said he doesn't like to eat at all, period, and it's reinforced by his scene with Morilynn, and yet he still forces himself to eat the bread Kolulu gave him, *after* they fought, despite finding it disgusting.

So i think there's a set up perhaps out of him wondering if being this empty is right for him? And it could make for a great character growth.

as of now though, the problem with characters who are defined by their emptiness is that. well. they're empty. There's not a lot to discuss.

However i did think the scene at the end with Morilynn was interesting. On one hand we had Morilynn, non-human, trying to eat human food and doing it wrong, and trying harder in harder to connect to humanity despite being totally disconnected from it. Meanwhile, next to them, Lodi was unable to eat and was grossed out by Morilynn's attempt at humanity on what he is trying to get rid of.

there's a sort of dynamic at play here on the non-human wanting to be human VS the human who wants to be non-human, the empty shell VS the unconstrained being, that could make for a really good future dynamic as it goes. especially considering who their respective chairmen are. Judah who takes care of Morilynn is human who does all sort of experiments, leading to Morilynn experiencing more on their body as well, while Nereus has been stripping herself more and more of her humanity to mock God, and we have her taking care of Lodi as a "producer" or sort. idk it's an interesting choice.

All in all, i think my take in the end is..... There's a good set up for a character, but the event didn't give him much to munch on to explore it, so by the end, i don't feel super strongly about him, but i definitely see potential on how to flesh him out going from here.

I personally really hope Kolulu is instigating a change in him.

It kinda sums it up i'd say?

[benicebefunny]

I'm just...Roy yelled at the top of his lungs at a bunch of children, and it's treated as a cute quirk. Yes, of course the context is different with Nate drawing attention to a specific player rather than general yelling and getting super personal, and I obviously do not support yelling at employees, but something about the way people laugh at Roy shouting and breaking things for no reason, Isaac throwing stuff, all the players making life difficult for hotel employees and apparently stealing stuff despite being loaded athletes, Sassy harassing a waiter, Roy discouraging Phoebe from cursing but being proud of her elbowing a girl in the neck as if that's somehow better, etc. while jumping on every negative action by Nate - notably not white, rich, or "traditionally masculine" - as a sign of him being fundamentally bad leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. Nate stands out so much as the only non-rich, non-white character that gets to show real depth and interesting flaws. He's so much fun to watch! But the way people are all "I never liked him", or "I feel vindicated", or wishing violence on him makes it seem like they were looking for an excuse not to like him, and feels so much like the old "people are bullied for a reason, if they're weird, they have it coming".

Like you, I have so much fun watching and (as everyone is painfully aware of by now) talking about Nathan, because he has real depth and interesting flaws. For me, I really enjoy connecting how his actions, feelings, and beliefs connect (or conflict) with the show's broader context. Also, he's funny, quirky, and delightful.

So, yeah, it's frustrating when people flatten him into a Ticking Timebomb of Evil, or the Antithesis of Ted's (presumed) Goodness, or AFC Richmond's Designated Patient.

But it's also kind of sad when people flatten other characters into harmless, lovable comedic caricatures. That's what happens when Nathan's misdeeds are taken seriously, and those of other characters are brushed off as just a joke or an inevitable facet of the football industry. Why would people do that to their faves? Can't they see all the fun I'm having picking apart Nathan's storyline? (*touches earpiece* What's that? My intensity and occasional glibness can come off as barely suppressed rage? Not again!)

There can be some pretty gross subtext to why and how characters are excused from accountability. For example, Colin and Isaac's harassment of Nathan is sometimes excused because it happened Before Coach Lasso (BC, for short). While Nathan's verbal abuse of Will and Colin is framed as worse than literal daily physical assault because it occurred After Arrival of Dad Figure Ted (AD, for short). Ted is positioned as a White Savior who brings enlightenment to the masses, forgiving past sins for all who Believe. And Colin and Isaac are positioned as spiritually immature, ignorant children rather than adults savvy enough to exploit the fucked-up power dynamics of their industry. (You know, like Nathan in S2, but with regular beatings.)

(To be fair to fandom, the White Savior Ted and his Infantilized Himbos trope didn't burst fully formed from our collective fannish head. Canonically, Ted does encourage this kind of thinking. He refers to the players (grown adult men, a significant number of whom are Black) as "boys." He uses the father figure thing a lot. And he did convince them to burn a cherished possession in order to appease spirits he doesn't entirely believe in. A little bit of cult leader behavior there. More things to add to the This Would be Taken Seriously if It Were Nathan pile.)

My point is: it's a double-edged sword. As someone who enjoys the non-Nathan characters, I don't like it when their actions are stripped of their ethical, social, and financial weight. I read it as an insult, a diminishing of the characters.

[howzitsa]

TCL 32 Inch FHD Smart Google - 32S5400 See Every Detail with FHD and HDR 10 Compared to high-definition screens, full high-definition screen can present you with twice the real and detailed picture. Also, high dynamic range (HDR), provides a superior experience with striking brightness, exceptional shadow detail and vivid colour. Sit still and enjoy incredible picture details as the film makers intended. Movies and Shows Picked Just for You See 700,000+ movies and shows, all in one place. Google TV brings your favorite content from across your apps and subscriptions, and automatically organizes them for you. Discover new movies and shows with suggestions based on what you've watched and what interests you. More Screen, Less Limits Metallic Bezel-less design allows a full-screen and wider visible viewing experience, just feel right amongst all the action. Load More Apps and Run Faster The newly upgraded storage (16G ROM + 1.5G RAM) allows you to enjoy more wonderful content. SPECIFICATIONS Flat/Curved: Flat Backlight Type: DLED Product Type: LED Android TV CPU Core: CA55x4 @1.1GHz (DVFS 1.45GHz) GPU Core: G31MP2 @550MHz Operation System: Google TV Voice Control: yes Google Assistant Built-in: yes App Store: yes Audio Power: 2x8W Dolby: yes DTS: no Panel Resolution: 1920x1080 Aspect Ratio: 16:09 Refresh Rate: 60Hz Dolby Vision: no HDR: HDR 10 HLG: yes HDR 10+: no Contrast: 4000:1 (typ.) Micro Dimming: yes Local Dimming: no Hands-free Voice Control: no With Google Assistant: yes BlueTooth: BT5.0 Wi-Fi Connectivity: 2.4GHz Ethernet: RJ45, 10/100M USB: USB 2.0 HDMI: yes Freesync: no EPG: Yes (for DTV programme only) Subtitle: yes VESA Mounting Type: yes (WMB234) Carton Dimensions L x W x H (cm): 8 x 1.28 x 5.2 Net Weight With Stand: 3.44 Kg Net Weight Without Stand: 3.4 Kg Gross Weight With Packaging: 4.9 Kg

[globalgrowthinsights]

Transplant Diagnostics Market Size, Share, Growth, Trends [2032]

Transplant Diagnostics Market provides in-depth analysis of the market state of Transplant Diagnostics manufacturers, including best facts and figures, overview, definition, SWOT analysis, expert opinions, and the most current global developments. The research also calculates market size, price, revenue, cost structure, gross margin, sales, and market share, as well as forecasts and growth rates. The report assists in determining the revenue earned by the selling of this report and technology across different application areas.

Geographically, this report is segmented into several key regions, with sales, revenue, market share and growth Rate of Transplant Diagnostics in these regions till the forecast period

North America

Middle East and Africa

Asia-Pacific

South America

Europe

Key Attentions of Transplant Diagnostics Market Report:

The report offers a comprehensive and broad perspective on the global Transplant Diagnostics Market.

The market statistics represented in different Transplant Diagnostics segments offers complete industry picture.

Market growth drivers, challenges affecting the development of Transplant Diagnostics are analyzed in detail.

The report will help in the analysis of major competitive market scenario, market dynamics of Transplant Diagnostics.

Major stakeholders, key companies Transplant Diagnostics, investment feasibility and new market entrants study is offered.

Development scope of Transplant Diagnostics in each market segment is covered in this report. The macro and micro-economic factors affecting the Transplant Diagnostics Market

Advancement is elaborated in this report. The upstream and downstream components of Transplant Diagnostics and a comprehensive value chain are explained.

Browse More Details On This Report at @https://www.globalgrowthinsights.com/market-reports/transplant-diagnostics-market-100551

 Global Growth Insights

Web: https://www.globalgrowthinsights.com

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[commercialvehicle1]

Tata Motors' ULTRA T.9: A Comprehensive Overview

In the dynamic world of medium commercial vehicles, Tata Motors stands out as a leader with its innovative and robust offerings. Among these, the Tata ULTRA T.9 has garnered significant attention for its advanced features, reliability, and versatility. Designed to meet the evolving demands of businesses, the ULTRA T.9 is a testament to Tata Motors' commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction. This article delves into the key features, performance, and benefits of the Tata ULTRA T.9, illustrating why it is a preferred choice for medium commercial vehicle needs.

Design and Build Quality

The ULTRA T.9 boasts a modern design that combines functionality with aesthetics. Its robust chassis is built to withstand the rigors of daily use, making it ideal for a variety of applications, from goods transport to specialized services. The vehicle's aerodynamic cabin not only enhances its visual appeal but also contributes to better fuel efficiency by reducing air resistance. The cabin is designed with the driver’s comfort in mind, featuring an ergonomic layout that reduces fatigue and improves productivity.

The high-strength steel used in the construction of the ULTRA T.9 ensures durability and safety. This is complemented by a well-designed suspension system that provides a smooth ride, even on rough terrains. The vehicle's exterior is designed to withstand harsh weather conditions and heavy-duty use, making it a reliable partner for businesses in diverse industries.

Engine and Performance

At the heart of the ULTRA T.9 is a powerful and efficient engine that delivers impressive performance. The vehicle is equipped with a BS6-compliant, 3.3L NG BSVI diesel engine that produces 123 HP and 390 Nm of torque. This engine is designed to offer a perfect balance between power and fuel efficiency, ensuring that the vehicle can handle heavy loads without compromising on performance.

The ULTRA T.9's engine is paired with a 5-speed manual transmission that provides smooth and precise gear shifts. This combination allows the vehicle to navigate through city traffic and highway conditions with ease. Additionally, the vehicle's power steering system ensures easy maneuverability, making it suitable for both urban and rural settings.

Payload and Versatility

One of the standout features of the ULTRA T.9 is its impressive payload capacity. With a Gross Vehicle Weight (GVW) of 8,700 kg, it is capable of carrying substantial loads, making it an excellent choice for businesses that require efficient and reliable transportation solutions. The vehicle's versatile design allows it to be used in a variety of applications, including logistics, e-commerce, construction, and more.

The ULTRA T.9 is available in different configurations to suit specific business needs. Whether it is a high-side deck, container, refrigerated truck, or any other customized body, the ULTRA T.9 can be tailored to meet diverse operational requirements. This flexibility ensures that businesses can optimize their fleet according to their specific needs, enhancing operational efficiency.

Safety and Comfort

Safety is a paramount concern in the design of the ULTRA T.9. The vehicle is equipped with a range of safety features to protect both the driver and the cargo. These include a robust braking system with air brakes, which provide reliable stopping power even under heavy loads. The vehicle also features a seatbelt reminder and an anti-lock braking system (ABS) to enhance safety during transit.

In terms of driver comfort, the ULTRA T.9 does not disappoint. The cabin is designed to reduce noise and vibration, providing a comfortable driving environment. The adjustable seats, ample legroom, and intuitive dashboard layout contribute to a pleasant driving experience. Additionally, the vehicle is equipped with modern amenities such as air conditioning, a digital instrument cluster, and a music system to enhance driver comfort and convenience.

Technology and Connectivity

In an era where technology plays a crucial role in vehicle performance and fleet management, the ULTRA T.9 is equipped with advanced features that cater to these needs. The vehicle comes with a telematics system that provides real-time data on vehicle performance, fuel consumption, and route optimization. This system enables fleet managers to monitor their vehicles remotely, improving efficiency and reducing operational costs.

The ULTRA T.9 also features advanced connectivity options, allowing drivers to stay connected while on the road. The vehicle's infotainment system supports Bluetooth connectivity, enabling hands-free calling and access to important information without distracting the driver.

Environmental Considerations

Tata Motors has always been at the forefront of promoting environmentally friendly practices, and the ULTRA T.9 is no exception. The vehicle's BS6-compliant engine meets stringent emission norms, reducing its environmental impact. This commitment to sustainability makes the ULTRA T.9 a responsible choice for businesses looking to minimize their carbon footprint.

Conclusion

The Tata ULTRA T.9 is a versatile, reliable, and efficient medium commercial vehicle that meets the diverse needs of modern businesses. Its robust design, powerful performance, and advanced features make it an ideal choice for various applications. With a focus on safety, comfort, and technology, the ULTRA T.9 sets a new benchmark in the medium commercial vehicle segment. Whether it is for urban logistics, rural transportation, or specialized applications, the Tata ULTRA T.9 is a valuable asset for any business looking to enhance its operational efficiency and productivity.

[giresearch]

Load Bank Market Size, volume, Revenue, Trends Analysis Report 2024-2030

Global Info Research announces the release of the report “Global Load Bank Market 2024 by Manufacturers, Regions, Type and Application, Forecast to 2030” . This report provides a detailed overview of the market scenario, including a thorough analysis of the market size, sales quantity, average price, revenue, gross margin and market share.The report provides an in-depth analysis of the competitive landscape, manufacturer’s profiles,regional and national market dynamics, and the opportunities and challenge that the market may be exposed to in the near future. Global Load Bank market research report is a comprehensive analysis of the current market trends, future prospects, and other pivotal factors that drive the market.

Load banks are devices designed to provide electrical loads for testing power sources such as generators and Uninterruptible Power Supplies (UPS). Load banks are also used to reduce "wet stacking" problems in diesel engines of backup generating systems. They are used in a variety of ways including factory testing of generator sets, periodic exercising of standby engine generator sets, battery system testing, ground power testing, load optimization in prime power applications, and factory testing of turbines. The load bank include resistive load bank, inductive load bank, capacitive load bank and manufacturers can provide the resistive/inductive load bank or resistive/inductive/capacitive load bank according to the Client's request. According to our (Global Info Research) latest study, the global Load Bank market size was valued at US$ 188 million in 2023 and is forecast to a readjusted size of USD 236 million by 2030 with a CAGR of 3.3% during review period. The world's major Load Bank manufacturers include Avtron Power Solutions, Simplex, and Crestchic (Aggreko). The top three Load Bank manufacturers account for about 53% of the global market. North America is the largest consumer market for load bins, accounting for about 34%, followed by Europe and Asia-Pacific. In terms of product type, Resistive/Reactive Load Bank has the largest market share, at about 71%. From an application perspective, Power Generation accounts for the largest share at about 33%, followed by Government/Military and Industrial with about 19% and 17% market share, respectively. This report is a detailed and comprehensive analysis for global Load Bank market. Both quantitative and qualitative analyses are presented by manufacturers, by region & country, by Type and by Application. As the market is constantly changing, this report explores the competition, supply and demand trends, as well as key factors that contribute to its changing demands across many markets. Company profiles and product examples of selected competitors, along with market share estimates of some of the selected leaders for the year 2024, are provided.

Market Segmentation Load Bank market is split by Type and by Application. For the period 2019-2029, the growth among segments provides accurate calculations and forecasts for consumption value by Type, and by Application in terms of volume and value.

Market segment by Type: Resistive Load Bank、Reactive Load Bank、Resistive/Reactive Load Bank

Market segment by Application:Power Generation、Government/Military、Maritime/Shipyards、Oil, Gas, & Nuclear、Data Centers、Industrial、Others

Major players covered: Avtron Power Solutions、Simplex、Crestchic (Aggreko)、Kaixiang、Metal Deploye Resistor、Sephco Smartload Banks、Mosebach、Jovyatlas、Tatsumi Ryoki、Pite Tech、Shenzhen Sikes、Trystar、M.S. RESISTANCES

The content of the study subjects, includes a total of 15 chapters: Chapter 1, to describe Load Bank product scope, market overview, market estimation caveats and base year. Chapter 2, to profile the top manufacturers of Load Bank, with price, sales, revenue and global market share of Load Bank from 2019 to 2024. Chapter 3, the Load Bank competitive situation, sales quantity, revenue and global market share of top manufacturers are analyzed emphatically by landscape contrast. Chapter 4, the Load Bank breakdown data are shown at the regional level, to show the sales quantity, consumption value and growth by regions, from 2019 to 2030. Chapter 5 and 6, to segment the sales by Type and application, with sales market share and growth rate by type, application, from 2019 to 2030. Chapter 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11, to break the sales data at the country level, with sales quantity, consumption value and market share for key countries in the world, from 2017 to 2023.and Load Bank market forecast, by regions, type and application, with sales and revenue, from 2025 to 2030. Chapter 12, market dynamics, drivers, restraints, trends and Porters Five Forces analysis. Chapter 13, the key raw materials and key suppliers, and industry chain of Load Bank. Chapter 14 and 15, to describe Load Bank sales channel, distributors, customers, research findings and conclusion.

Our Market Research Advantages： Global Perspective: Our research team has a strong understanding of the  company in the global Load Bank market.Which offers pragmatic data to the company. Aim And Strategy: Accelerate your business integration, provide professional market strategic plans, and promote the rapid development of enterprises. Innovative Analytics: We have the most comprehensive database of resources , provide the largest market segments and business information.

About Us: Global Info Research is a company that digs deep into global industry information to support enterprises with market strategies and in-depth market development analysis reports. We provide market information consulting services in the global region to support enterprise strategic planning and official information reporting, and focuses on customized research, management consulting, IPO consulting, industry chain research, database and top industry services. At the same time, Global Info Research is also a report publisher, a customer and an interest-based suppliers, and is trusted by more than 30,000 companies around the world. We will always carry out all aspects of our business with excellent expertise and experience.

[acubeai]

Creating an Effective Power BI Dashboard: A Comprehensive Guide

Introduction to Power BI Power BI is a suite of business analytics tools that allows you to connect to multiple data sources, transform data into actionable insights, and share those insights across your organization. With Power BI, you can create interactive dashboards and reports that provide a 360-degree view of your business.

Step-by-Step Guide to Creating a Power BI Dashboard

1. Data Import and Transformation The first step in creating a Power BI dashboard is importing your data. Power BI supports various data sources, including Excel, SQL Server, Azure, and more.

Steps to Import Data:

Open Power BI Desktop.

Click on Get Data in the Home ribbon.

Select your data source (e.g., Excel, SQL Server, etc.).

Load the data into Power BI.

Once the data is loaded, you may need to transform it to suit your reporting needs. Power BI provides Power Query Editor for data transformation.

Data Transformation:

Open Power Query Editor.

Apply necessary transformations such as filtering rows, adding columns, merging tables, etc.

Close and apply the changes.

2. Designing the Dashboard After preparing your data, the next step is to design your dashboard. Start by adding a new report and selecting the type of visualization you want to use.

Types of Visualizations:

Charts: Bar, Line, Pie, Area, etc.

Tables and Matrices: For detailed data representation.

Maps: Geographic data visualization.

Cards and Gauges: For key metrics and KPIs.

Slicers: For interactive data filtering.

Adding Visualizations:

Drag and drop fields from the Fields pane to the canvas.

Choose the appropriate visualization type from the Visualizations pane.

Customize the visual by adjusting properties such as colors, labels, and titles.

3. Enhancing the Dashboard with Interactivity Interactivity is one of the key features of Power BI dashboards. You can add slicers, drill-throughs, and bookmarks to make your dashboard more interactive and user-friendly.

Using Slicers:

Add a slicer visual to the canvas.

Drag a field to the slicer to allow users to filter data dynamically.

Drill-throughs:

Enable drill-through on visuals to allow users to navigate to detailed reports.

Set up drill-through pages by defining the fields that will trigger the drill-through.

Bookmarks:

Create bookmarks to capture the state of a report page.

Use bookmarks to toggle between different views of the data.

Different Styles of Power BI Dashboards Power BI dashboards can be styled to meet various business needs. Here are a few examples:

1. Executive Dashboard An executive dashboard provides a high-level overview of key business metrics. It typically includes:

KPI visuals for critical metrics.

Line charts for trend analysis.

Bar charts for categorical comparison.

Maps for geographic insights.

Example:

KPI cards for revenue, profit margin, and customer satisfaction.

A line chart showing monthly sales trends.

A bar chart comparing sales by region.

A map highlighting sales distribution across different states.

2. Sales Performance Dashboard A sales performance dashboard focuses on sales data, providing insights into sales trends, product performance, and sales team effectiveness.

Example:

A funnel chart showing the sales pipeline stages.

A bar chart displaying sales by product category.

A scatter plot highlighting the performance of sales representatives.

A table showing detailed sales transactions.

3. Financial Dashboard A financial dashboard offers a comprehensive view of the financial health of an organization. It includes:

Financial KPIs such as revenue, expenses, and profit.

Financial statements like income statement and balance sheet.

Trend charts for revenue and expenses.

Pie charts for expense distribution.

Example:

KPI cards for net income, operating expenses, and gross margin.

A line chart showing monthly revenue and expense trends.

A pie chart illustrating the breakdown of expenses.

A matrix displaying the income statement.

Best Practices for Designing Power BI Dashboards To ensure your Power BI dashboard is effective and user-friendly, follow these best practices:

Keep it Simple:

Avoid cluttering the dashboard with too many visuals.

Focus on the most important metrics and insights.

2. Use Consistent Design:

Maintain a consistent color scheme and font style.

Align visuals properly for a clean layout.

3. Ensure Data Accuracy:

Validate your data to ensure accuracy.

Regularly update the data to reflect the latest information.

4. Enhance Interactivity:

Use slicers and drill-throughs to provide a dynamic user experience.

Add tooltips to provide additional context.

5. Optimize Performance:

Use aggregations and data reduction techniques to improve performance.

Avoid using too many complex calculations.

Conclusion Creating a Power BI dashboard involves importing and transforming data, designing interactive visuals, and applying best practices to ensure clarity and effectiveness. By following the steps outlined in this guide, you can build dashboards that provide valuable insights and support data-driven decision-making in your organization. Power BI’s flexibility and range of visualizations make it an essential tool for any business looking to leverage its data effectively.

[ranjan1237]

The Mahindra Blazo X 40: Chennai's Ultimate Hauling Solution

Introduction:

In busy Chennai city where logistics and transportation are the backbone of the city's solid economy, the Mahindra Blazo X 40 Tractor Trailer stands proudly and is among the best because of the real power of hauling. This dynamic monster of the roadway is literally transforming the trucking industry by leaps and bounds with each move that it makes a one-of-a-kind performance, efficiency, and value proposition.

A Workhorse Built for Demanding Loads:

Fitted with a powerful 7200cc diesel engine producing 280 horsepower, the Blazo X 40 from Mанhindra is designed to be reliable even in the most demanding hauling tasks. This tractor-trailer has a Gross Vehicle Weight (GVW) of 39,500 kg which gives it the capability to carry heavy-duty loads effortlessly, which explains why it could be the right choice for a business that relies on effective transportation.

Nevertheless, what counts in addition to the raw power is also noteworthy. The Blazo X 40 Chennai also features a diesel engine that is more advanced in technology making it more fuel efficient and lowering the carbon emissions that would otherwise be generated. In other words, this reduction in operation costs offers substantial savings for fleet operators as well as owner-drivers, therefore, to stay competitive, they are likely to use the low-cost technology

Unbeatable Value for Your Investment:

While in Chennai, where cost-effectiveness is one of the decisive factors for businesses, the Mahindra Blazo X 40 tractor-trailer presents the best in terms of value. Mahindra Blazo X 40 Price in Chennai starts from Rs. 33 lakhs. This tractor-trailer will offer the user the best value for money in terms of performance, reliability, and price.

In addition to all this, the truck brand TrucksBuses is offering customers very tempting finance options and EMI schemes. Especially for the Mahindra Blazo X 40 in Chennai. Affording a monthly payment of Rs. 59,162 for the initial point and a total loan amortization worth Rs. 35.50 lakh and these days, having Blazo X 40 is as cheap as compared to other alternatives.

Whether you already have experience in logistics, or you are an entrepreneur planning to extend your operations in the Chennai area, the Mahindra Blazo X 40 Tractor Trailer is quite simply a step forward to more efficient hauling. This tractor-trailer, unlike any other, has unique power, fuel efficiency, as well as unmatched ownership cost. This is very well set to redefine the way people will move goods in the city and beyond.

[militaryleak]

General Dynamics European Land Systems Presents Its Latest PIRANHA Heavy Mission Carrier (HMC)

General Dynamics European Land Systems (GDELS) has expanded its PIRANHA wheeled armored vehicle family by a new variant: The PIRANHA Heavy Mission Carrier “HMC”. The PIRANHA HMC marks with its Gross Vehicle Weight of up to 40 tons and a payload of 17 metric tons the top-end of the most successful Western wheeled armored vehicle family. PIRANHA HMC features advanced driveline und suspension technologies like a 10x10 all-wheel-drive-power-driveline and a unique multi-link suspension system (MLS) with 1st / 2nd and 4th / 5th axle steering. These features allow minimum axle-loads to comply with European road regulations, superior cross-country mobility and trench crossing capabilities with a reduced turning cycle of less than 18 meters. #military #defense #defence #militaryleak

General Dynamics European Land Systems (GDELS) has expanded its PIRANHA wheeled armored vehicle family by a new variant: The PIRANHA Heavy Mission Carrier “HMC”. The PIRANHA HMC marks with its Gross Vehicle Weight of up to 40 tons and a payload of 17 metric tons the top-end of the most successful Western wheeled armored vehicle family. PIRANHA HMC features advanced driveline und suspension…