#low pressure die casting

[simalexdiecasting]

Precision CNC Machining: Using Precision to Create the Future

Uncover how precision CNC machining is shaping the future of manufacturing. In sectors including aerospace, medical, and automotive, cutting-edge technology and human skills are opening up new possibilities for components that are creative and high-performing.

[pikapitou]

buckeddie 🕸️!!!

yayyyyyyy I love when characters are TRAPPED together !!!

They're probably not going to die. 70/30. Maybe 60/40 if they get unlucky and the debris pile shifts, but there's nothing they can do about that. Neither of them got hurt, Eddie says oxygen shouldn't be a problem, and two floors above them is a whole crowd of first responders looking at the blinking lights of their transponders on a screen right now. Their chances are really, really good. 

Buck's not gonna be the one to say that, though. 

He shifts closer so he can brace himself over Eddie on his elbows. It's cramped in their little safe pocket, but there's enough room to roll off him if he wanted to. He doesn't. Eddie doesn't say anything; his big hands are still at Buck's waist, under the turn-out coat, where they fell to steady him when the structure groaned and Buck knocked them both to the ground. It’s hard to see each other; their headlamps cast strange shadows from where they're discarded next to their busted radios—when they radioed for help nothing happened but their voices echoing back to them, like he and Eddie are the last two people in the world.

"Eddie," Buck starts, voice low and raspy so the words only fall between the two of them, "This is... bad, right? What—what if we don't..." 

He can feel the give of Eddie's exhale underneath him, the hot rush of it against his face. They're both breathing way too fast for all the concrete dust in the air, but Buck thinks the danger is probably halved if they're sharing it.

"Buck, listen. We're not there yet, alright?" Eddie says steadily, or trying to be. There's a breathless quality to his voice that Buck wants to bottle up like a firefly. 

"Yeah, but," Buck trails off, then deliberately drops more of his weight onto Eddie so he can feel the way he doesn't even flinch until their foreheads brush. "We... we have to be realistic, right?" 

He counts the seconds as Eddie stays silent underneath him. Precious seconds, Buck knows in the back of his mind, and doesn't think harder about why.

Then Eddie's hands at his waist squeeze, once, then slowly, like they're barely even moving, splay out over Buck’s ribs, big and warm and solid. Buck takes an inhale and holds it, so he can feel his chest expand under Eddie’s touch. "Yeah," Eddie says, practically voiceless, into the space between their mouths. "We—should be. Realistic." 

The radio crackles—out of range, not busted—with Gerrard's stupid fucking voice, "Firefighter Diaz. Buckley. Do you copy?" 

Eddie doesn't do anything like spring apart, but he does let go as he reaches for the radio and responds, the loss of contact like pressure taken off a wound. Buck has to sit up and grit his teeth against the blinding urge to—what? Smash the fucking radio? Find a piece of rebar to start bleeding out on? He doesn't get to do any of that, because they're starting excavation efforts now, and Gerrard is signing off with a condescending don't do anything stupid down there, and then it's just them again, staring at each other with the real world right there with them. Buck is still panting, can't get enough air, but underneath him Eddie's breathing is slow, even, and steady. 

"Looks like we're gonna be okay," Eddie says. Smiles. And doesn't touch him again. 

[run-little-hero]

T/CW // Violence, descriptions of gore, discussions of religion, religious imagery

“Get the fuck away from me.”

Hero stumbles, arm braced against a concrete pillar. They’ve found themself cornered and bloodied in a fantastic ballroom. Glittering gowns twirl and gloved fingers dance across the shoulders of their partners, lost to an enchanting, classical rhythm. But Hero, sequestered in a corner by Villain, masks their frantic pants beneath the melody, an arm clapped over their bleeding middle.

Villain pushes Hero farther back, voice low. “You’ve never liked the way I say ‘hello.’”

Hero cowers inward, gripping their arm to their chest as tight as possible. They can slow the bleeding, they won’t die here. But time is running out to evacuate safely and silently. Hero knows compromising the scene by causing commotion might lead to an explosive reaction on Villain’s part.

Hero doesn’t realize how close Villain has gotten until there’s a hand on their waist. “You look a little faint, my friend.” They pull Hero in, whispering, “Seems the crowd is too much for you. Let’s take care of that.”

The image of Villain’s chest flayed open, then crumpled facedown in the mess of their own gore strikes Hero. They feel sick. “You’re the Devil.”

Villain can’t help but smile. “And you’re such a little saint.” They mean it, too. “Don’t worry, I simply meant let’s take care of you.” Suddenly, they’re pulling Hero by the waist onto the dance floor.

“Villain.”

“Hush, we’re being discrete.”

Villain forces one of Hero’s arms behind their neck, the other fiercely gripping their stomach. Layers of frivolous clothing obscure the red seeping through their shirt. The pair sways to the slow ballad, and Hero can see Villain guiding them closer to the exit, inch by inch. They’ll take their time, and Hero leans into their weight as black spots begin to invade the edges of their vision.

“Tell me Hero,” Villain prompts. “Do you have faith in anything? Personally, I don’t see the point in religion when there’s people like us in the world.” Heroes and villains. Good and evil.

“I have faith in myself and my team,” Hero grunts, nearly tripping over Villain’s shoe. “That’s all I need.”

“You never think about God?”

“I’m more concerned with protecting innocent people myself. Can’t rely on the universe for that.”

Villain considers this. “I empathize with you, Hero.” They’re getting closer to the exit, nearly 10 feet from the stairs. “I find our conversations divine, and surely worthy of devotion. We’re magic in and of ourselves, aren’t we? A mixing of forces, alchemical.”

Hero grips Villain’s shoulders tighter. They can feel their feet growing heavier with each half-step. So close to the door. They just need to entertain Villain while they climb the stairs.

“S-some…” They struggle over the first step. “Something like that.” Villain pulls them over the second, all but carrying them.

Hero is wheezing by the time they reach the top, collapsing into Villain. They confess, “This feels more like Hell to me.”

“Hero,” Villain smiles into the crown of their head. “We will never be closer to God than we are right now.”

It sends chills through Hero. They pull Villain towards the exit, but Villain remains stood at the top of the staircase, gaze cast over the ballroom.

It’s not right, but Hero can’t move. The blood is trickling down their body, and they no longer have the strength to put pressure on the bleeding. They silently plead for Villain to move, take mercy and get them help.

“I have faith in you,” Villain says.

Hero feels a push of opposing force against their chest, and all of a sudden Villain looks far away. It’s the image they’re left with as their skull hits the bottom of the staircase with a ‘crack.’

—

snippet #5

[carionto]

Pressure and Release

Human: *hmm-ing at a set of dials and gauges*

Alien: What seems to be *translation unit catches up with the information they're displaying* OH MY GOD IT'S GOING TO EXPLODE!!! GET TO THE ESCAPE PODS NOW!!!!

H: Shh, it's fine, I'm just experimenting.

A: OH MY GOD WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE HORRIBLY!

H: Hey! Rude. *turns a dial causing a loud hissing noise* It's just air compressors and hydraulics.

A: *due to not dying, is beginning to relax* Why do you need up to 200 atmospheres running through these systems. We have invented alloy-specific magnetization mechanisms. Please, why do you keep insisting on these volatile and explosive means?

H: *turns the dial up* Because... *releases the pressure again, loud sudden hissing sound again* That's a cool sound.

A: Just because you think something is 'cool' doesn't make it-

H: *interrupts with another air build up and release sound without breaking eye contact*

A: *leaves*

H: *continues to play around*

_________________________________________

Okay, so I wanna get this off my chest. I find myself now for the fourth time starting a fun little activity, doing it for months on end, having a blast, and then almost suddenly dropping it entirely. First time I wrote some short stories or something every day for about six months and put it on deviantart. Then some longer form stuff started cropping in, sort of continuous narratives or whatever, and I stopped. Second was running a open D&D campaign with a persistent world but ever changing party, each session a sort of one-shot with a decision that would impact the whole world and what future sessions would exist. Not even 10 sessions in I felt under pressure to continue and build upon what I had already and just couldn't and stopped. Third was another kind of TTRPG, this time running my own server for Lancer. Again, open one shots, but less connected and I would hopefully get some of the players to want to run their own games within this freeform framework that I directly lifted from a D&D server I was in, even had some of the same people join as players. Few months later, I felt this massive pressure from myself to run games and come up with new scenarios that I just froze up. I cancelled game after game and just eventually abandoned the server and the resources I had made. Fourth time was here on tumblr itself. Back to writing some short form stuff on a fairly regular basis, almost daily for some time even. Had a blast, and then longer form content started creeping in. I thought I wanted to write some stories with an overarching plot and recurring characters and connected storylines, build up and pay off, that sort of thing. Again, I created this massive pressure by myself for myself of myself to do something I apparently can't. I created this sense of expectation of myself "Well, I started this, I should finish it, but where do I go, what do I do, how can I connect this?" And then this self-inflicted pressure got to me, again. And I stopped.

What I have known for a while, but couldn't put into words is that I don't want to tell a big long epic story or anything like that. I don't have one of those in me and forcing something like that only makes me shrivel up and run away. I have a world, several in fact, in my mind. Entire continents of a low fantasy character driven political intrigue and drama based world with tons of rules and restrictions, thousands of years of history, strong personalities for the main actors and so many individual scenes with them and the supporting cast, and a timeframe for when the overarching story happens and how it ends. But no story itself. Just scenes. I have a high fiction sci-fi world, again, with very distinct factions and races, most of the details I have written out back when I was a teen in a physical notebook with pen and pencil. Lots of historical points and events, how the races work, their domains if you will, near magical powers I try to explain with plausible science. Tons of specific details. Even drew each of their common symbols, how one of the languages is structured, schematics of how their cities are planned, and details on other planets in the system and how those might be important later. But, not a single individual character or story. Just dry facts. And then we have the loose sci-fi world I've created here. Bunch of different angles and perspectives, some comedic, some more serious, even put Cthulu in there. Many short and mostly self-contained stories and episodes of various humans doing things an exaggerated version of humanity would do. There is potential for a number of expanded and longer form stories here, some I attempted, and as mentioned, what ultimately made me stop. I don't have a book in me, and I don't want to write one. I just like to write little snippets and I want to get myself to accept this idea that, no, it does not need to become more than that. Because every time I start going down a path where it feels like it should be more than a one page thing, I seize up, start thinking that I need to do this, panic when I can't come up with anything, go silent, and give up. It just does not work for my brain. And that's fine.

[macbethheadband]

Macbeth cope list

What a lovely theatre it was so beautiful in there the CEILING was so nice. The chairs were comfy too. Uh the walls? They were great also. And the floors were walkable no doubt about it

No problems with the headphones at all except for early on when they all started dancing and jumping around the sound went nuts and the music got really staticy. Not sure if we just got a fritzy night or if thats a problem theyve consistently dealt with. The second the dancing stopped though it was fine again so!

Thats a big part of what really impressed me with the sound too it felt like you could really hear how tightly controlled it was and how much attention to detail theyd put into it with switching peoples mics on and off and adjusting volume when they shouted and looping and overlaying voices. And the sound effects worked really well!!! Incredibly effective and immersive. Sidenote a lady sat in front of us was like oh theres headphones? What are these for? Like i forgot not everybody has dedicated their lives to seeing this play and knows all about it

One downside might be that the audience cant hear themselves so theres a lot of coughing and sneezing and snuffling and snorfing and at one point someones alarm went off and when macduff was doing his all my pretty chickens moment someone was genuinely hacking up a lung behind us. I wonder if thats annoying for the actors LOL i hope the donmar proshot doesnt have a lot of that in the final mix because ill just die

LOVED the use of the glass partition the way theyd have everyone seated in a row and delivering the sort of expositiony lines like i said before. Especially in the second half of macbeth theres a lot of back and forth between lots of short scenes so i really liked the way they dealt with that it never lost momentum. And when they opened the glass and started CLIMBING OUT that was so great

Actually a favourite element was how everyone would start climbing onto the stage and crawling towards macbeth and grasping out at him that was so DELICIOUSLY creepy. Shout out to rona morrison who played lady macduff the woman with the red hair in braids she would crack this extremely unsettling smile whenever she went witchy mode and my eye was always drawn to her.

I have so many macbeths to compare this to bc i watched so many this year and this one is up there as a favourite for sure. I think the descent into madness is hard to do in a way that feels natural and not hammy but we can HEAR the voices in their heads and feel the pressure they feel as everything goes weird around them and the guilt starts to eat at them. I believed it i really did!! The sort of Snap the shift between when hes seeing the dagger versus when duncans dead and hes covered in blood again. YAYYY!!!!! I especially believed his speech about banquo that sort of escalation drawn out by paranoia when hes like make THEM kings???? The SONS of banquo. KINGS??? its like here we go girls…

Also comparing it to all the other macbeths i saw its SO GOOD to have an all scottish cast LOL it really is crazy how that simple change adds so so much

Cush jumbo and her big bright eyes HER EYESSSS shes a very powerful glowy presence in her white dress i loved the way she did this sort of gesture like shes having a migraine paired with the sound and the lights sort of getting keyed up and the ghostly child behind them both and the way she did the out damned spot WAIL and how she said come come give me your hand down low and sweet like to a little kid oh my god…

Im jumping around a lot but the porter was really fun and the way they really harshly snap back into the world of the play after it was really cool like the whole scene was all in HIS head too mmmm

I love when its funny GENUINE comedy like hahaha laughing out loud. It was a rough night! So annoying when you know it could be funny but the actors like nah this is serious business or my name isnt sir kenneth charles branagh. Lets have a giggle mate it makes the frightening parts scarier it makes the tragedy more depthful lets experience the range of human emotions together come on lets go

I just want to keep saying things that worked like the music worked the lights worked the smoke worked the bit where everyones being the witches worked the one child actor playing all the children worked the banquos ghost scene REALLY worked you have DISPLACED the MIRTH the idea that the two of them are carrying a lot of baggage from war and the loss of a child really REALLY works. I think thats the best compliment i can give it like theres nothing i feel like didnt achieve what they were going for or fell short. Im really really impressed by it super super super pleased for everyone for bringing the vision to life so clearly and effectively

David tennant was really good

[thoscheienjoyer]

So the master has always been a little suicidal let's be real, and 90% of the time he tries to drag the doctor with him: spy telling 13 to blow them both up, ainley telling 7 to fight him on a collapsing planet, ainley snapping and trying to blow up the universe on purpose, Delgado trying to go back and time and risking fucking up him and 3's current life, Missy and Saxon unleashing Cybermen despite themselves etc.

So I wrote a story about koschei also having those thoughts and asking theta to join out of devotion, I assume most of the examples of the master are out of bitterness but with koschei is out of wanting an end to the constant drumming

Theta and Koschei sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking Gallifrey, the twin suns were low, coating the landscape in a golden glow of colors. The Academy loomed in the distance, but here they were free from the pressures and expectations they had. They often escaped to this spot to take in the beauty of their home planet, however, the usual tranquility was gone. Koschei had been unusually restless, his eyes were distant, like he was focused on something else. Theta noticed but didn't want to press his friend too soon, he knew about the drums, the relentless pounding that haunted Koschei’s mind, and had done everything he could to help, but they never fully went away so he assumed maybe this behavior was related.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the cliff, Koschei finally spoke, his voice showing no sign of how he felt, it was matter of fact. "You know, if we jumped off this cliff together it would prove what great friends we are, wouldn't it?"

Theta's hearts skipped a beat and he turned to look at Koschei, trying to read the expression on his face. Was this just a morbid joke, or something more? He chose the first for some peace of mind. "Would we hold hands?" he joked uncomfortable, trying to keep his tone light but his concern was evident.

Koschei met his gaze, his eyes filled with a seriousness that sent a chill down Theta's spine. "Yes," he replied softly. "We would."

Theta swallowed hard, "Koschei, why would you ever think about something like that?"

Koschei crumbled and began to shake like a leaf from trying to hold back the emotions spilling all at once, "The drums, Theta, the drums! They're unbearable! But what's more unbearable is the thought of leaving you all alone. I can't bear the thought of a life without you so you must feel the same about me, if we die together, maybe... maybe my next regeneration won't hear them anymore?"

Theta felt a wave of sorrow and fear wash over him. He reached out, taking Koschei's hand in his own, holding it tightly, his other held his face. "Koschei, listen to me. I know it's hard but this isn't the answer. I promise you, one day, I will find a way to fix it. I will help you, but you have to hold on. Please, don't ever think about doing something like that again?"

Koschei's composure broke, and he began to cry, his body trembling more with the force of his sobs. "I just want it to stop, Theta! I want it to stop so badly!"

Theta pulled him into a tight embrace as he cried. "I know, Koschei. I know. But you have to stay with me. We’ll get through this together. I won’t leave you alone with this, I'm right here. "

They sat there for a long time, long enough for the suns to set. Theta continued to hold Koschei, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. As the stars appeared in the Gallifreyan sky, Koschei's sobs gradually subsided. He remained in Theta's arms, exhausted from all his emotions . For now, that was enough.

In the quiet of the night the only sound was their breathing, it was soothing to them both, to Theta because it was a reminder his friend would stay alive, and to Koschei because it was a reminder his friend wouldn't leave him to deal with this alone.

Oh the angst of knowing his friend WILL indeed leave him to deal with this alone

[humanityissstrange]

When the aliens found earth, there were several factions, but it took decades to realize the heads of every faction were puppets, propped up to give the illusion of choice.

Pick your factions, pick your puppeteers, pick your driving motivations as you please, but there's only one group of puppeteers, regardless of how diametrically opposed the factions appear to be.

The Religious, supposedly many groups, supposedly holding no lands, but holding majority sway in many of the most violent and impoverished countries, with their congregations just doing what they were told in the name of God/the gods/ancestors/karma or whatever the local group espoused, and their leaders answering to a hierarchy that was either secretly supplanted by or outright created by one institution in particular, founded by an emperor from the butchered corpses of the religions of his day, and predating most forms of technology beyond basic metallurgy. Violent extremists ready to die for their cause embedded in nearly every nation ensure that none move against their interests too strongly.

The Structured, who have rigid societal systems that may or may not allow transitions between castes, and pursue efficiency and predictability. Those in the upper tiers fight amongst themselves viciously while their lessers cling doggedly to patriotic purpose, medicate themselves into a non-sapient haze, or kill themselves. Often all three, in that order. Their soldiers are generally brainwashed and their leaders are entirely unconcerned with collateral. After all, what use is the machine they have mounted with such effort, if not to build what they wish, and destroy what opposes them?

The Free, a rabid mob led by feelings and a constant stream of peer pressure from their omnipresent technology, that spends their time decrying the latest in the chain of liars to lead them and violently attacking one another over their perceived differences rather than questioning why their ballots only ever feature liars, or finding ways to do better. While it is near impossible to prevent the transmission of information in a technological society, it is incredibly easy to drown it in refuse and ridicule anyone who dares look at it. It is hard to stop the river of human consciousness, but shockingly easy to dye and divert it as one pleases, so long as you don't need precision.

The Profiteers, an alliance of less ignorant and more amoral members of most nations, and owners of a few. They ask one question in response to any and every thing to ail their fellows. "Now how can this be used to benefit me?" Bankers, corporate shareholders, political leaders, media personalities and mid-level religious figures all fall within this category, none hold to the ideals of their place, but are allowed to go on because they smooth logistics and are very effective saboteurs if ousted. They play symbiont to the upper echelons and parasite to the lower, which positions them as easy scapegoats should any of the chattel ever decide that enough is enough, and resort to violence.

The Equals, only ever scavengers feeding on the carrion of profiteers who overstayed their welcome, they rapidly self-destruct or transition to Structured or Free as soon as their twice-stolen wealth runs low, while their leaders abscond with whatever remained to join the Profiteers instead.

Three billion people, divided amongst these groups, according to our analytical algorithms connected to their Internet.

The "reset" a cyclic purge of population prevented them from growing too numerous, and after we saw the results, we asked the computer who or what ensured the reset would happen.

Twelve hundred people not in any category was the answer. Not mentioned on the Internet, no papers of identification, just inferred from holes in the information.

They did not rule anywhere, nor were they known to the public. But the ones who did rule, the ones at the head of every faction, answered to them.

Bored monsters, selectively bred for intelligence, not empathy, and trained from birth to see themselves as superior. The world as their sandbox, wargaming against one another to keep themselves sharp.

[man--eater]

WIP Wednesday 10/9/24 It Will Come Back

I’m working on an Alastor/Daphne oneshot for Halloween that I am super excited about—a spooky little New England folktale AU where Alastor has been cursed and thrown out of Hell and time, and spends centuries haunting the forests of New England as a monster, unable to change himself back. It’s set when Daphne lived on earth, in the mid-1600s in the Puritan society of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. And one cold winter night, something comes knocking on her door....I am working on art for it too, and weeping as I do my best to write what dialogue there is in Early Modern English (send help):

“Dost thou desire to shelter hither?” Daphne asked, holding her fear in check with an iron grip. The beast's red gaze was terrible to bear—its eyes were so unnaturally bright that the lantern looked dim in comparison. Its open maw slavered, dripping blood onto the threshold of her house. It took a step closer in an awkward movement; one of its forelimbs was curled around its breast. A spatter of blood fell from between its fingers, steaming as it melted through the deep snow. The creature made a sound—the soft bleat of a deer, not the terrible screams she had heard in the woods, and it looked past her to where the fire crackled on the hearth. Great clouds of vapour rose from its nose, so cold was the night. “Enter, if ye mean me nay harm,” Daphne said, stepping aside to clear the doorway. The creature whickered, flicking its ears back and forth, and tucked its head low and limbs close to squeeze inside after her. Her pulse pounded in her throat as it rose taller, its presence dominating the room. In the firelight, it cast long, eerie shadows on the walls, leaving her outnumbered and surrounded. But if it meant to attack her, or eat her, why would it wait on the step in such a strange mimicry of politeness? Why not simply snatch her when she opened the door? Why knock at all, when doubtless it was perfectly capable of tearing the door from its frame? Daphne had no more time to think, however, because the creature collapsed to the floor by the fire, curling in on itself. With its too-bright eyes closed and all its long, rawboned limbs tucked away, it looked far sorrier and much less alarming. It cautiously lifted its hand from its chest, and a fresh gout of blood poured onto the floorboards until it resumed placing pressure on the wound, groaning. Any man would die of such a wound—she did not know what the beast was, but she doubted it would survive.

tagging @sunsetofdoom @copaline @cuttletoon @castawayinhxll @verona2314 @oakishdelights and @cynical-kitten (no pressure! <3)

[thetriumphantpanda]

If you're still taking prompts, how about "you can kiss me you know" with Javi G? Please

I really like your writing and I don't think many people write for him. Thank you for sharing your writing.

You have NO IDEA how happy I am that someone requested Javi G. I love this man and I would easily lay down my life for him, so thank you! 🫶🏼 There's no actual smut in this one, just romantic, puppy-dog Javi G, but if enough people are interested I might do a part two with smut? Let me know what y'all think.

And thank you for being such a darling and complimenting my writing, I'm so glad you enjoy it! 😚

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x Female Reader

Word Count | 657

The ocean was calm as you looked out at it, the low evening sun casting a mixture of orange and pink across it. Even when the waves broke below you it was calm, the warm evening breeze doing nothing to cool your hot skin. 

“You look beautiful in the sunset.” Javi mused, his hand rested at your back, he’d just filled up your champagne glass with more liquid which was pooling delightfully in your stomach. 

Javi Gutierrez was not your usual type. Sure, he was handsome and absolutely loaded with money, but he was soft and gentle and a little withdrawn. That was until you’d asked him about his favourite film, and he’d launched off about all sorts, talking with his hands with his face lighting up like you’d given him the world. 

As first dates went it had been nice enough. He’d insisted on dinner at his lavish home, you’d sat out on the terrace as a waiter brought a full three courses from the kitchen. You’d drank far too much champagne to be sensible so had said yes when he asked if you wanted to try shooting. It had gone as well as could have been expected, with shots ringing off into the water and the two of you laughing with a promise that Javi would try and teach you if you wanted to come back. You’d been here hours, longer than you’d ever usually spend with someone on a first date and the closest he’d gotten to kissing you was to hold your hand as he watched you eat your dessert. 

You turned to him and smiled, his shirt was a dark orange colour, loose-fitting with short sleeves and a frankly obscene number of buttons undone, showing off a fair bit of his golden chest, which you couldn’t help but focus on now the champagne was doing most of the talking for you. 

“So do you.” You’d replied with a smile, watching as a soft blush creeped onto his face. 

“I’ve had a really lovely evening with you,” He spoke, putting a bit more pressure on your back, “I hope I’ll be able to see you again?” There was a hopeful look in his eyes that you couldn’t bear to break, and you found yourself not wanting to. 

“Of course, you promised to teach me how to shoot after all.” 

He smiled and for a second you thought this would be the moment he kissed you, but instead he picked up his glass of champagne and drank. 

“You can kiss me, you know?” 

His head snapped to look at you, his body turning so he was leant against the wall on one elbow. 

“You’d like me to kiss you?” He asked, those puppy-dog eyes you’d fallen for right at the start boring holes into your soul. 

“Yes Javi, in fact if you don’t I think I might die.” 

He smiled at you, shuffling himself closer before cupping your face in his hands and doing just that. He pressed his lips to yours softly and you melted, letting your hands come up to rest on his biceps as you moving to press your body into him. His scent was overwhelming, masculine and sweet and fruity all at the same time, you made a mental note to find out what cologne he wore because you were going to always need this in your senses, even when he wasn’t there. 

You opened your mouth against his, feeling as he did the same and then his tongue was on yours, molding into one as they tangled together. You could taste the champagne and the fruity ice cream from earlier in his mouth which made your tongue more urgent, wanting to soak up everything you could about this man. 

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless sigh, “Would you like to go inside?” He asked. 

“Only if inside means to your bedroom.” 

[visionthefox]

silly comment (tsams)

im so sorry most of my post are related to this show I PROMISE I will be over it soon just..wanna say someting.. Solar is aware of old Moon's bad past.. oh shocker! - but also! it is! he had seem to know of OldMoon BEFORE he even moved in- sure.maybe NewMoon vented over his old self, how he is sad Sun was still missing him while also trying to pretend to be ok.. and a comment I guess many had forgotten was this

Solar.. had told Moon to MAKE SUN JOING HIM, before he himself was taking in missions.. Now.. why I mention this? is believed that he and NewMoon dont see Sun as someone capable to even control himself, by the passing comment on how "stupid" he is.. yet.. part of me thinks that- While Moon has this "savior" mentality of "I must protect. and by that also lie!" idea, having him not only lie to Lunar yet also Sun too if even by a short time.. Solar himself may just be both worried to see another Sun die? and feel like he didnt do enough to save him- but also just keep a distance.. he clearly cares to keep everyone safe. he clearly does care.yet he also is unable to show this. or even mention it. when in the special christmas ep. he walked out. yet stood nearby. and with Moon? he had soften so much and build a bigger trust bond. what I say is. Solars motive to push Sun away are different. as he himself is aware Sun is not found of him.. may not even see him as a family!

(the Oh here is so low, yet clearly not very happy)

he doent know? was he really unaware? of did he just didnt wanted to think of Him like this? so Solar is aware of Sun's stress, is aware of how Sun is treated, he himself adds to it by mere pressure to just be on Moon's good side, so he knows if he and Sun go along? is gonna be stressing for both.. and Moon? HE is the one who CHOOSED to push Sun to the side.. when he himself had promised to be better.. if only he had helped Sun train? maybe help him control his emotins like those galaxy kiddos do with Lunar? then Sun could be involved. Sun's magis is not even CLOSE to that of Lunar. yet he has it, he mentioned it on the last lore vid

is annoying to see the cast treath Sun like he didnt -WON aganst a winthertorm -WON and survived a MAGIC BLAST. -hell SURVIVED with old Moon and his own KC, by 10 years.. 10 years of ABUSE (hear that Lunar?? huh!) Sun is emotinal- not weak!

[simalexdiecasting]

Innovation in Zinc Die Casting Alloys: Driving Progress and Performance

Utilise zinc die casting alloys to stay on the cutting edge of innovation. This dynamic industry is always changing, bringing better performance, better surface finishes, and shorter lead times. Learn about the most recent innovations and growing trends in zinc die-casting alloys and how they are improving product efficiency and quality in a variety of sectors.

[atragicallycrispydude]

Nagoriyuki is utterly perplexing to me as a character, specifically because of his weaknesses compared to the rest of the ggst cast.

Like, okay, they made a character who can get huge screen carry off of most of his buttons, big damage off of a lot of his combos, solid pokes, and scary pressure that builds pretty good meter.

In exchange, if you fail to open your opponent up with your pressure or go for a combo extension at the wrong time, you end up at huge disadvantage. You also have INSANELY committal moves and some of the worst movement in the game (yes you can fukyo > beyblade but that's very committal, situational, and risky.)

That's fine! There's nothing inherently wrong with that! Looking at Nago alone, that is a solid character!

Except... His exceptional strengths aren't really all that exceptional. Half of the cast can get those half-health huge damage combos. Maybe not as easily as Nago, but they also don't slowly die for playing the game, and can usually run (Sol is a good example of this)

That's fine, though. Is it annoying? Yeah. Is it good balance? Absolutely.

The thing that drives me up the wall though is that Nago is forced to interact to keep his blood low, unlike LITERALLY EVERY OTHER CHARACTER WITH A SIMILAR METER

It's baffling!!! Sin has a similar concept with a meter to use on his specials, for fucks sake, XRD Sin and Nago have the same gimmick!!! How do you refill Sin's meter? Let two seconds pass. You can get hit, you can block, you can keep attacking, you can use supers, you can do WHATEVER YOU WANT while your gauge passively refills!

But, okay, Sin doesn't get the same things from his meter, a better example is Asuka and Happy Chaos! Who get to use their meters to force you into almost impossible to contest blockstrings and ambiguous strike/throw mix and then BACK OFF AND REFILL THEIR METERS SAFELY

Asuka is the worst for this - so many of his spells are plus 80 million on block (metron arpeggio - the portal with the red cubes - is genuinely +113 on block) so he can sometimes just stand in front of you and leisurely peruse his spells and refill his mana, AND HE ALSO GETS HUGE DAMAGE AND SCREEN CARRY

Happy Chaos uses one of his meter refilling moves DURING his long-range pressure with reload cancelling!!! What!!!! His concentration refill lowers the rate at which concentration decreases by half!!!

I'm not saying that Nago needs a buff, he's in a good spot (the wwa nerf definitely hit him the hardest I think though) it's just monumentally frustrating that ArcSys did it right ONCE and then used the "this character has meter management" to give characters almost no weaknesses while not forcing them to take risks like Nago does to actually manage it.

[spiribia]

Hey, umm. I've started downloading FFXIV yesterday. Any beginner tips? 👶

Dungeon party composition follows a ratio of 1 tank, 1 healer, 2 dps. You can change classes freely later, but some starting tips about function:

- Tank generally leads the way in the dungeon and steers the route, running ahead and aggroing all the enemies. The rest of the party follows and tries not to run ahead of the tank. Running ahead of the tank is a heresy. A tactic you’ll see often to speed up the dungeon is that the tank will just keep running, snowballing multiple groups of mobs with them, and then letting the party mow down the mega cluster that results all at once with AOE attacks

- Dps (focus on damage dealing) roles don’t tend to be as much in the spotlight in terms of keeping the party alive in normal circumstances, so one of these might be a lower key pick for a beginner, if that appeals to you. It’s significantly slower to try to queue for a dungeon as a DPS than it is to queue as a tank / healer due to supply and demand

- If you’re a healer, make sure to always yell at people and let them die if you don’t like them. This one is a joke btw

- Early dungeons are low key enough that they’re fairly low pressure environments to learn healing or tanking if you do want to start out as one of those roles. Veteran players will generally be patient and even kind with you if you’re in like Sastasha

- this is a stack marker. It means Everybody pile on top of me to distribute the incoming damage or I will take it all by myself and die. If you get this, don’t run away from everyone. There ARE markers where if you get them you’ll want to run away from the group to avoid catching them in the crossfire, but if there are arrows pointing inward to you, it’s generally a stack marker

- if you see this eye appear over a boss, turn your characters back to it to “look away” before the boss finishes casting

- early on, you’ll want to complete new job quests as soon as they are available to unlock new skills

- a lot of features will also be locked to main story (MSQ) progress early on - I say that not to insinuate you should rush it, but just as an FYI. Take your time with it and enjoy, it’s a huge beast.

- most important rule is to have funnn :3 none of this is direly important, just pointers

[star-named-riddle]

Day 17 - Scarf

Yep, that scarf. if you know, you know. Entirely NSFW, a lemon from the very start, no plot, all smut

Also another long one

Lord Voldemort climbed atop his barely coherent paramour, half-mad with desire, the other half mad with the notion he was not the only man to see her like this.

Bella panting, blushing, naked beneath him.

He gathered her wrists above her head, pinning them together with a single hand, her hands and his digging into the pillow, over her tumbling curls. The softness of her hair elicited a memory in him.

The scarf. The damned green, near transparent scarf, had been soft in his hands as well.

His left hand reached through the air, his palm turned up and awaiting. The scarf flew into it, and Lord Voldemort wasted no time in tying Bella’s dainty wrists to the headboard.

“Your husband said you should wear it,” he teased.

The pupils in her grey eyes went wider, and he thought, even if just for a second, that he would like to dive in and get lost in their enticing darkness. And never come up again.

Instead, Bella wrapped her long legs around his waist and pulled him closer with her thighs. He devoured her lips, robbing her of the fleeting moment of control. He rubbed his palms up and down her sides, from shoulder blades to hips, reveling in the way her body spasmed under his.

He rocked against her, teasing her, weaving back and forth across the line of pleasure-pain that ruled her desire. She was swollen and sore, but delightfully pink and wet, he saw as he pulled himself back to sit on his haunches.

He let his fingers caress her inner thighs, delighting in the shiver of her skin. She’d have bruises there in the morning. He had been rather careless in his ravishing tonight. He smiled, thinking of the things he had already done to her tonight. Of her naked body pressed against his, then against the mirror. Of the way he had carried her mellow, sated body to his bed while her mind was still high on pleasure, just to take her again, hard and rough and fast, until she had mewled her pleasure from beneath him, fighting for every breath under his weight.

His own desire stirred again, heat pooling low in his belly, hardening in his groin. He leaned forward, placing his hand steadily over Bellatrix’s mons, palm all pressure while his fingers teased her lips.

Bella’s hiss turned into a hum under his touch. He cast a vibrating charm on his own hand, and watched her struggle to release her hands. Her legs came entirely off the mattress, thighs twisting together over his hand, knees and ankles pressed together, toes curling as she pleaded, with moans and gasps, for him to stop.

He would do no such thing. She had spent the entire evening teasing him with that damned scarf and filthy, delicious visions of herself slipping those damned thin straps off her shoulders. He would have her beg for him.

Bella’s pleading eyes found his. He renewed his spell and her eyes rolled back, a moan breaking loose from her throat only to die against his lips. She went limp, her body slowly unfurling, limbs stretching on the mattress. She weakly returned his kisses.

He could stop now, he ought to, really, as she was utterly spent. And yet, he felt like the scarf hadn’t been put to proper use. With a playful nip of her lips, he whispered a spell into the shell of her ear.

“Tergeo,” he said, a mischievous smile on the corner of his mouth. Bellatrix opened her eyes, and looked at him, content. Her body clean, and fresh, and rid of all evidence of their night.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Lord Voldemort did not acknowledge her words in any way. He removed his equally clean hand from between her legs, and pushed Bellatrix’s hair off her neck. He gave her a moment of respite, if only to better savour her surprise the next second.

Bellatrix stretched, her hands reaching for the headboard, pulling herself slightly up on the pillows, trying to alleviate the tension of the scarf around her wrists. She looked up, to the green garment that had got her into such trouble. She didn’t dare ask to be released. Knowing her master, and considering her previous teasing, he would leave her to sleep like this.

His low laughter caught all of her attention. Mirth, true mirth, was a rare thing in the Dark Lord.

She turned her head towards him, smiling. She was sated, and willing to bet his laughter meant he was too.

The glint in his eyes was enough to prove her wrong.

“We’re not done, Bella. Oh, no, I’m not done with you,” he growled into the skin of her neck, trailing kisses down the column of muscle there. “We’re merely starting over.” He balanced his body on his elbows, looming over her.

She swallowed a whimper. She felt depleted, and yet her body seemed to awaken again under his gaze.

“My Lord?” she asked, unsure of what else to do.

It was the wrong question. Or the right one, perhaps. Lord Voldemort’s eyes flashed red, and she knew she had stirred something within him. It was entirely the right question.

She expected hungry kisses, possessive hands, even daring fingers, but not what followed.

The Dark Lord parted her legs with his right arm, pulling her left thigh up onto his right shoulder, and then lowered his body into the mattress, settling between her legs. She could not peel her eyes off him as he moved, and he held her gaze as he adjusted her right leg upon his left shoulder.

He kissed the skin of her inner thighs, where it was softest, first one side, then the other, allowing his chin and nose to drag across her swollen core. The gasping scream that earned him nearly destroyed his resolve to tease her within an inch of her sanity. He looked up, watching her breasts move with every heave of her chest. He kissed her lips, and the painful but pleasurable cry that escaped her told him she was entirely too sensitive to tolerate his touch for long. She moved her feet to his back, her heels softly pushing down and away.

This would be torture for her. He caught a glimpse of the green scarf, which she had tangled further in between her hands in a hopeless effort of either setting herself free or pulling herself away from him. The sight of it was enough to have him focus on his goal again.

Teasing.

He wrapped his arms around each of her thighs, pulling her feet off his back while steading her hips. She wouldn’t be able to move. Then, he dove into her. Tongue and lips and all, going so far as to carefully drag his teeth across her sensitized clit.

The sounds that drew from her were delirious. Her body squirmed, trying and failing to get away. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her down every time she managed to gain an inch away from him.

“Master!”

“What?” he asked, taking a deep breath before resuming her torture.

He pressed his tongue against her and sucked. Bellatrix bucked, successfully pushing his mouth off her. He gave her the respite she had earned, head leaning on her leg.

“Stop! Enough,” she said, gasping for air between words, her whole body working for every single breath.

He plunged his mouth into her one last time, reveling in her desperate moans. He gathered enough focus to pry into her mind, and found her on the verge of despair between pleasure and pain.

“Beg!” he ordered, kissing her thighs again. He licked a path up her body then, giving her a second of peace before twisting two fingers into her.

She curled her legs up again, trying to hold his arm between them and twist away from his touch. She was so close, yet it was unbearable.

“My Lord, it’s too much.”

“Beg!”

She didn’t. She wouldn’t. His Bella would not crack so easily. Stubborn and proud, begging did not come naturally to her. And he knew it.

He pushed his body back in between her legs, leaving her core at the mercy of his fingers. He curled his fingers inside, and pushed his thumb against her nub, rubbing it in circles. He felt her inner walls quiver and squeeze his fingers, which prompted him to alleviate all pressure at once.

Her complaint was very audible, and her eyes searched for his, pleading.

“Would you like me to stop now?”

“Mm-mpht… no! Not now!”

“What do you have to say to me?”

Her mind had become an incoherent mess. He moved his fingers inside her, gathering her thoughts and cuing an answer out of her.

“Please…” her voice died in her throat.

“Please what?”

“Please, my Lord, please-”

“Stop?”

“No!”

“What then, Bella?”

He kissed her, his thumb resuming its motion.

“What then, Bella?” he growled low into her ears.

“Master! I nn-need-” her voice trailed off again, giving place to a mewl ripped from deep within her.

“What do you have to say to me?” he asked, kissing her. His fingers teased her, but never touched her in quite the right way.

She pulled her lips from him, inhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry, my Lord. I’m sorry about the scarf, Master,” she said, her wide grey eyes pleading with him. “Make it stop, please, please make it stop, my Lord.”

Lord Voldemort laughed, removing his fingers from her entirely.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl now, Bella.”

He released her wrists with one wave of his hand. The green scarf fell from the headboard, landing on her curls. Her hands came to rest on her chest, angry red lines marking them. She was still panting beneath him, still not done. They weren’t over yet.

He entered her with one long, slow thrust. His hands gathered her body close to his as he pushed deeper. She arched her back under him, pushing herself against him, her body already succumbing to her pleasure. He made sure to rub against her as he thrust, and her pleasure enveloped him completely.

He kissed the last moan off her lips, and abandoned himself into the familiar cradle of her hips.

Also on AO3, together with all the fics uploaded today

[macgyvermedical]

Curious if you know much about food sensitivity testing. My cousin's SIL is purportedly a wellness NP and has their whole family getting their sensitivities checked every 3-6 months with lab draws. I always thought allergy testing was done with scratch test on skin. And like how do you cast a wide enough net to test for everything? I didn't think labs really worked like that? I thought you kind of had to test for specific things and almost like a process of elimination.

It seems as though every time cousin gets tested there is a whole list of foods she should remove from her diet because she is "sensitive" to them. It always feels like that list is whatever she's been eating most recently (and usually that food is something that she used as a replacement for something she was sensitive to last time) for example she cut out cow's milk and went oat because oat was ok on the list. Then all of a sudden oat wasn't ok anymore and she went coconut. Now coconut is supposedly causing trouble. Cousin said she didn't think she was having issues with it but is now looking for alternatives and I'm just worried about her.

When I asked the SIL what the sensitivities mean the response was that it causes inflammation which can lead to skin conditions, weight gain, problems in the digestive tract, or cancer.

Obviously I know food sensitivities exist and that there's a lot of processed garbage in our food the whole thing just feels off.

No worries if you don't want to answer thing or if you don't know. This is partially me venting in your askbox

Before we can talk about what your SIL is probably doing, we have to talk about food allergies, food sensitivities, and how we test for them.

A food allergy is an inappropriate immune reaction to a chemical that is present in a food.

The first type is the "immediate" type. When the food is ingested, the body's immune system misidentifies one or more proteins in that food as dangerous and "overreacts" by creating an antibody called immunoglobulin E. Immunoglobulin E (aka IgE), triggers the release of histamine and other chemicals that, in the extreme excess caused by IgE, cause symptoms like itching, swelling, hives, low blood pressure, difficulty breathing, vomiting and diarrhea. These symptoms can be life threatening. Less severe versions of this can trigger gastritis, brain fog, asthma, and non-life-threatening versions of the symptoms listed above.

Proteins from peanuts, tree nuts, cow's milk, eggs, fish, shellfish, soy, wheat, and sesame cause about 90% of these allergic reactions.

There are other immune reactions and other Immunoglobulins. For example, there is immunoglobulin G, which serves as a "memory" and helps protects against viruses and bacteria. IgG essentially makes an impression of everything that comes into the body. When you get titers drawn to determine whether you're immune to something (a test you might need to get if you work in the medical field), the test looks for specific types of IgG to determine whether your body still remembers the virus or bacteria you were immunized against or exposed to. More about this later.

IgG, along with IgA and IgM can contribute to autoimmune conditions like MS, graves disease, rheumatoid arthritis, and lupus (which are very technically allergic reactions to oneself).

A food sensitivity or intolerance on the other hand is a condition caused when a person doesn't have the necessary enzymes or microbiome to digest a particular sugar or protein in a food. Food sensitivities do not have anything to do with the immune system. Instead, they have to do with digestion. A food sensitivity often results in bloating, gas, diarrhea, and abdominal pain. While unpleasant, you won't die from an intolerance or sensitivity.

While not technically an allergy or a sensitivity, people also may have conditions that are exacerbated by certain foods, such as sugar or wheat exacerbating arthritis.

Now onto the testing. Allergy testing comes in several forms. You can do blood testing for specific allergens by looking for specific IgE allergens. For example, if you suspect you are allergic to peanuts, you can have blood drawn to check for peanut IgEs. You can also do a skin test, where a section of skin is marked with a grid and small amounts of allergens, along with control solutions, are injected into each section. A welt forms if the substance triggers histamine, and means the person is allergic to the substance. Another test is simply to give the food (in a controlled setting) in increasing amounts until the person has an observable reaction.

For non-dangerous allergic reactions and intolerances, an elimination diet can be done, where a person limits themselves to foods they know are completely safe, wait for symptoms to go away, and then start adding in foods one by one and documenting responses. This can take several months but can be worth it for someone who feels they have many foods that trigger unpleasant symptoms.

What your SIL is probably doing:

There are many companies that offer home allergy testing. This is usually done with a card, where someone places a few drops of blood on the card, mails it in, and gets results for between 90 and 100 different substances.

The problem is, home allergy tests do not test for IgEs. They test for IgGs. Remember that IgGs don't have anything to do with allergic reactions- just the presence or absence of a recent ingestion. All IgG testing does is say "yup, dude ate some peanuts recently".

You might then connect "hey, when I eat wheat my arthritis gets worse, and you said arthritis is partially caused by IgGs" well yes, but your arthritis is caused by IgGs that have identified your cells (among other things), while the antibodies tested for in the test are the ones which have identified the wheat proteins. Just any ol IgG won't do- it's gotta be specific. Wheat may be doing something to aggravate your arthritis, but wheat IgG's aren't what that is.

To be clear, this isn't just my opinion. Every allergy-related organization in the world is in agreement- IgG testing does nothing to determine what you're actually allergic to. We have lots of tests that work for that. IgG testing just tests for what you've eaten or been exposed to recently. Which sounds exactly like what your cousin is experiencing.

R E F E R E N C E S

[birchbow]

I don’t know if this was previously asked but how would the troll language sound like to the human ear? I was also wondering if there are different dialects depending on the caste.

In most of my fics I don't really go into it, so everybody's speaking Space English lmao. But in the fics where Alternian as a language is actually a point of note, I like a very insectile vibe. I kind of like the idea that it's difficult and uncomfortable for humans and trolls to learn to make the noises for each other's languages--trolls do a lot of work with parts of their throat/chest/thorax that humans don't actually have, and are bewildered by how much jaw, tongue, and breath human languages require. Humans aren't physically able to make some of the noises trolls use for language, because they don't have the parts, and learning to make imitations of the various clicks, rattles, chirrs and trills is quite a learning curve.

RE: dialects, I could probably ramble for 1000+ words about,,, actually let me bullet point some thoughts because this paragraph is massively rambling.

my god though, the conflicting linguistic possibilities of a race that's apparently pretty aggressively homogenized overall, but also has incredibly disparate lifespans between very clear castes

do seadwellers speak an older version of Alternian? did shorter lifespans and rapid generational turnover among warmer-blooded trolls lead to "low class" vs "blueblooded vernacular", ie "load gaper" vs "toilet"?

Does the social pressure to stay on top of all the castes below you lead to more heavy enforcement of that divide??

ALSO the concept of like, the vocal posture of USING a "highblood" word being considered a dominant posture or power move--either just because of the associations of it, not using the most respectful language, making it clear "i'm a lowblood, a lower blood than you, I respect that", or for practical reasons! Saying this simpler (more archaic??) highblood word shows your fangs, the longer lowblood terminology developed partially to avoid that sign of disrespect! AHH

And also how much regional dialect DOES one want to write on Alternia?

I think I've written once or twice that Gamzee's got a "seaside accent", because I was thinking that rather than a certain section of land further on-shore, lots of purplebloods might gather spread out along the coast, as the caste right on the border of land- and seadweller. divides along location, but also along bloodcaste and color...

Does Alternia have countries? Does one assume those countries or continents have their own language and culture, when the population apparently only lives there for some short period of years/sweeps before being shipped off into space?

On Beforus we have evidence that other languages are a thing, but Alternia has apparently done away with all sorts of things in the name of the empire--conflicting languages seems like a liability in the march of conquest, so it seems reasonable to me that the language would all be the same--and how does it effect localized dialects and accents, if grubs are all hatched in the same place and then shipped out to different cities, continents, etc?

Or out to different planets/ships! Apparently the empire is ludicrously huge--do settlements on ships far from Alternia develop their own linguistic drift??

Or only if they're colder-blooded trolls, maybe, since trolls as we get them in canon can't reproduce amongst themselves and have to send back to the home planet to create a new generation--so therefore warmer bloods who die or get culled more quickly don't have much chance to develop and pass on new culture before a fresh wave of younger trolls from Alternia come in the follow them?

Does the new generation that's shipped out have its own weird culture drift in a DIFFERENT direction, as Alternian youth culture goes one way and a ship full of adult trolls far from their central civilization goes another?

The concept of a version of PoF where I went in with this as a focus is fascinating to me--Meenah whose mode of speech is written exactly the same but when younger trolls hear it they note that she sounds to them like she's speaking some ancient like, vintage dialect, ala someone who talks like a fancy victorian vampire. Kurloz is hard for the baby clowns to understand sometimes because he's speaking Old Clown and the slang and terminology has shifted over the hundreds and hundreds of sweeps he's been alive. a mix and match of his own speech and hundreds of sweeps of evolution along the way. Young trolls sometimes use terms/slang/dialect that even the generation shipped out before them don't recognize.

Relatedly though it feels like it would shake out to some degree ala various German dialects versus Hochdeutsch, but cranked up to a million--one Technically Textbook Correct version that a person could speak and be understood, maybe that you'd learn in schoolfeeding and that hasn't changed since basically forever, and then whatever billion personal little spins

just, holy shit, the subtle indicators you could get on someone's color, age, location, the amount of time they've spent with their elders off-planet, how old those elders have gotten, the linguistic habits they have--and the linguistic habits they enforce, what's considered polite, how rigid those rules are

I need to go to bed but holy shit man, there are so many axes you could fuck around on, I'm so damn feral thinking about this shit. it makes me into a wild raccoon. I am turning the concept of alien culture over in my pink little hands and splashing it in the water so I can consume it for power