#shipping large freight

[xenmagmarketing]

The Role of a Transport Company in India’s Thriving Logistics Sector

The logistics and transport sector in India is a cornerstone of the nation's economy. With the rising demand for efficient supply chain solutions, the importance of a reliable transport company in India has never been more significant. At JDAC Logistics, we understand the challenges and opportunities within this dynamic industry, and we strive to be at the forefront of innovation and excellence.

The Growing Importance of Transport Companies in India

India’s economy is fueled by a vibrant mix of agriculture, manufacturing, and services. For this ecosystem to function seamlessly, the movement of goods across vast geographical terrains is critical. Transport companies act as the backbone, ensuring timely and safe delivery of goods, whether it's raw materials, finished products, or everyday consumer goods.

India’s diverse landscape — from bustling metropolises to remote villages — demands a well-coordinated logistics system. Transport companies bridge the gap between businesses and consumers, creating an interconnected network that drives growth and development.

Challenges Faced by Transport Companies in India

The role of a transport company in India is multifaceted, but it comes with its share of challenges:

Infrastructure Issues While India has made significant strides in developing its roadways, railways, and ports, gaps remain. Poor road conditions, traffic congestion, and outdated rail infrastructure often lead to delays in delivery.

Regulatory Hurdles Varying state-level regulations and taxes can complicate the logistics process. Although the introduction of GST has streamlined many operations, some regulatory challenges persist.

Technological Integration The logistics sector is undergoing a digital transformation. Many transport companies in India are still adapting to advanced tracking, data analytics, and automation tools to enhance efficiency.

Rising Fuel Costs Fluctuating fuel prices are a constant challenge for the transport industry, impacting operational costs and profitability.

Why Choose JDAC Logistics?

As a leading transport company in India, JDAC Logistics has risen above these challenges by embracing innovation, technology, and customer-centric solutions. Here’s what sets us apart:

1. Comprehensive Services

JDAC Logistics offers end-to-end transport solutions tailored to meet diverse business needs. Whether it’s small-scale deliveries or large-scale industrial logistics, we have the expertise and resources to handle it all.

2. Cutting-Edge Technology

We leverage the latest technology for real-time tracking, route optimization, and efficient load management. This ensures transparency and reliability in every delivery.

3. Nationwide Coverage

Our extensive network spans across India, ensuring seamless connectivity to urban centers, rural areas, and everything in between.

4. Sustainability Focus

At JDAC Logistics, we are committed to environmentally responsible practices. From fuel-efficient vehicles to optimized delivery routes, we aim to reduce our carbon footprint.

5. Customer-Centric Approach

Our clients are at the heart of everything we do. With 24/7 support and tailored logistics plans, we ensure a hassle-free experience for our customers.

The Impact of Reliable Transport Companies on Businesses

A dependable transport company in India can significantly enhance a business’s operational efficiency and customer satisfaction. Here’s how:

Timely Deliveries: Prompt deliveries foster trust and loyalty among customers.

Cost Optimization: Efficient logistics reduce transportation costs, increasing profitability.

Market Expansion: A strong logistics partner enables businesses to expand their reach to new markets, including remote and underserved regions.

Inventory Management: Smooth transportation ensures better inventory turnover and reduces warehousing costs.

Emerging Trends in the Indian Transport Sector

The transport industry in India is evolving rapidly, driven by technological advancements and changing consumer expectations. Some key trends include:

1. Digital Transformation

Transport companies are integrating advanced software solutions for better fleet management, route planning, and real-time updates. AI and machine learning are playing a significant role in predictive analytics and demand forecasting.

2. E-Commerce Boom

With the rise of online shopping, the demand for last-mile delivery services has skyrocketed. Transport companies are adapting to meet the fast-paced needs of e-commerce players.

3. Electric Vehicles (EVs)

The shift towards sustainable transport is encouraging many companies to adopt EVs in their fleet. This not only reduces environmental impact but also lowers fuel costs in the long run.

4. Multi-Modal Transportation

Using a combination of road, rail, air, and sea transport is becoming increasingly popular. This approach improves efficiency and reduces delivery times.

Choosing the Right Transport Company in India

When selecting a transport company for your business, it’s essential to consider the following factors:

Experience and Reputation Opt for a company with a proven track record of reliability and excellence, like JDAC Logistics.

Service Portfolio Ensure the company offers a range of services that align with your business requirements.

Technological Capabilities Advanced tracking and reporting systems are a must for efficient logistics.

Customer Support A responsive and proactive customer service team is invaluable during unforeseen circumstances.

Sustainability Practices Partner with companies that prioritize environmentally friendly operations.

Conclusion

A robust logistics network is vital for India’s economic growth, and transport companies are the driving force behind it. JDAC Logistics is proud to be a part of this transformative journey, delivering excellence with every shipment.

If you’re looking for a trusted transport company in India, look no further than JDAC Logistics. With our commitment to quality, technology, and customer satisfaction, we ensure that your goods reach their destination efficiently and safely.

Visit JDAC Logistics to learn more about our services and how we can support your business. Let us help you navigate the complex world of logistics with ease and confidence!

[a-leg-without-fear]

Flooded Red (pt.2) 🩸🌧️

get ready for some ANGST babes

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: torture, experimentation, gore, violence, cursing, electrocuting, drugging, mind control, medical equipment, implied child endangerment, ANGST

Series: Flooded Red

Groggy. You felt groggy. Tendrils of fog clouded around the edges of your mind. Swirling amongst the slow thoughts that had gathered, blurring words and images. Flashes of red, hot blood and bright lights shot through your dazed mind. A dull ache gathered at the base of your skull.

The next thing that registered was the biting cold of the metal table beneath you. Chills shook along your sore spine. You tried to adjust your cramped muscles, tried to stretch out your stiff joints.

But you couldn’t.

Your hands were fully encompassed in metal spheres. Thick iron wrapped around your wrists and encasing your fingers. You pulled at the restraints, desperation leaking into your veins. Rough metal chafed along the skin at your wrists. Rubbing and scratching and leaving the flesh raw.

Panic gripped at your racing heart. Your eyes flew open to gauge your situation. All you could see was black. Like someone had left the lights off in the middle of the night. Your gaze darted around in the darkness. Searching for something, anything. 

You couldn’t breathe. Terror spilled into the edges of your mind like ink in water. Sharp talons raked through any coherent thoughts still bouncing around in your head. Primal fear choked you. You pulled and squirmed, a wild animal struggling to be free.

Latex gloves smoothed down your bare arm. The powdered rubber pulled at your skin as thin fingers prodded at the inside of your elbow. Like five daggers stabbing into you and spurring on the feral beast clawing at your throat.

Your consciousness slipped beneath the appalling gloves, mind tracing along the miniscule veins running under twitching skin. You followed the veins through this attacker’s arm. The pointed taste of norepinephrine and acetylcholine coated your tongue. This person was focused, relaxed.

You zeroed-in on the flow of acetylcholine through this person’s veins. Tracing the chemical back to its source. The hypothalamus. That small, ever important part in the center of one’s brain. The main coordinator of the nervous system and bodily cravings.

Like squishing a grape between your fingers, you crushed this person’s hypothalamus with a single thought. You could taste fresh blood leaking into the air, the coppery scent filling your sinuses and satiating the gnawing dread in your gut. The gloves running along your skin disappeared.

Pride licked up your throat, satisfaction seeping into your pores at the absence of latex on your skin.

Torturous electric pulses zipped along your skin. Shocks emanating from the metal table below you and the iron clasped on your hands. Excruciating lightning coursed through your body and made your back arch. Your arms tugged at their restraints, legs scrambling for leverage, head shaking back and forth.

As instantaneous as the shocks had started, the pain ceased. Gulping breaths filled your strained lungs. Sparks of the remaining electricity under your skin made you wince.

“Let’s not kill the techs, shall we? Each corpse garners a mountain of paperwork and a devastated family.”

Your unseeing eyes searched in the void for the source of the voice. It sounded familiar, masculine. A slight southern drawl laced in each word.

“There we are. Calmed down?” 

Recognition hit you in the chest like a freight train. Your lips curled, a feral snarl seeping through your bared teeth.

“You,” you growled, malice and pure hatred filled your mind like sand in an hourglass. This man attacked your home. Hurt your kids. Threatened your Logan. Anger like you had never known washed over you like a raging inferno.

“Yes, me. Now that we are familiar, are we in agreement?” he asked. His voice was loud, projected, crackling. Like it came from a large speaker somewhere to your right. 

“Fuck you,” you hissed. You tugged furiously at your restraints. Bestial rage burned away at all cognition. Flames scorched your mind and sent you into a fucking frenzy. Your teeth gnashed, chest heaved, muscles tightened.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be more cordial than the Wolverine. No matter. Nothing a little behavioral management won’t solve.”

Your body jolted as electricity streaked through your bones. You cried out, jaw clenching and fists tightening in their iron coffins.

This round of electrocution was blessedly short. You heaved, stomach lurching and heart thumping rapidly behind your ribcage, when the shocks had stopped.

“Are. We. In. Agreement?” the man asked again, annunciating every word. You panted, skin glistening in sweat, throat constricting and nearly choking you. The man sighed, “Bleeder, I’ll need an answer. Will you kill any more of my employees?”

You snarled at your old moniker, then thunked your head down on the table in defeat, “No.”

“Good. Now, since that’s settled, I’m going to have Maria draw your blood. Do your best to refrain from killing her. She has two sons at home.”

Powdered latex rubbed at your elbow again. You gritted your teeth, molars grinding against one another, as you tried to restrain the whirling rage inside you. Shaking fingers felt along your skin. Pressing deep into the flesh now and then, looking for that prominent vein that ran through the crook of your arm.

Cool liquid brushed across your skin. A smooth cloth doused in alcohol rubbing and sanitizing your arm. The acrid scent filled your sinuses, making you flinch. Every nerve ending in your body was ringing alarms. Constant fear flooded your mind as the seconds ticked by.

A tight pinch pierced your skin and you nearly went back on your word. Almost lashing out like a cornered, rabid animal. The needle pushed under your skin and settled in your vein. Foreign, metal, cold, bad. It shouldn’t be in your arm. You should remove it, kill whoever stuck it in you.

No. This wasn’t you. You didn’t mindlessly kill people. No matter how angry you were, you would always try to find a solution. Pushing down your own feelings for the sake of peace. The fiery hatred burning inside was a feeling you often tried to ignore, tried to suppress, if not for you then for those you cared about.

Memories floated through your mind like leaves on the surface of a pond. Logan laughing at something stupid you said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Charles giving you a scathing review of a book he’d recently read. Jean and Scott cuddled together, tucked away behind a corner in the foyer.

Your friends. Your colleagues. Your family.

A trembling breath passed between your lips. The feral rage churning inside you had simmered down to a low heat. Just barely warming the edges of your mind in anger. You swallowed a grief-covered lump that had gathered in your throat.

~~~~

Colonel William Stryker watched your blood being drawn with mild curiosity. Like watching an animal in a vet’s office have their blood work done. You were restrained, arms bound and eyes covered, with a terrified Maria standing over you. Her trembling hands clutched at your arm as the red liquid flowed through the rubber tube.

A thick pane of glass separated William from you. Elevated by at least a story, Stryker stood in the observation deck. He adjusted how his dark jacket fell across his midriff. Bright lights hanging from the ceiling reflected white circles on his glasses. 

The control panel sitting before him glowed and quietly hummed. Switches connected to the electric interface of your restraints. Red button to shock you, blue button to sedate you, green button to release you. Ingenious design, if you asked him.

Sharp heels clicked on the concrete floor next to him. Yuriko, black suited and hair slicked back, moved to stand next to William. Her hands were clutched behind her back, chrome nails just barely shimmering in the light. Silver eyes looked between William and your writhing body below.

“Is Xavier ready?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Yuriko, ever the silent one, gave him a quick nod. William took one last glance down at you, a spot of pity bubbling in his stomach, then turned away from the glass.

Soldiers with varying degrees of combat armor and armaments lined the halls of the dam. Each giving William a polite nod as the colonel breezed past. Stryker barely acknowledged the formal greetings, periphery only just catching glimpses of their faces. They were unimportant.

A hiss sprouted from the metal door as it slid open. Chrome, unpolished, with a clouded window near the top. He grimaced in disgust. Everything in this accursed dam was filthy. Not a place for a man of his repute to continue his work, and certainly not structurally sound enough to house the several mutants he now possessed.

The room he stepped into was much like every other room in the Alkali Lake Dam. Concrete entombing him on all sides, bright lights hanging from the ceiling, spots of equipment and machinery placed near the doors for easy access.

Green light glowed from sconces set low on the curved walls. Wires and tools suspended from the ceiling hung in alcoves like swinging corpses. A steel table and chair sat in front of one of those alcoves. Stryker moved to the table, double checking his pen was still in his breast pocket, then turned to face the current object of his desire.

Charles Francis Xavier. In all of his bald, old, crippled glory. His posh blue suit and silk gold tie reflected the white spotlight directed at him. A chrome device sat on the mutant’s wrinkled brow. Steel, magnetization, and electricity working together to cage his mind inside that thick skull of his.

Stryker chuckled under his breath at the sight. The great Professor X. All powerful telepath who could control the entire world with a single thought. Reduced to a hunched man in a wheelchair.

Xavier stirred, head beginning to raise from its lowered position. Stryker kept an air of indifference on his face while clutching at the pen in his jacket. When the mutant’s eyes met the colonel’s, William threw the professor a proud smile. Understanding passed through Xavier’s perplexed expression.

“William…”

“Please, Xavier, don’t get up,” Stryker said, cutting the mutant off. A chuckle threatened to leave his chest at his own quip.

Quiet whirring surrounded Xavier as the man folded in on himself. Eyes squeezing shut, shoulders twitching. 

“I call it the neural inhibitor,” William explained. He watched the mutant struggle under the steel cap, then continued while tapping his forehead, “It keeps you out of here.”

The whirring stopped as Xavier’s eyes opened. Beady blues took in the space around the cripple. Wrists bound in leather straps, suit roughed up at the edges, Stryker and Yuriko standing before him.

“What have you done with Scott?” Xavier asked, voice thin and edged in pain.

“Don’t worry. I’m just giving him a little re-education. Him and that little pet project of yours,” Stryker replied. Xavier tensed in the seat of his wheelchair.

“You don’t mean-”

“Why yes, I do. The little weapon of mass destruction y’all have taken to calling ‘Vampire,’” William said with undeniable confidence. He leaned back on the concrete wall next to him as he said, “Of course, we both know she’ll never truly leave behind her old name. What was it?”

“William-”

“No, that’s not it. ‘Bleeder.’ Yeah, that’s the one,” Stryker mused. Xavier’s jaw clenched, withered hands curling into fists. The mutant eyed the colonel with sparking anger burning in his blue eyes.

“She hasn’t used that calling card in quite some time,” Xavier said slowly, voice coming out measured and restrained. Stryker huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Just because the lion is trapped in a zoo doesn’t change its nature. Savagery can’t be swayed by giving the lion a cushy home and ample playmates. Sooner or later, professor, she will snap again. And from the way she mosied up to me in that mansion of yours, I’d say she’s one breath away from tearing the whole country to pieces.”

~~~~

Logan silently followed the group of teenagers in front of him up the driveway. Early morning sun rippled through the trees and onto Bobby’s family home. Gentle breezes made the grass sway, the sounds of cars starting down the road echoed across damp asphalt, freshly-mowed grass a few doors down floated through the air.

His mind was a fucking hurricane. Spinning and twisting and raging to where it was hard to tell which way was up. Glimpses of the events from the night before rolled through his head like peals of thunder.

You were gone. You were right fucking in front of him, scared eyes meeting his, and then you were gone. Obscured by the frosted blue ice Bobby had conjured. Logan had pounded on that ice until his hands bled, desperate to reach you, desperate to see your eyes again, desperate to get you away from that man.

Stryker.

Wrath boiled in his chest when the name crossed his mind. Logan had no memory to connect to the name, no instance of ill-intent, nothing that would link this deep-seated hatred.

Well, other than the fact that the guy had raided the fucking mansion and took you from Logan. Severed from his life like a missing limb.

He barely registered the climb up the front porch steps. Nor the conversation passing between Rogue, John, and Bobby. Logan’s mind swirled with the agony of losing you, the confusion surrounding this whole scenario, the unbridled fury licking at that primal part of his mind.

His hand subconsciously slipped the front door shut behind his group. White-suburban walls and decorations hit Logan’s downturned vision like he’d wandered into a Target. He brushed away his racing thoughts to verify that the door was locked.

Logan would get you back. He’d stop Stryker, free the kidnapped mutants, and get you back. Even if he had to climb fucking Mount Everest. He wouldn’t rest until you were safe, held against his chest and tucked under the covers in your bed.

thoughts? comments? concerns? theories? let me know!!!

leg's taglist: @hazydespair @spideybv28 @fantasticalartist @autisticnutcase @captainwans @ayamenimthiriel @tsukiko26 @up-l4te-4t-n1ght

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[thebibliophilevigilante]

When it comes to getting intel, there are several ways to go about it. One could ask politely, or ask the right questions to eventually draw information from their target. There is intimidation, threatening your target and demanding the information in exchange for remaining unharmed. Then there is incognito surveillance, appearing inconspicuous and melding in with one’s environment just listening and watching.

The current session was the latter.

A raven-haired man with a blanched tuft in his bangs kept his teal eyes trained on the book in his massive, calloused right hand. His left swirled his take-away cup absentmindedly. He was reading words, but they weren’t registering in his brain. His focus was more concentrated on the conversations around him, and what information he could gather before his next patrol.

The first three rules of real estate are location, location, location. Burnley Brewhouse definitely had that, especially for Jason Todd. It was conveniently placed right on the very edge of Burnley, practically at the juncture of where Crime Alley and The Bowery neighborhoods started (which were all Jason’s domain). By day, the neighborhood was full of regular citizens, students and tourists. By night, the whole area was crawling with denizens of the dark wheeling and dealing for their own personal gain and vices while putting others at risk.

Jason brought his cup to his mouth for a sip, his eyes flicking to the counter where two men with heavier builds were waiting for their order. One had a rough 5 o’clock shadow, the other a scraggly, unkempt blond beard, both wearing holy jeans and beat-up leather jackets. He recalled seeing them once during a patrol a couple of weeks prior, skulking around by the Freight Yards. They were definitely up to no good then, and could offer him decent information in the present. The barista handed both of them a take-away cup, and his eyes quickly glanced down to his book again, his peripherals watching as they meandered around to sit at a table caddy-corner from his in the back corner of the shop.

“Terry was telling me about that new candy order he has coming in,” 5 O’Clock muttered lowly to his friend. “Said it should get here overnight, and we can distribute to the stores first thing in the morning.”

Scraggles ran his nails over his beard as he listened. “Loaded with sugar? Y’know these kids can’t get enough of their sugar.”

“He said it was everything needed from the inventory list. He said he has his pal Molly coming in to help with the shipment too.”

There was a small pause before, “How many donuts did he get and where from?”

“11 for the crew. I think he said they’re from Declan’s over on 14th Street.”

Jason had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Those two idiots were blatantly discussing a drug drop in broad daylight just as if they were talking about a regular candy store shipment.

He switched the book to his right hand as he snagged a napkin from the holder and a pen from the table. He scribbled a note to himself, writing the characters’ names from his book, followed by “PG 11, DL 14.” He knew his own shorthand; the character names were to keep up appearances. “PG 11” would remind him the drop was scheduled for 11, and “DL 14” would remind him the ship would be at Dock Bay 14.

His attention went back to his book as he brought the pen to his lips, teeth nibbling on the retractable plunge as he appeared deep in thought. He was about to tune back into 5 O’Clock and Scraggly’s conversation when the cafe’s entry bell rung.

His eyes flitted to the door to assess the entrant, and he froze. A young brunette with piercing dark eyes was glancing around, looking for a place to perch herself no doubt. She was breathtaking, and certainly unlike any other person he had seen come in to Burnley’s. As she turned to the counter, he couldn’t help the large grin that danced over his face. First he got lucky with the tip-off. Would he be lucky enough for that gorgeous girl to sit anywhere within his vicinity?

@rpwiththelilflower

[lets-try-some-writing]

I have observed several types of fic writers, and so for kicks and giggles, here they all are. Each of them scares me for different reasons.

The Prepared And Ready To Publish™:

Several documents dedicated to worldbuilding, planning, cross referencing, character lists & traits, plot twists, and then the actual fic document.

Dedicated to the max to creating a rich world. Probably knows more about the niche thing than you ever will. 100% could have written a thesis and chose to do fic instead (or did both at the same time).

Created a masterpiece and promptly vanished off the face of creation before coming back in with another banger to crush souls and save fandoms.

Their arrival is akin to the birth of a new era because they never fail to somehow make a niche ship popular, make a headcanon fanon, or otherwise give so much depth and interest to a character or setting that whatever they have devised is largely accepted as gospel by their readers.

They either use a high end writing program or wordpad. There is no in-between.

Mysterious. Very mysterious. Reasons for this mysteriousness vary between fics and authors.

100000/10 would be friends with them if I could. Legendary writers. But also they scare me because ??? What void offered you such power ?????

The Baby Writer:

All vibes and loosely strung plots.

It may not make the most sense, but good gracious the dedication is there.

Notable lack of comprehension when it comes to characters and places, but it's bad form to not leave a kudo because it takes guts to post anything in fandom.

They are still figuring things out and their grammar or formatting (possibly both) is probably a mess, but they've put heart into their work.

Sweetest rays of sunshine who want to be involved and are eager to learn the ropes.

The fandom's young ward or despised new arrival (depends entirely on fandom popularity and age).

8/10 would happily offer advice to them. Just can't read their work for too long without wanting to throw it into grammarly. The fear factor comes in the form of the miraculous misuse of fandom terminology. (Yeah it's tough bud, the fanon is wild. But goodness that term/canon word does NOT mean what you think it does.)

The Smut For Your Soul:

Meticulously plans the smut with all the loving care of a sculptor.

Somehow plot got involved.

Miraculously, they managed to not include an iota of plot and it has somehow managed to work.

Headcanons abound and cuteness and or angst lurks merrily behind every corner.

The tags mean everything and nothing at the same time. They are but faint guides to the fae wilds ahead. Tread lightly.

Has a mountain of unfinished WIPs that will follow them to the grave or emerge ten years after conception to grace whatever fandom spawned the idea.

The fandom thanks them for their service, although often that praise is late or hits like a freight train.

???/10 I personally avoid smut but I have friends who write it so it really depends. Terrifying because you never know who falls into this role of writer. It could be anyone. Normalcy is a mask poorly adorned for the sake of conforming to The Great Machine.

The Angst Lord:

Has a million slightly different ways to hurt their blorbo. Each are somehow more horrifying than the next.

The embodiment of the iceburg videos seen all over the net. Ask one question and you shall unravel and scheme of torment so great you shall regret having dared to speak up.

Has dozens of WIPs or unwritten ideas that they claim they will return to.

They are controlled by passion and emotion and can and will insert their own complicated situation into a fic.

Almost nothing is off limits.

Arrives to the fandom ready to brawl and somehow ends up respected or feared. They often stare in bafflement as they end up unscathed and watch angry comments fly toward the arguably innocent shippers.

Generally some of the nicest people who happen to enjoy inflicting The Horrors upon someone fictional.

'10/10 would befriend and promptly regard like a wild racoon. Offerings of angsty ideas yield delightful commentary. But also I need to prepare myself for anything they say because O U C H my SOUL.

The General Writer:

Fluff, cuteness, possibly a delightful touch of angst and pure unbridled creative simplicity.

They may not have the most brutal or soul wrenching tale, but they always manage to write something that someone, somewhere, desperately needs.

Devastatingly underrated and deserves far more praise for their contributions to the fandom.

Produces some of the softest of scenes and the most touching of interactions between characters in a contained, careful crafted, tale.

Introducing new ships or family dynamics in such a tasteful manner that brain chemistry can easily be altered.

Arrives to the fandom as a lurker and shows their appreciation through their work. Oftentimes, they are very quiet and go unnoticed.

INFINITE/10 Love these writers, honestly a gift to fandom. The sheer level of dedication to producing fluff is astounding and scary all at once.

The OC X Canon:

Has so many ships and headcanons that it's astounding.

The lore development rivals IDW and Lost Light combined. All the kudos to them for putting their souls into their characters.

The dedication is mind boggling.

They put up with so much crap they could be in MMA Wrestling if the verbal assaults translated into physical strength.

Has so many adjustments to lore and whole AUs devoted specifically to creating a perfect world.

Skilled in the extreme (or not) at integrating their ocs into canon.

Arrives to the fandom not intending to make ocs. Leaves with seventeen leashes for their new abominable creations. Is loved or hated by literally everyone, sometimes for no reason.

6/10 perfectly lovely people but very niche in their interest and thus not everyone's cup of tea. Scary because that level of sheer willpower is meant for demi-gods.

There are more types of writers, but these feel like the big overarching ones. Which kind of writer are you? :D

[startreksetplans]

Olympic Class idea

Had a (non-canon) idea about the Olympic class - what if it could saucer separate...

The two parts of the ship

Sphere - holds the warp core & associated systems, nacelles, general engineering, bridge, crew quarters, and crew facilities

Module - Hospital that can be sealed off from the main ship (in case of contagions). It has a shuttlebay to receive medical shuttles, docking ports for ships. Also probably a lot of transporters.

Why separate? Sometimes a hospital must remain in orbit of a planet for quite a long time. Why not have the drive do something else in the mean time.

The Sphere could dock with other modules

Colony Module - carries all the colonists, supplies, construction material etc. When delivered to site, the module becomes an orbiting space station, providing docking and transporter systems for supply ships.

Cargo Module - either bulk freight, or specialised hazardous material such as Neutronic Fuel. Ships going "where no one has gone before" need resupply now and again in the field rather than turn around and head back home for supplies.

Science Stations - manned or unmanned, easier to build at a construction facility than on-site near that black hole you want to study

Sensor Pods - the Olympic sphere could accompany science ships with large mission specific sensor pods. Planet scanning MRI machines for example. [side note: this is what I think the Oberth has - a large uninhabited sensor pod. Held away from the ship due to dangerous emissions. It was meant to be scanning the entire planet, not just surface scans.]

With separation, the Olympic goes from a single purpose to a flexible multi-purpose support ship.

In these pictures, it looks as if the mount for the nacelles struts is resting on top of the long body module.

The original model blueprints for the ship model had different nacelles - perhaps the sphere section had an in-universe refit.

If you wanted to modernise / refit an Olympic ship, taking out the one ship does not prevent the modules beings used by another Olympic in the meantime.

[wolven91]

Introducing; The Hyenids

Warren rubbed at his wrists.

Despite being out of the cuffs for over an hour now, he could still feel them compressing his wrists until the bones grinded against one another. When the draconian merchant, or rather kidnapper and slaver, had turned on the bright lights and blinded him, he’d expected his torture to continue.

The young man still remembered the words that made his blood run cold.

“We’ll take ‘im.” Declared the looming shadow that had the comparatively tiny human shrinking away, despite his arms still being latched to the wall of the merchant’s vessel.

But that was an hour ago and his new ‘owner’ had appeared to collect their purchase.

It was a towering hunched creature, with a dark brown mohawk that ran from the top of it’s head, up and over the hunch before disappearing beneath it’s armour. It grinned wickedly with dangerous looking fangs. To Warren’s eyes, it’s body was a sea of scars and overdeveloped muscle. He took a guess that she was female based on the cleavage, but she looked as if she could tear a book in half with ease.

She grabbed ahold of his elbow and roughly led him away, a whimper escaped him.

This thing was massive, easily ten feet tall and all claws, teeth and muscle. At least the merchant had left him alone. What did this thing want?!

The march was brisk and silent as the grave. Warren focused on his feet, keeping his head low and doing everything he could not to burst into tears and beg them to let him go, to not hurt him. To just leave him alone.

The others had horror stories that they told one another when it was quiet and they were supposed to be asleep. Warren didn’t have any to add, he was a ‘new’ acquisition, was what the draconian had said. They’d taken him from a market place. One moment of needing to step away from the crowd and large, scaled hands had grabbed him.

“Boss!” Shouted a new voice, a brief glance upwards and Warren saw a new creature, similar in appearance to his current captor, but different enough to tell them apart.

“Since when we slavers? The crew ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this! Boss, *I* ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this.” Urged the newcomer, obviously pointing a clawed, meaty finger as Warren. He just kept his head down, the less they knew he was there, the less likely something bad would happen to him.

“We ain’t slavers.” The one holding warren retorted, before releasing the smaller human with a small shove forwards that felt like freight train had just tapped him. Warren stumbled forward into the oversized hands of the newest arrival, who just held him in place.

“I’ll get us away, n’ send a signal to the clan, n’ track the tracer I’ve dumped on their ship. Ain’t nobody ‘round ‘ere gonna’ be able to afford the rest of ‘em. We got a good few weeks to raid that asshole…” Explained the large canine-like creature. They weren’t canids, not by a long shot, but that was the only specie that they even remotely resembled.  The one now holding Warren grunted with a nod, satisfied with the leader’s words.

“And get this’un somethin’ t’ eat. Damn thing’s gonna’ turn inside out by the looks of ‘im.” She ordered, jabbing a finger warren’s way.

Without warning or any say in the matter, Warren was bodily lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the newcomer and carried away as the, seemingly, leader of the crew closed up the ramp and marched off before the human lost sight of her.

Shortly afterwards, he was brought into what could have only been a canteen. It was messy, old food stains had long since dried and were flaking off the walls and floor. The whole room was alive with similar looking creatures. Some wore armour, others; jumpsuits, some wore nothing at all. It was only because of this, Warren mentally realised that he may have been off on his guess of genders with these creatures.

They all sported chests that would make any man blush, but when his eyes naturally were drawn down the ‘nude’ creatures, he found that every one also sported significant endowments between their legs too. The whole room’s eyes were on him, the lights over head played with their gaze, some of their pupil turning reflective as they stared at him.

“’Ey! We ain’t slavin’! The boss has gone mad if their thinkin’ we’re gonna’ accept this!” Called one, which got the crowd to murmur and agree, their large heads bobbing in agreement. Warren could only glance around, petrified at the room full of at least thirty or forty dangerous looking creatures. Spikes and piercings adorned them. Some had weapons in their hands, from crude clubs to sharpened blades. They all had the posture of those who weren’t afraid. Neither for themselves nor to get what they wanted.

Raiders? Marauders? Although, based off what he’d heard, Warren couldn’t confidently pin ‘slaver’ to them. The one carrying him shouted back to the room, rather than addressing the one that spoke.

“We ain’t slavers! This un’ was all we could get our hands on.” She jostled the young man roughly as she spoke, punctuating her words. “The clan are comin’ to free the others by the tracker Boss snuck on the slaver’s ship.” She explained as she made her way to the far end of the canteen although Warren couldn’t see where she was going. He lay there, draped over her shoulder, his arms laying against the inch thick fur that was surprising soft, even with the diamond hard muscles that rippled underneath.

“So what that’un?” Shouted another voice on the other side of the room to the original that spoke. The one that carried him grunted.

“Hungry. Is wha’ he is. Get ‘im some food!” She demanded before Warren was once more lifted and brought down, placed on the floor at the feet of all these strange creatures. The one that carried him turned away and began to leave, Warren wanted to sprint after her… him? Them. Instead he remained rooted to the spot until they had left and the whole hall turned in unison at him.

He came very close to pissing himself in fear at the sight of an entire pack of giant bipedal hyenas all staring at him, some licking their chops with lines of spittle dangling down...

== 0 ==

Twenty minutes later, Warren had the fattest, largest steak he had ever seen sat on a large flat piece of metal still sizzling in front of him. It was easily an inch thick and wider than his whole torso. The idea he could eat all of this was a joke, but his growling stomach promised a good attempt.

The crew found it hilarious that he wouldn’t just pick up the meat and eat it, but one rather friendly Hyenid, as he found out what they were called, had taken out a gigantic bowie knife from their belt and sliced it into much smaller chunks. His fingers were greasy with fats, oils, salts and herbs that the chef had cooked it in. It tasted like the best steak Warren had ever eaten. Whether that was from his hunger or their skill, he didn’t care.

“So, you can’t smell?” Asked one, reaching over to touch Warren’s face and nose, only to have the same bowie knife that had cut his steak to appear, blade pointed towards the speaker, right between her fingers. The overprotective Hyenid shoved the knife towards the hand which had the speaker retract their hand, or risk the webbing between their fingers get sliced open.

“He eats first.” The wielder of the knife grumbled before shaking the bench Warren was sat on as she heavily sat down. They scooted forwards until their massive legs were touching his hips and their body was only inches away from his shoulder. He could feel her fur tickling him.

Warren chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I can smell, just not to the same degree as you guys… or many species.” He admitted, each of the creatures, still crowding him, but hanging on his every word.

“He’s tiny.” Whispered one, far too loudly.

“Is he one of the crew?” Asked another.

“What’s ‘is species called again?”

“I’m a hu-.”

“A ‘ooman!” Shouted one near to his back, obviously having heard him the first time, but talking over him now.

The crowd ‘aahed’ . It was weird being the centre of attention, and whilst they obviously had no personal boundaries, what with the overprotective Hyenid leaning forward and very obviously sniffing the young man, they weren’t the worst set of aliens he’d met before.

Being picked up like a sack of potatoes and having no manners was certainly not a deal breaker.

“Ey! Question!” Called another, Warren having long since given up trying to figure out names.

“What?” Called another.

“Where’s he sleepin’ tonight?”

The room went suddenly quiet, only broken by the loud anxious gulp as Warren swallowed a half-chewed chunk of meat and broke into a nervous sweat, now that all eyes were on him again.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[fuck-customers]

Customer legit wanted us to call the police on one of the freight carriers we use because his package was returned to us due to invalid address. Ranted this whole conspiracy theory that high ranking people in freight companies were in on some sort of large scale scam and that they were sending his packages back to sender out of spite because he Knew Too Much.

Sir (derogatory) what tf do you think calling the police on an entire company was going to accomplish in this situation? Even if that was possible to do we got the package back, nothing was stolen or even damaged. No crime has been committed. Call them yourself if you're that determined, we're not even in the same state as you.

Also who do you think you are that your package being returned is a large-scale vendetta of the whole company against you personally? You're not that important. I guarantee no one in management at any carrier knows who you are and if your local delivery people are indeed returning all your packages to sender either you don't have your own address right or you've done something to make it impossible or unsafe for them to deliver to you.

Like, I have lived in the same house for 20 years and a couple days ago the delivery guy apparently couldn't find my address. It only took ten minutes and one phone call to straighten it out and I got my package just a day late. The company was not out to get me, the delivery guy was not out to get me, he just got mixed up. Things happen, and even when stuff gets damaged or lost in shipping it's not personal.

Also I repeat, there is no way to call the police on an entire company to report "carrier returned my package to the sender bc they couldn't find my house."

Posted by admin Rodney

[phantomrose96]

Oh okay so I have a Pikmin theory.

So for starters: Pikmin 1->2->3 are chronological. Pikmin 4 is a sort of AU of Pikmin 1, precedented on Olimar not making it off PNF-404 alive (sort of a bad-end of Pikmin 1, but also with various other AU differences).

This leads me to wonder... is Pikmin 4->2->3 arguably a canon sequence of events? Cuz either the differences between 1 and 4 have knocked canon off course, and as such 4 will never lead to 2 and 3. Or you can string them together in a way that makes 4->2->3 a plausible canonical chain.

The biggest thing that stands out to me is Louie. In 1->2->3, no one was ever sent to rescue Olimar in 1, and the second he arrives home in 2 his boss informs him that Louie was attacked ("attacked") by a space rabbit that ate the precious cargo of golden pikpik carrots, launching the company into massive debt (and he forces Olimar back to PNF-404 to treasure hunt to pay off the debt.) It's later revealed Louie was never attacked, and he ate the cargo himself.

In 4, LOUIE is sent to rescue Olimar. (He never does. He completely gives up because he forgot what Olimar looks like, and then becomes the biggest pain in your ass after YOU rescue Olimar, because Louie starts taking hostages and running from you insisting he never wants to leave PNF-404 for... some unclear reason?)

This feels like it could break 4->2->3 as a plausible canon, considering Louie is not home on Hocotate to eat his whole cargo (fucker). But I realized something.

Pikmin 4 starts more or less around when Olimar's life support runs out and he dies. You get his SOS signal not long at all before this happens. And TBH, it's probably a good additional in-game month in 4 before you actually rescue Olimar and encounter Louie. In a good-end run of Pikmin 1, Olimar needs to repair his ship and escape PNF-404 before his life support runs out. So in short: Louie fucks up the cargo sometime prior to Olimar's life support running out, and Pikmin 4 is set after his life support runs out. (Technically, they changed the amount of time his life support lasts between 1 and 4, but I figure that was to trim down Olimar's Tale in 4 and not actually for a canon reason).

My point being, Pikmin 4 being largely set after Olimar's life support runs out means Louie had plenty of time to fuck up the pikpik carrot cargo.

Then there's the fact that in Pikmin 4, Louie is desperate to STAY on PNF-404 for reasons he refuses to ever explain. Maybe, because, ya know, he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He knows he's responsible for plunging Hocotate Freight into what was essentially $10 million of debt. Louie doesn't want to be charged with $10 million worth of theft. And without Olimar bringing home the bottle cap, there's no plan for repaying that debt.

Louie maybe wants to stay on PNF-404 because he's not going the fuck to jail.

All this to say: I think 4->2->3 is actually a completely reasonable canon sequence, if you figure the "Louie lost (ate) the $10 million of golden pikpik carrots" happens in the background, right at the start of Pikmin 4 before Olimar's life support has run out. Olimar's SOS comes through, and President, desperate for his only competent employee back to help fix this, sends Louie to PNF-404 on a rescue mission. On PNF-404, Louie figures himself a fugitive who'd rather spend his days cooking bulborbs than ever return home to Hocotate to potentially face the music of his "this was definitely a felony" crime, and so he kicks and screams and fights to stay on PNF-404...

...And you drag him home anyway, along with poor rescued Olimar who's died and come back to life... just in time for their boss to be like "YOU idiots, go get me out of debt! Go back to PNF-404"

[centipedecenti]

Proud of you

(Louie x Vincent fic)

Day 34

Louie was never a sociable guy. He often tried to stay away from large crowds or bustling public areas, wanting just solitude with himself, his thoughts, and a snack or two. When invited to company dinners he just stayed silent and ate.

Nobody really understood Louie, or even bothered trying. They just saw him as the “off putting co worker that looks around the vending machine” or bring up that rumor of him eating the golden pikpik carrots when it was obviously the ravenous space bunnies.

But Louie didn't really care what people thought, he was used to being perceived differently than others, as an outcast…

So it surprised him when this new guy at work came along and flipped Louie's world completely upside down.

He was commissioned with him to go back on pnf-404 as a replacement for Olimar when he was out sick.

Vincent.

Vincent was….different, to put it bluntly, he didn't treat Louie like a weirdo, in fact, treated the man with respect, like an actual person. A friend.

It was a nice change of pace.

But Louie couldn't help but wonder why? Why was this sociable, flamboyant, and handsome hocotation spending all this energy befriending Louie of all people? It didn't make any sense to him.

Vincent was confident, loud, eccentric and a bit sassy. The complete opposite of his blonde coworker!

And yet here they are, day 34 of being commissioned together to PNF-404 and just got back into the Hocotate Freight ship after a long gruesome day at work.

“Ughh! Its so hot out there! I swear, all my hairspray totally melted off!” Vincent complained lightheartedly while stretching his aching arms from throwing pikmin nonstop.

Louie hummed in agreement, settling into the air-conditioned space ship as he took off his helmet.

“Gonna take a shower.” Louie mumbled before walking to the small cramped metallic bathroom.

“Don't waste all the hot water! Like LAST time!” Vincent chuckled loudy to himself as he walked to the bedroom, hands on his hips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Louie finally got out of the shower, with a fresh t shirt and sweatpants on, he was on his way to the kitchen for a snack, when in the corner of his eye he saw Vincent in the shared bedroom, hunched over as he stares at the Ko-Pad screen with an expression Louie hasn't seen before from the other.

Louie ambeld quietly into the bedroom, glancing over what the other hocotation was reading.

Louie's eyes widened at what he read, his brow furrowed.

“Dearest son,

I hope you're enjoying your job at Hocotate Freight, though, as your mother I knew this is the best you would've done trying to follow your dreams. If you had only listened to me, you would've been filthy rich by now! Please son, don't let your dreams keep you from reality.

Love, Mother”

Louie had a sick taste in his mouth after reading that, his expression quickly turning from confusion to anger. He couldn't believe what he was reading! Vincent was probably one of the most creative and inspiring people Louie has ever met, and here, his own mother is basically calling him a failure!

Louie admired the way Vincent could turn the skin from a bulborb into something you'd wear to a ball. He was very hard working too, well, At least more than Louie. And whether that be loading cargo, or defeating various beasts, he also always had on a big toothy smile, brighter than the cosmos.

Louie was then abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he heard quiet sobs from the brunette. Louie an overwhelming amount of concern and worry, reaching out a hand then quickly pulling it back when he realized he no idea how to comfort others.

Vincent clutched the Ko-Pad, tears stinging his eyes as he read the E-mail over and over again, etching those horrible words into his mind, words from his own mother.

He had to say something, anything.

“...Vincent?” The blonde spoke up, rubbing his arm nervously.

Vincent whipped his head around, big brown tearful eyes staring back at him with shock. He quickly wiped his eyes, a forced smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh! Hey, Louie..!” his eyes darted from the email to the young man before suddenly turning off the tablet.

“Uhm…are you…okay?”

Louie cautiously took a step closer, looking down at the young man.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I'm good! I'm Just Uh…checking the time..” Vincent gave a forced chuckle, trying to discreetly wipe his cheeks of the tear stains.

“You're crying.”

Louie walked over and took a seat next to his co-worker, crossing his legs. He looks down at his lap, occasionally looking at the hocotation next to him.

“What's wrong…?” He said, almost in a whisper, glancing over at the tablet.

Vincent let out a shaky sigh, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants anxiously.

“It's my mother…she's just…I just wish she had a little bit of hope in me, ya’ know? She's always so…so...judgmental in the way I live my life! Just once I would like for her to tell me she's proud of me! Just once!”

Vincent blurted out, choking back a sob as he felt his eyes get watery again.

Louie listened to the other, though his expression seemed neutral, his eyes were filled with empathy and concern for the other.

Vincent glanced up at Louie before hiding his face from him, embarrassed from his sudden outburst.

“I'm so sorry, I have no idea what came over me..” The burnett muttered sheepishly, running a hand through his bangs.

“Don't be.”

Louie gingerly placed a hand on top of Vincent's free one. He had no idea Vincent was going through this, on his own too nonetheless. Vincent was always there for Louie but was Louie ever there for him?

Louie felt a pang of guilt, he had to change that.

“M’ proud of you...”

Louie admitted, his hazel eyes meeting Vincent's brown ones. His voice is gentle and tender, wanting to make sure the other knows he means every word.

He felt his chest flutter as he continued.

“Think you're amazing, actually…nice, funny, talented..”

Their fingers subconsciously slowly start to intertwine, his eyes linger on Vincent's, watching how the light from the bedroom sparkles in the Hocotations deep brown eyes. Louie never noticed how pretty his eyes were until now, almost looking like chocolate.

“Sometimes get jealous..”

A small smirk flickers on Louie's lips at the last sentence

A quiet gasp leaves Vincent's lips. This all felt so surreal. Everything the blonde said felt so genuine, so sincere. His cheeks flushed a light shade of red at the admission.

“Louie..,”

Vincent whispered in disbelief, his switching between Louie’s and their interlaced fingers.

He was in so much disbelief, he didn't realize his heart was racing when he leaned closer to the blonde, fluttering his eyes shut.

Louie cups Vincent's cheek gently as his lips meet Vincent's, closing his eyes as he pulls into a firm but gentle kiss.

Vincent kissed back, holding Louie's hand that was cupping his cheek. He takes the lead into the kiss as he realizes Louie is adorably inexperienced.

This felt so normal, so right. Vincent has always felt differently for Louie than any other typical friend. Whenever they would talk, it felt like Vincent knew him for years, he adored the way Louie would get excited over trying new recipes, eating new foods, or inviting the other to try out a dish he made, cherishing every moment with the other hocotation.

After what felt like eternity, the two young hocotation men break the kiss, both of Their faces bright red and wide-eyed.

“Wow.”

Louie spoke up, not sure what to say as he was still processing what just happened.

Vincent broke out in a laugh, holding onto Louie's shoulders while doing so. He wasn't laughing because it was funny, rather because of how happy he was…and maybe because Louie's response was pretty funny.

Louie slowly started to join Vincent in his laughing fit, softly chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

It wasn't long until the laughter settled down, now back to the comfortable silence of the spaceship.

“I had no idea you felt that way..”

Vincent grinned shyly, lightly fixing his hair.

“Me neither..”

Louie replied, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“So…what does this make us?”

Vincent looked up at him with those same big brown eyes.

“What'd you wanna be..?”

Louie lightly squeezes Vincent's hand.

“Boyfriends…? If that's okay with you, I mean..”

Vincent responds, flickering his eyes from the metal floor to Louie anxiously.

Louie gives a small smile, then a nod.

“Like that..”

Vincent smiles back, his cheeks flushing red again.

“Me too..”

Vincent's mother is very ignorant.

[vren-diagram]

What are the great positive effects of automated freight handling that longshoremen are denying you? What would become so much cheaper?

https://blogs.worldbank.org/en/transport/why-ports-matter-global-economy

Efficient port infrastructure has also been identified as a key contributor to overall port competitiveness and international trade costs. Unfortunately, ports and terminals, particularly for containers, are too often main sources of shipment delays, supply chain disruptions, additional costs, and reduced competitiveness. The result far too often is that instead of facilitating trade, the port increases the cost of imports and exports, reduces competitiveness, and inhibits economic growth and poverty reduction. The effect on a country or the countries served by the port can be severe. Inefficient ports can slow the circular system of container shipping, thereby reducing capacity, and reducing costs. Ships have to wait unnecessarily incurring additional fuel costs, additional emissions, and additional costs.

Improving container port performance lowers the cost of trade, contributes to food security, improves resilience, and reduces unnecessary emissions from vessels. The role of ports as the linchpin in the global economy is a major reason why the World Bank and S&P Global Markets are tracking port performance for nearly 350 global ports in the Container Ports Performance Index (CPPI).

When the cost of things goes up, that makes almost everyone worse off. I don't know how this could be clearer. You don't like it when you pay more money for things. Almost nobody likes paying more money to get the same things.

The US currently has some of the worst performing ports in the world. Because of resistance to modernization and make-work programs. Driven by dockworkers unions that use their monopolization of government-granted monopolies on infrastructure to....extract large amounts of money for themselves. This literally causes everything to be a little more expensive than it has to be. This to benefit dudes doing the equivalent of digging up holes just to fill them in again.

[willofwinnie]

Baticul is a Safety Nightmare

Baticul is a city full of pride, fontech, nobles, and safety violations. Looking at the city it is easy to tell they prioritize fontech over safety. From the first step into the city, this is clear. I know much of this could be graphical limitations, prioritizing certain areas, and assets that were more important to go elsewhere. 3d and game design are super difficult but this was fun to go through and notice all these things. This is a long post.

The Docks:

First entering the city, you are met with an enormous concrete or stone dock likely mainly used for cargo and large ships. Aside from the potential slip hazard from the material, I likely wouldn't have paid much mind because Baticul needs the ease of transporting these freight boxes. That would have been my mindset if this also wasn't used for public transport and a general public meeting place. This entire front portion of the dock is completely unfenced except for the areas reserved for the cargo. That fence-looking structure in the first picture extends out to the side next to the guard and is not a fence along the edge to keep people from falling like I originally thought. This man next to Luke is one wrong gust of wind or shoulder bump from dropping 35 or so feet, during low tide, into the ocean (approximate dock height is assuming the guard is around 6 feet for reference). This is also the place where you meet the little kid cowboy, Misika, who has the same falling risks as the man. I am curious about how many people fall in when it is a busy time of year. However, looking at the line across the side of the dock, it is clear that this is at low tide. The difference between the top of the dock and the high tide line seems about 10 feet or so. Ocean tidal range difference for low and high could be 30+ feet, so a 25-foot difference checks out. The ramp shown in the right image may extend left far enough so that, if people happen to fall in, they can get rescued by the guard. Even if death risks aren’t as high here, open water can be dangerous. And even if people can get easily rescued, that does not mean the rest of Baticul is safe.

The First Level:

As we move on to the main portion of the city, we get dropped off by the gondolas. Directly to the South, we see a kid looking over the edge of a non-roped-off section of one of these drop-off points. He is also one wrong gust away from being a Baticul missing person statistic that was solved by looking at the bottom of wherever this leads. None of the gondola entrance points have it roped off when the gondola is not present. At least the fences surrounding this area look solid, unlike the rest of Baticul.

The next biggest point is the large fence gap at the base of this staircase to the East. This seems like an unfortunate series of events waiting to happen, let alone the safety risks of having a large gap leading to a long fall.

The third, more nitpicky, point is the simple railing found around Baticul. The gap in that could easily fit a small child through it and could pose some potential risks for parents not keeping a close eye on them. But at least those sections have a form of railing at all.

The Second Level:

This level seems fairly okay even if the fences are simple railings. Plus this area seems more of a military section than a public place. I will give this one a pass.

The Third Level (The Palace):

Starting strong, The palace has many fence gaps next to stairwells. The first is the edge of the stairwell leading to some guards near the top of the first set of stairs. The second point is the lack of fences next to large fall areas. In the first picture above, you can see the gap in the fence from the top of the stairs and the remaining fence. There is also a large flower patch between this fence and the drop-off. I’m sure Baticul gardeners are capable of standing on their own two feet, but this seems like a blatant disregard for worker safety. I suppose Batical has no concept of OSHA yet. Or that Baticul cares more about people stepping on their flowers than the safety of their gardeners working on said flowers. The third fence gap is near the palace, as seen in the second picture. This is mirrored on the other side. This drop seems a little too much of a drop and could cause some damage, especially since people can break bones from simply falling down some stairs. The last point for safety is the open body of water for the monument with the tiniest, likely slippery walkway. I will give Batical some leeway because of the fences and guards surrounding it. If only they surrounded the drop-offs with the same care.

Fabre Manor:

I know this is also part of the Third Level, but this deserves its own section for safety hazards just to give it the context needed. The main issues come from the open water shown all over the center courtyard space of the manor. It looks to be around two feet based on Luke’s 5’7” height. Two feet of water is very easy to get submerged. The open water is concerning because of Luke, and how he was a baby when he first arrived home, a baby that can’t swim. It is also slightly questionable if Luke knows how to swim at all since he was locked in the manor all his life. In the picture, the cube decoration goes all the way into the water. This is important because it shows that the walkways only sit on top of the water. With a baby replica running around that doesn’t know how to swim, getting trapped under the walkway seems like a surefire way to get to the Fon Belt early. Yes, there are guards and maids around, but drowning is largely silent and can take only a matter of seconds if someone were to not pay attention. One can only hope someone is around to hear the initial splash.

It is also odd that Luke's room is fenced with simple railing rather than ornate fencing like the rest of the courtyard. Yes, this is likely due to drawing more attention to Luke's room and the curved edges of his porch. In general, his room seems out of place, like it isn't supposed to be a bedroom at all. But that is a different discussion altogether. Right below his room is more open water and a sizable drop for a potentially curious replica toddler.

Baticul, only the strongest may survive this city!

Anyway, I hope you found some enjoyment from this long ramble! I simply think too much about random potential safety issues with fictional cities haha.

[xenmagmarketing]

Reliable Transportation: The Backbone of Logistics Success

In today's fast-paced business environment, the demand for reliable transportation services is more critical than ever. Whether you're a small business owner, a multinational corporation, or an individual seeking dependable logistics solutions, reliable transportation serves as the backbone of efficient supply chains. At JDAC Logistics, we understand the importance of providing transportation services that businesses and individuals can trust.

What is Reliable Transportation?

Reliable transportation refers to logistics services that ensure the timely, safe, and efficient delivery of goods and services. It is characterized by:

Consistency: Delivering on time every time.

Safety: Ensuring goods are transported without damage.

Adaptability: Meeting diverse logistical needs across different industries.

Transparency: Offering real-time tracking and clear communication.

By embodying these qualities, reliable transportation builds trust and strengthens relationships between businesses and their customers.

Why Reliable Transportation Matters

In the logistics industry, reliability isn't just a preference—it's a necessity. Here's why it matters:

1. Timely Deliveries Build Reputation

Businesses thrive on their ability to deliver products and services on time. Delays can lead to lost revenue, customer dissatisfaction, and damaged reputations. Reliable transportation ensures timely deliveries, helping businesses maintain their competitive edge.

2. Cost Efficiency

Unreliable transportation can result in additional costs due to delays, damaged goods, or the need for expedited shipments. By choosing a reliable logistics partner, businesses can reduce these unforeseen expenses and improve overall efficiency.

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In today’s customer-centric market, meeting and exceeding expectations is key. Reliable transportation helps businesses keep their promises, ensuring that customers receive their orders on time and in excellent condition.

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With globalization, businesses are no longer confined to local markets. Reliable transportation enables seamless cross-border movement of goods, opening doors to new opportunities and markets.

Challenges in Achieving Reliable Transportation

While the need for reliable transportation is clear, achieving it can be challenging. Key obstacles include:

Traffic and Weather Conditions: Unpredictable road and weather conditions can disrupt schedules.

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At JDAC Logistics, we’ve built our reputation by addressing these challenges head-on. Here’s how we ensure reliable transportation for our clients:

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Our modern fleet of vehicles is equipped with advanced tracking systems, allowing us to monitor shipments in real time. This ensures that goods reach their destination safely and on schedule.

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From experienced drivers to dedicated logistics coordinators, our team is trained to handle even the most complex transportation needs. Their expertise ensures smooth operations and quick resolutions to potential issues.

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We use data-driven insights to optimize routes, minimize delays, and enhance cost efficiency. Our planning also includes contingencies for unforeseen circumstances, ensuring uninterrupted service.

4. Commitment to Compliance

JDAC Logistics adheres to all relevant transportation regulations, ensuring hassle-free cross-border shipments and smooth operations in domestic markets.

5. Customer-Centric Approach

We prioritize clear communication and personalized service, providing our clients with updates and tailored solutions that meet their unique needs.

The Future of Reliable Transportation

The transportation industry is evolving rapidly, with technological advancements paving the way for even greater reliability. Here are some trends shaping the future:

Automation: Autonomous vehicles and drones are set to revolutionize last-mile deliveries.

Sustainability: Eco-friendly transportation solutions are becoming a priority for businesses worldwide.

Artificial Intelligence: AI-driven analytics will further optimize routes and improve decision-making.

Blockchain Technology: Enhancing transparency and security in logistics operations.

By staying ahead of these trends, JDAC Logistics is committed to leading the way in providing reliable, innovative, and sustainable transportation solutions.

Why Choose JDAC Logistics for Reliable Transportation

At JDAC Logistics, we go beyond just moving goods from point A to point B. We offer:

Customized Solutions: Tailored to meet the specific needs of different industries.

24/7 Support: Ensuring assistance whenever you need it.

Proven Track Record: Our satisfied clients are a testament to our commitment to excellence.

Whether you're looking to transport fragile goods, manage large-scale shipments, or streamline your supply chain, JDAC Logistics is your trusted partner for reliable transportation.

Conclusion

Reliable transportation is the cornerstone of successful logistics operations. It not only ensures the smooth movement of goods but also strengthens business relationships, boosts customer satisfaction, and drives growth. With a commitment to excellence and a customer-centric approach, JDAC Logistics is proud to be a leader in providing reliable transportation services.

For logistics solutions you can trust, contact JDAC Logistics today and experience the difference reliable transportation can make for your business.

[sparkarrestor]

Henry The Green Engine 4: The Flying Kipper

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

There is a large harbor next to the big station, where ships from all over arrive. There are big liners and ferries with shining paint and spotless brass, carrying passengers from far away places. There are freight ships as well, coming and going with cargo and the things we need. There are many fishing boats besides those, that unload their catch at special quays. Some are taken by road to shops in the town, while the rest are loaded on a train and taken away.

The railwaymen call this train, “The Flying Kipper”.

Henry was still dour from the accident with Percy and the trousers. Luckily, no jam had gotten on him, but the trousers still felt uncomfortable on his funnel. Worse still, he had made the Fat Controller cross.

“Never mind Henry,” Comforted his Driver, “A nice run with the Flying Kipper ought to cheer us all up! The Fat Controller might even forgive you!”

“Really?” Replied Henry Dubiously.

“Yep! Now, don’t tell Gordon,” And he leaned in close, “But I think we might even have a turn on the express!”

That cheered Henry up. His mood began to improve as he left the sheds and puffed towards the harbor.

At the quay, he saw workmen loading crates onto a long line of fish vans. There was ice and frost, far more than in the morning.

“Be careful!”, Called a workman, “This ice can be trouble!”

“Don’t I know it…” Grumbled Henry, staring at the soot-covered trousers that clung to his funnel.

 But he remembered what his driver said and calmed down as the last door banged and the guard showed his green lamp. With much snorting and whooshing, Henry set off with the heavy train.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!” Puffed Henry as his wheels spun on.

“All right! Don’t fuss! All right! Don’t fuss!” Grumbled the fish vans.

“That’s better! That’s better!” Puffed Henry, as they left the harbor and picked up speed.

They tore through the countryside, whooshed under bridges and clattered through stations. Thick clouds of smoke and steam poured out of Henry’s funnel as they went, and when the fireman added more coal, the fire’s light shone all around, reflecting on the snow.

“Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” Peeped Henry as he passed green signal after green signal.

They were going so well that he had forgotten to be cross about the trousers and had started enjoying himself as the sun set in the distance. Then, the driver noticed something.

“Distant Signal’s up!” He called, “Caution!”

He shut off steam and prepared to apply the brakes when the fireman spoke up.

“Look! The Home Signal’s green!” He said.

“Oh,” Replied the Driver, confused, “Well, away we go!”

Henry responded with a will, speeding up so quickly that the fireman had to work extra hard to keep his fire fed. He sounded off his whistle happily as he passed the green signal and disappeared into the night.

Up ahead, James was feeling the opposite of happy. He had left earlier with a slow goods train, the trucks bumping and banging every time they stopped at a station. The ice and cold had not helped matters and that, coupled with stalling on Gordon’s Hill, had left James cold, annoyed, and late. So late, that he had to be shunted to let Henry pass him. His crew, tired of his grumbling, sought refuge in the van with the guard. The guard had lit the stove in the brakevan, and was brewing cocoa.

“Oh, this tastes excellent!” Said the fireman as he sipped his cocoa.

“You best finish quickly!” Laughed the Driver, “The Kipper’s due, and James will want to get going!”

“Who cares? We’ll have all the time we need after the Kipper passes!”

The fireman defiantly stayed seated as the guard peered out of his van.

“I can hear the Kipper…” He mused, “It’ll pass us at any moment.”

At that moment he spotted engine-lamps in the distance and thought nothing of it until he realized it was on their line.

“Everyone out!” He shouted.

“But I haven’t finished my cocoa yet!” Complained the Fireman.

“There’s no time!” Yelled the Guard, “The Kipper’s on our line!”

They got out of the van just in time.

Henry slammed into the goods train, demolishing the brakevan and the last few trucks before being thrown to the lineside and skidding across the snow and dirt before coming to a rest on his side. The fish vans hit the wreckage and got battered to bits, sprawling their cargo as they piled up in a heap. Up ahead, James, wondering where his crew was, got jolted forward along with the rest of his train. He was upright and unharmed, but the trucks that weren’t in pieces were now awkwardly standing on the sleepers.

“What on earth?!” He shouted, trying to make out what had happened, “Henry?”

The battered and bruised shape that looked like Henry only wheezed. James’s crew were busy digging themselves out of snow when the guard noticed something.

“Fire!” He cried.

The remains of the brakevan had caught fire from the stove. At once he helped James’s crew out of the snow, and they rushed into James’s cab as he raced to the next station for help.

The breakdown train arrived in the morning. Luckily, the fire got its spirits dampened by the cold, with only a few trucks being charred. The workmen began clearing the mess and checked over Henry. He felt miserable.

“Oh dear”, he thought as he looked up, “I’m in for it now!”

The Fat Controller came trudging through the snow towards him. He paused, and seemed to violently kick something away before reaching henry. 

“The signal was down sir…” Said Henry sadly.

“Don’t worry Henry.” Said The Fat Controller, “Ice & snow caused the accident. The signal was weighed down and the points froze after James got shunted. It couldn’t be helped. Now, I’m sending you to Crewe. It’s a fine place for sick engines. They’ll give you a new shape and you’ll be more useful than ever. You won’t need special coal anymore!”

“Yes sir…” Replied Henry, doubtfully.

Henry was taken to Crewe the next day. They took him to pieces and rebuilt him. He thought it was quite the experience, and was more than happy to return home. Lots of people came to see him. He whistled as he passed by, smiling wider than he’d ever had. He can make steam far easier now, and doesn’t need the special coal, and is more than happy to share the last of it with his friends. He steams so well and can go so fast that it’s enough to make Gordon jealous. But that’s another story. 

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil floods hit food silos, disrupt routes to major grains port

Heavy flooding in southern Brazil has hit food storage facilities in lower areas while hampering the shipping of grains to port, jeopardizing the nation's exports and wreaking havoc to the economy of Rio Grande do Sul state, a large soy, rice, wheat and meat producer.

Anec, an association representing global grain exporters, said on Tuesday access to the port of Rio Grande had been disrupted as a local rail line stopped operating. The group, which represents firms like Cargill and Bunge, also cited road blockades forcing grain trucks to travel an extra 400 kilometers (248.55 miles) through alternative routes to reach the port, increasing freight costs.

The unprecedented climate event, which left entire towns under water and destroyed critical infrastructure in the capital and rural areas, also killed livestock and caught farmers in the final stages of the corn and soy harvests, clouding the outlook for national grain production in 2023/2024.

The escalating crisis also led competing meatpackers to join forces to circumvent logistical hurdles brought about by the heavy downpours, which disrupted water and electricity services to 1.4 million people, the state's Civil Defense agency said.

Continue reading.

[sourcreammachine]

idea:

a truck simulator / road trip style videogame but set in a transportpunk utopia

everything that can fit into a standard shipping container gets sent via freight rail. bridges over the bering, darién, gibraltar, york, dover and malacca carry ultrafast freight trains faster than Concorde, and conventional rail lines carry it further. there’s even automated sorting centres passing consumer packages onto delivery ‘vans’ which use the tram/trolley system, getting packages from another continent alll the way to your doorstep. it’s paradise

that’s all, of course, for everything that fits within a regulation-size shipping container. everything that fits in the rail system

you are a member of the hauliers’ cooperative. road haulage is for oversize loads only. your job is oversize loads

the motorways have either been replaced with new rail lines piggybacking their infrastructure, or they’ve been totally demolished – so you only have access to the regular old inter-town highways, or worse. many of these roads are in a bit of a state –claimed by potholes, overgrown with moss, flooded completely – so these deliveries need the hand of a professional

there’s not been zero advancement of battery-powered vehicles, not at all. your cab is proper cush with no pesky combustion engine in the way, and you’ve even got power delivery to your rear wheels to control the position of your ass. what’s more, space technology has replaced your wheel systems with the wheel-feet seen on planetary explorers, allowing for omnidirectional travel and perfect manoeuvrability. this is offroading, despite being on the road. your absolute top speed is probably 80kph in ideal safe flat conditions

with six hours a day (including lunch, with two hours possible overtime) you’ll be clearing a couple hundred k per day, from city to city. end your shift by plugging in at a chargepoint at the city’s truckstop, from where you can use the public transit system to see the sights, get some scran, and kip at a local bunkhouse (all free of charge). workers’ rights apply to you, of course

HSR connects cities, commuter rail connects towns, light rail connects large villages, and rural literail connects small villages – so the only private vehicles on the roads are typically carrying those who live outside villages to their local park & ride. most are ebikes. many walk

with almost no cars, with no buses, with no standard-size lorries, the roads are near-empty for traffic. with the road system massively scaled back, with swathes of agricultural land deprecated for rewilding, with massive curtailment of exurban sprawl through densification, the vistas you see are incredible

you are a part of the world and must work with it. the 4x4 (or more) nature of your vehicle is you communicating with the world around you, touching and feeling it to make your way through. you are not here to bulldoze and pave and carve a path, you’re negotiating access. this is why you’re a professional

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this article from The New Yorker, written by Bill McKibben:

Living through the onset of rapid global warming involves learning to roll with the punches. Increasingly, those are quite real and painful—this year saw, again, an accelerating toll of flood and drought. But, even for climate scientists sequestered in the lab, life increasingly seems like a series of bewildering blows.

As 2024 began, we’d just finished the most remarkable year in the planet’s modern climate history—2023 had shattered every global record for temperature, with researchers firm in the conviction that our planet had seen its hottest average temperatures in at least a hundred and twenty-five thousand years. But, even as they watched the mercury soar, they weren’t completely sure why: temperatures seemed to be rising even before an El Niño warming in the Pacific fully kicked in. In a remarkably candid essay this March in Nature, NASA’s chief climatologist, Gavin Schmidt, said, “The 2023 temperature anomaly has come out of the blue, revealing an unprecedented knowledge gap perhaps for the first time since about 40 years ago, when satellite data began offering modellers an unparalleled, real-time view of Earth’s climate system.” If temperatures hadn’t settled back to something more like a consistent rise by late summer 2024, he noted, that would imply “that a warming planet is already fundamentally altering how the climate system operates, much sooner than scientists had anticipated.”

In the event, this August was the warmest August on record, and most of the other months of 2024 also broke records; it now seems certain that, when meteorological officials announce their results early in January, this will again have been the hottest year ever measured. Scientists still can’t explain what’s causing the spike, which sits atop the steady ramp in temperature over the past few decades. As Schmidt said in an October interview with Elizabeth Kolbert, “it’s still pretty much, I would say, amateur hour in terms of assessing” what’s going on. The proffered explanations—the eruption of a submarine volcano in the South Pacific that put a lot of heat-trapping water vapor into the air, the phase-out of high-sulfur fuels in oceangoing ships that reduced heat-reflecting pollution—don’t seem large enough to account for what the thermometers are measuring; it’s possible that we may have tripped some switches we don’t understand in the global climate system.

What we do understand is bad enough. In September, Hurricane Helene swept across the Gulf of Mexico, turning from a tropical storm into a Category 4 hurricane in barely more than a day—the kind of “rapid intensification” that researchers increasingly see as a hallmark of a warming ocean. It moved so fast that it carried the freight of rain that it picked up over the record-hot waters of the Gulf far inland; in the mountains just north of Asheville, radar estimates suggested rainfall totals of up to forty inches. That water inundated the cricks and hollows of southern Appalachia—the death toll from the storm sits at two hundred and forty-one (making it the deadliest to hit the U.S. since Maria devastated Puerto Rico, in 2017), and the economic damage is nearing a hundred billion dollars, making it one of the costliest storms since Katrina. But the pictures from a ravaged North Carolina looked an awful lot like pictures from devastated parts of southern Europe or northern Africa or Brazil or Southeast Asia—if you look on YouTube, you can find a near-daily flood of flood pictures, with floating cars careening down the streets of mountain towns.

There seems to be just one way left to even start to slow down that torrent, and that’s to rapidly replace coal, gas, and oil with sun, wind, and batteries—and if you’re trying to avoid existential despair, there are stories and numbers this year worth focussing on. Solar power expanded so rapidly in 2023 (eighty-six per cent up on 2022 worldwide) that some wondered whether the charge could continue this year; it did, with the best guess being we will see a further growth of nearly thirty per cent this year. We’ve clearly moved into the steep part of the S-curve of clean-energy expansion, where even the most optimistic forecasts are consistently surpassed, and at the moment we appear to be installing a gigawatt’s worth of photovoltaic panels (roughly the size of a nuclear power plant) every eighteen hours or so.