#vessel machinery

[mariteksolution]

How to Choose the Right Marine Machinery for Your Vessel?

Selecting the right marine machinery for your vessel is essential for optimizing performance, efficiency, and safety.

Here’s a streamlined guide to help you make the best choice:

1. Assess Vessel Requirements

Start by evaluating your vessel’s specific needs. Consider the type of vessel (e.g., cargo ship, passenger ferry, fishing boat), its size, and its operational environment. For instance, a cargo ship requires robust propulsion and cargo handling machinery, while a passenger ferry may need advanced HVAC systems and comfort-oriented equipment.

2. Understand Operational Demands

Identify the primary operational requirements of your vessel. This includes its typical speed, range, and load capacity. Match these needs with the capabilities of different types of marine machinery. For instance, if your vessel operates in icy waters, you may need machinery that can withstand harsh conditions and maintain performance.

3. Consider Fuel Efficiency and Environmental Impact

Opt for machinery that offers fuel efficiency and complies with environmental regulations. Modern marine engines and systems often incorporate technologies that reduce fuel consumption and emissions. This not only lowers operating costs but also helps in meeting stringent environmental standards.

4. Evaluate Reliability and Maintenance

Choose machinery from reputable manufacturers known for reliability and ease of maintenance. Check for available service and support networks, as well as the availability of spare parts. Machinery that is reliable and easy to maintain will minimize downtime and extend the lifespan of your equipment.

5. Assess Technological Integration

Consider the integration of advanced technologies such as automation and monitoring systems. Modern marine machinery with integrated controls and diagnostic tools can enhance performance and provide real-time data for better decision-making. Ensure that the technology fits well with your existing systems and crew capabilities.

6. Review Cost and Budget

While initial costs are important, consider the total cost of ownership, including installation, maintenance, and operational costs. Balance your budget with the machinery’s long-term benefits. Sometimes investing more upfront in high-quality, efficient machinery can lead to significant savings over time.

7. Consult Experts

Seek advice from marine engineers, equipment suppliers, and industry experts. They can provide valuable insights based on your vessel’s specifics and operational needs. Their expertise will help you make an informed decision that aligns with your objectives and budget.

By carefully evaluating these factors, you can choose marine machinery that enhances your vessel’s performance, efficiency, and reliability, ensuring smooth and cost-effective operations.

[sertralinenightmare]

when it's dark and quiet, lay still and listen to the sounds of your body. the quiet creaks and thuds and whirs that signal your vessel still functions. listen to your vessel maintain itself and know that you, too, are divine machinery

[uhode]

long time ago my best friend said something in passing she said i don’t really care about looking pretty anymore i just want to look interesting and it stuck with me and made me feel so much better about everything i don’t care that this outfit isn’t showing even the vague outline of my body i don’t care that my ass looks flat or that i have scars everywhere i don’t care about my body at all because i look interesting

[titlphotography]

“Fenced in” | This photo was taken along the fence line surrounding Port Elizabeth terminal. The fence separated our facility from the container terminal. Some days I’m glad I don’t work up there any longer and other days I miss it a lot. If I were to ever go back things would be different. My boat handling and management skills have greatly improved and I would be more prepared to take on the tasks.

[singaporeshipchandler1]

[jctmachinery]

35-ton Chemical Reactor Ship to Egypt

JCT Machinery's 35-ton chemical reactor was completed and shipped to Egyptian customers. More shipping cases will be updated soon

[cerastes]

We’ve heard about the seeming contrast of creators that make these super happy saccharine pieces of art being bitter people whose lives seem to be filled with agony whereas horror creators that thrive in the grotesque all seem to be super happy and positive people, the usual “Miyazaki Hayao vs Itou Junji” kinda beat.

There’s a similar, slightly overlapping dynamic between cuisine and blacksmithing. Chefs are the single angriest existences in the world and would piss on your grave seconds after stuffing your freshly gutted corpse in it. Blacksmiths are jovial, usually quiet dudes that work machinery and think your dagger is still very cool even if it’s got some balance issues.

Now, of course this is making reference to the Ramsay style of food shows, which is not the universal experience when it comes to the genre -- I’m more of a Cutthroat Kitchen kind of guy, because I like Mario Party -- but it’s always fun to me to go through an episode of Hell’s Kitchen where Ramsay annihilates his own vocal chords screaming “FUCKING DONKEY” and “IT’S RAW”, then right after, watch some old Forged In Fire and see the Filipino weapon master, Marcaida, test a short sword one of the contestants made and it fucking explodes into shards without nary a scratch on the pig’s carcass, obviously the shittiest weapon you could possibly make, damascus steel shards flying embedded in his arm, and he’ll calmly, with his signature friendly smile, lovable demeanor, and charismatic gait, face the contestant and be like

“Well, you see, Bob, your blade unfortunately suffered a catastrophic malfunction, and it can’t be tested any further. However, the handle on your weapon allowed for some very good balance and ease of swing, it fits my palm perfectly and it swings very easy. Despite the blade fracturing in 7 uneven fragments, we can see that the blade didn’t chip or roll at all. Good work, Bob” then they’ll shake on it and Bob is eliminated, and all he’ll say is “I’m sorry to have punctured 4 blood vessels on Marcaida, but end of the day, the other smiths were simply better, and I’m proud of them. I just gotta go and work on my fundamentals back at home now :)” meanwhile Hell’s Kitchen’s contestants are having a shootout with Glocks in their dorm because someone made fun of someone else’s raw scallops. 

[usedmart]

Visit Us : https://usedmart.in

[rafecameronssl4t]

could u do Rafe x Thornton!reader where maybe instead of pope sinking toppers boat they’re acc trying to sink readers boat while her and Rafe are on it and pope runs into her or smth???

The forbidden zone || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: idk if i like this one, especially the ending 😭

Warnings: literally just swearing

Word count: 737

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Pope’s eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in the sight of the gleaming Ferretti Yachts 580 docked outside your house. The yacht’s sleek design and shiny exterior exude luxury and wealth. JJ, equally stunned, stares at the boat with his mouth slightly agape.

“This is war, Pope,” JJ declares, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and determination. “They hit us, so we hit them right back.” Pope swallows hard, trying to process the sight before him. “Is that even Topper’s boat? Could be his parents’ or—”

JJ cuts him off, pulling up his neck gaiter with a resolute shrug. “Who cares? It’s parked outside their place, so they must own it.” With a resigned exhale, Pope peels off his shirt, his frustration palpable. He takes a deep breath, then leaps into the water.

~

With your AirPods in, you’re sprawled out on the sun lounger of your family’s newest yacht, basking in the luxury of the latest addition to their boat collection. This sleek, state-of-the-art vessel was a birthday gift, a perfect upgrade from your parents’ previous boat. Topper, with his 2020 Malibu, seemed downright envious in comparison.

You’re sipping on a chilled iced tea when your timer chimes, signaling it’s time to flip over. Deciding you need to reapply some sunscreen, you rise from your seat, looking around for Rafe, who is somewhere aboard the boat.

Removing your AirPods and humming along to a catchy tune, you stroll around the yacht. “Rafe?” you call out. “Babe, where are you—” As you turn a corner, you come to an abrupt halt, your eyes widening in shock.

Pope stands there, his face a mix of panic and surprise. “What are you doing here?” you demand, crossing your arms as you take in his distress. Your gaze shifts to the open door leading down into the bilge, and a sense of dread washes over you. “Uh…” Pope stammers, his fear palpable. You quickly piece together the situation and realise something is wrong.

Without wasting another second, you dash towards the bilge, your heart pounding in your chest. The area is dimly lit and cluttered with machinery. You scan the space rapidly, searching for any signs of trouble. Suddenly, you hear a loud splash and bolt outside, only to see Pope frantically swimming away from the boat.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, disbelief and anger mingling in your voice. The sound of hurried footsteps reaches your ears, and you turn to see Rafe approaching with a look of panic. “What? What happened?” he asks urgently.

“I found Pope snooping around the bilge,” you say quickly, your voice tight with anxiety. Rafe’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops as he processes the information. “What? Where the fuck is he now?” Rafe demands, his gaze following your finger as you point toward Pope’s boat. You both watch in stunned silence as Pope scrambles aboard his boat with the help of some blonde you could only imagine to be JJ.

Rafe’s frustration is palpable as he watches Pope’s boat disappear into the distance. He turns to you, his face etched with concern. “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” His hands grasp yours firmly, his eyes scanning your body for any signs of injury or distress. You shake your head, assuring him that you’re unharmed.

“What was he even doing here?” Rafe mutters, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. He pushes past you, heading briskly toward the open bilge door. “Do you think he was trying to sink the boat?” you ask, your voice tinged with worry as you lean against the doorway, watching him intently.

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Rafe snaps back, irritation colouring his tone. “I don’t know,” you reply, your voice tinged with frustration. “But why else would he be in the bilge room?” Rafe exhales sharply, his annoyance momentarily giving way to concern.

He turns to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His hands rest possessively on the curve of your hips, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours. You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his neck.

“I think I should go tell Mum,” you say with a sigh, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. Rafe nods, his expression firm and serious as he watches you walk off. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he scrolls through his contacts before clicking on Toppers contact.

Rafe

You won't fucking believe who snuck into your sister's boat while we were on it.

[misswynters]

Lure in the Deep

Ewan Mitchel x reader

[SYNOPSIS: You both are actors starring in a movie where he plays a sailor and you play a siren.

[note | it’s a bit cheesy and short, but i just had to write something!, will probably fix later

Massive blue screens surrounded a large water tank, the waves created by hidden machinery that mimicked the gentle rise and fall of the ocean. The ship, a meticulously crafted replica of an old sailing vessel, bobbed in the artificial water, its sails catching the wind from strategically placed fans. It was a perfect illusion, transporting anyone who stepped onto the set to another world.

You stood just off to the side, dressed in a shimmering costume that clung to your form, reflecting the light like scales. Your role in the film was one that had drawn you in the moment you read the script—a siren, the embodiment of the sea's allure, cursed to sing men to their doom. The role required a delicate balance of ethereal beauty and an underlying darkness, a challenge you relished.

Across the set, Ewan Mitchell was getting into character. His transformation into the role of the sailor, a man hardened by years at sea yet still capable of wonder, was nothing short of remarkable. Ewan had an intensity about him that made every role he took on feel deeply personal, and this one was no exception. His sailor was a man haunted by the sea’s beauty and danger, drawn to it despite the peril it posed.

The scene you were about to shoot was a pivotal one, where your characters would meet for the first time—a moment of tension, temptation, and mystery. It was one of the most crucial parts of the film, the moment where the sailor’s fate would be sealed by the siren’s song.

The director, a meticulous man with a passion for detail, called for quiet on the set. The crew hushed, the sound of the waves and the creaking of the ship filling the silence. The cameras were ready, focused on the ship as it drifted through the water.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself sink into the character of the siren. You were no longer yourself—you were an ancient being, bound to the sea, cursed to live beneath its surface, and doomed to lure sailors to their doom with your voice. The script had described the siren as both haunting and irresistible, a creature of beauty and danger in equal measure.

“Action!” the director called.

The cameras began to roll, and the scene came to life. Ewan’s sailor stood at the bow of the ship, his hands gripping the railing as he stared out over the dark water. The wind whipped through his hair, and his eyes were distant, lost in thought. He was the perfect picture of a man who had seen too much yet still found himself entranced by the mysteries of the sea.

As per the script, you began to sing, your voice soft and melodic, carrying across the water like a whisper on the wind. The song was one of longing and loss, a siren’s call designed to draw the sailor in, to make him forget everything but the voice that beckoned him closer. Your character’s voice was meant to be her most powerful weapon, a lure that no mortal man could resist.

Ewan’s sailor stiffened as the sound reached his ears. His eyes searched the water, trying to locate the source of the song. The camera captured the moment perfectly—his confusion, his curiosity, and the growing pull of the siren’s voice. You could see the internal struggle playing out in his expression, a man torn between his instincts and the overwhelming urge to follow the sound.

Following the director's cues, you slowly emerged from the water, just enough for the sailor to catch a glimpse of your character. Your costume shimmered in the moonlight, your eyes meeting his with a gaze that was both inviting and foreboding.

Ewan’s performance was captivating. His character’s eyes widened slightly as they locked onto yours, a mix of fear and fascination crossing his face. The camera lingered on this moment—the siren and the sailor, their fates intertwined by the pull of the ocean and the curse that bound you.

The scene was supposed to be tense, filled with the unspoken promise of danger and the inevitability of the sailor’s doom. You could feel the energy between you and Ewan, a silent understanding that made the scene feel real, almost too real. It was as if the set had vanished, leaving only the two of you, the sea, and the siren’s song.

As you continued to sing, Ewan’s character slowly stepped closer to the edge of the ship, his movements almost trance-like. The script had called for him to be drawn in, compelled to move closer despite knowing the danger. Ewan’s portrayal was spot-on—his body language conveying both the struggle to resist and the growing compulsion to surrender.

The director had planned for this moment to be one of slow, deliberate tension, but there was an electricity in the air that neither of you could ignore. The scene was taking on a life of its own, evolving beyond the words on the page.

Suddenly, the director called for a cut, his voice breaking through the spell. The crew erupted into motion, the illusion shattered as people rushed to reset for the next take.

You and Ewan stayed in place, both of you still caught in the intensity of the moment. His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, you wondered if he had been as deeply affected by the scene as you had. There was something in his gaze—a lingering connection, perhaps, or just the residue of a powerful performance.

“That was… something,” Ewan said quietly, breaking the silence between you. His voice was still tinged with the emotion of the scene, a testament to how deeply he had immersed himself in the role.

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the scene. “Yeah. It felt… different.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile. “You make it easy to get lost in the moment.”

The compliment caught you off guard, but you managed a smile in return. “Likewise. Your performance was incredible.

Ewan shrugged, his modesty a sharp contrast to the intensity he brought to his characters. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

Before you could respond, the director approached, a wide grin on his face. “That was fantastic, you two. Absolutely perfect. Let’s get one more take, just for safety, but I think we’ve got it.”

The crew reset the scene, and you took your place in the water once more, waiting for the cameras to roll. As the lights dimmed and the ship was once again bathed in moonlight, you felt that familiar pull, the transformation back into the siren who haunted the deep.

“Action!” the director called, and the scene began anew.

Once more, the song rose from your throat, the melody haunting and beautiful. Ewan’s sailor reacted just as before, his body drawn to the edge of the ship by the irresistible pull of the siren’s call. But this time, something was different—there was a depth to the connection between your characters that hadn’t been there in the previous take. It was subtle, but it was enough to change the tone of the scene, adding layers of emotion that made it even more compelling.

As the scene played out, you found yourself lost in the moment, the line between reality and fiction blurring once more. There was a raw intensity to Ewan’s performance that drew you in, making it feel as if you were truly the siren and he the doomed sailor.

When the director finally called “Cut!” you both stayed in character for a beat longer than necessary, the weight of the scene lingering in the air. It wasn’t until the crew began to move around you that you snapped out of it, the spell broken.

“That was… wow,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ewan nodded, his expression still distant, as if he hadn’t fully come back to reality yet. “Yeah. That felt… real.”

You smiled, the tension between you easing as you both returned to yourselves. “You really brought the character to life. It was incredible to watch.”

He returned the smile, this time with a hint of his usual charm. “I could say the same about you. I think we make a pretty good team.”

As the crew began to dismantle the set, you and Ewan lingered for a moment, the connection between you still humming in the air. It was a connection born from your characters, from the intensity of the scene you had just shared, but there was something else too—a spark that made you wonder if it was only acting or if there was something more.

“Maybe we’ll get to work together again,” Ewan said, his voice laced with a hint of hope.

“I’d like that,” you replied, your smile widening. “I’d like that a lot.”

And as the lights dimmed on the set of “Lure of the Deep”, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to the story yet to be written.

taglist: @spn-obession @soulsbrne @beebeechaos @mymoonempress @demigoddessqueens

banner: @cafekitsune

[meroif]

A Hundred Years of Sleep

Far, far away from home, you awake to a world changed. Everyone had their time to grief,  with the exception of you. Then I ask, what would you give to fix what is broken?

DEMO ; PATREON

A Hundred Years of Sleep is an interactive fiction novel taking place in a universe of magic and machinery. It aims to guide you through a journey through the stars, one that begins and ends with your very home.

The Story

You come from Vaeravel, a small and peaceful planet orbiting around an even smaller star in a corner of the universe. You live with your aunts in your quaint neighborhood until you're considered a young adult by the standards of your long-lived species.

Then without fanfare, everything ends.

The Collapse is a terrible accident that completely destroys your planet and most of its inhabitants. You manage to survive, taken to one of the few emergency vessels fleeing disaster, but slip away into a deep sleep.

You wake up again, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar galaxy, alone. Everywhere you look, life has gone on without you.

So when you hear rumors of a ship departing for what is now called The Collapsed you can't help but embark on the journey home, so that maybe by the end of it you'd be granted peace, or at least instructed on what to do with all your loss.

Features

Character customization. Choose name, pronouns, appearance, personality and ambitions of your character.

Moral compass. Be bad, play nice, decide how you want to interact with the world at large and see for yourself where your actions take you.

Romance. Meet and fall in love with four different characters, all gender selectable, or don't, if you prefer to the take the romanceless path.

Flirt options with various NPCs, with future extra side-stories to give them the space they deserve.

Multiple endings, good and bad, once you reach the end of your journey.

Romantic Options

Riel Rosenquartz (he/him, or she/her, or they/them), the heir of the Rosen Crown, lost monarchy of Vaeravel. Elegant, kind and diplomatic, they're overjoyed to meet another survivor of the disaster. Although you're not sure why they'd wait for so long before making the journey back home.

Khael (he/him, or she/her), the Captain of the Chrysa, the ship travelling to reach The Collapsed. Highly perceptive and infuriatingly charming, Khael is undoubtedly the person in charge. But what could they possibly stand to gain in embarking on such a dangerous journey?

Nathaniel (he/him, or she/her), allegedly a researcher hailing from afar, they seem to be unfamiliar with how the entire galaxy works. Mysterious, reserved and stubborn to a fault, it's undeniable they're hiding something big. Yet as complete strangers, you have no idea why they'd be so opposed to your presence onboard.

Aelinor (he/him or she/her), your old neighbor and childhood friend, miraculously found again in the mists of the ship's crew. Although they're just as sweet as you remember them, you can't help but wonder...where were they as you slept?

Portraits (1, 2); Aesthetics (1, 2, 3, 4); Playlists ; ROs Introductions (1, 2) ; Side Stories (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

A Hundred Years of Sleep is currently in development and will be released episodically, the current build includes the Prologue and the entirety of Chapter One.

If you've enjoyed the story so far, please consider supporting me on Patreon, it really does make a difference in the time I'm able to dedicate to the project.

Patrons receive access to the alpha demo, which currently adds the first part of Chapter Two to the public build, as well as side and themed stories, polls, and other exclusive benefits.

Thank you for your support, and for playing A Hundred Years of Sleep. 🌙

[probablyasocialecologist]

An innovation that propelled Britain to become the world’s leading iron exporter during the Industrial Revolution was appropriated from an 18th-century Jamaican foundry, historical records suggest. The Cort process, which allowed wrought iron to be mass-produced from scrap iron for the first time, has long been attributed to the British financier turned ironmaster Henry Cort. It helped launch Britain as an economic superpower and transformed the face of the country with “iron palaces”, including Crystal Palace, Kew Gardens’ Temperate House and the arches at St Pancras train station. Now, an analysis of correspondence, shipping records and contemporary newspaper reports reveals the innovation was first developed by 76 black Jamaican metallurgists at an ironworks near Morant Bay, Jamaica. Many of these metalworkers were enslaved people trafficked from west and central Africa, which had thriving iron-working industries at the time. Dr Jenny Bulstrode, a lecturer in history of science and technology at University College London (UCL) and author of the paper, said: “This innovation kicks off Britain as a major iron producer and … was one of the most important innovations in the making of the modern world.” The technique was patented by Cort in the 1780s and he is widely credited as the inventor, with the Times lauding him as “father of the iron trade” after his death. The latest research presents a different narrative, suggesting Cort shipped his machinery – and the fully fledged innovation – to Portsmouth from a Jamaican foundry that was forcibly shut down.

[...]

The paper, published in the journal History and Technology, traces how Cort learned of the Jamaican ironworks from a visiting cousin, a West Indies ship’s master who regularly transported “prizes” – vessels, cargo and equipment seized through military action – from Jamaica to England. Just months later, the British government placed Jamaica under military law and ordered the ironworks to be destroyed, claiming it could be used by rebels to convert scrap metal into weapons to overthrow colonial rule. “The story here is Britain closing down, through military force, competition,” said Bulstrode. The machinery was acquired by Cort and shipped to Portsmouth, where he patented the innovation. Five years later, Cort was discovered to have embezzled vast sums from navy wages and the patents were confiscated and made public, allowing widespread adoption in British ironworks. Bulstrode hopes to challenge existing narratives of innovation. “If you ask people about the model of an innovator, they think of Elon Musk or some old white guy in a lab coat,” she said. “They don’t think of black people, enslaved, in Jamaica in the 18th century.”

[rubberizer92]

In the heart of Rome, at the prestigious drone center, aspiring recruits gathered for the application day, each man eager to prove himself worthy of joining the ranks of the rubber-clad drones. As they entered the center, they were greeted by the stern faces of the interviewers, their eyes sharp and penetrating, assessing each candidate with a critical gaze.

The first exam tested their physical capabilities and mental loyalty to obey and accept further mind control. In a vast training hall, the candidates were put through a series of rigorous exercises designed to push their bodies to the limit.

Their muscles strained against the tight fabric of their clothing, the sweat glistening on their skin as they pushed themselves to their absolute edge. With each movement, their bodies rippled with power, the definition of their muscles accentuated by the sleek rubber outfits they wore.

Once the physical exam was complete, those who passed were ushered into a separate room, where they were instructed to strip down to their underwear. The air crackled with anticipation as the recruits shed their clothes, revealing their toned, muscular bodies to the eager eyes of the interviewers.

With bated breath, they donned the tight glossy rubber outfits provided, the material clinging to their skin like a second skin. Every curve and contour of their bodies was accentuated by the sleek fabric, their movements fluid and graceful as they adjusted to the sensation of being encased in rubber from head to toe.

As they stood before the interview panel, their bodies pulsating with energy and determination, they knew that this was just the beginning of their journey to becoming rubber-clad drones. And with each passing moment, they felt a sense of excitement and anticipation building within them, knowing that they were one step closer to joining the elite ranks of the rubberized society.

In the dimly lit room of the drone center, the chosen recruits were ushered into a space where the air hummed with anticipation. Here, they would undergo the final stage of their transformation, a process that would cement their loyalty to the rubberized society and prepare them for the tasks ahead.

As they settled into their seats, the recruits were surrounded by monitors displaying swirling patterns and flashing lights, designed to induce a state of deep relaxation and receptivity. Around them, the low hum of machinery filled the air, as unseen forces worked to reprogram their minds and reshape their thoughts.

One by one, the recruits were guided into a state of deep trance, their minds open and receptive to the commands of the Voice. Through a series of carefully crafted mantras, they were programmed to chant words of loyalty, obedience, and arousal, their voices blending together in a hypnotic chorus that filled the room.

"Rubber is our master, our guide," they intoned, their voices low and reverent. "In its embrace, we find our purpose, our pleasure, our destiny."

With each repetition, the recruits felt their minds opening further, their thoughts becoming aligned with the desires of the rubberized society. They were no longer individuals, but vessels for the will of the Voice, ready to serve without question or hesitation.

And as the final echoes of the mantras faded into the air, the recruits knew that they were ready. Ready to don their glossy rubber suits and venture out into the world as fully fledged drones, their minds and bodies attuned to the commands of their masters.

For those who had passed the final test, there would be no turning back. They were now part of something greater than themselves, part of a society where rubber reigned supreme, and obedience was the highest virtue. And as they prepared to take their place among the ranks of the rubber-clad drones, they knew that their lives would never be the same again.

As the final 1% of candidates were ushered into the next room, a palpable tension hung in the air. They moved in unison, their bodies throbbing with arousal and obedience, the tight layer of rubber sealing their bulges, exposing their arousal without allowing them any relief.

With each step, the glossy rubber suits they wore seemed to come alive, quivering with anticipation. Slowly, inexorably, the rubber began to crawl up their necks and faces, enveloping them in its tight embrace.

Their minds filled with a euphoric haze as they surrendered to the transformation, fully embracing their new identity as rubber-clad drones. For the next three years, they would serve the rubberized society with unwavering devotion, guided by the Voice and bound by the unbreakable bonds of glossy rubber. And as they disappeared into the depths of the drone center, their bodies pulsating with desire and obedience, they knew that their lives would never be the same again.

[ozzgin]

Hi it’s me again 😁. I wanted to try to request something but it’s very specific so if you don’t like the idea or just don’t have the time you can just put it aside 😅.

It’s another female predator story but in this one reader is a preator that was born black with white markings which is seen as a bad omen ( i don’t think it’s real in the Yautja culture but let’s just role with it ). Reader was abandoned by her family and was found by a family of thanator ( you know those fierce alien panther from avatar ) so she was a savage and knew how to hunt without any tools from a young age. Her grandmother, a strong and important matriarch, found her and took her back to their planet. But reader doesn’t really have contact with her kind except for her grandmother and her thanators and she hunts alone a lot of dangerous enemies ( like xenoporph queens ).

I’m totally making the even up but let’s imagine it’s mating season and there is a huge a tournament to help yautjas find a good partner. Like wrestling, shooting or small combat matches… It’s time for the females to compete, reader is participating cause her grandma asked her ( she wants grandpups 😂 ) and is wrecking the events and catches the interest of many males. Especialy after the one on one fight where she would use a lot of her natural features and thanator fighting style ( we don’t really see them using there claws, feet or teeth a lot and it’s disapointing cause those are mass murder weapons). The males are enamoured and quickly process to begin the courting but reader doesn’t really know how to act with males and she never really paid it much attention before cause she’s usually hunting or founding and taking care of new alien pets companions. I bet the males are amazed with this unique and strong ( and kind of inexperienced 😏 ) female yautja.

Thanks for reading this ( long ass fuck to be honest 😂😅) resquest and i hope everything is alright for you, 😘 bye.

You'll have to excuse potentially wrong assumptions as I haven't watched Avatar and have no idea what it is about 🥲 buut otherwise I just detailed around your ideas, they’re pretty solid and I didn’t want to tamper with them more than necessary

Predator Headcanons: Predator Reader in Tournament

Featuring a Yautja female with an unusual background.

Everything happened so suddenly. Your peaceful like among your family, uprooted within seconds. One particular day and out of nowhere, a bizarre vessel hovered over Pandora's forests, alerting everyone in its vicinity. The intruders that teleported down caused even greater confusion: they looked just like you. Yet you couldn't understand their odd clicks and guttural noises, nor did you trust the intricate holograms and machinery pointed in your direction.

After what felt like an eternity - and with the help of a translator - the uninvited guests announced their purpose: to retrieve you and bring you back to Yautja Prime. Nonsense, you thought at the time. There's no "back" when your home has always been on this Planet. Despite your protests, you'd quickly learned that your hunting expertise was no proper defense against their foreign technology and so you begrudgingly accepted the proposal.

The first few months were, plainly put, depressing. The matriarch - you'd soon learn she is your remaining family - insisted on keeping your integration a secret at first. Many factors were still unknown to them: would you be able to learn their language after so many years? What about defending yourself against other Predators? Yautja communities are ruthless and unforgiving, and the matriarch could not risk killing off her only successor.

Thankfully you proved yourself efficient enough with your skills. Growing up in the forest has honed your senses, perhaps to an even greater degree when compared to a Predator who relies on modern weaponry. Impressed with the outcome, your grandmother decides to register you for the Grand Tournament. What better way to reveal the return of her long-lost suckling? You don't know what it entails, but the time spent hunting xenomorphs has gotten quite monotonous. You'd take any challenge to entertain you.

The gate opens and you step inside the ring without hesitation. There's a moment of silence, followed by suspicious murmurs from a confused audience. Unbeknownst to you, the patterns you're donning are not only a rare occurrence among the Yautja species, but a bad omen as well. The males are studying your movements carefully. It's not just your appearance; Your fighting stance is unusual, resembling a wild animal. And, as the end of the match quickly follows with an effortless win on your side, they're certain of one thing: they've found their mate.

You raise your first victoriously and don't even notice the predatory stares. Nor do you comprehend the sudden gathering of males that has formed towards the exit, awaiting your return. What's the meaning of this? You glare at the matriarch, and she responds with a smirk. You'll figure it out soon enough.

[mspopstar]

okay how the fuck is sectiona muchless haltmann alive?

"Hehehee! That was easy! I made a clone using genetic material I found from a collection my father had created a fail-safe measure. Used machinery to artificially speed up senescence in the zygote until he was back to his silver glory compressing sixty years into six months. To ensure any and all possible biological failures associated with the cloning process could never occur, I created some bio-mechanical implants to improve and fix some things. With that, my father was created physically. Mentally? He was a husk. Using as much data as I could find, scanning journals of his, emails, and phone calls and more I created an artificial intelligence that functions about 96.7% close to the original! My new father's existence now resides in the creation of several thousand server units in a warehouse at a undisclosed location!"

-Susie P. Haltmann

"My, now that's a query! Bringing her excellence back was no easy feat! I near lost my head in the process. The physical preparations were important, after all, without a body there's no vessel for her to even exist. I used necromancy to recreate her graces' body, or, what was left of her body. As you know, a body with no soul will decay quickly. With magics I preserved her physical elegance temporarily to use as a temporary vessel for what would become her. Next were the spiritual preparations. Horrifyingly, I had learned that Sectonia's hobby for cosmetic and physical glamour had completely fractured her soul in so many pieces, mashing them with others. The ritual to resurrect one spiritually requires a whole soul, not one that's been mixed with so many different colors and speckled to nonrecognition. I did what I could and using a process referred to as alchemic memory based soul creation, creating a soul from ones memory, to fill in the gaps that were missing. It's not perfect but it is satisfactory. They say that the dead lives on through the memory of others, and there's a truth to that! With Queen Sectonia back in the temporary vessel, I needed to do one final ritual to ensure her grace would live healthy for a long time. After all, her original body was beyond repair, parts of her were missing and the ones that were not missing weren't even hers! With a virgin, as the ritual will not work otherwise, I had swapped her soul with Sectonia's soul. I destroyed both Sectonia's original resurrected body (this brought me to tears.) with that street urchin's soul infecting it. Finally, I used some transformation magic to turn the sacrificial body into Queen Sectonia in her former glory. With that, I have her back in my life again. The healing process will take some time, but that is fine. I will wait for her majesty as long as she needs me to."

-Queen Sectonia's Royal Advisor, Taranza

"They both terrify me."

-Meta Knight and King Dedede

[fatehbaz]

What it meant to "do geology" in Hutton's time was to apply lessons of textual hermeneutics usually reserved for scripture [...] to the landscape. Geology was itself textual. Rocks were marks made by invisible processes that could be deciphered. Doing geology was a kind of reading, then, which existed in a dialectical relationship with writing. In The Theory of the Earth from 1788, Hutton wrote a new history of the earth as a [...] system [...]. Only a few kilometers away from Hutton’s unconformity [the geological site at Isle of Arran in Scotland that inspired his writing], [...] stands the remains of the Shell bitumen refinery [closed since 1986] as it sinks into the Atlantic Ocean. [...] As Hutton thought, being in a place is a hermeneutic practice. [...] [T]he Shell refinery at Ardrossan is a ruin of that machine, one whose great material derangements have defined the world since Hutton. [...]

The Shell Transport and Trading Company [now the well-known global oil company] was created in the Netherlands East Indies in 1897. The company’s first oil wells and refineries were in east Borneo [...]. The oil was taken by puncturing wells into subterranean deposits of a Bornean or Sumatran landscape, and then transported into an ever-expanding global network of oil depots at ports [...] at Singapore, then Chennai, and through the Suez Canal and into the Mediterranean. [...] The oil in these networks were Bornean and Sumatran landscapes on the move. Combustion engines burnt those landscapes. Machinery was lubricated by them. They illuminated the night as candlelight. [...] The Dutch East Indies was the new land of untapped promise in that multi-polar world of capitalist competition. British and Dutch colonial prospectors scoured the forests, rivers, and coasts of Borneo [...]. Marcus Samuel, the British founder of the Shell Transport and Trading Company, as his biographer [...] put it, was “mesmerized by oil, and by the vision of commanding oil all along the line from production to distribution, from the bowels of the earth to the laps of the Orient.” [...]

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Shell emerged from a Victorian era fascination with shells.

In the 1830s, Marcus Samuel Sr. created a seashell import business in Houndsditch, London. The shells were used for decorating the covers of curio boxes. Sometimes, the boxes also contained miniature sculptures, also made from shells, of food and foliage, hybridizing oceanic and terrestrial life forms. Wealthy shell enthusiasts would sometimes apply shells to grottos attached to their houses. As British merchant vessels expanded into east Asia after the dissolution of the East India Company’s monopoly on trade in 1833, and the establishment of ports at Singapore and Hong Kong in 1824 and 1842, the import of exotic shells expanded.

Seashells from east Asia represented the oceanic expanse of British imperialism and a way to bring distant places near, not only the horizontal networks of the empire but also its oceanic depths.

---

The fashion for shells was also about telling new histories. The presence of shells, the pecten, or scallop, was a familiar bivalve icon in cultures on the northern edge of the Mediterranean. Aphrodite, for example, was said to have emerged from a scallop shell. Minerva was associated with scallops. Niches in public buildings and fountains in the Roman empire often contained scallop motifs. St. James, the patron saint of Spain, was represented by a scallop shell [...]. The pecten motif circulated throughout medieval European coats of arms, even in Britain. In 1898, when the Gallery of Palaeontology, Comparative Anatomy, and Anthropology was opened in Paris’s Museum of Natural History - only two years after the first test well was drilled in Borneo at the Black Spot - the building’s architect, Ferdinand Dutert, ornamented the entrance with pecten shell reliefs. In effect, Dutert designed the building so that one entered through scallop shells and into the galleries where George Cuvier’s vision of the evolution of life forms was displayed [...]. But it was also a symbol for the transition between an aquatic form of life and terrestrial animals. Perhaps it is apposite that the scallop is structured by a hinge which allows its two valves to rotate. [...] Pectens also thrive in the between space of shallow coastal waters that connects land with the depths of the ocean. [...] They flourish in architectural imagery, in the mind, and as the logo of one of the largest ever fossil fuel companies. [...]

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In the 1890s, Marcus Samuel Jr. transitioned from his father’s business selling imported seashells to petroleum.

When he adopted the name Shell Transport and Trading Company in 1897, Samuel would likely have known that the natural history of bivalves was entwined with the natural history of fossil fuels. Bivalves underwent an impressive period of diversification in the Carboniferous period, a period that was first named by William Conybeare and William Phillips in 1822 to identify coal bearing strata. In other words, the same period in earth’s history that produced the Black Spot that Samuel’s engineers were seeking to extract from Dayak land was also the period that produced the pecten shells that he named his company after. Even the black fossilized leaves that miners regularly encountered in coal seams sometimes contained fossilized bivalve shells.

The Shell logo was a materialized cosmology, or [...] a cosmogram.

Cosmograms are objects that attempt to represent the order of the cosmos; they are snapshots of what is. The pecten’s effectiveness as a cosmogram was its pivot, to hinge, between spaces and times: it brought the deep history of the earth into the present; the Black Spot with Mediterranean imaginaries of the bivalve; the subterranean space of liquid oil with the surface. The history of the earth was made legible as an energetic, even a pyrotechnical force. The pecten represented fire, illumination, and certainly, power. [...] If coal required tunnelling, smashing, and breaking the ground, petroleum was piped liquid that streamed through a drilled hole. [...] In 1899, Samuel presented a paper to the Society of Arts in which he outlined his vision of “liquid fuel.” [...] Ardrossan is a ruin of that fantasy of a free flowing fossil fuel world. [...] At Ardrossan, that liquid cosmology is disintegrating.

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All text above by: Adam Bobbette. "Shells and Shell". e-flux Architecture (Accumulation series). November 2023. At: e-flux dot com slash architecture/accumulation/553455/shells-and-shell/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticisms purposes.]