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graciereadshannigram · 29 days

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hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

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thatstonedwriter · 6 months

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Quality Time With...

Loona

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Content; Romantic relationships, affection, physicality, gender neutral reader, fluff, swearing

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Spending time with Loona would include...

Lots of back and forth teasing. If you're not into that kind of thing, instead y'all will end up dishing about the people you both don't like. (loona probably complains about Moxxie a lot of the time)

Taking night walks (through the relatively safer areas of hell). Loona is confident in her ability to fight off anyone who bothers y'all. I would imagine Blitzø probably texts her a lot to check in with you both. Just in case

Couch time!! Y'all absolutely hog the couch for movie marathons, show binging, cuddling and listening to music. I've mentioned this before, but Blitzø may occasionally join you for movie marathons to bond with you both! However, if you want space, you'll move to Loona's room (or your place).

Heading to the parties Vortex invites y'all to! Whenever you go to a social gathering, you may have to act as a social buffer for Loona. If you're also introverted or don't like parties, at least you and Loona can stand in a corner together and people watch/enjoy the party ambiance. If you'r more extroverted, Loona follows you around the party. It's that meme of the introvert hiding behind the extrovert yk what I mean?

Rooftop stargazing!! Rooftop stargazing!!! Bring your drinks, blankets, and snacks because y'all will be up there a while. Also be aware Loona will smoke her cigarettes, but won't pressure you to take drags or anything. She's also careful to blow the smoke away from you so you're not inhaling it. You could stay up there for hours. It becomes a regular thing to meet each other on the roof after a long day, because at least once the day is over, you can bask in the night together.

I wouldn't be surprised if Loona was into mobile games. It's a way to tune out the daily bullshit. So maybe, y'all can play together! Whether it's having a joint account, or Loona invites you so you can trade materials or battle to see who has stronger characters. Also trying to beat each other's high scores. You're the only person Loona can be competitive with, without feeling threatened or belittled.

Quality time with Loona is surprisingly relaxing and lowkey. There's an intimate kind of understanding that makes her feel the safest she's ever been. Loona hopes she can make you feel the same.

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss headcanon #loona helluva boss #loona x reader #blitzo helluva boss #moxxie helluva boss #vortex helluva boss #romantic headcanons #romantic relationships

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monsterfloofs · 9 months

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Carroigne (Bird creature / plague doctor creature) He/They/It x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

( An scp inspired story, I luff plague doctor creatures and took a stab at making one of my own! I hope you enjoy! :3c Tis Floofy writing hours again wheeeeee💖)

Your job had begun easy enough. Working as a janitor in a top secret facility. With a keyring of important items that consisted of your ID badge and multiple personnel keycards. Accessing just about any level required your ID, a keycard, a number of passwords, a retinal scan, and sometimes even a list of security questions to get into certain spaces. Within your time working for said non-disclosed facility, you have signed a folders worth of waivers, and disclaimers. Many personnel lived within the building while they weren’t on vacation and you were no exception. Your little home away from home space held folders bursting full of paperwork.

That was just from working a small janitorial job. You couldn’t imagine what kind of work loads the clinical lab coat wearing scientists had to deal with on a daily basis. Many things were kept on a need to know basis, and you were the last to know about a lot of things. Still, that didn’t exactly deter you from this job. The money and the roof over your head was convincing enough to have you keep updating the necessary forms you needed to have to stay at the facility.

You took your mop and cart of supplies past heavy steel doors with windows that looked in on an assortment of inhuman beings. The hallway's bright sterile lighting hurt your eyes when first entering the “dorms”. A few of the menagerie of creatures would press their faces against the glass, jaws working in an attempt to say something to you past the barrier.

"It's no place for sympathy," You had been briefed, "Many of these monsters would happily take the opportunity to tear you limb from limb."

You would recite those words in your head as you walked by the rows of containment units.

Yet as you look back now, that was the first mistake you ended up making.

Engaging.

Past the slithering forest of tendrils, gleaming eyes in shadowy corners, and aquatic creatures that floated suspended in the water, among them sat a humanoid shape at a simple table and chair. Something both strange yet familiar that sat out of place.

It was like looking at a Halloween decoration, an animatronic that sat amongst all the other oddities. It could have almost been laughable, back then. Like a prank someone had set up in the room and left for the other workers to stumble upon. The being was swathed in dark clothes, with black leather gloves, a victorian cloak, dark pants down to the knee-high boots with silver buckles. The outfit gave no hint at the skin underneath, even its face was adorned with a mask that obscured their visage. The mask itself resembles a plague doctor’s, with the long pointed beak, and dark glass where the eyes would be. The material was hard and better quality, than what you would find compared to the halloween costumes that mimicked the look. Black leather, with neat stitches that ran around the entirety of the mask. Metal rims inlaid around the round glass lenses.

You had stopped, to peer at the figure inside the room. It had sat so still, like a life sized doll. You were just about to move on, before one gloved hand raised up in a silent wave.

You had stood transfixed on the spot, eyebrows knitting together. You tilted your head, and the being on the other side of the glass mimicked you. The beaked mask resembled more and more like a wide glossy eyed bird. You shuddered, and backed away.

After that one day, whenever you traversed that corridor you could feel eyes watching you intently as you passed. Many times you couldn't help but to turn your head. Though you already knew who it was, typically they sat upon a chair. Hands clasped over a crossed knee. On one occasion you had jumped nearly out of your skin. Seeing the beaked figure inches away from the glass, a piece of paper pressed against the wall with its fingers.

"I have not seen you here before, are you new?" The letters scrawled in a spidery cursive. You felt chills creep up and down your spine, you looked around the deserted passageway, before giving a brief nod. With a flourish of their hand, they produced a fountain pen from their breast pocket. However, whatever spell that had kept you in place was dissolving. You had moved on while they had begun to write something. Taking nervous glances around you as you had sheepishly gone about your business.

The facility had many rules and regulations about the different creatures and anomalies that lay housed inside. After your shift you had sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping through the files you had the authorization to see. Chewing on your bottom lip as you ran your fingers through a thick stack of papers again and again.

Nothing.

There wasn’t any information on the so-called plague doctor. You could only guess that this particular being wasn’t one that was accessible for cleaning personnel. You unceremoniously dropped the stack of papers to the floor. Laying back in the small bed that took up half your living quarters.

You turned this way and that, laying with your hands clasped over your stomach, your eyes trained on the ceiling. This knowledge did very little to clear your conscience. While this being wasn’t one that you were briefed on, that didn’t indicate that they weren’t a threat. Your mind was an ocean of twisting thoughts, you had previously heard accounts of people spiraling into insanity just by hearing some of these strange creatures speak. Your knuckles balling into uneasy fists as you gripped your blanket.

Sleep was uneasy, with many rounds of jolting awake between dreaming. By morning you were exhausted, slumping forward out of bed to head out to the mess hall.

You were greeted by the sight of a bustling space. The clamorous cacophony of voices that were making small talk during breakfast making your head spin. It felt as though you were still dreaming. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a try, wading through the line until you found a seat.

“Unit 1779336 of the Janitorial department?”

You raised your head groggily, close to dozing only moments before, yet you stiffened to sit up straighter. Your eyes falling to the badges of a military uniform.

“Sir?”

“Hate to take you away from your breakfast so early in the morning, but you and I have some things that need to be discussed.”

You feel your chest tighten as you move to stand. The man in front of you stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A stocky man with a neat salt and pepper beard, and piercing green eyes.

You could feel curious gazes directed at you as you walked. You Hunched your shoulders defensively as you trailed behind the uniformed man. You were led down a series of corridors into a large circular office. The man’s wide shoulders slopped as he let out a heavy sigh. He settled down at his desk and tapped a folder on the polished table top.

“You’ve been requested for a promotion.” He said grimly. “This isn't a standard issue. . . but this is a special case.”

You nodded, as a weighty silence hung in the air. He took off his hat, running a hand through his slick backed hair.

“How much do you know about Caroigne?”

“P-pardon?” You inquired, the man’s expression turning stormy as his eyebrows wrinkled his brow.

“Caroigne, the so called “in-house doctor” as it likes to call itself,” He growls “That bastard seems to know an awful lot about you.”

“But I— Sir, I’ve never spoken to—“

His green eyes flashed, and your voice died in your throat. He pauses to take a tempering breath through his nose. Then he pushes the manilla folder towards you across the desk. You glance from him to the manilla, before nervously flipping it open.

In that same spidery hand, that you remember seeing on a scrap of paper, was written your full name. The one you had been sworn to relinquish while you were inside the facility, your age, your job, and a short synopsis of your medical records. There was a smaller footnote underneath the scrawl.

“This subject would be an ideal companion for me while I am enjoying my stay at your facilities.”

“Subject,” You mouth faintly, before staring up at the man, “Y-you’re j-joking. . . r-right?”

He crosses his arms, glowering at you, “Caroigne has refused to speak with all scientists and attendants. If they are willing to speak with you, then it’s a risk we’re willing to take. I will get you the necessary papers you need to have, and you will start in two days.”

Fragility hit you like a freight train, how easily replaceable you were if things were to go sour. The feeling of having the air punched from your lungs continued after you had taken your new briefing papers. The last words of wisdom he had threatened in a grave timber.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk about illnesses in front of it, don’t let it know there is anyone sick, or if you yourself feel ill. Not unless you want to be the new cadaver we have to drag from its room.”

You sat curled into a corner of your bedroom. Legs tucked into your chest as you stared numbly into space.

Those two days were days where you barely left your room. They were spent between reading over your assigned documents and sleeping. The times you did leave your dorm room, there were guards stationed outside of your door to discourage any plans of leaving. You had broken down and cried in the bathroom on that last night, the sleeve of your shirt between your teeth to muffle your sobs.

You stood between two soldiers carrying assault rifles. Your eyes blinked painfully from the tears you hadn’t been able to stop. Head pounding with an ache as you were led into an interrogation room. You entered alone, finding doctor Caroigne already sitting across the table.

“Well hello there~ How delightful that you and I finally get a chance to spea— Oh, oh dear you aren’t looking very well at all.”

You blink at the blurry figure in front of you. Compared to the other people you had encountered the past few days, this was a voice that was filled with what sounded like genuine worry. You swallowed hard, eyes turning to look at the papers in front of you, shuffling them nervously.

“I-I’m fine.” You breathed, “You are. . .”

“Doctor Caroigne dear, but you may just call me Caroigne. And I suppose you’ll want to know my pronouns, that is the new rage nowadays.” they chuckle benignly, “I don’t think I have ever had the pleasure of having any, many scientists in this facility call me a ‘he’ in any case. I truly don’t mind what you choose, but it’s best not to upset the other doctors in this facility. Between you and me, they are dreadfully foul tempered.”

A weak smile graces your lips before it disappears. “You seem to know your way around the staff.”

Caroigne folds their fingers together, tapping his thumbs against each other.

“You could consider me to be somewhat of a flexible individual. One does not simply settle into their surroundings without some difficulty. However, I am proud to say that I have managed quite well.”

You paused, frowning at the papers in your hands, you were going to have to be more direct with these questions. After a moment of hesitation you finally relented, “How. . . did you get my information?”

“Ah, I am assuming ‘they’ would like to know?”

Your eyes slowly moved from your papers to watch them.

Caroigne bobs their masked head in the direction of the dark one way viewing windows.

“I. . . I would also like to know.” You mused softly.

“Hm. . . “ A pause before they give a tsking noise, a tone between amusement and disappointment. “I can’t be giving away all my secrets.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “But,” He says, raising a finger, “I might be able to part with a few of them, for a small price, a token, if you will.”

“And that price would be. . .”

“Oh nothing taxing,” Caroigne huffs, “This,” He spreads his arms, “Is all that I require. It’s been so long since I have talked to someone. Truly talked to someone. Tis a breath of fresh air. As a beast of science myself, I do not mind the others, but all they want to do is batter me with questions, questions, questions. It is that, or I dare say isolation.”

You bobbed you head wordlessly, as the doctor took a breath and continued.

“Furthermore, I liked the look about you, curious, inquisitive, I like that.” They chuckle warmly, “I have a bit of a nose myself~” They joked as they tapped at the mask's beaked visage.

The first meeting was odd. The doctor was well mannered if not very chatty. They asked many questions about yourself, where you had grown up, your childhood. You spent a great deal of time stepping around its questions and asking ones of your own. It had felt stiff with politeness at first, but it had become more natural the longer you talked.

When you had been finally taken and led away, Caroigne impressed just how lovely it had been to chat. Wishing you well, and eager to speak again. Back in your room, you looked back at his case folder, picking up the single photo that was in your file. It was a picture of Caroigne hovering over a mutilated corpse and holding a pen and clipboard. Blood smattering the walls and floor, as the guard had tried to defend themselves. You shuddered, placing the photo back into the folder, the image facing down. It was proof to remember, that no matter how kindly this being seemed, they were dangerous.

You had to be careful.

And you were! For a time. It fell into a routine, a weekly dance the two of you had. You asked him questions and he asked you things as well. You talked about your work, and the folks you missed at home. Somewhere along the way, you could notice yourself changing, the way you talked to them. Less sterilely polite, and more heart. You would laugh at the jokes they had tossed your way, and you spoke more sincerity than you had expected.

Then one day, you messed up.

You hadn’t felt well that day. The beginning of a headache pulsed across your forehead. You settled down at the other side of the table. Cariogne had leaned forward, “And how are you my dear?”

It was just a simple slip up, an off-handed comment. One derived from familiarity and not caution.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, I just have a little bit of a headache.”

You could feel the room go deathly still, “A. . . headache you say?” The calm voice drifted behind the mask. The room fell into pin drop silence as you realized the mistake you just made. Then began a tapping, a sudden drumming of the doctors fingers against the table of the interrogation room. They sat unmoving except for those fingers. The rhythmic tone was the only thing that showed a sudden change in their mood. An almost strained kind of excitement, like a cat ready to pounce.

“What. . . kind of headache, tension? An oncoming migraine, perhaps?” Their voice was casual, off-handed even. But your eyes were transfixed on the four fingers of his right hand.

“T-tension,” You replied, flinching as your voice cracked. You could already feel your pulse begin to quicken as gooseflesh began to creep up your arms. With all the briefing you had done, and reading his file countless times. Going over the information just before you left for these visits, the simplest most easiest rule to remember.

“Ah.” His hand froze, before his hands steepled themselves together.

“I see,”

You nodded your head jerkily, looking away, your eyes scanned the sealed room.

“I see, I see,” He muses, his voice sounding much closer than before. “Our little visits must put a strain on you, I hadn’t realized that.”

You hadn’t seen him get up, and they had moved across the table to stand across from in a blink of an eye. You hadn’t even had a chance to pull away. He leaned down, almost hovering on top of you.

“I wish to impress this upon you, little fledgling, you truly have nothing to worry about.”

The gloved hand touches your chin, raising your head up to stare back at the mask.

You begin to blink back tears as you watch little dots of laser light blink all over his form.

He turns his head, not aware of the sudden change of atmosphere, examining your face until there is a bark from one of the guards behind you.

“Release them Carriogne, and we won’t have to use force,”

He turns his attention away from you finally, “. . . That is quite rude.” The doctor scoffed, “I had known there was someone listening in to our chats. Haven’t you chaps heard of privacy?” He retracts his hand and you can breathe again. Taking the distraction to push out your chair, hastily stepping backward until you reach the threshold. The guards in their heavily armored uniforms push past you to get a clearer aim.

“He’s out of his cuffs again,” One of the soldiers shouted back to the main guard.

“Well, of course I am,” The doctor quipped cheerfully, “I told you they don’t work. I don’t know why you keep trying to use them.”

“That’s enough humor for one day doctor,” Another of the security personnel grunted, tension coloring his voice, “Make a note that the silver handcuffs have no effect, we’ll have to try a different pair next time.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, no need to cause a fuss.” The doctor huffs, his calm voice sounded only mildly harassed, due to the circumstances. He is jostled out of the interrogation room at gunpoint. He turns his head towards you, sounding apologetic.

“I’m so sorry my dear, for this abrupt change of plans. I also apologize for these men, the lot of them could do with a lesson in manners. . . I would see to it myself but I don’t suppose that would do me personally any favors. I shall see you anon, next week at the latest. If they allow me.”

You don’t respond, but rather watch him being led away. Your heart hammering in your throat, and only finding the energy to sob until you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed. You weren’t sure how close of a shave that could have been.

Due to the events of the last appointment, you were briefly taken off of doctor Caroigne’s appointed meetings. However, word leaked through the grapevine that the doctor hadn’t taken the news well. The whole right wing of the facility had gone on a code red lockdown as they had muscled his way past a squad of guards, sending one of them to the hospital with shattered ribs.

There were about three weeks of bated breath after the lockdown, when things were quiet and you hadn’t heard word of any one being reassigned to Caroigne. Then an envelope had been thrust into the small mail slot in your door, and your heart sank.

You had gone from being a nobody, happy to clean and do janitorial tasks. Avoiding high risk jobs, to now being an imperative piece in dealing with a high risk entity.

Bright lights beating down from above as you were acutely aware of your footsteps. Your breath sounded loud and unnatural in your ears. When the room came into view you saw Carroigne, no simple handcuffs with time, but a full body straight jacket, mingled with heavy metal chains that were also wrapped across their form.

“Y-y-you’ve been a bad birdie,” Your voice shook slightly as you whispered the words, sitting down at the table.

Caroigne’s chains shifted around them as they gave a bemused shrug, “Why, I would contest to this, but I fear, perhaps you are alright. Is the chap in the hospital doing alright? I could take a look at him,”

You shook your head, “He is alright, he is being looked after.”

“Hm.”

“. . . How can you be so calm about this?”

“Should I not be?” The strange masked face tilts, “Perhaps I also should not overlook the fact that I am held here against my will.”

You feel your expression falling. “I. . . I don’t think I can do this, I’m s-sorry.” You had begun to get up, signaling to the guards that you wanted to conclude the session.

“Wait— Mon cher-“

Caroigne must have moved too quickly for the guards' liking. As the door opened and two guards stepped inside the space weapons raised.

You glance back before your eyes go wide. An inhuman noise comes from behind you. You are roughly pushed behind the guards. You let out a strained noise as a clawed hand shoots forward, a wrenching of strained metal and tearing fabric. The hand itself was scaly and ribbed like a birds, past that the skin was dark with veiny irregular skin. Keloid bumps are peppered up the arm and a small smattering of feathers like a molting bird.

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You realize you were the one screaming, voice high and frantic trying to push past the guards. As they opened fire upon Carriogne, his stance hunkering down to shed the cloth to ribbons and toss it aside. The next moment you were alone, the two guards in the room and the others that were trying to rush inside, had been knocked over like a set of bowling pins. You reacted by freezing, covering your face with your hands as a shadow looms over you.

You could hear more inhuman noises above you, a clicking sound making your ears ring. You let out a shuddering breath of air, keeping your hands pressed tightly to your face. Like the mentality of a child afraid of what lurked in the dark, if I don’t look, it can’t see me or can’t hurt me.

The softness of a glove caressed your cheek. Your knees buckling as you are coaxed against a velvety form.

Worker Update

Worker ID Number: 1779336

Previous Position: Janitor

New Position as of September 8th 2021: Interrogatee of entity 275

Status: Employee Terminated

Reason: Unknown Disappearance

!: Emergency Update as of August 6th 2023

Disappearance of entity 275, site wide lock down initiated.

Entity was last seen with employee 1779336, recovery of both Entity 275 and 1779336 is in progress. Any sightings of either should be immediately reported to C. Ivan Willowicke, head of security.

#YOU DUN GOT ATTACTCHED #They told you 'not that bad don't do that'#and you did it anyway like >:3 #if you ever get rescued birb babe is just a ball of chains with their beak peeking out #like oopsie you got me officer #I kissed the hooman and got jail time #plague doctor monster x reader #plague doctor monster x human #bird monster x reader #bird monster x human #I also kind picture them doing a Howl kind of thing with their feathers =o #which makes my brain go ✨️

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hanzajesthanza · 1 year

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what does dandelion (jaskier) look like in the books?

(jaskier (buttercup) also translated as dandelion, marigold, larkspur, and lovage...)

this post is a third installment in my "witcher character descriptions in the books" series.

physical appearance

physical build

Bounds of Reason, Pt. III: Beside him, a slim man with a fanciful little plum hat pulled down over his eyes, adorned with a silver buckle and a long, twitching heron’s feather, was reclining, gently plucking the strings of a lute.

Eternal Flame, Pt. I: A slim man in a little plum hat with a white feather jumped aside like a scalded cat, and the flowerpot crashed onto the ground just in front of him, shattering into pieces.

Something More, Pt. VIII: He looked down. A slim man in a cherry jerkin and a little hat with an egret’s feather was jumping up and down and waving his arms on an abandoned cart loaded with cages which had been shoved off the highway.

dandelion is slimly built.

a good start to this post would be to remember that n*tflix is only one in a line of adaptations, and it's not the first where jaskier's appearance has not matched that of the books - from an interview in 2001 where sapkowski answered questions from fans, one fan explained all the reasons for why he did not agree with the hexer's casting for jaskier. in his opinion, zbigniew zamachowski was, quote...

Kaszycki Nestor: Next - troubadour, Jaskier - he is pretty, young, popular with women, he is athletic (jumping on the roof in "Blood of Elves" and entering through the window to find Geralt and Shani). And unfortunately Mr. Zamachowski, in my humble opinion, does not have all these features. I know that the film does not have to be a true reflection of the book, but please, have some limits! The stories are really of the best quality, I wish you further successes and I hope that the film will be released soon, staying true to what you really wrote.

sapkowski, of course, replied that it was not his fault because the adaptations are not his to meddle in:

AS: All comments - especially requests - are directed at the wrong address. After all, like all vain artists I consider my work the only creative material. Sapkowski answers the questions of the active users of "Sapkowski Zone" (2001)

the fan is, of course, referring to this scene, which, to his credit, is indicative of a degree of dandelion's athleticism, likely gained over the years from escaping out bedroom windows of his various fiancees when their husbands arrived home:

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: He slipped unseen into the garret, clambered out by the window vent, slid down by way of the gutter onto the roof of the library, and – nearly breaking his leg – jumped across onto the roof of the dissecting theatre. From there he got into the garden adjacent to the wall. Amidst the dense gooseberry bushes he found a hole which he himself had made bigger when a student. Beyond the hole lay the town of Oxenfurt. (...) He merged into the crowd, then quickly sneaked down the backstreets, dodging like a hare chased by hounds. (...) He climbed the ladder to the thatch and leaped onto the roof (...) Gripping the moss-covered roof tiles, he finally arrived at the window of the attic he was aiming for. An oil lamp was burning inside the little room. Perched precariously on the guttering, Dandelion knocked on the lead frames (...)

it's also worth mentioning that dandelion is able to pick up and swing around essi "little eye", who is like a sister to him. she is described as a young woman, not older than eighteen, and very slim.

A Little Sacrifice, Pt. III: "Ech, Puppet." Dandelion seized the girl around the waist, picked her up and spun her around so that her dress billowed around her.

although he does, i won't mention the part where dandelion picks up yennefer because it's spoilers for the very end of the saga and it's insinuated that he had help in doing so... but also for context, yennefer is "short, even in high heels" (the last wish) and "willowy, slender" (a shard of ice) so she, like essi, also likely doesn't weigh too much.

i'll also mention that dandelion sometimes exercises good judgement in quickly dodging or leaping aside when he needs to, but is not prone to bouts of athleticism or agility. he just seems... pretty average.

if you want more specifics, just think of a poet who spends half of his time writing, half of his time in brothels, half of his time in restaurants, and half of his time starving alongside an equally starving witcher. and none of his time at the gym :)

hair and eyes

Eternal Flame, Pt. IV: Tellico straightened up abruptly. His face’s features, still those of the Witcher, blurred and spread out, and his white hair curled and began to darken.

Note: The context for this scene is that Tellico (otherwise known as Dudu), a doppler (also known as mimic - a shapeshifting creature), has taken Geralt's form but is now taking Dandelion's, so the description here is of comparing Geralt's features to Dandelion's. White is the absence of color, so changing it to any color at all would have "darkened" it... though this passage was misleading before Season of Storms (which explicitly calls Dandelion blond) was published in 2013, and led many to believe Dandelion has dark hair.

however, he is also stated to have fair hair on his chin in the story following eternal flame, a little sacrifice:

A Little Sacrifice, Pt. III: The troubadour looked down at the ground and scratched his chin, which was covered in light, soft stubble (jasnym, miękkim zarostem). Drouhard, mouth gaping, moved closer.

i've also seen this translated as "peach fuzz".

and in the mentioned season of storms, he's blond:

Season of Storms, Ch. 4: (...) A dandy in a fanciful hat with an egret feather stuck into it, with shoulder-length blond hair curled with irons.

it's also mentioned in the original saga that his hair is long and curly:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: As for Dandelion the dandy, he had already been mistaken a few times for an elf or half-elf, especially since he had started wearing his hair to his shoulders and occasionally used curling irons.

dandelion has shoulder-length hair blonde hair, which he often curls with irons.

Bounds of Reason, Pt. III: A pair of cheerful cornflower-blue (modre) eyes shone from under the bonnet, now shoved back on his head.

dandelion has blue eyes.

age

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: "I know you’re almost forty, look almost thirty, think you’re just over twenty and act as though you’re barely ten."

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: "You, Dandelion, are still not forty. Writing was drummed into you in the temple-cliff school with a cane in the butt when you were eight. Even if we assume that you have written rhymes ever since, you’ve served your mistress poetry no longer than thirty years."

dandelion is in his mid-to-late 30s during the saga and "looks" to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

and yes, he was at least in his 20s when he met geralt. here's why:

he is already a famous poet during the time in which he first met geralt in edge of the world:

Edge of the World, Pt. I: “Eh, famous witcher? Haven't you wondered why?” “I have, famous poet. And I know why.”

he only became famous after studying for four years, then did a fifth year teaching, and had to gain fame over at least "several" more years of travelling:

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: (...) considering he had studied there [at Oxenfurt] for four years, then had lectured for a year in the Faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry. The post of lecturer had been offered to him when he had passed his final exams with full marks, to the astonishment of professors with whom he had earned the reputation of lazybones, rake and idiot during his studies. Then, when, after several years of roaming around the country with his lute, his fame as a minstrel had spread far and wide, the Academy had taken great pains to have him visit and give guest lectures.

and he only "seriously" began poetry when he was nineteen:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: "(...) But I don’t have to assume, because you yourself have frequently said that you started seriously rhyming and composing melodies when you were nineteen, inspired by the love of Countess de Stael. That makes one less than twenty years of service, Dandelion."

though it's worth noting that shani, a medical student at oxenfurt, is seventeen years old and in her third year, and it's also referenced in other areas of the series that novices at aretuza also begin their schooling around 14 years of age, if dandelion began his schooling at oxenfurt when he was 14, the comment about him seriously beginning poetry at 19 would make no sense because he would have already graduated by then. so perhaps there are different starting ages for girls and boys?

it can be estimated that dandelion started his education at the academy of oxenfurt when he was 18-20 years of age, due to the specific reference that he seriously became involved with lady poetry when he was 19 years old.

i'll say 18, and adding 4 years to this, he would have been 22 when he graduated, and 23 as a lecturer. now let's say "several" is around 3 to 5 years of travelling. he would have been in his mid-to-late 20s by the time he became famous, and in his late 20s by the time he met geralt. (and if you indeed want to have him enrolled in oxenfurt at 14, he would still be in his mid-20s by the time he meets geralt).

"that doesn't make sense because of the amount of time that passed between the short stories and the saga—" and i'm telling you, it doesn't need to. i may write a longer post about dandelion as a litmus test for geralt's character development throughout the series at some time, but the fact of the matter is that sapkowski likely just forgot about dandelion's age being a plausible thing, because it mattered so little in relation to the actually important parts of his character.

clothing

buckle up, buttercup! i've decided to chronologically structure this section of the post because dandelion features a myriad of outfits throughout the saga and he's described as wearing something different almost every time we see him; however, there are also some steadfast articles of clothing of his, which i'll make note of at the end. but these are all the times in which i can remember his outfit being mentioned.

edge of the world, pt. i

They climbed onto the cart. The witcher stretched out comfortably on the straw. Dandelion, evidently afraid of getting his elegant green jerkin (kubrak) dirty, sat on the plank. Nettly clucked his tongue at the horses and the vehicle clattered along the beam-reinforced dyke.

the last wish, pt. vii

“That's all. And now…” Dandelion pulled himself up, brushed his jerkin, adjusted his collar and fancy—if dirty—jabot (żabot). “…perhaps, gentlemen, you'd like to tell me the name of the best tavern in town and where it can be found.”

the voice of reason, pt. 5

A peal of laughter and the strumming of a lute resounded in the corridor and there, on the threshold of the library, stood Dandelion in a lilac jerkin with lace cuffs, his hat askew. The troubadour bowed exaggeratedly at the sight of Nenneke, the heron feather pinned to his hat sweeping the floor.

season of storms, ch. 4

Geralt didn’t know who he [the person who had intervened] was. But he knew perfectly well who the noble-looking man’s companion was. A dandy in a fanciful hat with an egret feather stuck into it, with shoulder-length blond hair curled with irons. Wearing a doublet the colour of red wine and a shirt with a lace ruffle. Along with his ever-present lute and with that ever-present insolent smile on his lips.

bounds of reason, pt. viii

Dandelion tried to trip Gar (, but ineffectively; Gar clung to the bard’s rainbow-hued jerkin (tęczowy kubrak) and thumped him between the eyes with his fist. Yarpen Zigrin, leaping from behind, tripped Dandelion, hitting him behind his knees with the haft of a hatchet.

eternal flame, pt. i, pt. iv

‘You don’t keep up with the fashion,’ the bard grimaced, brushing a chicken feather from his gleaming, cornflower-blue kaftan (chabrowego kaftana) with puffed sleeves and a serrated collar. ‘Oh, I’m glad we’ve met (...)’

‘Phew,’ sighed the bard, springing up, ‘I’ve got it. It’s fine, Geralt, we can go now. Admittedly my cloak with the marten collar is still there, but too bad, let it be my grievance. Knowing her she won’t throw the cloak down.

‘Dudu,’ he said to Dandelion’s strangely deformed cordovan boots sticking out of the rolled-up kilim. ‘Copy Biberveldt, and quickly.’

EDIT: note that the polish word kaftan does not refer to the same garment as it does in english, the long robe-like garment, but rather something like an elongated kubrak, (jerkin), reaching below the waist but coming up to above one's knee, long-sleeved or sleeveless. this was specified by @karanfile 💖 thank you!!

a little sacrifice, pt. ii

They had already sold Geralt’s gold signet for food, and an alexandrite brooch the troubadour had once been given as a souvenir by one of his numerous paramours. Things were tight. But no, the Witcher was not angry with Dandelion.

something more, pt. viii

A slim man in a cherry jerkin and a little hat with an egret’s feather was jumping up and down and waving his arms on an abandoned cart loaded with cages which had been shoved off the highway.

blood of elves ch. 1

He got to his feet, fastened his belt and pulled on his jerkin, all the while looking at the nobleman standing at the threshold.

baptism of fire ch. 2

Dandelion dogged Zoltan's company. He wore a quilted jacket he had acquired from the dwarves, and he had replaced his crumpled feathered hat for a marten fur cap that made him look like a scoundrel. In his wide brass studded belt, he had planted a knife he'd been given as a gift, giving him the look of a true rogue. The knife had a bad habit of pricking him in the groin every time he bent forward. Fortunately, he soon lost the roguish dagger and didn't have another to replace it with.

it's worth mentioning that this outfit is likely what he wears for the next month during his travels with geralt through to tower of the swallow / early october.

baptism of fire ch. 5

dandelion is injured in an escape and has to have his head bandaged.

Geralt took off his jacket and tore off a sleeve. The tip of the arrow had scratched Dandelion’s ear, leaving a cut that reached to his temple.

‘I will give you a few stitches,’ Regis said, still not paying any attention to the witcher or his sword. ‘Be brave, Dandelion.’ Dandelion was brave. ‘I’m finished,’ Regis finished his treatment. ‘Between now and the wedding, as they say, you’ll heal. A wound is perfect for a poet, Dandelion. You will walk as a war hero with a big bandage on his head and the heart of the girls who look at you will melt like wax. Yes, truly a poetic wound. (...)’

baptism of fire ch. 7

Behind Regis and Geralt rode Dandelion on Pegasus with his head bandaged like a war hero. Along the way the poet had composed a heroic song, in which military rhymes and melodies resonated and was reminiscent of their recent adventures.

we don't hear anything about his bandage in tower of the swallow so i assume it healed over the course of the month of september

tower of the swallow ch. 3, 5, 7

in september 1267, dandelion has a leather tube of manuscripts which was the first draft of half a century of poetry.

‘From these notes’ – Dandelion showed them a tube filled with papers – ‘my life’s work will be created. Memoirs under the title Fifty Years of Poetry.’

Dandelion pressed the tube with the manuscripts to his chest. He had not separated from it recently, even for a moment. You could tell that he was struggling with his thoughts. And the thoughts were winning.

‘And just in time!’ Dandelion shouted, coming up together with Angouleme and a small group of pilgrims, lute in one hand and his trusty tube in the other. ‘And not a second too soon. You have a sense of drama, Geralt. You ought to write works for the theatre!’

he loses it in anna henrietta's closet sometime in april 1268 when he cheated on the duchess with baroness nique.

‘Dandelion!’ Geralt had only just noticed what he should have noticed much earlier. ‘Your priceless tube! Your centuries of poetry! The messenger didn’t have them. They were left in Toussaint!’ ‘They were.’ The bard nodded indifferently. ‘In Little Weasel’s wardrobe, under a pile of dresses, knickers and corsets. And may they lie there forever.’

lady of the lake ch. 3

The man who greeted them was Dandelion, coiffured and arrayed like a prince.

lady of the lake ch. 4

He found Dandelion in the knights’ hall. The poet was wearing a crimson beret, as big as a loaf of sourdough rye bread, and a matching doublet richly embroidered with golden thread. He was sitting on a curule seat with his lute in his lap and reacting with careless nods to the compliments of the ladies and courtiers surrounding him.

lady of the lake ch. 11

‘You are free to go, Viscount.’ ‘And my property?’ yelled Dandelion. ‘Eh? You can keep my chattels, copses, forests and castles, but give me back, sod the lot of you, my lute, my horse Pegasus, a hundred and forty talars and eighty halers, my raccoon (szopami) -lined cloak, my ring—’

A ducal messenger caught up with them almost at the very border of Toussaint, from where one could already see Gorgon Mountain. He was pulling behind him a saddled Pegasus and was carrying Dandelion’s lute, cloak and ring. He ignored the question about the one hundred and forty talars and eighty halers. He listened stony-faced to the bard’s request to give the duchess a kiss.

his hat

up until baptism of fire ch. 2 / mid-august of 1267, dandelion wears a plum hat with an egret or heron's feather, a sight which is iconic:

Geralt knew this little hat (kapelusik) and this feather, which were famed from the Buina to the Yaruga, known in manor houses, fortresses, inns, taverns and brothels. Particularly the brothels. ‘Dandelion!’

it's called a "bonnet" in the official english translations, but this is somewhat misleading as it is called "kapelusik" in polish, translating to "little hat" because it's just the diminutive of hat (kapelusz), likely indicating that it's a hat that is not a wide-brimmed hat.

"bonnet" is not completely out of line with the character, because it likely refers to a tudor bonnet (as opposed to, like, a milkmaid's bonnet), and at this point is just a feature of the translation. as you can read above dandelion also wore a large beret in toussaint, which is essentially what a tudor bonnet is without the brim.

in season of storms, it's clarified as to what shape and material dandelion's hat is made of, as geralt compares the hat of frans torquil, a constable of gors velen, to dandelion's:

The constable took off his hat and brushed needles and seeds from it. His headgear was of identical cut to Dandelion’s, only made of poorer quality felt. And instead of an egret’s feather it was decorated with a pheasant’s tail feather.

we can infer from this that dandelion's hat is made of a high-quality felt, and is like a hunter's cap (i've had this reference saved for a while)

though make note that his hat has an egret or a heron's feather:

his lute

dandelion received his lute as an apology from the elf toruviel who broke his previous one. her lute was a work of elven craftsmanship.

Edge of the World, Pt. VIII: “By the gods, Geralt.” Dandelion stopped playing, hugged the lute and touched it with his cheek. “This wood sings on its own! These strings are alive! What wonderful tonality! (...)” (...) laughed Dandilion, carefully turning the delicately engraved lute pegs.

Time of Contempt, Ch. 5: He removed a lute from the saddle’s pommel. It was a unique, magnificent instrument with a slender neck. This was a present from a she-elf, he recalled, stroking the inlaid wood. It might end up returning to the Elder Folk . . . Unless the dryads leave it by my dead body . . .

his horse

he has a horse during the events of the short stories, but during the massacre of cintra and the flight from the jaruga, this horse is stolen:

Something More, Pt. VIII: ‘What are you doing here, Dandelion? How did you get here?’ ‘What am I doing?’ the bard yelled. ‘You want to know? I’m fleeing like everybody else, I was bumping along on that cart all day! Some whoreson stole my horse in the night! Geralt, I beg you, get me out of this hell! (...)’

in blood of elves, he's gotten a new bay gelding, and in time of contempt and baptism of fire it's revealed this horse is named pegasus.

Blood of Elves, Ch. 5: Dandelion smacked his lips at his bay gelding and rode on, making his way through the crowds roaming the streets.

Time of Contempt, Ch. 5: The ravine was sombre and damp, and the wet clay and carpet of rotten leaves lying on it muffled the thudding of his dark bay gelding’s hooves. He’d called the horse ‘Pegasus’. Pegasus walked slowly, head hanging down. He was one of those rare specimens of horse who could never care less.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: She [Milva] first recovered Pegasus. The poet’s gelding was ignoring the kicks to the ribs and the cries of the peasant who was riding him. He would not gallop and walked among a birch grove sluggishly, lazy and slow. The peasant was left far behind the rest of the horse thieves. When he heard and saw Milva approaching from behind, he jumped off the horse (...) Milva (...) jumped into the saddle, ringing the lute strings strapped to the saddle. Familiar with the horse, she was able to force the gelding to a gallop. Or rather a sluggish run, which Pegasus considered a gallop.

tl;dr

his physical appearance: blonde, long-haired, curls hair with irons. blue-eyed. slim. looks to be in his late 20s, though he is mid-30s. ever-present insolent smile.

his usual outfits: jerkins and doublets in a vertiable rainbow of colors, including rainbow! his "basics" or undergarments worn underneath include shirts with lace cuffs and ruffles. he also has some jewelry and fur-lined cloaks.

his outfits change during the travels with geralt in august - september of 1267, and during his stay in toussaint in october 1267 - april 1268. see baptism of fire, lady of the lake sections for more.

his hat: plum hat with egret or heron's feather. see section. he doesn't have it after mid-august of 1267.

his lute: elvish. see section.

his horse: a lazy dark bay gelding named 'pegasus'.

#the witcher books #the witcher #dandelion #jaskier #c: dandelion #character descriptions in the books

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suddencolds · 1 year

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Loose Ends | Genshin Impact

Happy (late now, I'm sorry!) birthday, @caughtintherain!! I hope it was a good one! :) ❤️

I am hopelessly behind on archon quests (I haven't officially met Kaveh or exchanged more than a few sentences with Al-Haitham) and Genshin as a whole; hence, I feel super unqualified to be writing this. (The last time I wrote anything for Genshin was over a year ago—how time flies!)

That said, please take this Kavetham / Haikaveh fic ft. sick Kaveh—it was fun to try my hand at writing new characters after so long; I hope this is okay!

—

It is only, as far as Kaveh is concerned, a mild cold.

It starts off with a slight twinge in his throat, a rasp to his voice, a headache that a daytime nap can’t shake off. Small annoyances, but nothing more than an inconvenience—the slight hoarseness to his voice is barely noticeable after he clears his throat, and the good thing about the headache and the sore throat are that they don’t show, which means that while he takes extra care to keep his distance with clients, he looks no less presentable than usual.

It’s not exactly his intention to push himself, but he doesn’t go out of his way to take things easy, either. He has plenty of things to worry about already—a meeting with a client to go over a second round of design proposals, and before that, several new alternative proposals to sketch out, in light of the client’s feedback on his initial sketches. Then there’s the delivery of materials to worry about for a different project—he needs to go through the materials to make sure that they line up with the load-bearing calculations he’s done and then, in the following few days, supervise the construction of its most basic foundations. Everything—the delivery, the work he’s paid for in construction, the meetings he’s added to his calendar—is on a tight schedule, and Kaveh has no intention of going back on his promises.

It’s for that reason that he stays up a couple nights in a row finishing the sketches. Kaveh is nothing if not thorough—he considers both aesthetic presentation and practicality in tandem, makes small adjustments to the building at hand, from its most basic foundations to its exterior qualities—sloping roofs and high, curved windows, its circular stairwells and wide, elegant columns. He thinks, too, on how to present his work—his client had said that the first round of designs had seemed too extravagant and asked for something more subtle and understated, but Kaveh believes that even buildings which appear unremarkable can be thoughtful and elegant in their subtleties. The challenge is just in the execution.

And it’s for that reason that he ignores the harsh, grating cough that develops, the headache which only seems to worsen, the exhaustion that he can’t quite seem to shake—then again, is that not just to be expected, when it’s been days since he’s had a proper night’s rest? He’d certainly had his fair share of late night work at the Academiya, back when he’d frequently stay up late to help other students with their work—a little tiredness isn’t anything he’s not accustomed to.

On the third day, when he wakes up congested and shivering, when every subsequent sneeze scrapes at his throat, when he finds himself dizzy and too-hot in such a manner that suggests he might be running a fever, he waves off all of these things, gathers his latest sketches, and heads out into town just before dawn for the meeting.

It goes well enough—he can tell his client takes well to the new sketches for the way she surveys his designs, her eyes bright, and asks him about the feasibility of several new features. The new adjustments will be more work—more work with a quick turnaround, if he intends to keep everything up to their initial schedule—but that doesn’t bother him. If anything, he takes a little pride in the fact that the sketch she’s picked out is one that she is interested enough in to consider adding to it.

Their back and forth takes longer than planned, and by the time he leaves, his voice is slightly hoarse from overuse, his throat so sore that just speaking is enough to make him cough. His client wishes him well—actually, she tells him to get some rest, and to take his time on his next round of drafts, but also taking into account the work he has with supervising construction, he really ought to hurry things up to keep both projects coming along.

When Kaveh finally steps out from the building, it’s raining hard.

Of course today, of all days, he doesn’t have an umbrella on him. Just his luck. Al-Haitham will laugh him into his grave. But he can’t exactly wait out the rain, even if he wishes to—he has lots to do, preferably in the quiet space of his own study, and there’s no guarantee that this inclement weather will let up anytime soon.

So Kaveh does all he can, in this situation—he makes sure his manuscripts are all securely locked up in his briefcase. Then he books it.

It’s not a long run, but it’s raining hard enough that by the time he arrives before the front door, his clothes are soaked. He wrings the rainwater out of his cape, sets his briefcase down gingerly, and reaches for his keys.

The house—Al-Haitham’s house, technically, though Kaveh doesn’t like to refer to it as such—is very quiet when he steps inside. The lights are off in the central living room, and as far as he can see, there’s no one in the kitchen, or Al-Haitham’s bedroom, or the study. Probably Al-Haitham is out, still, finishing up the day’s work.

Kaveh gets changed.

It’s a good thing, he thinks, that Al-Haitham isn’t home to see how he’s shivering so hard that it takes longer than usual to loosen his cape, to unclasp his belt, to pull his shirt over his head. It’s a good thing that Al-Haitham isn’t home to hear the loud—terribly loud—sneezes that tear through him (too loud, he thinks, to be neatly contained within the four walls of his bedroom), nor the harsh, fitful coughs that he’s been muffling into his elbow all morning. if he were, surely Kaveh would never hear the end of it.

It’s a small consolation that his sketches are dry, at least—safely locked up inside his briefcase, which at least offers the most basic protection against the elements. The new, dry clothes he picks out are a relief, too, once he changes into them. But his hair is still wet, and even though he’s changed, he finds he can’t stop shivering.

He really is a mess, he thinks.

But no one has to know. Not his clients, nor the agencies he’s worked with, nor his mentors and his peers from the Academiya, and certainly not Al-Haitham, so long as Kaveh resolves to stay out of his way. If he can produce a sketch of the building’s layout which exceeds his client’s layout expectations, his situation is irrelevant; the head cold he feels brewing is entirely inconsequential.

So he takes a seat at his desk, reviews his notes from today’s meeting, and gets to work.

—

The next few hours are less than optimal. More than once, he finds himself on the verge of dozing off, snaps awake from the pencil in his hand arcing from a steady, intentional line to a shaky tangent. Eventually, he resigns himself to keeping his head propped up on one hand as he works, if only to keep himself awake.

His head hurts fiercely. There’s a small part of him—a part which he diligently elects to ignore—which tells him that it’d probably go away much faster if he’d allowed himself some proper rest. He can rest when he’s finished, he tells himself, but judging by his current progress, that won’t be anytime soon.

He’s so focused on his work—or, rather, so distracted by the headache, with the chills he can’t quite seem to shake—that he barely hears the front door open.

Barely, which is to say, he notices it still. Al-Haitham had advised him last night to get some rest—a thoughtful enough remark taken alone, if only it were not immediately followed with something along the lines of, It is in my own best interest if you don’t keep me up all night coughing. As if his noise-canceling headphones would not be a suitable—convenient, even—solution to that.

Just for that, Kaveh resolves to keep quiet, now. Just for that, he stifles each subsequent sneeze, muffles every ensuing cough as quietly as possible into his arm. If Al-Haitham has any complaints for all the noise he’s making, at least he can say he’d attempted to be quiet.

Barely half an hour goes by before he hears the knock on his door.

Kaveh clears his throat. “Come in,” he says.

Al-Haitham does—he steps fully inside and shuts the door behind him. “Kaveh,” he says.

Kaveh sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. I’m being too loud,” he says.

“I can’t help it if I— if I have to— hEHh-!” Ironically, he feels the all-too-familiar prickle settle in his nose. He’s felt it enough times over the past few days to know exactly what it precedes. “Hheh…. HEhH’eEZSCHhhEW!” It’s already humiliating enough to have to be doing this while Al-Haitham is watching. It’s with an awful sense of certainty that he realizes that he isn’t done. “hHEH… hh-HhH-hEHh’iSSCHH-YuE!”

It’s a relief, really, to let out a sneeze properly after he’s stifled so many, though it’s loud, especially in the enclosed space of his room. Kaveh sniffles, rubs his nose on the back of his hand. “Believe me,” he says, clearing his throat, though he thinks his voice doesn’t sound any less hoarse when he speaks up again, “I don’t want this cold any more than you do.”

“You sound awful,” Al-Haitham says, as if he’s merely stating a fact.

“You wouldn’t sound any better if you spent all morning talking to clients,” Kaveh says, with a huff, which—to his great dismay—turns into an untimely fit of coughs.

“I distinctly recall telling you to get some rest,” Al-Haitham says.

“And I remember telling you it was none of your business when I sleep,” Kaveh says. “I can— hHEHh-!” he turns away—from Al-Haitham, from the desk with all of his papers—to catch a “hH-hhEH-HEh’IISSCHh-yUe!” in one cupped hand. He sniffles again, rubbing his nose, and levels as convincing of a glare as he can muster. “I can take care of myself.”

Al-Haitham frowns, seemlingly unbothered by Kaveh’s… well, rather unsubtle display. “If that was true, you’d already be on the mend by now.”

“It’s only a cold, Al-Haitham,” Kaveh says, with a sniffle. “I just have to let it run its course.”

“That sort of negligent attitude is what landed you in this very position in the first place.”

Kaveh’s head hurts. Whatever reasoning Al-Haitham has for why he’s caught this cold, he doesn’t want to hear it. He needs to finish up his sketches, needs to perform the necessary calculations to ensure the foundations he’s drawn are spatially optimized and will take well to any structural or environmental pressure. “Is that all?”

“No,” Al-Haitham says.

Kaveh shuts his eyes, braces himself for an earful. But whatever Al-Haitham is planning to say, he doesn’t get to hear it before he’s veering away again, sharply, burying his nose into his elbow just in time for—

“hhH… hEHh- hHEh’EZSCHhh’ew! HHEH’iIKSHhhEW! Excuse mbe… hh… HEHH’DZSCHh-iEEw!”

He emerges, slightly teary-eyed, disoriented and blinking, which is why he doesn’t have time to intercept the hand that Al-Haitham presses to his forehead.

It is there only for a moment. Al-Haitham’s hand is surprisingly warm—it’s soft, a little calloused.

Then it’s gone. It takes Kaveh a few moments to parse the feeling in his chest as disappointment.

“You’d better keep your distance,” he says. “If you come down with this in a few days, I want it on the record that I wasn’t the one who told you to step foot inside my room.”

He expects a snappy response, as usual—sometimes, he thinks Al-Haitham has made a hobby solely out of being disagreeable. But Al-Haitham only frowns, watching him with such scrutiny that Kaveh wants to shrink away under it, knowing that Al-Haitham—now, as always—sees him so clearly. “Have you taken anything for your headache?”

It’s not a question he expects. Kaveh must not do a good job at keeping the surprise off his face. “What?”

“Nothing yet, then,” Al-Haitham says, interpreting his hesitation as a proper response (which is infuriating, Kaveh thinks—he hasn’t even said anything). “How about for your fever?”

“I don’t—”

“If you are going to attempt to deny it,” Al-Haitham says, “You’d have much better luck with something that I haven’t just verified for myself.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes, sniffling. “You wouldn’t have believed me regardless.”

“Probably not.”

At least they agree on that.

Al-Haitham steps behind him, reaches over the desk to snag the papers he’s laid out over it—sketches, meeting notes, architectural blueprints, scratch paper. In one swift motion, he gathers the papers and lifts them out of reach.

“Haitham,” Kaveh hisses, scrambling to his feet. “Those are for a client.”

“I will give them back to you once you’ve recovered fully,” Al-Haitham says, turning on his heels to head for the door. “Subject to my discretion.”

“You can’t just take them! I… n-need… hEHh… them for… hehH… my… hH-HheHH-hHEH’TZSCHh’YYUE! snf-!”

“Bless you. If you lay down, I’ll consider giving them back sooner.”

Al-Haitham is truly insufferable. Kaveh is truly, never forgiving him, (though later, when Al-Haitham comes back carrying steaming hot tea, which he says has medicinal properties that should help with headaches—procured helpfully from Tighnari, which is why he was out later than usual; later, when Kaveh wakes to a hand on his forehead, a familiar voice uncharacteristically soft, an extra blanket tucked neatly around him; Kaveh finds himself nearly convinced).

#snz fic #snzfic #sneeze fic #my fic #sneeze kink #i may not have played the arch/on quests or any story quests but i read their character profiles + watched scenes of them + read a lot of #- fic on ao3 trying to get a better hold of their personalities T.T #i am intimidated by everyone who writes fanfic and regularly overcomes the hurdle of trying to get a feel for new characters #i must... sleep now (<- downed tea at 10pm to finish writing this.) but profusely apologize for any typos #which i will fix first thing tomorrow!

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manaksiaauminium · 1 year

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The Importance of Aluminium Ingots in Various Industries

Aluminium is a lightweight and versatile metal that is widely used in many different industries, including construction, automotive, aerospace, and packaging. Aluminium ingots are an essential part of the manufacturing process for producing high-quality aluminium products. In this blog, we will discuss the importance of aluminium ingots and their use in various industries.

What are Aluminium Ingots?

Aluminium ingots are rectangular or trapezoidal blocks of pure aluminium metal that are used to produce various aluminium products. They are produced by smelting raw aluminium ore and then pouring the molten metal into a mould. Once the metal has cooled and solidified, it is removed from the mould and processed further to create a wide range of aluminium products.

Uses of Aluminium Ingots

Construction Industry: Aluminium is widely used in the construction industry due to its lightweight and corrosion-resistant properties. Aluminium ingots are used to produce various building materials such as window frames, roofing sheets, and structural components.

Automotive Industry: Aluminium is also extensively used in the automotive industry due to its lightweight, high strength, and durability. Aluminium ingots are used to produce car parts such as engine blocks, wheels, and chassis.

Aerospace Industry: Aluminium is a critical material in the aerospace industry due to its lightweight and high strength-to-weight ratio. Aluminium ingots are used to produce aircraft parts such as wings, fuselages, and landing gear.

Packaging Industry: Aluminium is widely used in the packaging industry due to its excellent barrier properties and ability to preserve the freshness and quality of food and beverages. Aluminium ingots are used to produce various types of packaging such as cans, foils, and containers.

Advantages of Using Aluminium Ingots

Lightweight: Aluminium is one-third the weight of steel, which makes it an ideal material for applications where weight reduction is crucial.

Corrosion Resistance: Aluminium is highly resistant to corrosion, which makes it ideal for outdoor applications and harsh environments.

High Strength-to-Weight Ratio: Aluminium has a high strength-to-weight ratio, which makes it suitable for applications where high strength and low weight are required.

Aluminium ingots are a critical component in the manufacturing process for producing high-quality aluminium products. They are widely used in various industries such as construction, automotive, aerospace, and packaging. Aluminium offers numerous advantages over other materials, such as its lightweight, corrosion resistance, and high strength-to-weight ratio, making it an ideal material for a wide range of applications.

#Aluminium ingots #Aluminium Coils #Aluminium Sheets

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blurban-form · 3 months

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Queenslanders

Many locations have housing types that because of local conditions become very common and come to define an area. Los Angeles dingbats, auto worker housing in Detroit, and Texas donuts are some examples.

But we’re not here to talk those, we’re going to talk about Queenslanders, the type of house the Heelers live in. Like so much of “Bluey”, they’re depicted very realistically.

Queenslanders are the term for a type of house that became commonplace in Queensland, Australia, particularly in Brisbane. (Note the term can also refer to the construction style, so other types of building could be called Queenslanders too.)

They date back to the 1840s when Brisbane was expanding rapidly. Queensland's population increased rapidly from 30,000 inhabitants in 1861 to half a million by 1901 due to a mining boom. Housing was needed that could be constructed rapidly. In the early 20th century, these homes were available as kits from lumber suppliers but were also built by home-building firms, they could be constructed rapidly while maintaining a high level of quality.

Construction and Features

These homes tend to be large: this was intentional as when Brisbane was developing, a minimum lot size was specified to prevent very cramped/dense slum areas that had become an issue in other Australian cities.

These homes were constructed of readily-available low-cost materials: wooden planks and metal roofs, typically a single-level on wooden “stumps”.

This use of these stump posts as the footings for the house had multiple benefits. It protected against flooding (i.e. this lower area could flood without destroying the home’s contents), keeps bugs out (the posts would use metal caps to keep ants from climbing up into the house), and allowed the homes to be built rapidly without the need to smooth out/level the terrain with earth-moving equipment, and also allows the building to be easily moved, raised, etc. if need be.

Note how the Heeler’s house appears to have part of the lower level upgraded while part of it is still an unimproved crawlspace-type area.

Other features include:

Spinning rooftop ventilators to allow hot air to be expelled from the house.

Gabled roofs with steep pitches, typically with fireproof metal roofs (originally corrugated iron, now steel as used on barn roofs), as this was material readily available, could stand up to heavy rains, and was easily replaced in the event of cyclone damage. (Most episodes of Bluey show the house with flatter-style steel barn-type roofing, but “Hammerbarn” shows corrugated metal!)

They have verandas (porches) that wrap around the house but do not enclose the house entirely. Sometimes these get enclosed to create additional indoor living space. The veranda serves as an indoor/outdoor space, and can even be used as a sleeping area in the summer.

The crawlspace area could be used as a shaded play area, workshop, etc. and many were ultimately upgraded into living space but this eliminated the protection against flooding. (This space would be vulnerable)

Inside the rooms are connected and designed with lots of openings to allow for airflow to keep them cool. (As there was no air conditioning at the time.)

(When I did the series of house walkthrough posts I noted how there are often open windows and good airflow throughout the house)

These homes have a light, breezy feel, often being compared to treehouses, or tents. This can also be a criticism; the walls can be thin (making privacy an issue) and hard to insulate, which wasn’t a consideration when they were constructed.

These features combine to make these homes well-adapted to the warm & humid climate of Queensland, where rainfall is heavy and the average summer temperature is typically in the range of 23–36°C (73–97°F). Brisbane is located in a low-lying swamp area and is prone to flooding.

They began falling out of favour after WWII. One reason for this was that earth-moving technology had improved meaning it was no longer necessary to build using stumps, as uneven land could be levelled for building.

References

#Bluey Queenslanders #Bluey architecture #Bluey housing stock #Bluey

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ptseti · 4 months

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THE MOORS

During the European Dark Ages, between the 7th and 14th century AD, the Moorish Empire in Spain became one of the world's finest civilizations. General Tarik and his Black Moorish army from Morocco, conquered Spain after a week-long battle with King Roderick in 711 AD. (The word tariff and the Rock of Gibraltar were named after him). They found that Europe, with the assistance of the Catholic Church, had returned almost to complete barbarism. The population was 90% illiterate and had lost all of the civilizing principles that were passed on by the ancient Greeks and Romans.

The Moors reintroduced mathematics, medicine, agriculture, and the physical sciences. Arabic figures including the zero and the decimal point replaced the clumsy Roman numerals. As Dr. Van Sertima says, "You can't do higher mathematics with Roman numerals." The Moors introduced agriculture to Europe including cotton, rice, sugar cane, dates, ginger, lemons, and strawberries. They also taught them how to store grain for up to 100 years and built underground grain silos. They established a world-famous silk industry in Spain. The Moorish achievement in hydraulic engineering was outstanding.

They constructed an aqueduct, that conveyed water from the mountains to the city through lead pipes from the mountains to the city. They taught them how to mine for minerals on a large scale, including copper, gold, silver, tin, lead, and aluminium. Spain soon became the world centre for high-quality sword blades and shields. Spain was eventually manufacturing up to 12,000 blades and shields per year. Spanish craft and woollen became world famous. The Moorish craftsman also produced world-class glass, pottery, vases, mosaics, and jewellery.

The Moors introduced to Europe paved, lighted streets with raised sidewalks for pedestrians, flanked by uninterrupted rows of buildings. Paved and lighted streets did not appear in London or Paris for centuries. They constructed thousands of public markets and mills in each city. Cordova alone had 5,000 of each. They were also introduced to Spain's underwear and bathing with soap. Their public baths numbered in the thousands when bathing in the rest of Europe was frowned upon as a diabolical custom to be avoided by all good Christians.

Poor hygiene contributed to the plagues in the rest of Europe. Moorish monarchs dwelled in sumptuous palaces while the crowned heads of England, France, and Germany lived in barns, lacking windows, toilets, and chimneys, with only a hole in the roof as the exit for smoke. Human waste material was thrown in the streets since no bathrooms were present. Education was made mandatory by the Moors, while 90% of Europe was illiterate, including the kings and queens. The Moors introduced public libraries to Europe with 600,000 books in Cordova alone. They established 17 outstanding universities in Spain.

Since Africa is a matriarchal society, women were also encouraged to devote themselves to serious study, and it was only in Spain that one could find female doctors, lawyers, and scientists. Moorish schoolteachers knew that the world was round and taught geography from a globe. They produced expert maps with all sea and land routes accurately located concerning latitude and longitude; while also introducing compasses to Europe.

They were such expert shipbuilders that they were able to use their geography expertise to import and export as far away as India and China. It was not by accident that a Moor named Pietro Olonzo Nino was the chief navigator for Christopher Columbus on the flagship Santa Maria.

He is said to have argued with Columbus as to who really discovered America. One of the worst mistakes the Moors made was to introduce gunpowder technology from China into Europe because their enemies adopted this weapon and used it to drive them out of Spain.

Europe then took the 700 years of civilization and education re-taught to them by the Moors and used this knowledge to attack Africa. While the Moors were re-civilizing Europe, great empires were thriving in Western Africa and frequently traded with the Moors.

These included the empires of Ghana, Mali, and Songhay, which prospered between 700 AD and 1600 AD. Africa was not a dark continent awaiting European civilization. In fact, Black African Egyptians and Black African Moors are credited with civilizing Europe."

#moors #spain

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spinariosthorn · 2 years

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Asagiri Gen's Hidden Talents

Can we just talk about how stunning Gen is? How many unique abilities and skills does he possess? And why is no one paying attention to it even though it's so absolutely amazing?

1)Let's start with the fact that he was able to track down Senku at first. Have you ever wondered how he did it so quickly and accurately? Alone? In the jungle? In an unfamiliar area?

We don't know the exact distances, but in chapter 90 we were shown that Tsukasa’s Empire is somewhere near Tokyo, and the Kingdom of Science is south of Mount Fuji (possibly near the cities of Ito or Izu). The distance is about 90-130 kilometers.

Before Senku noticed Kohaku’s smoke signals, he had not seen people in the area for almost a year. The inhabitants of Ishigami village are quite reserved and it is very problematic to find their traces. But Gen, who knows only an approximate description and general direction, managed to find the way without a guide, without professional tools and with very few traces in like ten days.

Gen managed to pave a path that was sufficiently effective and understandable so that even being seriously injured, he could find a way back to Tsukasa’ Empire.

It requires huge skills. I mean, travelers were found like several kilometers away from their routes, and they wandered for weeks without being able to find the way.

Just in general, the fact that he ran so fast severely injured and literally dying really deserves attention.

2)Then, his clothes. He does not carry any bags and supplies, although when we get to know him, we learn that he has a lot of things up his sleeves. He needs all these layers of clothing to keep all his materials. Not only for his blood bags, but also food, water and something that will help him find a way. All of his clothes probably weigh a lot more than they seem to weight.

Interesting to find out what is included in the standard equipment of a mentalist.

3)We also know that Gen must have an extensive stock of knowledge about nature. Senku survived because he had scientific knowledge about plants and geography. Tsukasa let Gen go alone, knowing that in floriography and orientation on the terrain, Gen has no less knowledge.

Plus, Gen was able to make wine and bags of durable material alone, which once again testifies to his knowledge in the scientific field. One more reason he and Senku tuned in to the same wave so quickly.

4)And he is also much stronger and a lot more athletic than he proclaims himself to be. Most likely, he is lying about his weakness in order to avoid unnecessary energy waste. Anyways, his words are definitely not to be believed. If he constantly repeats that he is "the most superficial man in the world", while being a boy with a heart of gold, then nothing prevents him from repeating about his weakness, although in fact he is still strong.

For example, he stops with his BARE HANDS an axe strike of terribly strong Magma.

Then Stanley confirms that Gen's hands are strong.

And I repeat he is able to run a huge amount of kilometers a day and is still able to work like some kind of superhuman.

We should also not forget about his past as a magician. To do a high-quality show, Gen had to be very flexible and athletic. For example, here we are shown that he just easily avoided the trick with the sword. This once again confirms that he is agile.

Isn’t it amazing how he easily climbed onto the bridge pole, and then onto the roof? Plus no one notices that he is doing this, and he has no problems with balancing. It's not easy to get on the roof of this house at all, but it takes like couple of seconds for Gen.

This clearly indicates that Gen has a huge acrobatic training and an incredibly developed sense of balance. (I want his backstory so much!!)

5)And of course he is incredibly capable diplomat and mentalist.

He has done so many things for the kingdom of science, this is truly awesome.

So, to sum things up, Gen is not only an amazing mentalist and psychologist, he is also a traveler, a guide, a driver and an acrobat with amazing endurance and tracking abilities.

Stunning.

#i love him dearly #gen #asagiri gen #gen asagiri #dr. stone #dr stone manga #dr stone anime #dr stone #doctor stone #the kingdom of science #senku #senku ishigami

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tubetrading · 1 month

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Key Design Considerations for Pantograph Support Insulators in High-Speed Rail Systems

In the realm of high-speed rail systems, every component plays a crucial role in ensuring safe and efficient operations. Among these components, pantograph support insulators stand out as critical elements that facilitate the seamless transmission of power from overhead lines to the train's electrical system. As a leading pantograph insulator manufacturer in India, Radiant Enterprises recognizes the importance of meticulous design considerations in crafting reliable and durable insulators. In this blog post, we'll explore the key design considerations essential for pantograph support insulators in 25 KV high-speed rail systems, shedding light on Radiant Enterprises' commitment to excellence in manufacturing.

Understanding Pantograph Support Insulators

Pantograph support insulators are integral components of the overhead electrification system in high-speed rail networks. These insulators provide electrical isolation and mechanical support for the pantograph, which is the apparatus mounted on the train's roof responsible for collecting electricity from the overhead wires (catenary). In 25 KV high-speed rail systems, where trains operate at exceptionally high speeds, the performance and reliability of pantograph support insulators are paramount.

Design Considerations for Pantograph Support Insulators

Material Selection: The choice of materials significantly influences the performance and longevity of pantograph support insulators. At Radiant Enterprises, we utilize high-quality, durable materials such as silicone rubber or composite polymers that exhibit excellent electrical insulation properties, mechanical strength, and resistance to environmental factors such as UV radiation, pollution, and temperature variations.

2. Electrical Insulation: Ensuring reliable electrical insulation is paramount to prevent electrical arcing and ensure the safe transmission of power. Our pantograph support insulators are engineered to withstand high voltage levels (25 KV) and exhibit low electrical conductivity to minimize power losses and mitigate the risk of electrical faults.

3. Mechanical Strength: Pantograph support insulators are subjected to mechanical stresses induced by the pantograph's movement and external forces such as wind loads and vibrations. Therefore, our insulators undergo rigorous mechanical testing to ensure they can withstand these forces without deformation or failure, ensuring uninterrupted operation and minimal maintenance requirements.

4. Corrosion Resistance: In outdoor environments exposed to moisture, pollution, and corrosive agents, corrosion resistance is essential to maintain the structural integrity of pantograph support insulators over their operational lifespan. Our insulators are engineered with corrosion-resistant materials and undergo surface treatments to enhance their resistance to rust and degradation, ensuring long-term reliability and performance.

5. Dimensional Accuracy: Precision engineering is critical to ensure proper fit and alignment of pantograph support insulators with the overhead wires and the train's pantograph. Our insulators are manufactured with tight tolerances and undergo strict quality control measures to guarantee dimensional accuracy and compatibility with the rail infrastructure, minimizing installation challenges and optimizing performance.

6. UV Stability: Exposure to ultraviolet (UV) radiation can degrade insulator materials over time, compromising their electrical and mechanical properties. Therefore, our pantograph support insulators are formulated with UV-stabilized materials that withstand prolonged exposure to sunlight without degradation, ensuring reliable performance and longevity in outdoor applications.

Radiant Enterprises: Your Trusted Pantograph Insulator Manufacturer in India

As a leading manufacturer of pantograph support insulators in India, Radiant Enterprises is committed to delivering superior quality products that meet the stringent requirements of high-speed rail systems. Our state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities, coupled with a team of experienced engineers and quality assurance experts, enable us to design and produce pantograph insulators that excel in performance, reliability, and durability.

Conclusion

In the dynamic world of high-speed rail systems, the reliability and performance of pantograph support insulators are critical for ensuring safe and efficient operations. By adhering to meticulous design considerations such as material selection, electrical insulation, mechanical strength, corrosion resistance, dimensional accuracy, and UV stability, manufacturers like Radiant Enterprises can deliver pantograph insulators that meet the demanding requirements of 25 KV high-speed rail systems. As a trusted pantograph insulator manufacturer in India, Radiant Enterprises is committed to providing innovative solutions that contribute to the advancement of railway electrification technology and the seamless operation of high-speed rail networks.

#Customised epoxy insulators manufacturer in India #Pantograph insulator manufacturer in India #25 KV pantograph support insulators manufacturers in India #25 KV roof busbar support insulator manufacturers in India #Solid third rail insulator #Customized Powerrail Epoxy Insulators #Epoxy Insulators #Epoxy insulator manufacturers in India

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