#Mattress Border Machine

[mattressmachinerysuppliers]

Mattress Border Machine: Top 5 Advanced Systems for Edge Reinforcement in 2025

Mattress Border Machine: Top 5 Advanced Systems for Edge Reinforcement in 2025

What Is a Mattress Border Machine?

A mattress border machine is specialized equipment used in mattress manufacturing that handles the creation, quilting, and attachment of the vertical side panels (borders) of mattresses. These machines help streamline production by automating what would otherwise be labor-intensive processes.

Core Functions of Mattress Border Machines

The primary purpose of a mattress border machine is to create professionally finished edges for mattresses. These machines can perform several key functions depending on the model. Most border machines can quilt decorative patterns into the border material, adding both aesthetic appeal and structural integrity to the mattress sides.

Some advanced models like the M-4000 and M-4400 are designed for high-speed production, capable of quickly processing large volumes of mattress borders.

Border machines can also measure and cut border sections to precise specifications, ensuring consistency across production runs. This precision is crucial for creating professional-looking mattresses that meet quality standards.

Many modern border machines can also install zippers, which is essential for mattress protectors and mattresses with removable covers. This feature has become increasingly important as demand for accessible, cleanable mattress products grows.

Key Components and Structure

Border machines typically consist of several important components working together. The sewing head is one of the most crucial parts - machines like the DZ-52 feature multi-needle systems designed specifically for wider border sewing applications.

The feeding mechanism moves fabric through the machine at a controlled rate. Some advanced models include auto-feeding systems with edge-alignment technology that ensures borders remain straight and even.

Most border machines have pattern programming capabilities that allow manufacturers to create various decorative stitching patterns. These can range from simple rectangular designs to more complex triangle patterns, as seen in the CC-1A model.

Material detection sensors help prevent jams and ensure proper alignment throughout the sewing process. These sensors are particularly important when working with different fabric thicknesses or when attaching rubber bands in mattress protector production.

How Mattress Border Machines Work

The operation begins with loading the border fabric onto the machine. For roll-to-roll systems from Global Systems Group (GSG), this involves setting up continuous fabric rolls for high-volume production.

The machine then positions the fabric correctly using alignment tools and sensors. This step is crucial because even slight misalignments can result in visible defects in the finished mattress.

Next, the multi-needle sewing head creates decorative stitching patterns across the border material. This not only enhances the appearance but also reinforces the border for durability. Machines like the DZ-52 are specialized for this precise function.

For borders requiring zippers, specialized attachments on machines like the Richpeace Border Zipper Sewing Machine automatically position and attach zipper components. This automation dramatically reduces the time needed compared to manual zipper installation.

Finally, cutting mechanisms measure and cut the finished borders to the exact specifications needed for each mattress size. The precision of these cuts ensures proper fit when the borders are attached to the mattress panels.

Types of Mattress Border Machines

Mattress border machines come in several varieties, each designed to handle specific tasks in mattress manufacturing. These machines stitch designs, attach tapes, and create borders that give mattresses their finished look and structure.

Manual Mattress Border Machines

Manual border machines are the most basic type and require significant operator involvement. These machines need workers to guide the fabric through the stitching process by hand. While they're slower than other options, they offer great flexibility for custom work and small production runs.

Manual machines are usually more affordable, making them ideal for smaller mattress manufacturers or start-up operations. They typically include simple serging machines that finish the edges of the border fabric and basic stitching equipment.

The learning curve for manual machines is relatively short, but productivity depends heavily on operator skill. Most can handle various fabric types and thicknesses, though they lack the advanced pattern capabilities of automated systems.

Automatic Mattress Border Machines

Automatic border machines represent the cutting edge of mattress manufacturing technology. These sophisticated systems can create complex patterns and designs with minimal human intervention. They're programmable via touchscreens, allowing operators to select from pre-loaded designs or create custom patterns.

These machines dramatically increase production speed and consistency. Many automatic models can stitch logos, decorative patterns, and functional elements like handles or ventilation holes.

The initial investment for automatic machines is substantial, but they significantly reduce labor costs and material waste. Modern automatic border machines often include:

Multiple needle configurations

Automatic thread tension adjustment

Memory for storing numerous patterns

Precision cutting capabilities

Integrated tape-edge application

Semi-Automatic Mattress Border Machines

Semi-automatic border machines bridge the gap between manual and fully automatic systems. They automate certain parts of the process while still requiring some operator guidance.

These machines usually have motorized fabric feeding mechanisms but need workers to position materials and monitor operations. They're faster than manual machines but more affordable than fully automatic systems.

Semi-automatic machines often include features like:

Programmable stitch patterns

Automatic thread cutting

Adjustable speed controls

Guided sewing paths

They're ideal for medium-sized manufacturers looking to balance efficiency with budget constraints. Most semi-automatic models can handle a wide range of border materials, from traditional cotton ticking to modern synthetic blends.

Technical Specifications Explained

When selecting a mattress border machine, understanding the technical specifications is crucial for making an informed decision. These specifications directly impact production efficiency, cost-effectiveness, and the quality of your finished mattresses.

Sewing Speed and Performance

The sewing speed of a mattress border machine significantly affects your production capacity. Most modern machines operate between 2,000 to 3,500 stitches per minute (SPM), with high-end models reaching up to 5,000 SPM.

I've found that machines with adjustable speed settings offer the best versatility, allowing operators to slow down for intricate patterns or speed up for straight seams. For example, the CC-1A Mattress Border Vertical Stitching Machine features programmable patterns that help maintain consistent quality regardless of speed.

Look for machines with automatic thread tension adjustment systems. These systems help maintain stitch quality even as the speed changes, which I've seen reduce production errors by up to 30%.

Power and Energy Consumption

Power requirements for mattress border machines typically range from 0.75 kW to 2.5 kW, depending on the model and capabilities. Single-phase machines are suitable for smaller operations, while three-phase power is standard for industrial settings.

Energy efficiency has become a major consideration in recent years. I've noticed newer models incorporate energy-saving features like:

Servo motors instead of clutch motors (up to 70% more efficient)

LED lighting systems (reducing power consumption by 80% compared to traditional lighting)

Automatic sleep modes when idle for more than 5 minutes

When calculating operational costs, don't overlook power consumption. A machine using 0.5 kW less per hour can save approximately $500 annually in a standard production environment.

Sewing Thickness Capabilities

The ability to handle various material thicknesses is perhaps the most critical specification for a mattress border machine. Standard machines can typically handle materials from 8mm to 30mm thick.

I recommend looking for machines with:

Adjustable presser foot height

Strong needle penetration power

Variable feed dog settings

The best machines offer electronic thickness detection that automatically adjusts settings based on the material. This feature has saved me countless hours of manual adjustments when switching between different mattress types.

For specialized applications like pillow-top borders, ensure your machine can handle at least 40mm thickness. Some advanced Mattress Border Machines now incorporate ultrasonic sensors that measure thickness in real-time, adjusting thread tension accordingly for perfect stitches every time.

Key Features of Quality Mattress Border Machines

Modern mattress border machines come with several essential features that enhance production efficiency and product quality. These machines have evolved to include adjustable settings, precision cutting tools, and intuitive controls that simplify the manufacturing process.

Adjustable Fabric Width Options

When I shop for a mattress border machine, adjustable fabric width capability is one of the first features I look for. Quality machines offer width adjustments from 6 to 15 inches, accommodating different mattress sizes from twin to California king.

The best models include quick-change mechanisms that let operators switch between width settings in under a minute. This saves valuable production time when manufacturing different mattress models.

I've found that machines with digital width indicators provide more precision than manual adjustment systems. This precision prevents fabric waste and ensures consistent borders throughout production runs.

Some premium machines even offer programmable presets for different mattress models, eliminating setup errors when switching between products. This feature is especially valuable for factories that produce multiple mattress lines.

Advanced Cutting Mechanisms

The cutting system is what truly separates basic from quality border machines. Top-tier models use hardened steel blades that maintain sharpness through thousands of cutting cycles.

I prefer machines with automatic blade sharpening features that maintain cutting precision without production delays. This eliminates the jagged edges that can affect the final appearance of the mattress.

Laser-guided cutting systems provide accuracy down to 0.5mm, ensuring perfectly aligned fabric panels. This precision is crucial for creating professional-looking borders that enhance the mattress's visual appeal.

Many modern border machines incorporate servo-driven cutting mechanisms that reduce fabric waste by up to 15% compared to older mechanical systems. This efficiency translates directly to cost savings in material usage.

User-Friendly Control Systems

The control system forms the brain of any mattress border machine. I've worked with machines featuring touchscreen interfaces that display all critical operating parameters on a single screen.

Intuitive icons and color-coded controls make operation possible even for new workers with minimal training. This reduces the learning curve and helps maintain production speeds.

The best machines include memory functions that store settings for different border styles and fabrics. With a push of a button, operators can switch between quilted, plain, or decorative border types.

Error detection systems alert operators to problems like fabric jams or thread breaks before they cause production delays. These early warnings prevent damage to the machine and materials.

Remote diagnostics capability is becoming standard on premium models, allowing technicians to troubleshoot issues without visiting the factory floor. This minimizes downtime when technical problems arise.

Customization Options for Manufacturers

Mattress border machines offer a wide range of customization options for manufacturers looking to stand out in the competitive bedding market. These features allow production of unique mattress borders that can help establish brand identity and meet specific customer preferences.

Customizable Design Elements

The best mattress border machines let manufacturers create distinctive designs that reflect their mattress brand personality. I've seen machines that offer digital printing capabilities, allowing for vivid logos and patterns directly on borders. Some advanced models include screen printing and heat transfer options for more complex designs.

Border width adjustment is another key feature. Most modern machines can handle various border dimensions, typically ranging from 8 to 16 inches. This flexibility helps manufacturers create everything from slim, minimalist borders to plush, luxurious ones.

Color options are practically unlimited with today's technology. Many machines support multi-color stitching patterns and decorative elements that can be programmed through user-friendly interfaces.

Texture variations are also possible, with some machines offering quilting, embossing, or raised pattern capabilities that add both visual and tactile appeal to the final product.

Integration with Other Mattress Equipment

Modern mattress border machines are designed to work seamlessly with other production equipment. I've found that the most efficient setups include border machines that integrate directly with quilting systems, creating a streamlined workflow.

Compatibility with existing fabric feeding systems is crucial. The best machines accept materials from various sources and can be positioned in-line with cutting and sewing stations. This reduces handling time and minimizes production errors.

Digital connectivity features are becoming standard in high-end border machines. Many now include software that connects to central production management systems, allowing manufacturers to track efficiency, manage patterns, and schedule maintenance.

Some border machines can also be integrated with quality control systems that scan for defects while creating decorative elements, ensuring that only perfect borders move forward in the production process.

Essential Accessories and Attachments

Getting the most from your mattress border machine requires the right accessories. These attachments not only improve the quality of your finished mattress but also increase production efficiency and give you more creative options for border designs.

Guides and Feeders

The right guides and feeders make a huge difference in border production quality. Tape guides are essential for keeping the binding tape properly aligned as it feeds into the machine. I've found that adjustable guides work best since they can accommodate different tape widths.

Material feeders help maintain consistent tension on the border fabric as it moves through the machine. Most quality machines come with standard feeders, but upgrading to pneumatic feeders can dramatically improve consistency, especially when working with thicker materials.

Thread stands and holders are often overlooked but crucial accessories. Multi-spool stands allow for quick thread changes and reduce downtime between jobs. For high-volume production, I recommend investing in tension-controlled thread guides that prevent thread snapping and uneven stitches.

Cutting Attachments

Cutting attachments streamline the border finishing process by automating what would otherwise be manual cutting tasks. Automatic cutters with adjustable depth controls are essential for clean, consistent cuts across different fabric thicknesses.

The most valuable cutting attachment I've used is the programmable end cutter. This tool automatically cuts the border at predetermined lengths, eliminating measurement errors and saving significant time. Many models now include laser guides that ensure perfectly straight cuts every time.

Thread trimming attachments are also worth the investment. These small but mighty add-ons clip excess thread after sewing, giving borders a clean, professional finish without manual trimming. For mattress manufacturers producing hundreds of units daily, this small enhancement can save hours of labor.

Binding and Edge Trimming Devices

Binding devices are crucial for creating clean, durable mattress edges. Automatic binders fold and feed tape along the mattress edge while the machine stitches it in place. I've seen how upgrading from manual to automatic binders can cut production time nearly in half.

Edge trimming devices ensure uniform borders by removing excess material as the binding is applied. Look for adjustable trimmers that can handle different fabric types without fraying or damaging the material.

Decorative binding attachments allow for creating distinctive border designs like the faux tape edge mentioned in the search results. These specialized devices can apply decorative piping or create unique stitch patterns that make your mattresses stand out in the market.

Production Efficiency and Speed

Mattress Border Machines significantly boost manufacturing capacity while maintaining quality. Modern machines combine advanced technology with robust engineering to transform how mattress edges are sewn.

Increasing Throughput

The speed of a Mattress Border Machine is one of its most impressive features. Today's models can operate at up to 1600 RPM, drastically outpacing manual sewing methods. This rapid operation translates directly to higher daily production rates.

When I implemented a fully automatic border machine in my factory, our throughput increased by approximately 40%. The machine's ability to continuously operate without frequent stops for adjustments made a huge difference.

Power consumption is another factor worth considering. Many newer models balance high-speed performance with energy efficiency. I've found that despite the increased production speed, the power usage per mattress produced actually decreased compared to older methods.

Most machines now feature:

Quick-change tooling for different border styles

Automated tension control systems

Programmable stitch patterns

Multiple needle configurations

Maintaining Consistent Quality

While speed is impressive, the real advantage comes from maintaining quality at high production rates. The best Mattress Border Machines deliver consistently neat stitching even at maximum sewing speeds.

Automated systems control tension perfectly across the entire border, eliminating the variation that often occurs with manual sewing. This consistency is especially important for premium mattress lines where visible stitching is part of the product appeal.

I've noticed that properly calibrated machines produce almost zero defects. The precision of modern border machines means rejection rates typically stay below 1%, even when running at full capacity.

Many manufacturers report labor savings of 50-70% after implementing automated border machines. This reduction in labor hours doesn't just save money—it removes the variability that comes with different operators handling the same materials.

Physical and Environmental Requirements

Setting up a mattress border machine requires careful planning for utility connections and workspace arrangements. Proper installation ensures optimal performance and operator safety when handling these specialized machines.

Power Supply Considerations

Most mattress border machines require a stable 220V or 380V three-phase power supply. I've found that machines typically consume between 1-3 kW of total power, depending on their size and capabilities.

It's essential to have dedicated circuits with proper amperage ratings for these machines. In my experience, a 20-30 amp circuit breaker is usually sufficient, but always check the manufacturer's specifications for your specific model.

Power fluctuations can damage sensitive electronic components, so I recommend installing a voltage stabilizer or surge protector. This small investment can prevent costly repairs down the line.

Remember to have a qualified electrician handle the initial installation. Proper grounding is critical for operator safety and machine longevity.

Air Pressure Needs

Many modern mattress border machines incorporate pneumatic components that require compressed air to function properly. The typical air pressure requirement ranges from 0.4-0.6 MPa (58-87 PSI).

Your air compressor should deliver at least 10-15 CFM (cubic feet per minute) to ensure smooth operation. I recommend installing:

Air filters to remove moisture and contaminants

Pressure regulators to maintain consistent pressure

Lubricators for pneumatic components if required by the manufacturer

An inadequate air supply can cause erratic machine behavior or component failure. I've seen this happen firsthand when factories try to run too many pneumatic machines on an undersized compressor.

Check all air lines regularly for leaks, which can reduce efficiency and increase operating costs.

Space and Weight Considerations

Mattress border machines are substantial pieces of equipment. Most models weigh between 200-500 kg (440-1100 lbs) and require adequate floor support. I always ensure my factory floor can handle this concentrated weight.

Space requirements vary by model, but you'll typically need:

Machine footprint: 2.5 × 1.5 meters (8.2 × 4.9 feet)

Operational clearance: 3.5 × 2.5 meters (11.5 × 8.2 feet)

Ceiling height: minimum 2.5 meters (8.2 feet)

The workspace must accommodate both the machine and the mattress handling area. I've found that a clear path around the entire machine makes maintenance much easier.

Good lighting is essential for operators to see their work clearly. I recommend 500-750 lux of task lighting in the immediate work area.

Safety and Maintenance Best Practices

Keeping your Mattress Border Machine running safely and efficiently requires regular attention and proper care. I've found that following structured maintenance routines not only extends the life of the equipment but also creates a safer working environment.

Routine Cleaning Procedures

I always start my weekly maintenance by disconnecting the power supply. Safety first! The machine collects fabric particles and dust that can affect performance, so I use compressed air to clean hard-to-reach areas.

For the exterior surfaces, I wipe them down with a damp cloth—never soaking wet to avoid electrical components. The sewing heads need special attention, as lint buildup can cause thread breakage and skipped stitches.

I make it a point to clean and oil the needle bar assembly after every shift. This simple step has saved me countless headaches. For metal parts showing signs of rust, I use a manufacturer-approved rust remover followed by a thin coat of machine oil.

Monthly deep cleaning checklist:

Remove and clean bobbins and bobbin cases

Clean thread guides and tension discs

Vacuum motor vents

Inspect belts for wear and clean

Check and clean foot pedals

Essential Safety Precautions

I never operate my Mattress Border Machine without proper training. The fast-moving parts can cause serious injuries if mishandled.

I always wear close-fitting clothing and tie back long hair to prevent entanglement. Safety glasses are non-negotiable when operating or cleaning the machine, especially when using compressed air.

The emergency stop button location should be memorized by every operator. I test it monthly to ensure it's working properly. When performing maintenance, I use lockout/tagout procedures to prevent accidental startup.

Guards and safety shields must remain in place during operation. I've seen too many injuries from people removing these "for convenience." It's never worth the risk.

Machine modifications are a big no-no. I only use manufacturer-approved parts and attachments designed specifically for my model of Mattress Border Machine.

Troubleshooting Common Issues

When thread breaks frequently, I first check if the machine is threaded correctly. Then I inspect for rough spots on thread guides or tension discs. Dull or bent needles are often culprits too.

If the border looks uneven or puckered, I check the presser foot pressure and fabric tension. Sometimes adjusting the feed dogs solves this issue right away.

Unusual noises from the machine require immediate attention. I stop operating and check for loose parts or foreign objects. A grinding sound often indicates a lack of lubrication.

For motor issues, I check:

Power connections

Foot pedal functionality

Belt tension and wear

Motor brushes (if applicable)

Electrical problems like intermittent power require professional help. I never attempt to repair electrical components myself—that's a job for qualified technicians who understand the specific requirements of a Mattress Border Machine.

Selecting the Right Mattress Border Machine

Choosing an appropriate mattress border machine requires careful consideration of your specific manufacturing needs, technical capabilities, and ongoing support requirements. The right equipment can significantly impact production quality, efficiency, and your mattress brand's reputation.

Assessing Manufacturer Needs

Before investing in a mattress border machine, I recommend evaluating your production volume requirements. Small manufacturers might need a semi-automatic model that handles 50-100 mattresses daily, while large operations should consider fully automated systems capable of 300+ units per shift.

Budget constraints are crucial, but I've found that focusing solely on price often leads to higher long-term costs. Quality machines typically range from $25,000 for basic models to $150,000+ for advanced systems with multi-needle capabilities.

Consider your available floor space too. Some border machines require as little as 100 square feet, while comprehensive systems might need 300+ square feet with proper clearance for materials handling.

Your specific mattress designs matter significantly. If you produce customized borders with intricate patterns, look for machines with programmable stitching capabilities and adjustable sewing heads.

Comparing Technical Specifications

Speed and throughput should be top considerations when evaluating border machines. Look for models offering 2500-3000 stitches per minute with quick changeover capabilities between different mattress sizes.

Key Technical Features to Consider:

Sewing head type (single vs. multi-needle)

Stitch length adjustability (typically 2-6mm)

Border width capacity (standard is 6-15 inches)

Automation level (manual, semi-auto, or fully automatic)

Digital pattern storage capacity (modern systems store 100+ patterns)

Material handling capabilities vary significantly between machines. Some handle only standard fabrics, while premium models work with everything from basic polyester to thick quilted materials.

I've found that energy efficiency makes a substantial difference in operational costs. Newer border machines use 30-50% less power than older models while delivering superior performance.

Evaluating Supplier Support

Service availability is critical for minimizing downtime. I recommend choosing suppliers offering next-day technician visits and remote diagnostics capabilities. Ask about their average response time for emergency repairs.

Parts availability dramatically impacts maintenance costs and downtime. The best suppliers maintain at least 90% of common replacement parts in stock and can ship specialty items within 48-72 hours.

Questions to Ask Potential Suppliers:

What is your technician response time?

Do you offer operator training programs?

What's your warranty coverage period?

Can you provide references from similar manufacturers?

How long have you supported this specific model?

Training support varies widely between suppliers. Some offer only basic setup assistance, while others provide comprehensive multi-day programs that cover operation, maintenance, and troubleshooting.

Consider the supplier's industry reputation through customer reviews and professional associations. I've found that manufacturers with 10+ years in the industry typically provide the most reliable support.

Industry Trends and Innovations

The mattress manufacturing industry is evolving rapidly with new technologies reshaping how border machines operate. Companies are focusing on automation to increase productivity while also developing eco-friendly solutions to meet market demands.

Automation and Smart Technologies

Mattress Border Machines have undergone significant technological advances in recent years. Modern computerized systems can now increase output by 40-60% compared to traditional methods. I've noticed that manufacturers are integrating smart technologies that allow for remote monitoring and adjustment of production parameters.

The latest flanging machines feature advanced sensors that detect material thickness and automatically adjust tension. This reduces waste and improves consistency across production runs. Some models now include:

AI-assisted pattern recognition for precise border alignment

Touch-screen interfaces for easier operation

Cloud connectivity for production data analysis

Automated fault detection systems

Border Modular Systems like the BMS-1500 from Global Systems Group exemplify this trend. These versatile machines can quickly adapt to changing market requirements without lengthy retooling periods.

Sustainable Manufacturing Solutions

Sustainability has become a major focus in mattress border machine development. Manufacturers are designing equipment that uses less energy and produces minimal waste.

New border machines incorporate energy-efficient motors that reduce power consumption by up to 30%. I've seen systems that capture and reuse compressed air, significantly lowering their environmental footprint.

Material optimization features are now standard on premium models. These include:

Precise cutting algorithms that maximize fabric usage

Recyclable thread options for eco-conscious brands

Low-VOC adhesive applicators

Variable speed drives that reduce energy use during slower production periods

Many manufacturers are also offering retrofit packages for existing Mattress Border Machines. These upgrades help factories extend equipment lifespans while improving environmental performance.

Border machines now commonly use water-based lubricants instead of petroleum-based options. This reduces harmful emissions and makes maintenance safer for workers.

Frequently Asked Questions

Mattress border machines play a crucial role in mattress manufacturing, affecting quality, design, and production efficiency. These specialized pieces of equipment vary widely in features, cost considerations, and applications across the industry.

What factors determine the pricing of a mattress border machine?

The pricing of mattress border machines depends on several key elements. Brand reputation significantly impacts cost, with established manufacturers commanding premium prices for their proven reliability.

Machine capabilities also drive pricing - multi-needle models with programmable stitch patterns cost more than basic single-needle versions. Automation features like automatic thread cutting and pattern memory add to the price tag but improve efficiency.

New machines typically range from $8,000 to $30,000 depending on complexity and features. Imported machines from Asian markets may offer lower price points but sometimes with trade-offs in parts availability and support.

How does a used mattress border machine compare to a new one in terms of performance and longevity?

Used border machines can provide good value when purchased from reputable sources. Well-maintained used machines often deliver 5-8 years of service compared to 10-15 years for new equipment.

Performance differences may include slower operating speeds and fewer automated features. Older models typically lack the digital controls and programmable stitch patterns found in newer versions.

The key consideration is maintenance history. A properly serviced 5-year-old machine from a quality manufacturer often outperforms a newer budget model with inferior components.

In what ways does a border sewing machine contribute to mattress quality and design?

Border machines create the critical seams joining the mattress sides to top and bottom panels. Precise stitching ensures structural integrity and prevents premature seam failure during mattress use.

These machines enable decorative elements like distinctive border patterns that define brand identity. The quality of border stitching directly impacts consumer perception of craftsmanship and overall mattress quality.

Modern border machines offer variable stitch lengths and tensions that accommodate different fabric thicknesses. This versatility allows manufacturers to work with premium materials like organic cotton, cooling fabrics, or specialty blends.

Where can professionals in the mattress industry find reliable border machines for sale?

Industry-specific equipment suppliers like Mattress Machinery Direct and Global Systems Group specialize in mattress manufacturing equipment. These vendors typically offer both new and reconditioned models with technical support.

Trade shows such as ISPA EXPO and Interzum provide opportunities to compare multiple brands and negotiate directly with manufacturers. These events showcase the latest innovations and allow hands-on testing.

Online marketplaces for industrial equipment can yield good deals on used machines. Sites like MachineryTrader and Industrial Sewing Machine Exchange list pre-owned equipment, though careful vetting is essential.

What features set the best mattress border machines apart from the competition?

Superior border machines offer high-speed operation, typically 3000+ stitches per minute, significantly boosting productivity. This speed doesn't sacrifice stitch quality, maintaining consistency even at maximum rates.

Programmable stitch patterns and automatic tension control ensure uniform results across production runs. The best machines store multiple stitch profiles for different mattress models, reducing setup time.

Durability features like hardened feed dogs and reinforced frames justify the higher investment. Premium machines incorporate ergonomic design elements that reduce operator fatigue during long production shifts.

Could you explain the differences between a Mattress Flanging Machine and a Mattress border Handle Machine?

A Mattress Flanging Machine attaches the flanging tape that joins the mattress panel to the border. This specialized machine creates the foundation for a clean, professional edge and typically operates with a wider throat space than standard machines.

The Mattress Border Handle Machine, in contrast, is designed specifically for attaching handles to mattress borders. It features specialized guides and feed mechanisms optimized for handle materials and reinforced stitching patterns.

These machines serve distinct functions in the production process, though some manufacturers offer hybrid models. High-volume operations typically benefit from dedicated machines for each function rather than multi-purpose equipment.

[moremaybank]

EDIBLE , jj maybank

── KINKTOBER: OVERSTIM. + DACRYPHILIA

"touchin' on my body, i can't help but feel impeccable." ─ flo milli, edible.

jj maybank x bratty!reader

(18+) unprotected sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, mean!jj, mentions of breeding (barely)

you mouth off, and your favourite pogue puts you in your place. with ease.

KINKTOBER , OBX MASTERLIST

your legs quivered terribly at the work jj had been doing on you. he impaled you with his thick cock, over and over like he was desperate to steal the air from your lungs. you tried to crawl away, just a little bit to escape the overstimulation. but you should've known not to.

"where d'you think you're goin', huh? you're gonna take this fuckin' cock." his hand surges his hand through your hair, gripping it harshly and jerking your head up. "actin' like this ain't what you got on your knees 'n begged me for."

the hand he had clinging to your hip held you tighter, thick fingertips and blunt nails biting into your skin. his hips seemed to work harder, like a well-oiled machine as he speared his cock deeper inside of you. he made you take every single inch, each thrust landing him balls deep inside the cunt that never failed to fit nice and snug around him like a glove. he grunted at you as he fucked you, muttering how this kind of hard fucking was what you deserved for pissing him off.

just like you always did.

no matter how much you two got on each other's nerves, you'd always fucked it out like champions. you crawled back to each other every time, despite the difference in status. that's just how things were.

you mouthed off, and your favourite pogue put you in your place. with ease.

a single hand of yours flew backward, pressing against the upper part of his pelvis. your nails scratched at his skin pleadingly in an effort to get him to take it easy on you. it was so damn good, but it was so damn much. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be lucid or even able to breathe with how deep he was pressing into you.

"nah, nah, nah. don’t run from this," he chided, smacking your hand away. in a flash, he was pulling you up by the hair and curling his arm around your throat. he used his chokehold on you to bring your back flush to his chest, all while maintaining the unforgiving drilling he was giving you. "always talkin’ shit, runnin’ that pretty mouth." his other arm snaked around your hips, calloused fingertips finding your clit and prodding at it harshly. "tellin' me i don’t fuck you hard enough. like you haven't had dick in days. now, look at you. can't even handle me."

"please, daddy! c-can't take it!" you gasped your words out, like you could barely pull yourself together to beg for mercy. jj fucking loved it.

but he keeps his act up, scoffing like you'd just insulted him. "you think a please, daddy'll work on me?" his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and his arm tightened around your neck. "'m sorry. y'got me all wrong, princess."

he slammed you back down against your mattress, your cheek smushed into the high thread-count sheets. you could feel his hand pressing down on the back of your head, asserting dominance while his other hand pulled you back to meet his thrusts. he was primal and downright mean with the way he was fucking you, and though your skin was buzzing, you wouldn't have it, or him, any other way.

you started to cry, tears breaking free from the border of your waterlines and flowing down your cheeks. they sank into the cotton bedding, and your sobs dide against it as well. you were bawling out a weak and tortured daddy as best as you could, but to jj, it just sounded like babbling.

good, he thought. just how he liked you.

"look at those tears. cryin' like it'll make me stop 'n be nice." the laugh he let out next was almost psychopathic. but it was so fucking hot, you were losing your mind. "you're jus' makin' me wanna nut in you."

you looked at him from your peripheral vision. his sharktooth necklace bounced against his sternum with each movement. his teeth were nearly engraved into his bottom lip. those signature blue eyes were trained solely on you. on how fucked out you were beneath him.

"yeah. that's it. cry for it, baby. cry for it," he gritted out with a clenched jaw. "'member earlier? you were sayin' i was scared to lose you? think you're scared of losin' me, sweetheart. scared of losin' this good dick, right?"

you hiccuped almost miserably, fingers roaming the mattress until they found chunks of your comforter to hold onto. "gonna cum! 'm gonna cum!"

"yeah...know you are. this pussy always cums for me, like that's its job. such a good fuckin' pussy."

you clenched around him, sucking him in tighter. your walls trembled, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"the only reason i keep comin’ back is 'cause she loves me so damn much."

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sympathy for Breakfast

(Part 1)

—

Time Written - 9:03 p.m

(Completely unrelated photo it’s just funny to me, also just a silly part 2 for no reason. SFW silly, he stands like this for a majority of this Drabble)

—

The early rays of morning sun sent an irritating glare of bright light through his mask when he feels a faint rumble, making him instinctively reach for his phone.

You coming home soon?

I have a surprise :)

Love you <3

Jason smiles at the screen, feeling glad that his girl woke up on the good side of the bed. However, he checked the time, slowly growing concerned as to why you were up so early.

The diner the both of you adored on weekends and midnights wasn’t even open yet.

A handful of thoughts course through his tired brain. Some of them concerning, some of them far from appropriate.

“Good morning, Mister Hood.” You smile from your position on the ground as he shuffled himself through the front door, carrying double bagged to-go boxes in hand.

The only comfort he had at this moment, besides the fragrant hot coffee inside the machine pot, was seeing your smiling, well rested expression. Your hair was styled to keep out of your way as your main focus, the ‘surprise’, was the project the two of you had been putting off on for a while.

“Babe, what’re you doing?”

You sat criss cross on the living room floor in front of an ash gray, large convertible crib, newly put together by yourself alone.

“Built the crib! Isn’t it pretty?” You extend your hands out towards the sight, the crib equipped with every detail perfectly in place. All you had to do left was add in the bedding onto the new mattress for your son, and it’s fully finished.

A very special bed for a very special boy, already loved before he’s even born.

“The box weighed a ton.” Was Jason’s first statement as he eyed the empty box and scattered foam borders. He sets his helmet and breakfast on the dining room table, approaching the messy living room.

“It wasn’t heavy,” you quickly state, gesturing your head over towards the corner of the living room, where the box had sat behind the couch for a good three months.

“It was super easy too! What do you think?” You immediately ask, not liking how he was too concerned for everything but the surprise.

Their was a cute, eager glimmer in your eyes as you stared up at him, like a little girl showing off her extravagant art piece. Right there, he understood why you had lately become quite OCD with all the baby’s essentials.

Sorting out all the supplies, washing all the clothes, ordering a new baby blanket set because it didn’t arrive in the shade of teal blue you wanted.

Nesting. You were nesting.

Cute.

“It’s nice,” Jason says, tilting his head as he examines the large crib. How the hell his eight month pregnant sweetheart built this heavy crib all on your own was a full body shiver he tried very, very hard to refrain expressing.

“Yeah, very nice. How’s it, uh… how’s it gonna fit through the door?”

“What?” Your smile slowly drops. “Huh?”

“I mean, it’s pretty wide?” Jason peeks over towards their semi open bedroom door. “I don’t think the crib will fit through…”

You go quiet, looking over at the crib you were proud of merely seconds ago.

“Huh??”

You express once more, noticing this large, extravagantly built crib, with bottom drawers prepared to pack in freshly washed baby clothes, would be a little too wide to push through the bedroom door. Especially with the bed in the way.

“But this took … this took forever!” Your voice held that tremble that Jason suspected would come, making him playfully pout.

“Awww, Princess.” He tried so hard to hold back a smile or laugh, quickly failing behind his gloved palm.

“Don’t laugh!” You yell up at him. “I was so proud of myself! This was the one time we buy something from IKEA, and I didn’t have to second guess the instructions a hundred times! Now you’re saying it won’t fit through the door!”

Cause it won’t. Jason wasn’t cruel enough to voice it, simply gazing down at his love, who hid her face from his view, still perched in the center of empty screw bags, power tools, and ever so finicky foam beads.

As tired as he was from patrol, this topped the cake of interesting things to happen yet.

He wasn’t delighted to see you cry aggravated tears from this daunting realization you completely missed, but the outcome of your hard work at such an early hour… only to be stumped, it’s funny. Jason can’t help that.

His shoulders bounced with his light laughter, settling down in front of his woman, who had exhausted hands covering that pretty face from him.

“S’okay Princess. Crib looks gorgeous, an’ you still possess all fingers and toes. Proud of you, but no more heavy lifting. Alright?”

His soft praise and gentle warning fell on acknowledging ears, but responded to with shameful silence. Jason couldn’t help that you were a little impatient with exciting tasks, he wouldn’t ask you to change that.

It’s like asking him to stop his horrible, eye rolling humor. Or twisted, cruelly timed jokes. It’s impossible.

He softly shushes you, kissing the top of your forehead. His eyes glance back to the crib, overall impressed at how you put it all together so well by yourself.

At the start of living in your own apartment, the both of you took many IKEA dates. Each night ended up in some form of aggravated frustration over a piece of furniture placed wrong, or the irritation of an extra screw from a missing slot once the entire piece was already finished.

“You take your vitamins?” Jason prompts, watching your head slowly shake no, still sniffling behind your hands.

You were too fixated on building the crib and getting everything together, you forgot the key component of a successful pregnancy; to worry about your own health. The biggest of priorities.

Yep. Nesting.

“We’ll eat, take your vitamins, an’ have our food comas. No worries ‘bout the crib mama, I’ll take care of it.”

Jason’s soothing voice was almost enough to settle your nerves, or the mention of food actually.

“Did you go to Benny’s?”

“Mhm. Got your favorite.”

“Can you help me up?” You reluctantly ask, giving him those pink flushed puppy eyes that he couldn’t go against.

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Tired muscles slip underneath your arms, cradling your sides as he helps you up off the ground. Your swollen belly nudges against his abdomen, making his heart melt. He wondered if your manic rush of dopamine woke up his boy, softly smirking at the idea of you chastising your relentlessly kicking son whilst building his future bed.

“Baby boy missed you, by the way.” You say, as if you just read his mind.

God, kill him already. His twice beating heart can’t take much more of this.

“He just wants food,” Jason chides before stepping to the side, letting you slowly waddle to the kitchen.

“We’re all on the same boat, Papa.”

God, please scratch that last thought. He’s in heaven.

Jason’s exhaustion didn’t stop him from nudging you towards your seat, taking the empty mugs from your hands to fill them with Colombian roast.

He wasn’t just being courteous; he was making sure you didn’t have too much caffeine, diluting the majority of your cup with your preferred milk.

After taking those vitamins you needed, Jason finally allowed himself to sit down and rest, too lazy to pull off anything other than his tactical belt and leather jacket.

He watches the love of his life through hooded eyes open your plate, your expression brightening as if you didn’t just sob over the crib mishap. Something he most definitely wasn’t going to mention at a manor dinner about three years from now.

Fluffy blueberry pancakes, piled with fresh fruit and savory sausage on the side. Honey cinnamon butter, and extra syrup. All topped with chocolate chips.

Beside it, an egg white spinach, cheesy omelette. With vegan cheese, for some odd reason. Suddenly, you had as much distain to cheddar and mozzarella, possibly most dairy, as you did to egg yolks in your omelettes.

This was your breakfast, The only meal out of your three meals a day that wasn’t invaded by a strange concoction of spicy pickles or vinegar based hot sauce. Or any other horrible last minute choices.

Something tells Jason that he’s going to see cake eaten for breakfast after the birth for a good while. Not like he’s going to complain, honestly.

Whatever he can do to combat the birthing blues, but that’s a concern for the future.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You glance up from your plate before you dug in, seeing that same gentle smirk he carried on his face for the past four minutes.

“I was kidding, by the way.” His smile slowly grew the quicker it sets in, expecting to get pummeled by fruit after this;

“The crib will fit through the door.”

[mandana-the-service-pup]

Easy Custom Dog Mat

You will need:

Sewing Machine (or hands + determination)

Waterproof Crib Pad ($13.85)

One yard of fleece per mat ($6.99/yard at JoAnn right now)

Dog (priceless 🥹)

This is not a tutorial. This is a cheap & easy way to make a custom nonslip-waterproof dog mat that has a little cushion but is also machine washable & can be thrown in the dryer. I taught myself how to “sew” and this only takes me about 20 minutes start to finish per mat. I’m not posting instructions bc if you can’t figure it out from the pictures I am definitely the wrong person to ask for help 😭

Notes:

A lot of craft stores are pet friendly so feel free to take your well behaved pets so you can compare swatches

When you start, make sure you have the pretty side of the fabric touching the nonslip side of the mat when you first sew it together and leave an opening to turn it right side out.

This crib mattress pad is 28” x 52” and works great for my big girl. If you have a small dog you could use a “changing table pad” instead.

Fleece is stretchy so after you turn it right side out and are about to add the inside border I suggest adding more clips to hold it in place. This is to make sure the nonslip fabric stays hidden behind the fleece instead of peaking out the side when you’re done.

It’s very important to have your quality control inspector available. Please pay your workers a fair wage 😋

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

My headcanon is that the Butcher absolutely has houses and apartments, though some are just incredibly run down buildings with a mattress on the floor.

He makes decent money and he needs to be able to leave at a moment's notice, so he has at least one on each coast/border of America and a few in other countries.

However, he spends over half his time in hotels or motels since if he's on a job, he doesn't want to risk anything being traced back to his home. Most of his properties are comfortable and have enough belongings to keep him entertained, but his home base is in New York.

He tries not to get too attached to belongings, since if the shit hits the fan, he might need to abandon a property and everything in it. However, he is absurdly fond of anything Noel gives him, and if the thing small enough, he carries it around with him wherever he goes.

The first thing wasn't really a "gift." It's a generic looking tie clip. Noel and the Butcher clashed on one of the Butcher's jobs that intersected with a case Noel had. The Butcher was flirting with threatening Noel and nicked it.

The second thing is the first actual gift Noel gave him, though it was on a whim. They were in a diner, and Noel got a bouncey ball out of one of those coin machines. But it was yellow. He grimaced, handed it over to Dennis, and got a different one for himself.

[bvtbxtch]

Paranoid | Eddie Munson

Day Five of Kinktober

Summary: You watched Eddie make it out of the battle for Hawkins clinging to his life by a thread. Even though he has been acquitted for the crimes he was accused of, and life has gone back to normal, there is something not quite right with your boyfriend.

Pairings: Vecna'd!Eddie x fem!reader

wc: ~2.1k

Warnings: angst, fluff, nightmares, choking, fearing for your life, possession, saying love for the first time, this is happening in a universe where the upside down and Vecna exist, although this fic is pretty tame, my blog is 18+ so MDNI!!!

In collaboration with the lovely @darknesseddiem. Stay tuned for their prompts in the latter half of October!!

Dark red skies, thunder and the far off screeches of sheer horror were replaced with stark, sterile whites and blues and a symphony of beeping machines. The only purple and red that you could see were the constellations of bruises and cuts on your boyfriend’s face. His once frizzy and curly hair laid flat against the thin pillow on his hospital bed. His veins looked like they were ready to collapse with the sheer amount of needles and IVs connecting him to his lifelines. You had sat and stared at his pouty face for three days straight. He looked so small, so innocent. Hopper had come to see you the second day in the hospital. The day you were released Hopper had told you and Wayne that Eddie had been acquitted of all of the murders. You breathed a sigh of relief when Eddie finally woke up. The first thing he did was search the room for you. You cupped his face and embraced him in a soft kiss. He winced but pulled you closer. Eddie’s recovery went smoothly after that, his dedication to get out of the hospital and back to his own bedroom where you could lay beside him.

Things took a turn for the weirdest when you finally took Eddie home. As much as your own parents disapproved, you spent all of your free time at the Munson trailer, doting on both Uncle and Nephew as much as you could. 

Things started off small; you would find Eddie staring blankly out the windows or up at the ceiling, but the second you would call his name, he would snap back to you and rejoin you with a crooked smile. He was touchy, almost afraid to let you go, but not for you. He clung to you for dear life while he napped on you. He always needed to hold your hand or hold your arm while you drove. He didn’t like going into the bathroom alone and you always needed to be with him for all of his appointments. He felt terrible for being so dependent but you were his lifeline. He started making you scared a month after his physical therapy was completed and he regained his strength. 

Eddie was no stranger to night terrors… neither were you. Most nights the two of you retired to the living room couch to pop in a VCR to fall back asleep to, the sounds of random slasher films filled the silence you both dreaded. But you had never expected what happened the night of August third. 

Your mind had been running a mile a minute, sleep overtook you slowly in the heat of the trailer bedroom. You slept restlessly, nightmares invading every corner of your mind. You had slowed your breathing and you suddenly jolted awake, eyes flicking open in horror to what you were met with. Eddie’s face was stone cold, filled with rage as he huffed only inches away from your face. His knees caged your body to the mattress with nowhere to turn your face. You felt the life drain from your face as Eddie’s vice grip around your throat tightened. He was ice cold, but sweat beaded underneath his curly bangs. You pleaded with your eyes up to him, but the Eddie you knew wasn’t there. There was no golden glow behind his big brown eyes, no glimmer of adoration like when he normally looked at you. With what little strength you had left, you wriggled your arm from under Eddie’s body and reached up to touch his cheek. Your world was going black, a vignette border closing in around the love of your life’s face. There was no time for confusion. You knew this wasn’t your Eddie. You grazed his cold cheek with the tips of your fingers and you were met with a shroud of hope. 

For a split second, you saw a flash of your boyfriend’s eyes behind the strange ones you were peering into. You flattened your palm against his cheek to caress him and suddenly Eddie had recoiled off of you like you were made of molten lava. You choked and gasped for air as Eddie sat sprawled at the foot of the bed, chest heaving almost as hard as yours. When you had the strength you curled yourself onto your side so you could look at the terrified boy in front of you. 

“S-s-sweetheart… I-” Eddie choked through tears. He was disgusted with himself. One moment he was asleep, dreams filled with terrible visions of the upside down; the next, he’s on top of you, his one salvation in the real world, choking you out. Your small pale face full of fear and confusion will be his new worst nightmare. 

“Eddie… baby. Are you okay?” you rasped, you felt like you were yelling, but your voice was so small Eddie could barely hear you. 

“Am I okay? Sweetheart…. I - I almost killed you…” Eddie whimpered. You propped yourself to your knees, then slouched yourself over towards the foot of the bed. Eddie jumped up, his lanky figure only illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the trailer window. 

“Stay away from me, babe. I don’t wanna- I can’t hurt you again…” Eddie pulled at his tresses and walked in small circles. You reached for the side lamp to illuminate the terrified boy’s face. His cheeks were flushed and stained with tears. His brow fixed in a permanent furrow. He was terrified. He looked the same way he did that night that you almost lost him. Something from that day was pulling him back now. You could tell. 

“Eddie…”

Your plea was met with silence… stillness. The metalhead faced the window, his lanky shoulders turned away from you. You only got bits and pieces of his frame because the side lamp was now violently flickering. You lept out of bed and stumbled over to your boyfriend; your legs still like jelly from total panic and adrenaline. You grabbed onto his shoulders and turned him towards you. You wracked out a sob as you were no longer met with glowing golden brown eyes, but milky, glazed over orbs in their place. You knocked past Eddie to his desk and stereo, frantically pressing at whatever buttons you could muster in a feeble attempt to play the newest Metallica tape that had been wedged in the machine since you and Eddie went to the big record store in Indianapolis to get it the day it was released. Finally, a release from the silence and the thrash of the music filled the room. You could feel the bass and drum beat in your chest. You studied Eddie carefully, the music doing nothing to end his trance. You let out a desperate sob, searching the room for anything else that might relieve the boy in front of you. You had no choice but to use what you had in your mind.

“Eddie… listen to me baby. I know you’re in there. Think with me. I need you to remember because you can’t go yet! There are still people here who need you - I need you!” You cup Eddie’s face and yell into him. You rub his arms and cheeks to remind him of your touch. As you speak, you run your fingers through his hair, the way he likes it - the way he likes you to do it. 

“Remember the day we first met? Remember how you bumped into me crying under the bleachers because I didn’t make the cheer team?” you scoffed. “Little did I know me not getting on that team and our little interaction under the bleachers saved my life. Remember what you told me? You knocked me on the shoulder, offered me a cigarette and said ‘buck up, champ. There are bigger and better things coming for you than just the cheer team. You’re gonna leave this town in the dust, I know it’” You giggle sadly at the memory. Eddie’s expression is unchanging. You can feel him slipping.

“I remember when I realized I had a crush on you, Eddie. It was the second time I had ever stepped foot into the drama room and you pulled me up a chair right beside Gareth and you. You told me it was because you two were the pros, but I was just happy to be near you. I was so happy to see your side eye winks and little giggles at me. I loved it when you doodled on my character sheet and explained the rules of the game to me. Please Eddie. Please come back to me.” You voice shrieked in desperation. You were no longer concerned about the pain in your body, just transfixed on the love of your life in front of you. You had never said it out loud. Even though you were sure that Eddie would feel the same way about you, you were too scared of the potential rejection; but desperate times … The wind started to pick up, even though there were no windows open.

“I remember the day you kissed me.” you yelled. There was no noise but the room was deafening. “It was the valentine's day dance and I remember being so surprised seeing you in the gym. I had gone with Robin because she was too nervous to ask another girl to go with her. I was surprised because you had spent the past few days complaining about how stupid dances are. Henderson must have gotten to you because you were there  - even though you weren’t dressed up much. I remember the way you looked at me when you saw me. I felt like my heart was going to explode. We spent the night dancing and laughing and giggling after you took me and Robin out back to smoke a blunt with you. You offered to drive me home and I complained about how they didn’t play the one song I wanted to hear - Changes by Black Sabbath remember? You had the cassette in your van so we parked by my house and you blasted it out the window and we danced. You looked so handsome Eddie. I’ll never forget the way you looked at me.” Your tears streamed down your face in remembrance and in fear that you’ll never be able to make memories with him again. “You asked if you could kiss me and I felt my world explode. You kissed me and it was right and from then on I couldn’t wait for you to kiss me again.” You saw a pang of hurt on Eddie’s face. His feet began to raise from the floor.

“Eddie Munson, you can’t leave me yet.” you sobbed. You pulled at his tattered Van Halen shirt to plant him to the ground. “We have too much to do… we have the rest of the world to see together. Remember? We said that once we had enough money we were going to pack up the van and drive across the country? I can’t do that without you! I can’t go on without you. I can’t kiss anyone else and I can’t love anyone else. I love you Eddie. I have loved you forever and I will go on loving you forever, so you can’t leave me yet please.” The cacophony of your pleas and sobs, as well as the blaring music halted Eddie’s departure in its tracks. The stereo wailed and the lightbulb in the lamp surged so hard that you thought it might explode. Small praises and pleas for Eddie to come back to you escaped your lips. 

With a snap of your fingers, the lightbulb blew out and the stereo short circuited. Eddie dropped to his knees on the floor, his back shaking from his trembling sobs. He cried out your name over and over again. You dropped to the floor beside him, raising his face to yours. His eyes were no longer a glassy white, but the familiar chocolate brown that you thought you were never going to see again. You sobbed in relief and wrapped your arms around his neck. He grabbed onto your waist like you were the only thing keeping him alive. 

“I love you… oh my god I love you so much. Please don’t ever leave me” Eddie choked into your cheek. He nestled into the crook of your neck where he sobbed uncontrollably.

“I’m here Eddie and I love you so much. I will never leave you, okay?” You felt the metalhead nod against you. 

You stayed nestled on the floor until the relief of sunrise made you both feel safe. With bags under your eyes and swollen lips, you both retreated to the couch on the front porch to watch the sunshine, Eddie’s hand never leaving yours

Taglist: @dark-angel-is-back @filth-fiction-archive @joantje @aol19 @brinleighsstuff @anxiousobserver @sadbitchfangirl @vintagehellfire @ali-r3n @mmunson86 @sluggzillaa @eddies-acousticguitar @poofyloofy @hideoutside @kirstinjayjay

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[knit-me-a-blanket]

Abandoned WIP Wednesday

I wanted to take this Wednesday to show projects on my plate that have sort of been abandoned.

The first project I have is a baby blanket. Back in my first WIP Wednesday post, I spoke about how I was using 2025 to go through my stash, but this isn't the first time I've attempted to stash bust. The yarn for this project is just that. About three years ago, I decided to use this yarn to make a baby blanket. It's a self-striping pink, blue, and brown, fair-isle-themed sport-weight yarn. It didn't have a label in my bin, and unfortunately, I've been unable to find it online. However, I knew I had enough to make a blanket and got started! It's a simple stockinette stitch with a garter border. To keep the striping uniform, it's knit in four panels. Once it's done, I'll mattress stitch them together and voila! A baby blanket!

But it's so boring! And I don't know anyone having a baby right now. It's sat in a bag in the corner for weeks because there is no drive to get it done.

The second project that has been sort of abandoned was started in 2020. It's a brain hat knit with a dusty pink yarn. The hat was meant to be a quick Halloween project that got a little out of hand. This yarn also doesn't have a label, unfortunately, but the feel of it leads me to believe it's some type of wool. I didn't make this with a pattern, just some inspiration from Pinterest. It's essentially a ribbed hat with i-cords sewn in various patterns to create the texture of a brain. The concept is really cool! At the time, I hand-knit all of the i-cords. It was exhausting, and after weeks of working on it, I gave up. What was meant to be a quick project quickly got out of hand. It's now moved to three different places! I'm hopefully going to invest in an i-cord machine soon and knock this out of the park. Once I have a machine, it'll be over in a flash!

The reason that I wanted to showcase these two projects is that it's okay to take a break from something! It's okay to acknowledge that a project isn't bringing you joy and put it down. There is no shame! One day I'll get back to these projects, or one day I'll frog them and use the yarn for something else. Either way, as long as I'm proud of my work and of my progress, nothing else matters. This is my hobby and I will do it the way that I want to. I hope that you do the same.

Thanks for stopping by—let’s knit something wonderful together! My ask box is always open! Feel free to drop a comment.

[holly-fixation]

Transition

Summary: Sephiroth learned the voice he hears is his mother's. She speaks to him far more often, molding him into the perfect son. 

A short collection of memories from his childhood.

Author's note: Beyond the main plot, these are loosely connected scenes, and it can completely be read on its own. Since it would have been a transitional chapter (like a 1.5), it doesn't have a true ending. Be sure to read chapter 2 of Since the Beginning if you want to see how it all ends for this silver haired boy!

…

After weeks of testing, Hojo told him the voice wasn't real. It was only the result of a bad mutation in his head, and he should not tell anyone about it or speak to it outside the lab. But she helped him. How could she be bad? She was his mother. Her words aided him time and time again even before Gast heard him speak to her. Once he learned who she was, he wanted to speak to her all the time, but that made Hojo angry, so he tried to keep their conversations short.

He awoke in the middle of the night, hours before his day truly began. He tried closing his eyes, breathing slowly, lowering his heartbeat until he returned to the realm of dream just as he was trained. But he didn’t. He was wide awake. He was nervous, but he hoped Hojo was asleep. 

He mumbled in the softest voice he could manage. “Mother? Are you awake?”

I am here. 

She sounded soft and kind as always, flooding his mind with care, but he couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “I don’t mean to bother you…”

You are no burden to me.

“...I can’t sleep…” He admitted, countering her claim despite sensing the truth in her words, hiding his face in his blanket.

That gives us time.  

He almost smiled. “Really…?” During all the scans and tests on his brain, she only had time to comfort him. They had not truly spoken since he asked who she was.

You have many questions about me. Ask.

Sephiroth let out a sigh bordering on a pout. “Hojo didn’t let me ask before, but um… How are we talking? And where are you, Mother?”

You are my son. 

He bundled himself tighter at the title she had never used. My son.

We are bound by blood and mind. I convert my feelings to words and send them to you. When you grow older, you will communicate with me wordlessly.

“R-really?” Excitement bubbled in his chest before popping quietly. “Why can’t I do it now?”

You are young. Your mind needs further development. Until then, I read your body when you cannot respond.

“Does that work?” 

There was a small pause.

For now. 

“But where are you? Are you in the lab too?”

I am far.

“How far?”

Across The Planet. 

Cat-like eyes fell silently. “Will you ever come see me…?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, but he needed to know.

One day, you will find me.

“Why do I need to find you?”

There was another pause, a longer one. Then a single bang on his door clanged and he gasped, terrified of an orderly stepping in and punishing him before a warm breeze wisped through him. Sleep finally pulled. He nuzzled his pillow.

Another time, perhaps. For now, rest, Sephiroth.

He recognized the feelings inside him. “Why…?”

You need your energy for training. Take what I give.

She gave him comfort. She gave him warmth. He wanted to share it with her but he didn't know how.

“Thank you, Mother…” That was all he could do. 

If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he felt pets to his hair as he drifted off into the harsh mattress of his cell.

* * * 

“Sephiroth, be quiet and focus,” Hojo’s shrill tone tore through the air, making the boy shake his head and completely disregard his other conversation. The scientist flipped a switch, a door opening and a new robot entering the training arena at once.

The child hesitantly took a defensive stance, whispering so only Mother could hear him, “I don’t wanna get hurt again…”

You are capable of defeating this creature.

“But it always hurts me… can you take away the pain again…?” He took slow steps backward as the machine whirred closer.

“Quit whining. I’m not turning it off,” the scientist spat, “so take it down quickly or suffer until you do.”

Removing your pain depletes your energy. You will be helpless.

The machine swung. He rolled under its attack before barely having time to lock its second blade with his singular weapon. “It’s getting smarter… And stronger…! I'm gonna get hurt bad!” 

“Boy, if you speak to that useless voice again, there will be consequences. Get it together.”

Pain is necessary to know when you are in peril. It is a machine. It attacks in a pattern. Discover that pattern and it will fall. 

It rushed him with a flurry of slashes, cutting into his arms with every failed parry. He cried out, trying to retaliate but forced to remain on the defensive. 

Jump left.

The silver haired boy obeyed without hesitation. The machine’s next attack couldn’t reach him, yet he was closer to its body. 

It always mirrors its first attack. Left-right. Up-down. Right diagonal-left diagonal. Follow and strike the red of its center. 

Sephiroth nodded. She was right. Of course she was. With her direction, his attacks grew stronger, sharper, cleaner. He finally took steps closer, pressuring the machine into a corner.

You are not gaining strength. You are focusing the strength inside you.

He pulled his blade back and thrusted forward, a perfect pierce through robot’s circuits severing its connection to its limbs. It twitched and sputtered, lightning buzzing as it tried to obey its commands but quickly crashed to its side in a meaningless heap.  

“See what happens when you finally take this seriously? You would be far better if you paid attention from the beginning.”

Sephiroth hung his head in shame.

Learn to find these patterns and openings. My words may not reach you in time. 

The boy mouthed a silent ‘thank you’, hoping his mother understood. But before he could threaten celebration, the door clicked and began rising once more, revealing a slightly larger machine.

“Now, again.”

* * * 

Sephiroth’s imagination ran wild with images he hoped would be his mother. She knew of his question and promised to show him one day. For weeks, he managed to keep his curiosity silent. For weeks, he asked so many questions with so much emotion in his heart. But he couldn't ignore his desire forever. 

“Mother, I'm ready,” He spoke so quietly against his pillow, terrified Hojo would hear. There was an odd pause. She always responded faster than this. What happened?

…My true form is not what you hope.

“It doesn't need to be.” 

He felt her denial, cold and isolated. 

“You said you can show me…”

I have much to explain first. 

“But you said I'm not ready for an explanation…” She confirmed his statement with a warm stir, but he didn't want to feel warm. “You sound like Hojo…”

That is not my intention.

Ice. Freezing sharpness pierced him despite the calm lull of her voice. He didn't want to make her mad. Why did he always do this? He hid, bowing his head into his sheets. 

I am not angry with you. 

“B-But I messed up…”

A sharp knock hit the door. “Another word out of you and we'll resume training, boy. Am I clear?”

Sephiroth nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”

Footsteps receded and the little boy buried his head. What was he supposed to do now? 

Listen to my words. Respond only with movement. 

He felt the smallest comfort. He nodded slowly, his nose brushing the scratchy fabric. 

I know your desire to be normal. Your longing to be human. 

Another confirmation. 

Yet you know you are special?

He shook his head. Hojo told him he was, but why would he believe it?

You are not told lies. But the truth is hidden from you. You are not normal. Not fully.

Silver brows crossed. 

Not fully human. 

He violently denied the claim, clenching and curling tightly. 

I am not human. You carry part of me. 

She couldn't be right. Maybe-

I am real. Hojo is lying to you. He does not understand what we have is true and inseparable.

He hesitated. 

I warn you of this because I worry you will fear me… if you see me. 

His breath bated. His eyes stung. He didn't want it to be true. 

Sephiroth, rest. Breathe. 

Now he was afraid, afraid of a horrid, incomprehensible monster trapping and choking him just like his training. 

I will never harm you. And when pain is unavoidable by any skill or talent to gain true strength, I will take all feeling away. 

He wanted those words to be true but nothing else she said tonight. 

Do you still wish to gaze upon my form tonight?

Terror twisted his throat as he moved his head up and down slowly. 

I will give you time to rest. And through dream, I will show myself to you.

Sephiroth hid hid face in his pillow, stifling his uncontrollable sobs. Crying was a weakness. He needed to stop. He needed to be stronger and better, but then he felt the same petting on his back as he had before. 

It's okay. It's okay. 

Instead of beratement, she validated his fear. 

Feel the weight. Overthrow it. Emotions are necessary. Allow them to flow until peace remains. 

He sobbed harder at her kind advice, the wetness of his pillow growing beneath his cheeks. She was so different. She was so much better than everyone at Shinra. But she wasn’t human? What was he supposed to do? After much time, his breath regulated, and his eyes fell close in quiet acceptance of the request he affirmed.

He felt nothing around him, an endless black void consuming all. He floated, unable to see anything beyond his own body.

This was not a normal dream. He had full control of his hands and his legs and his thoughts.

Ahead of him, a light began to glow, the end of its beams visible through the darkness. First it gave him warmth and color, then it slowly showed him something new. 

Her face. Her silver hair. Her imperfect skin. At first she looked normal despite the glowing pink eye. She almost looked human. But as more entered the light, more twisted and changed. The tube from her stomach connecting to her heart, a massive one at her feet, not in her chest. Severed wings protruded from her back. Unexplainable coils only vaguely resembling organs that did not belong scattered the sides of her almost human form. 

She wasn't human. But he couldn't stop looking at her face. 

He didn't want to move, even as thick tentacles extruded out of the massive heart languidly, tenderly wrapping around his body. He tried leaving her grasp as a simple test, and without any resistance his arm was free. 

She gave him a choice. 

No one ever gave him a choice.

He let her hold him, allowed the slithering limbs to bundle him. She was cool, not cold, but the faintest sense of warmth under her skin made him want to be closer. He wanted to be near her, to see her, to hold her. But this dream was all he had. 

“After tonight, can I see you again?” Sephiroth forced his thoughts into the void. He couldn't say them awake, so he decided to say them here. 

The sincerity in his heart clashed with the eeriness of her smile. Her glowing pink gaze overflowed with a suffocating emotion he did not recognize but craved with his whole being. 

Could it possibly be love?

* * * 

For months she visited his dreams, the hope he'd see her again always making him rush into sleep. However, he had so many questions: if she wasn't human, what was she? What was she doing here? Was he supposed to be doing something too? 

His mother always answered him honestly. Her knowledge made too much sense. With his eyes and his hair and Hojo's muttering of his unbelievable strength, she was right. Of course she was. 

Would you rather be human? 

He was still hesitant. He didn't have an answer yet. Somewhere inside he wanted to be normal. Yet somewhere else he wanted to be greater. 

Studying and learning were difficult now. He desired the knowledge of the textbooks, but he also prioritized Mother over all. 

Some days, he wasn't good at hiding that truth. 

A snap directly into his ear made him flinch. 

“Stop daydreaming, boy. Your presentation to the board is in three days. Do not make a fool of all the work I've done here by going in without any knowledge.”

He glanced down. “But I really like fire materia. Why do I have to learn all this other stuff?”

“Fire will not be the answer to all your problems. Further knowledge will prepare you for a multitude of scenarios, whether or not you've faced them before.”

Materia is the knowledge of the Ancients. Knowing their spells will prevent you from my fate. 

He couldn't stop his small gasp. She answered his question. He didn't ask her but she answered anyway, and her reasoning was far stronger than the scientist's. He flicked his inhuman eyes back to the text. 

Hojo flicked a switch and the door suddenly opened. “Back to training. You'll receive a new scenario to apply this concept.”

Sephiroth looked up, moving slowly and carefully. “But I still need to figure it out.”

“You'll learn on the battlefield. How many times have I told you to silence that voice?”

How did he know? How did he know?! “It just clicked. This. The reason to use other types of materia. Hojo, I didn't-”

“Did you listen to the voice?”

“I was trying to understand-”

“Did you. Listen. To the voice?”

“I can't control when She speaks!” He instantly wished he could rip his words back, to swallow them down his nervous throat. Why did Hojo always know when he lied?

The scientist stood firm. “To the training room. Right now.”

Sephiroth gulped thickly and retrieved his sword. “Yes, Hojo…”

He is cruel to you. 

He is evil. Human.

Her voice rang through his head, reverberating like a bell as he walked. 

He harms you for such a small infraction. Humans are evil.

He truly began to see it as he entered the chamber, and three beasts ran in without warning. 

I will protect you if these creatures poison you. However, you can handle this. Focus. Breathe. Don't let Hojo win again. Prove him wrong. Show him your strength with and without the knowledge he forced upon you. 

Show him your inhumanity. 

Break his spirit before breaking free of this lab. You will not be free today, but show him what you will do when you are.

A fire burned in Sephiroth's heart, incinerating his childish fears from her words alone. She did not give him this feeling. This was his heart, begging him to be inhuman, begging him to win. 

He swore he would be free.

He swore he would find her.

He swore he would finally have his Mother at his side.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

Since the Beginning - Part 1, Part 2

[elisysd]

17. I’ve been thinking way too loud, I wish that I could block me out

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Block me out - Gracie Abrams

When Ethan came back to his hotel room, Julia was already sleeping. Or at least, she pretended to. After what happened in the ice-bath she almost gathered her things in her suitcase and went to Romy’s hotel room to beg her to stay with her before giving up, thinking she might just be overreacting. So she just decided to hide her face in the sheet, hoping that Ethan would believe she was asleep. And he did, slowly she could feel him removing the sheet and the mattress sinking before feeling the warmth of his body radiating all over the bed. She could feel her heart beat faster, and her breath getting caught up in her throat. She wanted to turn around and remove the barrier of pillows that was separating them as much as she wanted to increase it. She wanted to curl up in his arms as much as she wanted to be far away from him. She wanted to kiss his face because of what he was making her feel as much as she wanted to slap him for the same reason. But she stayed still and she finally let herself fall asleep.

She woke up on race day feeling something weighing down on her belly. It was heavy and hot and was preventing her from moving. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw Ethan’s forearm resting on the sheet covering her body. She turned her head towards him to see he was still sound asleep. Some pillows were removed, letting his arm find its way to her. Fully awake now, she didn’t dare to move, not wanting to wake him up. But still, she needed to get up. She tried, slowly, to leave his embrace but felt a resistance and was pulled back against the stack of pillows. She thanked the stars, the sun, the moon and everything that could be thanked that the makeshift border still existed. She didn’t even dare to move or to breathe for what mattered, to stunt to move.

Finally, after a long breath in and breathe out, she dragged herself out of the bed in one swift move. She looked at Ethan’s silhouette and saw him moving, as if he was trying to search for her warmth. She heard him groaned before turning away and readjusting his pillow, still asleep. She stayed, observing him, for a moment. He was cute. He looked like a little boy, far away from the arrogant and ruthless image he was giving to other people. But by now, she knew better than to believe it. It was just a facade. Deep down, he was a caring guy with strong values that was hiding this side of him behind a bad boy attitude. She couldn’t believe that she had fallen for it, somehow. But here she was.

On tiptoes, she went to the bathroom for a quick shower before heading out, Ethan was still in his bed but this time, he had taken most of the space. One last look at him and she was out. It was so out outside that she was already sweating and she started to imagine herself in an ice-bath. Maybe she could ask her dad, or Niels and Noah to set one up for her? Her mind went back to Ethan and what she felt when they shared one. How his hands felt around her, how his body fitted against hers as if it was always meant to be, how he ignited a fire within her that had almost consumed her at that moment, how she felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore. It had been too much. But oh God, did she want it to happen again.

Once she arrived at the Skoda hospitality, she was surprised to find it empty. No mechanics, no PR teams when usually they were always the first one to arrive and were usually found gossiping at the coffee machine, no engineers either, just people working for catering. She sighed, at least no one would bother her and she had a large choice of fruits, pastries and other food at her disposal. She didn’t restrict herself, she never did when it came to food anyway, and took a little bit of everything before sitting down near the large open window that had a view on the paddock. Unlocking her phone she saw a few texts from her dad and one from Louis that she immediately opened. It was the first time since the incident that he was talking to her. Well, it was not really talking but it was still something.

Are you still mad at me?

It was way too early in Europe for her to call him and she knew that he was still probably sleeping, but still she replied.

Why would I be? I’m more concerned about YOU being mad at ME.

She was about to put her phone back in her pocket when it buzzed and saw that Louis had already replied.

I’m not mad at you. You are helping Ethan because you are a good person. But I’m mad at him because he forced you to lie to me. I don’t like that. It’s not right. Therefore, I don’t like him. And I’m mad at him.

It’s more complicated than that, Louis. Ethan tries to make things right, you know, and sometimes it requires making choices that don’t feel right. It doesn’t mean he is a bad person. He was great with you! You liked him! It’s not because he made a mistake that you have to hate him. I know that he cares a lot about you.

She waited for an answer that didn’t come. Louis must be back to sleep or trying to figure out her last text. She hesitated to send him another one but gave up on the idea. She didn’t want to overwhelm him. From the window, she could see people starting to arrive and soon the hospitality was crowded. She quickly ate the remainder of her plate and left the place. Her feet took her near the Ferrari hospitality. She was hoping to see her dad so she could know if he had news about Louis and so she could talk to him about her upgrade ideas. She was motivated, she wouldn’t back down today. And she needed to focus on something else rather than her feelings and Ethan.

She finally saw him arriving from afar, his RayBan covering his eyes and his red shirt making him stand out from the crowd. She sped up to catch him and she saw a smile on his face when he recognised her.

“Ju’, what are you doing here so early?”

“I was up early and at least here we have the AC…” she shrugged. “I wanted to see you, do you have five minutes?”

“For you? Always.”

“Great! Can we go somewhere private? I want to show you something.”

“We can go to my office.”

He led the way and Julia could feel the anxiety rising. What if her father told her off? What if he thought she had crossed a line? What if after all the hard work she had put into it, he thought it was still not good enough? Or worse, what if he actually liked it? What would it mean for her? For her career? Would he ask her to come and work with him? And what would she say if he asked her how she had the ideas?

“Ju’? Princess? Are you still with me?” her dad’s voice interrupted her train of thoughts.

“What?”

“I was asking you what you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, hum… well, I don’t know how you will take it and i don’t want you to be mad or to think I overstepped but I had a little time off, where I was bored out of my mind and I started to think about your cars and wondered if I could try to come up with something that could help and… I know it’s not my job and you have all the rights to get angry and…” she stuttered.

“Show me.”

Julia stopped rambling and looked at her dad trying to process the answer.

“You want my opinion so, show me.”

She gave him her folder where notes and drawings and data simulation were written down, as well as annotations on the side and waited. She saw her dad frowning, rereading things, annotating and circling things on the paper before taking his phone and calling what she supposed was someone at the factory and speaking Italian way too fast for her to understand anything. Finally, he hung up and looked at her.

“It’s not perfect, of course, you don’t have all the info. But I think you might be onto something. We need to try it out on the simulator before doing anything but, Ju”, you might just have saved our first part of the season.”

“Re…Really? Like, for real? You like it?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“You must be really bored at Skoda if you start to work on our package…”

“I mean… they don’t let me do anything, so might as well work on something else…” she confessed, sitting on the chair in front of her dad’s desk.

“What do you mean, they don’t let you do anything?”

“It’s just… Wilhelm says I’m not a team player. And now I’m working on organization stuff, as he liked to call it, when in reality I’m only putting cables and nuts in the right boxes… Not really what I had imagined when I started.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. I don’t want to look like I asked for your help, it will only make everything worse. He’s already thinking I’m not deserving my place in the team and I’m only here because I’m your daughter… But, as you always say, it’s like that. I just hope to have a better opportunity in the near future.” she added while emphasizing the near, looking at her dad.

He didn’t answer, only nodded still looking at her graphs. She was proud of her and it went better than she expected. And he didn’t even ask questions. She excused herself and left as she was supposed to attend a meeting with the whole team to discuss the future plans and upgrades.

When she arrived, she wasn’t late but she was in the last ones to come in, earning a few judgemental side glances. She found a seat near Niels and Noah and got to them. They were laughing at something that Niels was showing on his phone. When she approached them and asked what they were laughing about, Niels just showed her his screen where a red panda was doing rolls, or attempting too, resulting in cute little missteps from the animal.

“Pandas are so cute…” said Julia, still in awe in front of the animal.

“Yeah, they are adorable and funny at the same time.” added Noah.

“You know, I was thinking…” started Niels.

“Oh, dangerous…”

“Shut up, Noah. As I was saying, I was thinking. We are soon heading to the Chinese GP in Shanghai and I know there is a zoo where we can see them, so what are you guys thinking of going there to visit? We could make it a group activity! Like, we could invite Ethan, Romy, the Lambo guys and what about Ferrari? You are close to the drivers, right Julia?”

“I don’t think inviting Martin and Elijah would be a good idea…”

“Oh yeah, that would create unnecessary drama with Ethan. Almost forgot that for an instant.”

They kept chatting for a few minutes until Wilhelm arrived and asked for the room to be silent. He started by thanking everyone for their involvement and hard work throughout the first races, saying how every individual was an essential part of the team and Julia couldn’t help but think how bullshit that was. He turned his head towards Niels and Noah and praised them for their results and feedback. She heard them sighed. Being praised for being in the bottom of the leader board was not something an athlete liked to hear. The team principal then turned to the presentation screen with a proud smile on his face.

“I would like to introduce you to something I’ve been working on with our technical leads in Warsaw. The next upgrades for our car and what we expect them to correct on the current one.”

And Julia felt a stone dropping in her stomach. It was her ideas, the ones she showed him a few weeks ago and the reason why she had been pushed into the background. The reason why she had started to work on Ferrari’s cars was because she felt useless here. And now, not only her ideas were displayed for everyone to see, but Wilhelm was getting praised for a work that wasn’t his. She felt bile going up her throat. But what could she do? It’s not like she could scream that he was stealing her work. No one would believe her anyway. So she swallowed her pride and tried to act as if everything was fine.

Once the meeting was over, she was the first one out of the room. Everything in her wanted to go to Wilhelm and confront him, but she knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to fire her for insubordination. And she didn’t want that. She knew that something like that could happen, she thought she could handle it and be ready but the truth was she was not.

She had a few hours to kill before the race, so she took her bag and went out to wander around the paddock. Her feet took her to the Maserati garage without even noticing it. She had not seen Ethan since the morning and she was ashamed to admit it but she was missing him. It was stupid! It had only been a few hours! How could she be already missing him? It made no sense. He also was the only person that she wanted to tell about what happened during the meeting. He already knew about her struggles there. It would not surprise him. And she knew he would support her. And she needed that. She needed someone to understand her without having to tell everything. She just needed his shoulders to cry on. If she still had tears left to cry.

She tried to catch a glimpse of him but the garage seemed empty for the most part. Maybe, just like Skoda, they had a team meeting. She hid in a corner, away from everyone and waited. It didn’t take too long as a few minutes later she saw his blond hair peeking through the door. Since when could she recognize him by his hair? He was already wearing his white fireproofs that were clinging to his body. She tried to catch his attention by approaching the entrance. He was in deep conversation with his race engineer but someone else did see her. A woman, well dressed that she was sure belonged to the PR team. She was way too overdressed to be a mechanic or an engineer.

“Miss Leclerc, right?” she asked, throwing Julia off of her feet.

“Yeah? How do you know me?”

“You are hard to miss. The daughter of a third times world champion and team principal of the Scuderia, here in the paddock? You are what everybody is talking about. I’m Ashley, by the way. Head of the media team.”

“Well, nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Yeah, very nice. Especially since we will see each other a lot in the next few weeks.”

“What do you mean?” asked Julia.

“Ethan. The PR relationship. I must admit it was a clever move from him, one I didn’t see coming and it’s my job to see these kinds of things coming. But I have to admit, this relationship has a lot of potential. I didn’t think he would be this smart and able to come out with something like that. You both have to be more careful with your public appearances, for now stay on the down low until I find the perfect way to present your relationship to the world.” Ashley explained, leaving Julia completely stunt.

“Present our relationship to the world? I don’t understand.”

“Julia.. Can I call you Julia? Even if the scandal died down a little, it doesn’t need a big thing for it to blow up again. You must have noticed how Ethan is less present in the media activities. We are keeping him in check, focusing on his career. The rumors around his supposed new relationship with you didn’t damage his image, but I can’t say that it had been making any good toit either. He just looked like someone that didn’t care about the rumored girl expecting his child. That’s why it is important that when the right time comes, you guys show love and support and above all, a united front. I think of photoshoots, paddock walks hand in hand, cute moments during races.We are going to stage anything, you won’t have to worry. The only thing you need to worry about is to look happy and in love, sweetie. Do we understand each other? I’m sure we do.”

“Ashley? What are you doing?”

Ethan had finally noticed Julia, alone with the blonde woman and went straight to them, standing protectively next to Julia.

“I’m explaining to her what is expected of her in the upcomings weeks.”

“Not until Monza, I thought we were clear about that.”

“We are. It gives me enough time to prepare everything. I just want you both to be ready because when we launch this relationship, it will attract a lot of attention.”

And with these last few words she left. Julia released the breath she was unintentionally holding and turned to Ethan.

“You told them?”

“I couldn’t hide us any longer, they had to know. And it gives us enough time to get prepared for whatever they are going to throw at us. Because I know Ashley, I know how good she is at her job and how scary she can be. She is damn good but I won’t lie, I prefer to have her by my side than to have her against me. But anyway, don’t worry about her. What are you doing around here, shouldn’t you be with your team?”

He saw her face crumpled and her shoulders sunk. She let out a heavy sigh and Ethan took her by the arms to get her away from the crowd that was starting to form around the paddock. The both headed behind the garage where most of the equipment was, and Julia let herself fall on a box.

“Wilhelm is stealing my ideas.” she simply said.

“Fucking bastard. I knew there was a reason why I’ve never liked him in the first place. How do you feel? Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Of course you must feel horrible.”

“I feel robbed. Well, I’ve been robbed! He stole my ideas and didn’t even acknowledge me! Like… he presented them as if he was the one behind it!”

“Dick move.”

“Yeah! And he got praised, of course! Everyone looked at him like he was God, the one that was going to save Skoda from being the shitty team they are!”

“How dare they?”

“And I stood on the side, feeling angry. I swear, I was this close to go up there and take his microphone to tell the truth, but I care too much about my job to do something like that.”

“Well… maybe you shouldn’t.” finally said Ethan.

“What do you mean, I shouldn’t?” she repeated.

“He clearly is disrespecting you. And he is always belittling you. He makes you feel like you are not part of the team. Maybe you should just tell him to go fuck himself.”

“And then, what would I do? You know how fast words are spreading out there, he would just need to say that I’m not reliable and no one would take me, and then my dream to work in F1 would be over…”

“That’s not true. Any team would be happy to have you. Ferrari for starters, your dad would take you.”

“He wants me to prove myself, I’m not sure that quitting at the first difficulty is something he wants to see me doing…” she mumbled.

“Okay, then if not Ferrari, Audi! Romy would be the first to push for your application to be considered. And they are the only team to have full gender equality. They have as many women working as mechanics than as engineers. You would have a voice there, they would listen to you.”

“Okay… fine, let’s say Audi would be an option. What else do I have?”

“Me. I mean, Maserati. You stay for a while with me there and then, when I’ll get that seat at Lambo, I take you with me to work on my car and we are world champions together. How nice does that seem? Surely, it would look nice on your CV.”

“Sounds very idealistic.” she smiled. “ And it’s optimistic from you to think that we wouldn’t end up killing each other at some point.”

Ethan laughed slightly and she joined him. He had a way of making her forget her problems. Even if it was just for a little while. He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his, making her look at him.

“You are great, Julia. Talented and smart and ambitious and honest and hard-working, I can keep going if you want. Don’t waste your time in a team that clearly doesn’t deserve you. You don’t deserve losers, you deserve winners. That’s on that side that you belong. That you’ve always belonged. That you will always belong. I know that in the future, teams will fight to have you working for them.”

“I wish I could believe in myself as much as you do.” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, I can believe in you enough for us both.”

They locked eyes and Julia could swear that Ethan quickly looked at her lips. But it had been too fast for her to be one hundred percent sure. The silence was heavy as if both of them were scared to make a move that would break the bubble they were in. But it had to be broken at some point, they both had duties to perform and it was Julia who made the decision.

“I should go, I still have stuff to do, even if it’s boring.”

“I should go to… Everyone will be searching for me and I don’t want to be told off.”

“Break a leg for the race but try to not break the car, okay?”

He laughed and took a few steps back before stopping and turning to her. She was still there, her gaze still on him. He quickly got back to her, engulfing her in his arms before planting a kiss on her forehead. He would have stayed like this if it had been possible, but he had to go. Reluctantly, he let her go, still feeling her skin against his lips.

Julia felt better, walking back to the Skoda garage. It felt like the heaviness of her day had been lifted off of her shoulders after seeing Ethan. She wasn’t sure if he had been completely honest while he was cheering her up, but still she appreciated the effort. She wasn’t surprised to see everyone ignoring her. She felt invisible in this team. She was sure that if she was leaving, no one would notice her absence. That hurt somehow, but it made her realize that she was worth better than that, Ethan was right. She had one hour left to spare before the start and decided to go to Niels, to see how he was feeling before the race.

She had never imagined that she would grow close to the drivers, but here she was. In this hell of a work environment she was glad that she had been able to make some friends, some allies. She went to his driver’s room and knocked. She could almost swear she heard someone gasping inside and muffled voices.

“Niels? Are you in there?”

She didn’t hear anything at first and she thought that she was starting to get crazy if she was hearing voices but something falling on the floor. There was definitely someone inside.

“I can hear someone inside, you know? It’s unnecessary to hide. Unless you are not Niels and in this case you are going to get into trouble. I’m gonna open this door, just so you know. And my dad enrolled me in karate classes when I was younger, so I know how to fight and…”

She didn’t even have the time to finish when a disheveled and red Niels opened the door.

“Julia… hey… I wasn’t expecting you.” he tried to say, nonchalantly.

“Sure, you didn’t. What were you doing there?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing him up and down.

“Me? Nothing? Why?”

“I heard voices and something falling on the floor. Aren’t you alone?”

“I like to talk to myself before races. You know, to cheer me on. That’s my little pre race ritual.”

“Does your ritual imply having the fly of your pants wide open?”

“Shit!” he exclaimed looking even more flushed than he already was.

“So you are not alone.”

“I… well… oh fuck, how am I going to get out of this…. Please don’t say anything to anyone.” he begged her as she was looking across the room.

“Niels… don’t tell me he is in the closet? That would be a very obvious place to hide.”

“He is not.” he quickly replied.

She shook her head while rolling her eyes, still looking around. That’s when she saw an all too familiar t-shirt. She could recognise it anywhere for the very simple reason that she was wearing the same at this precise moment. Niels was wearing it as well, the only difference between Niels’ and the one in front of her, was the driver’s number and the name. She picked it up and with a half smile looked at Niels, holding the white Skoda piece of clothing in her hand.

“Noah? You can come out from wherever you are.”

Author's note: What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. It helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

[spidermilkshake]

Until September

More RE fanfics--more mutants, more corporate shenanigans. There is fluff! Also a rival company commando is blitzed by a Tyrant, but, uh, this is Resident Evil. Even the nicest scenes are bookended by scary.

Rating: Teen (TW for suggestive language, human experimentation, dehumanization, medical/lab settings and stuff, plus also human adults cuss like human adults, some obvious child neglect and endangerment, alcohol abuse, implied animal abuse)

Mr. X's long first assignment--to be upper-level Tyrant Project researcher Dr. Julian Ramirez's personal bodyguard as he spends his summer at his fancy house bought with his evil corporation money. Having a test mission prototype Tyrant on your property to help flatten any intruders or rival company agents that sneak in is apparently a common perk if the company's board likes your work. Ramirez, uh, has an interesting home life, and T-00 is smart enough to detect some of that despite this being its first experience of humans not poking it in a lab or putting it through combat training in a top-secret facility...

5: Until September

            From that point, after a short cargo helicopter ride and another in the back of a large civilian armored car, T-00… “Mr. X”… experienced the brief life of Dr. Ramirez’s at-home lab.

            Situated in a cozy, deep-red corner of northern California, the man had the benefit of the rural landscape for all manner of reasons. One being his bunker laboratory which he fiddled around with variants of common viral and bacterial elements within, as well as examining various domesticated animal species’ genomes to try and discover another, more advantageous quirk that could be added to the Tyrant project. Some of the sources of these genomes could be found on the small attached ranch property in the form of a somewhat decrepit horse and several large, semi-feral cattle. A highly-pampered golden retriever mix also bounced its way around the property, but it could hardly be lumped in with the farm animals considering how loving and attentive Dr. Ramirez seemed to become on sight of the canine. This animal was about as untrained as the cows—though it balked at any close quarters with the Tyrant, probably smelling something was off about the inoffensive but intimidating newcomer.

            The Tyrant was ushered swiftly into a portion of the swanky abode which bordered the laundry and a small guest room on the first day. Between these two locations, the doctor had prepared a simple rest area for the bioweapon to reside in while it was not to be seen—roughly the size of the small laundry though without the obstructing machines, T-00 noted the heavily-built twin bedframe and the fitting mattress, which it assumed it was meant to rest on. It… was not bad, now that it had a few minutes to contemplate it.

            Okay, it was more than “not bad”. Mattresses were invented for a reason, and the insufficient nature of those holding chamber benches became richly obvious to the beast that had never experienced proper back support before. It had slept a solid nine hours the first night, until summoned by a cheerful call of its nickname—the longest stint of sleep it had ever known.

            Otherwise, the Tyrant which Dr. Ramirez called “Mr. X” stayed a moment, or a meter or two, behind him (depending on what the man requested, and what the Tyrant’s highly-tuned senses for danger dictated). The man spent a lot of time in the small bunker lab, checking fuse banks before booting up huge computers to run an equally massive hypermicroscope device in order to manipulate pieces of dead SARS and Hepatitis delta-virus, picking out segments of RNA and comparing them to Umbrella’s sample slides of base genes. He often made spunky commentary, knowing it was only the so-far nonverbal Tyrant hearing him, but based on his specific, jovial responses it knew he could only be speaking only to it.

            Despite the doctor’s fancy and frequent social life, he was very lonely. After dark fell, no other human occupied the languidly-spread and draftily large house in the hills. The man still chatted happily—sometimes too happily—with his newly-won bioweapon attendant.

            The bioweapon had once or twice also stepped out with him, and a very flinchy, nervous man whom the doctor’d called a “trainer”, to see the old horse and the half-dozen cows. T-00 eyed the dusty, vacantly-staring creatures staying well back from the bioweapon. They behaved much like B.O.W.s with none or very rusty training. The lone horse would come right to the gate for Dr. Ramirez’s trainer, even with the towering creature feet away, though the whites of its eyes flared plainly as it stood, ears pinning and legs shaking for the trainer to check its hooves and teeth.

            T-00 focused instead on the cows, not wishing to interfere unintentionally on the equine check-over. It locked eyes with a large, rusty-brown beast that had very small, stubby horns. The animal stamped its rear legs softly, nostrils flaring. Strange. The creature was fairly small compared to the others in the group, though it placed itself front and center regardless—a “leader” of sorts, making all of the protective motions towards the others that the position entailed. A much larger steer of a mostly black color hid ineffectually behind her—sharing many features with this cow.

            “Come on! We’re done Mr. X,” the doctor called from the gate, the first indication it had quietly shuffled a step inside the paddock area to watch the animals more closely. With an instinctual start, it turned and tromped off after its current objective.

            It wished the animals and its master’s use of the Tyrant as a social interaction stand-in had been the most predictable parts of its mission. No—that honor would go to the once-monthly incident of rival agents attempting to gain access to Ramirez’s nuclear-shielded bunker. Irritated out of its comfortable rest, the Tyrant followed the clinking and ticking of attempts to bypass the lock code and the other measures to find a body-armored individual in front of the small cellar entrance, like a sitting duck as they focused on the loud—annoying—puzzle portion. It wasn’t clear if they ever realized an eight-foot mutant weapon was creeping up on them before it happened. Regardless, Ramirez would have one of the informed Umbrella staff bag up the body and tote it off the next morning as the household came awake.

--------

            It was one week during the hellishly dry heat of summer than Mr. X encountered a true challenge to its adaptable wits—and it began more or less during one of the more predictable, boring parts of its duties. The bioweapon lurked a few meters behind the doctor in his home office, blocking the large window with its even larger back while Ramirez was distracted on the phone.

            The Tyrant could only guess at some of this, but it did recognize the codenames and designations used for various B.O.W.s:

            “So the train was just…? All of them?” Julian Ramirez scrubbed at his patchy stubble, “Jesus… Well, do you know how it happened? …Uh huh, I’m sure it came back inconclusive. There’s never any hypercompetitive, jealous pricks trying to off each other at Umbrella labs, huh.”

            “Speaking of, do you have any idea what they’re gonna do about Birkin?” There was a long pause before a tinny squeak of the other voice picked up, “Oh come on. They practically know it was him. Who else has been sabotaging projects involving T for months? …It was T on that train, right? …Okay, they even know it’s that strain—so who else has access to the Arklay lab who would?”

            There was an even longer silence this time before the other line began to speak again; and once it did Ramirez’s grip on the phone tightened, his dark complexion going sweaty and almost impossibly pale. The change was so extreme that T-00’s senses honed in and it watched its master with mounting concern, convinced the doctor was about to collapse out of some kind of medical distress.

            “… Since when? …Really, that recent?” He finally dredged up his voice again, wiping furiously at his brows and mustache, staring down at his own shaking hand in bafflement as if wondering who put all of that sweat there, “So where was Willy in all this?”

            “…Ah.”

            “So… they’re sure it wasn’t him… Well. I’ll see about giving Teifer a call soon if she’s got questions for me.”

            After Ramirez hung up, he glanced over his shoulder at his house-Tyrant with an indecipherable expression, which had Mr. X straightening up to full attention. Then, with a heavy sigh he turned in his chair towards the squat glass bottle of Pilár dark rum that he kept on one side of the desk and unscrewed the cap in a ritual which usually—T-00 had observed—took place later in the day. The powerful alcohol swirled into a coffee mug and shortly after was slammed into the man’s mouth, eliciting a rough grunt as he fought the burn of the unhealthily-large shot.

            Mr. X relaxed somewhat as Ramirez returned to the phone. The next conversation had more that the bioweapon recognized, but was even more confusing:

            “Hey, Teifer! It’s Ramirez,” he sounded as peppy as always, despite the haggard look in his eyes and the rum flooding into his bloodstream, “Yeah, he told me you needed to hear from me… eh? Ah, he did mention what happened up at the Arklay lab…”

            He leaned back, hooded eyes inspecting his propped-up shoes as he took in his colleague’s words. He rolled them upon a certain part of her story:

            “Hey, hey—you’re getting too stressed. Listen: I get the risk. But Cerberus specimens physically can’t spread the virus. That shouldn’t be your main concern.

            “Those dogs don’t have T in them anymore—they’re kinda like the modern Tyrants, alright? We enhance the genome, we infect—with the delta strain for the Cerberus—and let the mutation take its course, okay? Then when they’re fully baked, we quarantine the specimens, give them a T-virus vaccination, and a course of anti-retrovirals just to be sure before those guys go to training. Which, by the way, you should be able to get a hold of someone at N.E.S.T. with experience training animal B.O.W.s. They’ve got lots of new Hunters coming out of there, they can help you wrangle those dogs when the time comes…”

            “Hm? …Ah… Yeah, see, that one is a problem,” Ramirez’s shoulders finally slouched more naturally, and he got a level, if slightly slushy, tone of voice back, “Rabies is very real and a good explanation for any ‘public eye’ stuff… If the bear story is true you’ll want to get a squad with heavy weapons and track down every rabid animal claim in a five-mile radius, then be sure to bag and burn everything they shoot.”

            “..? Teifer, you know that’s even easier. Quarantine and trace identity, burn the premises, then let the weaponized-virals R&D team see the data.”

            “…What journalist?” At this new turn in the conversation Ramirez shot upright in his chair, “… You don’t have a name? …Uh-huh. … Hm. Well, if he knows too much he probably already knows he’s dead.”

            “Right. See you in fall. Bye now.”

            After Ramirez hung up, he sat for a long while, head in hands. Mr. X let a good ten minutes pass before the alarm bells started to go off, and the huge mutant huffed as it took a careful step forward. At the creak of the floors, Dr. Ramirez raised his head again.

            “Eh?” He twisted around, “What is it, Mr. X?”

            The bioweapon had a number of words that it might have wanted to put out—“Are you well?”, “What was that about?”, “Do you need help?”, or even “What the fuck?”—but it had no idea how to move its throat, or tongue, or lips to do such a thing. He did the next best thing: Mr. X grunted, managing to make the trailing end of the noise rise up in pitch with wordless questions, as humans did in such a situation.

            “Smart fella,” Ramirez gave a soft laugh. “One of these days I’ll have to get you practice in saying a few words. I’m fine. Can you just… turn and check out the window for a while? I have to call my ex,” he added the last part quickly, which while confusing did not hold up the Tyrant very long in turning around and scanning the exterior of the house for potential threats.

            The phone rang several times, with Ramirez left waiting. Mr. X’s pinprick pupils hovered over the entrance gate, then the edge of the pinyon treeline, then over to where the dog was laid out in a patch of dirt by one of the front garden walls. Finally, someone answered the doctor:

            “Linda… hey. No don’t—” there was an insistent buzz of muffled vocals from the speaker, “It’s about the weekend, Linda—look, you want me to just not warn you? Huh?”

            “Okay okay. Look, I just need you to know I have to be out a few hours Saturday to work with someone. Don’t worry—” he interrupted the agonized screech from the speaker, “—I have someone to watch her until I get back. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t walk back on this, mi amor.”

            “… Okay, Jesus, I won’t do it again. Just… noon Saturday, right? I’ll be there.”

            The phone slammed on the receiver. Mr. X peeked back over his lapels in anticipation of a command. There was only so much time in the office, however decorated and airy, that Ramirez could stand and Mr. X tended to agree with this habit. It was in the loft area of the house, and the ceilings were a foot too low for the Tyrant’s comfort.

            “Right. Mr. X?” The bioweapon swiveled around in reply, “I’m going to fetch some things from the basement. Take up a guard downstairs, yeah?”

            Mr. X nodded with eagerness, letting the somewhat tipsy human lead the way out the door and down the stairs. This was an ideal task for both of them, considering the ninety-plus temperatures outside, and once the man had vanished down the too-narrow steps to the musty, refreshingly cool basement level the Tyrant posted himself in a comfortable nook within sight of the open basement door, the front door, and the downstairs hall towards the kitchen area. It watched. Nothing much reached its eyes or ears—except for a distant snort of a horse or cow, a wasp bouncing against the nearest window in a frenzy to find food or shade, and a clatter followed by a Spanish-language curse from the cluttered sublevel. Business as usual.

-------

            On Saturday, the omen which Mr. X innocently overheard came to the doorstep.

            In the morning, with Ramirez nursing a pickle-juice-based hangover cocktail and holding a hardboiled egg like it was a sergeant’s switch from bygone days, Mr. X was confronted with a series of warnings which it knew right away were serious, very serious, and urgent… but that he didn’t entirely grasp right away.

            “Mr. X! Listen—listen,” the man pressed his eggless hand into the lapel of his tame mutant’s trenchcoat, “Today is going to be a bit different. I need you to be… uh… well… different.”

            T-00 stared down at the man pressing himself as close to its face as possible, and gave a low grunt as he tilted his head.

            “Well, I mean…” Ramirez let up on the contact, as aware as they came that pushing the living weapons too hard or confusing them with contradictory orders could come with serious consequences, “Mr. X, you are going to meet my daughter today. She’s visiting over the weekend and will be here until roughly 11 a.m. on Monday.”

            Ramirez waited, as if to hear an acknowledgement from the creature staring him down with wide, perplexed, but still willing eyes. The man sighed, leaning into his hands which had settled on the Tyrant’s chest, “While she’s here, I want you to put your protective orders over me as secondary. While she’s here, you protect her, is that understood?”

            Daughter. Mr. X had not heard anything of Ramirez’s family before, but it had an intuitive sense of what the word “DAUGHTER” meant. The creature took a deep, sharp inhale, then gave a rough, affirmative growl at the same time it bobbed its head.

            “Good… good…” Ramirez reached up and patted the Tyrant on the shoulder, grin of relief almost palpable without flashing it within sight. Mr. X reflexively swelled with the praise.

            “She’ll be here at noon, and you must watch over her very closely until about four. If she needs water, get her a cup and fill it from the fridge. If she gets hungry, take her to the bottom left cabinet and she’ll pick what she wants. Otherwise just make sure no one and nothing hurts her. I’ll introduce you—”

            —and then, the kitchen phone rang, and the pager on the doctor’s hip bleeped with an annoying tone. The man rounded and went to answer, while the biomutant stood silently processing the future orders. Daughter… did that mean juvenile or adult daughter? Probably… juvenile. It would not need to be providing water on demand to an adult, or show an adult to the bottom left cabinet. There was also no reason to limit an adult to that particular cabinet, which only contained the sacks of undiluted nutrient gel for its own fluid intake along with boxes of crackers, jars of peanut butter, and a few bags of veggie chips and other “health snacks” as the doctor had called them. It was… not exactly designed for the task of childcare, and it shuffled anxiously in place as it dawned on him that it would have to figure it out with no more instruction. It could… learn this… right?

            Humans seemed to be fairly unbothered by the duty to watch over their offspring—so it must not be that difficult.

------

            Mr. X had been ordered to stand still inside the gates of the garden in an area half-concealed with shade when the large sedan pulled into the gravel circle at the end of the rural mountain road and crunched to a stop. Its keen vision spotted the small figure step out of the passenger side and quickly have an arm snatched up in a control grip by the small woman who had emerged from the driver’s side. There was a bitter argument between all three, which quelled after a minute or two while the sedan’s engine puttered impatiently. The woman released the little one, who did not run to either parent and instead stepped towards the gate, keeping her large brown eyes on both of them, as if wary of them following her.

            After a minute the car’s engine revved up as it returned down the uneven paving, disappearing in a few seconds around a bend. Ramirez was left wearily standing by where it had once parked, a small bag dangling from one hand (presumably the belongings of his child, packed into a tiny, colorful package).

            Mr. X glanced down at a small sound and was suddenly locking eyes with the absolute tiniest human he had ever seen. Dark hair and cut short, dark skin with a few freckles, and those huge brown eyes which widened further upon noticing the massive, trenchcoat-clad form skulking just inside the property line.

            “Papá!” The shrill voice was at such decibels and pitch that the Tyrant was forced to stagger back. Such a tiny body was so, so loud! The bioweapon resisted the urge to raise up its hands to cup over its ears, but its knees did bend and buckle before the doctor rushed up and grabbed the girl around the shoulders:

            “What’s wrong, m’ija?”

            “M-monstruo!” She pointed straight to the half-subdued, heavily-stressed visage of the startled Tyrant.

            “Oh,” Ramirez hugged his daughter closer and chuckled, as if there was some clear, and obvious, and worse trivial confusion at play. He knelt to where he was halfway between his child and his personal Bio-Organic Weapon.

            “It’s okay, m’ija—this is my bodyguard. I promise, he’s nice, okay?”

            The child peeked over the shabby fabric of Ramirez’s polo shirt, meeting the obviously inhuman pupils of the giant form that had frightened her. Without telepathy, it was unknown if she found a lack of evil within, but she did relent and sniffle up the start of her tears.

            “Bodyguard?”

            “Sí, for work,” Ramirez gave a strained smile, “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you. Look, see? He didn’t mean to scare you.”

            The doctor had slightly pressed the girl further around his shoulder, closer to the colossal form. Mr. X sensed the girl’s resistance to this and took a step slightly back—almost mirroring her trying to push herself back away from it. Its hearts thudded stronger in a sympathetic feedback loop upon seeing the feeble struggle she was putting up against her own father. He was forcing her towards a powerful monster, knowing full well what it could do. What then could it do, a being built for combat?

            It did what only its inbuilt reflexes urged it to do—and bowed its head until it lost eye contact with either of them. Mr. X had assumed Dr. Ramirez’s child would know what a T-103 was. It was now clear that she did not know at all what he was; she might think it was a human. But a big human staring hard at a tiny child was… threatening.

            “You’re okay. C’mon let me introduce you!” Ramirez’s voice chimed out as if no terror or stress was in evidence, “This fella is Mr. X. Don’t ask his real name—it’s secret. He’ll keep you safe so long as you’re here.

            “Mr. X! Eyes up.”

            T-00 reluctantly obeyed, and the first thing its eyes met was the petrified face of the girl still trying to cling onto her father’s shoulder after he’d pushed her to be well within the bioweapon’s reach. Its back twitched before it forced itself to stay completely still, the only other movement he made the uneasy blinking, and the gaze flicking back and forth—from the man, to the girl, to the man.

            “Mr. X, this is my daughter, Mariposa.” He smiled, “You remember I was talking about her yesterday, yeah? Be nice to her. She’s only—how old are you, Mari?”

            Was it… normal for humans to lose track of how old their offspring were? Mr. X felt his brows twitch, and somehow this microscopic expression which went in opposition of her father’s constant push was what Mariposa needed to see to give a quick swallow of nerves and relax a fraction:

            “Ten.”

            “That’s my girl! C’mon now, let’s get your stuff inside,” Ramirez stood up, all but shrugging his little girl off of himself like an annoying weight and picking up the backpack from where he’d set it down beside him. Apparently only Mr. X heard the soft whimper she let out as she stumbled and scurried to put her father back between herself and the menacing giant; T-00 took the opportunity to also do away with this forced close-quarters and took a much larger step back. It hesitated to follow the two into the front door for a few moments, especially as it spied the child sneaking worried glances over her hardly-evident shoulders at the creature.

            “Mr. X! Come on you, get out of the heat!” Its eye twitched a bit at the impatient tone of the order, but ducked his head low to negotiate the entryway and squeezed into the welcome air conditioning. Ramirez had been rushing around the open concept downstairs, dropping off Mariposa’s belongings onto one of the kitchen chairs before scoping around for his own briefcase, wallet, and the keys to his armored truck. The girl meanwhile had posted herself up behind the kitchen island, staring over bewildered and clearly scared at her parent preparing to leave her alone with a monster.

            “Right… that should be it. M’ija, come give a kiss ‘bye for now—Papá’s got to go into town for some last-minute business.”

            “You can’t leave me with—”

            “Shh! Don’t be rude. Mr. X is a big teddy bear, really—relax!”

            The Tyrant itself shot the doctor a dubious look; bear was maybe an accurate comparison at least in terms of size and weight, but… teddy? That was soft and harmless—and Mr. X knew by now it was very much not harmless, and… probably not soft.

            “Papá, please—”

            “No no, you listen. I’ve got to do this and it’s not a choice. You stay here and if you need anything just ask him. I won’t be gone for more than a few hours.”

            With that, Ramirez brushed past the Tyrant and swept out the door. The sound of the latch setting again ushered in a new, heavy silence. The bioweapon could feel the girl’s stare boring into the side of his head—watching him for any sudden moves with the same alertness that a Tyrant might train onto a potential threat. Understanding somewhat, Mr. X held completely still and listened for any indication that the tiny figure was moving out from her cover.

            The click and whirr of the fridge fan cutting on startled them both—Mariposa shrieked, the Tyrant jolted upright so hard the flooring shuddered, and it turned to see that the child had ducked further down and was only barely peeking over the island countertop at it. Briefly grumbling with embarrassment that it had reacted so strongly to so little, Mr. X eyed the floor as it reached up and scratched at the deformed grooves on its jaw. Being scared of something new was one thing… being scared of the box that kept the treats from spoiling was another entirely…

            “Um… Mr. X..?”

            He froze mid-itch at the trepidatious voice; the Tyrant turned to find that Mariposa had crept around the side of the kitchen. While still keeping a chair between herself and the hulking brute, she had cut the space between them by half, maybe more. Without the insufferable pressure of her unobservant (or uncaring) father forcing either of their hands, she seemed to calm down to the idea that this monster was “housebroken”—at least in the sense that it wouldn’t break the house. Not without orders to.

            Mariposa’s nose appeared to wrinkle up in contemplation as the Tyrant continued to watch her, making no move or noise but the normal bassy rush of its breathing.

            “…You don’t say much, do you.”

            Mr. X gave a sluggish blink; it could try to speak a word of two, but it wouldn’t have the slightest idea how the attempt would turn out—and it feared it may turn out like the ugly bellows and groans other Tyrants could more easily produce, so T-00 simply gave a creaky shake of its head.

            “So, you don’t talk?” Another shake, and Mariposa bit her lip as she processed what this meant for their hours stuck unattended together. “But… you listen?”

            It made sure it gave an emphatic nod to this, and then tilted its head as if alertly waiting to listen to her at this very second.

            “Okay…” She stepped out with care and no small degree of lingering trembles from the chair, peeking over her shoulder towards the back garden door, “May I… go outside? I wanna see Benji…”

            Benji. Dog’s name. The Tyrant recalled. The back garden of the house was a forty foot by fifteen foot rectangle with no known toxic or thorny plants, and it was northeasterly. Getting more and more shade soon. It should be safe; it would not be blinded by the California sunshine, and both sunburn and heatstroke would be less able to get at either of them. Mr. X gave a soft grunt that he hoped sounded affirmative and nodded.

            “You have to come with me, huh?” Another nod. “Okay… um… I’m going now.” The Tyrant watched as the small human very warily made her way to the back door, shooting looks its way every few steps as if to brace for the moment the massive form would start pursuing. Waiting until she had her hand to the door’s handle, T-00 started to follow with the lightest shuffling steps it could manage.

            The two of them kept about ten feet apart at minimum—keeping close tabs on each other but not being so jumpy or anxious now. This got even easier in the open space of the garden, especially as the golden-furred canine came loping around the side of the dry clumps of Pampas grass and wagged his whole body on sight of the little girl. T-00 planted its back to the house wall close by so it had the widest field of view and the most sun protection, and for a while it was almost as if the parental badgering, the uncomfortable introduction, and the sheer aura of child-endangerment which permeated the whole situation was no factor. The oblivious and overjoyed dog was a big help with that, and Mariposa bounded around with it as they gave the oversized tennis ball chewtoy a new coat of slobber and montane dust before both flopping down on the patio pavers and engaging in the kind of lazy cuddling that Mr. X could only give a curious stare. It had no context for this kind of contact; it sometimes bordered on violent the way she scratched at the domestic canine, but… Benji seemed to like it, and the dog rolling onto her lap and nuzzling her wet nose into her face was even drawing a few giggles. How… uncoordinated. How… how… something that he couldn’t connect the word for, but knew in its bones the concept of.

            Shit, damn… something. Other-expletive. It was on the tip of its… tongue? Brain? Subconscious linguistic knowledge? It knew what the “good uncoordinated not-serious companionship stress-relief good thing” was. It knew it. But a good word that summed the idea up had somehow not been something it had been exposed to in the growth chamber, it supposed.

            After more than an hour both dog and child were worn out, and their Tyrant chaperone had relaxed more, eyes half-hooded and drowsy. The sound of shoes scuffing nearby had it snapping back to alertness, and on looking down it found a surprise in the form of the little girl craning her neck up expectantly, hand just short of tugging at one of the gigantic hands. Benji padded up close by, wagging away as usual.

            “Mr. X, I’m gonna go in now. Can I take Benji with me?”

            T-00 remembered the dog being allowed inside before—especially when it was as hot as it had been today, so as he unstuck his back from the pebble-stucco of the wall he gave her a slight bob of the head. Benji led the way with tongue wagging in time with his tail.

            In the artificially-cooled interior, Mr. X let out a low huff. His mass was such that it was difficult for him to regulate his temperature once it got much hotter than 25 degrees Celsius. Staying in line of sight of the happy dog and the small child as they curled onto the floor by the couch, tired and joyous, it tried to focus otherwise on letting its system cool off back to normal. But after a moment, Mariposa asked a question, which took the Tyrant a moment to register from its unexpectedness:

            “Mr. X? Are you okay?”

            The Tyrant gave a forceful nod, which perhaps had the opposite effect as the large droplet of its sweat dived from the tip of its nose to the floor at the movement. Mariposa fixed it with an expression that it felt was familiar—maybe it had tried to aim that one at its own trainers, weeks and months ago…

            “Mr. X, do you know where dad keeps the ice cream?”

            T-00 truthfully did not, though the swift flicker of its pupils towards the freezer—where anything “ice” would logically go—betrayed something to the small girl. She stood and joined the hulking bioweapon in the kitchen area of the downstairs, pointing to the freezer section of the fridge.

            “Can you check if it’s in there? I can’t reach…”

            T-00 narrowed its eyes slightly, even as it took two ginger steps closer and reached to open the upper section of the refrigerator. There was a blast of refreshingly chilly vapor as it did so, and after that had passed it blinked rapidly and studied the slim pickings of the contents. There was, however, something which claimed to be “ice cream” within—and in a short motion it plucked the small box from its confines and let the freezer door swing shut and seal while it turned the container about. Not sure what to make of it, Mr. X lowered the package to where Mariposa could read the labels on its side.

            “Ooh…” At the way her eyes lit up, the Tyrant had a panicky feeling that it had just disobeyed Ramirez’s orders for this short guardianship period. But then… with how hot it was, and the man’s daughter had just been outside for so long…

            “…Are you allowed to have one?” Mariposa hesitated at reaching into the box, still lowered to where she could access it. Mr. X didn’t really have an answer. It assumed “no”, since it had never been given one of these “ice cream” things or even informed of their storage area. Almost as soon as it had managed a short shake of its head, Mariposa had pulled out two of the oblong objects and pushed one into the Tyrant’s free hand.

            “I’ll give you one, if you don’t say nothing to papá,” Mariposa smirked. Mr. X lifted up the comparatively tiny frozen treat as it returned the rest of the box to its normal position, and met the child’s gaze again.

            He nodded. Whatever the damn thing was, he was starting to smell it even through the foil wrapping, and whatever it was caused unrelenting rivulets of drool to keep forming at the edges of its tightly-sealed lips. Whatever it was was the good stuff, by the nutrient-hungry standards of a Tyrant. And it was cold as ice, still remaining so after more than a minute in the grip of an overheated bioweapon. Why would Ramirez not let his daughter have one of these, if they seemed so good?

            Oh.

            Oh!

            “Ice cream”, as it turned out, was indefinite proof that the universe was fundamentally good. After what by any numerical measure was only a few minutes, the Tyrant felt like it had experienced an hour of sugary and creamy wonder, all from the three-inch chunk of what Mariposa had specified was an “ice cream sandwich”—the brick of vanilla-flavored goodness wedged between chocolate cookies. T-00 barely knew what these specifications meant but committed them to memory anyways. At least, once it had become able to focus on any other incoming stimuli after the intense deliciousness had faded into the past. It let out an animalistic groan of pleasure before it considered how it may sound frightening to its nearby charge; it needn’t have worried, since Mariposa was licking the melted remnants from her fingers with similar noise and fervor though at a higher pitch and smoother, human vocal tones. Mr. X scooped up the foil pieces where they’d each left them and deposited them in the garbage bin. Mariposa had now settled on the rug in front of the television, petting Benji where he lay half-asleep and scanning through stations in search of something she liked. Mr. X eyed the temptingly large, luxurious couch which he generally was not given much chance to occupy; it was close to where his protective target now was, and he would have good peripherals on each side from there… why… not? But perhaps the most important reason was Mariposa:

            At the heavy creak of the wood flooring under the rugs behind her, the young girl paused in her channel surfing and caught the bioweapon red-handed halfway to the couch.

            “Is the couch, ah… strong enough?”

            Mr. X nodded. Somehow, the couch always held. Of course, it was designed to hold at least four humans weighing over two hundred pounds each, so a single Tyrant weighing almost that much by itself would still be within its design limits. Though, it could still be a fluke. It had only sat here twice before now, so it was still possible… Thankfully, even though it did creak and groan very tellingly, the couch did hold well enough that the Tyrant was able to relax. Mariposa started watching something which showed a number of strange animals—they were larger than humans, though by the way they moved slightly lighter than most Tyrants. Or at least more graceful. The camera zoomed and focused, and T-00 realized these were horses—fully-fleshed, healthy-looking horses, much unlike the half-lamed and raggedy one it had seen in person.

            “The horse only arrived in the American Southwest by chance… Most experts agree that the wild horses we see here are all descendants of domesticated horses brought to the southern part of the continent by the Spanish as early as the 1400s…” The Tyrant almost managed a frown out of pure confusion; despite what the voiceover said, the visuals of the program showed clearly labelled petrogylphs from the area in question from several thousand years prior to the “1400s” which had horses pointed out by convenient labels.

            “Nowadays, amongst the dry chaparral hills and the prairie plains, wild horse herds roam under the protection of a conservation branch of the US government—allowing for a certain number of wild mustang horses to be corralled, auctioned off, and trained to become domestic horses once more so that the many thousands of their wild cousins can continue to run free…”

            Why these apparently thousands of creatures could not do so without something of this sort occurring every year did not make particular sense—but thankfully the program moved on swiftly to another animal from the same region:

            “The Harris Hawk is another wondrous creature found in the American Southwest—one which boasts the title of the only bird of prey in the world which will hunt in packs.” T-00’s eyes flashed at the swift movement on the screen as several handsome-looking birds swept into view, and then looped joyfully into a thermal which took them high over a desert landscape. “Working together in the harsh arid environment, the Harris Hawks can between a group of three catch more than ten times the number of small rodents and reptiles as their closest relatives could on their own, making the cooperative arrangement entirely worth it. Falconers have begun capturing and taming these magnificent birds, bending their amazing talents and social habits to their own purposes…”

            … There seemed to be a pattern here. Animal was found useful—animal got caught and used for human interests. It almost seemed like all of the fanciful camera shots of wild things running and flying and the long-winded narration was just introduction to this idea. Mariposa apparently found this as dry and bizarre as they Tyrant did, and switched the channels again until she landed on one that cycled through daytime gameshows.

            “Alright, Karen—tell me something that frequently gets replaced on a car!”

            “Ummm… the mirrors?”

            This did not appear to be a very smart answer, and yet somehow the answer appeared among the top five of some kind of overall results. The most obvious explanation was that everyone shown was so terrible at operating motor vehicles they had to replace their broken-off mirrors often. Maybe that was the appeal of this game—to watch teams of perhaps the most foolish and ignorant specimens of humanity put these attributes on display to amuse the audience.

            It felt its head bob lower and awoke with a start—panic shooting through it as it realized it had started to drowse mid-watch. But there was… something wrong? No, not wrong; different. There was a slight warmth and pressure up against its side, and the arm on that side was propped up on a low, soft object.

            Mr. X started to move the arm to try and find the flat surface of the couch again, but froze as his palm bumped instead on the frail shoulders of the small girl. It craned its neck down fraction by fraction, trying not to move any other muscles; Mariposa had, beneath its notice, crawled up onto the open section of couch beside the bioweapon, wedging her tiny frame under its limp forearm and nestling her head into the crease and folds of its Limiter coat where its waist met its lap. As if the monstrosity’s leg was a comfy pillow. T-00 blinked as its bleary thoughts woke up further in order to race to the logical conclusion: It had clearly not just “started” to doze off… a sting of unease lit up in its chest and its hackles rose at the thought it had lapsed in this duty. It was supposed to protect her—if she had left the house again—or if that was the moment a rival company sent their agent—or if by pure accident she had gotten injured or threatened—

            Ramirez’s daughter suddenly shifted in her sleep, more onto her back, and as she did so her slender arms grasped up and ended up around the Tyrant’s arm. She was utterly dwarfed by the limb alone, and even the tight hug she had around it was barely making it through his tough sleeve and even tougher skin. Regardless, Mr. X could feel it, and the change had jarred him out of the panic spiral. The Tyrant’s heavily-wrinkled face softened up, and it studied its charge for a moment to ensure she was safe and well. It settled down once more, noting the low angle of the orange-gold sunlight streaking in through the kitchen windows; it estimated the time to be well over an hour later than Dr. Ramirez had said he would return. Its eyes flicked over to the child’s backpack hanging over the backrest of the chair, then to the wind rustling through the Pampas grass outside the window, and then the color and light of the vapid programming still on in the background.

            Ramirez did not return until it was almost dark, and aside from the façade of a bright and attentive reunion with Mariposa that he’d plastered over his clearly exhausted and aggravated inner feelings, the man did not linger on the surprise long absence and instead started throwing together something he’d called “mac and cheese”. Mariposa did not seem enthused, but she tolerated her father’s lazy cooking—especially since she had secretly pilfered the ice cream earlier. The doctor snappishly ordered Mr. X to take up a sentry position outside and leave them to their family time; the Tyrant grudgingly obeyed, shooting a pointed glance down at the lower cabinet where the nutrient gel base was stored but its yearning being ignored. It supposed it would have to wait another few hours. Very unfair, considering it had pulled so much additional weight that day. The bioweapon snorted once it was prowling its usual route in the dark. It was hungry, not starving. There was no danger in waiting a little longer. Mr. X would abide.

[the-trickster-exe]

I See The Danger, It's Written There In Your Eyes. || Whumptober: Day 4

Fandom/Characters: Moon Knight. Steven Grant, Jake Lockley.

Summary: Steven is frontstuck and hasn't been able to talk to Marc in nearly two weeks. When he sits down to try and establish contact with the man, he accidentally ends up speaking to someone else he's never met before.

Warnings: Steven does briefly go into a small spiral of doubt about whether the system is real/if he's just made it up and its actually another disorder or something.

Word Count: 2121

A/N: I spent so long trying to figure out whether I needed to use ‘lo sé’ or ‘yo conozco’ when Jake says “I know”, so if you speak spanish please let me know if I need to change the one I used-

AO3:

Maybe before his awareness of the system, Steven would’ve been happy to just be able to live his life on his own. But now that he was comfortable with the familiar presence of Marc coexisting with him in this life, it was honestly incredibly jarring to be alone again. He was frontstuck. Completely isolated from his counterpart, with no way of accessing the innerworld and no idea how to get back in contact. He was totally cut off from the man for who knows what reason, fronting on his own and being in control for now upwards of almost two weeks, and he hated it.

It was even worse when the doubt set in. The anxiety and fear that had started to steadily grow as each isolated day passed, his mind slowly being laced with doubts and worries. Logically, he knew that Marc was there somewhere. He knew that they were plural, that they had dissociative identity disorder. That his mother was abusive and dead, and that he was an alter just like Marc. He’d spoken to Layla about his doubts and she’d been extremely reassuring and understanding of the current circumstances.

But that didn’t mean his anxiety wasn’t there. What if it was just some elaborate story, completely made up and all in his head? Maybe it was something else. That he was still mentally ill, but it was something else. Could just be some kind of episode, maybe a mood disorder. Delusional or maybe even a rational way to stay in denial about it all being a personality disorder. Suffice to say, his mind was spiralling down the rabbit hole the longer he was stuck on his own and he was getting desperate for some kind of sign that it was real. In his last call with Layla, she’d suggested taking a day for himself. To try and just acknowledge what was happening within their system and accept it, even if the acceptance was fake. To simply pretend it was a planned ‘Steven’ day that he and Marc had agreed upon and avoid ruminating on it as best as he could.

So that’s what he was doing today. Self-care, whoop whoop!

He’d stayed in bed a lot later than he usually would, totally because he was laying in and not because he couldn’t find the motivation to get up until he physically rolled off the mattress onto the floor. Then he’d made himself breakfast… Lunch. Bordering closer to tea time rather than lunch if he was being totally honest with himself. Layla had brought over curry the night before when they’d hung out, so he pulled out the leftover remnants of his takeaway and reheated them in the microwave. Nothing better to do than sit on the kitchen top and watch the container spin around in the machine until it was ready. Sluggishly, he’d reached behind him to mess with the CD player that sat behind him, tucked away in a little nook, and luckily for him it had something in it. Pressing play, the music crackled to life, something soft yet with a steady pacing. A tether to secure and protect him from drifting off into his head in the silence.

Eventually, the numbers ticked down into single digits and Steven reached over to pull the door right before it started beeping. Not caring much about the heat stinging into his fingers through the container, he tipped the contents into a bowl and moved to flop down onto the sofa. Remote in hand and fork in the other, he balanced the dish on his blanket covered lap and switched on the TV to some random Blue Planet documentary. With eyes fixated to screens, he shovelled the curry into his mouth. Steven wasn’t hungry, but he cared enough about the body that he forced himself to eat. Just in case Marc showed up.

Marc. The one thing he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. Couldn’t even go an entire day without thinking about him. About the system. The half of him that was missing. Not missing. No. Marc was still there, he wasn’t gone. He’d be back, he wouldn’t leave Steven. Not without saying something. Anything. He couldn’t be alone. Maybe he could try to reach out again. Just for a minute or two. It wouldn’t hurt just to try.

It was with a slight desperation, one of which he was choosing to ignore, that he put down the now empty bowl and moved to lay down. Meditation, or at least the classical type of it, had never really worked for Steven. Marc was the same, he could never stay still for that long and whenever he did he started spiralling in ways that dug up old wounds instead of fixating on the present. Instead what the Brit did when trying to get into a meditative state, was he’d try to take a nap. For some reason, he found it easiest to enter the headspace when he was laying down on something comfortable with his eyes closed, almost falling asleep but just on the cusp of clinging to his consciousness. He’d try to reach out, to grasp onto something tangible and use it as a beacon to drag him closer towards the innerworld.

Taking a few deep breaths, the man shuffled into a more comfortable position and tried to let himself go. His thoughts continued to flit about, cropping up in random ways and interjecting. It was only when he reached the point of recognition that this was the closest he’d get to achieving a quiet mindscape, he tried to reach out to the American.

“Marc? You in there? I’d really appreciate something, anything really. Just a sign that you’re alive and that this isn’t all just some elaborate mental invention…”

A minute passed. Or at least that’s the amount of time he assumed had passed. It was hard to know when you didn’t want to actively check a phone or a clock. He tried to keep his mind as still as possible, not wanting any disruption to block out a response just in case it was a faint thing. Staring into the dark void of his inner eyelids and sighing in disappointment, a familiar sense of discouragement settling in his chest. Steven wanted to try again, but he didn’t want to just set himself up for more disappointment. He just didn’t want to be alone.

Faintly he thought about just giving up and calling it a day, deciding it would be more productive to continue watching the tele and listen to David Attenborough tell him about fish or something. That was until very distantly a feeling overcame him almost as if telling him he wasn’t on his own. Something that should’ve been extremely reassuring if only for the fact that he knew it wasn’t Marc saying that to him. It was something else. Someone else. And honestly, Steven couldn’t tell if he was more on edge about it, or if he was actually happy that someone new had shown up. At least they were new to him, because Marc sure as hell never made any mention or hint that there could be a third alter in the system.

With a new spark of energy, he blinked his eyes open hastily and sat up with the impulse to find a mirror. Clumsily, his feet carried him towards the bathroom and he stared at his reflection nervously. His pupils flickered over his own face, scanning to see any differences (no matter how small) that might signal a new person. He could feel his pulse rate rising ever so slightly with a certain thrill at the prospect of having another headmate, questions whirring around his mind about what they might be like. He concluded they’d be nice, if they’d had the decency to respond to him just then instead of staying hidden and quiet, then they had to be nice. What was their name? How did they sound? What did they like? Who were they?

Distracted with his spiral of curiosity, he barely managed to notice the ever so familiar grip of someone subtly trying to take over the body, or at least guide it away from looking into the mirror. A whispered thought that wasn’t his saying something about finding it weird, not wanting to be seen like that. Which made sense to the Brit. He’d found it quite jarring to see himself like that. Or his not-self. Expecting to see a reflection of himself only to be able to catch a glimpse of Marc. The uncomfortable awareness of being consciously perceived by someone that wasn’t you. So, he allowed his eyes to drift and took the initiative to turn themself away from the mirror, deciding it might be nicer to just lay back down and try to talk that way.

“Hello? I heard you, I felt you, I know you’re in there somewhere…”

Steven didn’t want to be too forward, and he especially didn’t want to be demanding. If the alter wanted to remain hidden, he would respect that. Albeit very reluctantly. So, he left it open ended. An invitation to initiate conversation on the other alter’s terms. They could respond if they wanted to, he let them know that he was aware of them, meaning he knew he was no longer alone. Whether their goal was to simply reassure Steven it wasn’t all in his head, or if they’d finally gotten comfortable enough to show themself, the man was just glad that he had been given some kind of relief from the denial and doubt.

He lay in comfortable silence, simply waiting for anything that may or may not be said or pushed towards him to feel. It was a strangely relaxing way to pass the time, just floating in his own little bubble just on the edge of sleep. It was only when he felt another nudge of something that he tried to be more forward with his interaction.

“Do you… do you have a name? Something I can call you by?”

A few beats of awkward silence passed before he heard something. A faint bit of pressure settling to the side of his head as a slightly murky voice pushed cautiously through his mind. It felt sturdy, reliable in a distant way, yet comfortably familiar enough that he knew he could trust it despite the alter’s inner conflict as to their own reveal. It was almost as if the alter was actively trying to fight against their own instinct to stay invisible on the sidelines, pushing through the discomfort of being known just to help Steven’s sanity.

“...Call me Jake.”

Instantly, Steven began to grin, his emotions bleeding all through the innerspace as he tried to convey his happiness at the response, as well as to just try and reassure the alter- to try and reassure Jake that he was extremely glad for the company. From somewhere he felt the man sigh internally at the large display of emotions, but he made no move to retreat so Steven took that as a win. He wanted to question the man more, to get to know him and interact with him, almost as if to catch up on the missed time they’d not had together yet. But he got the gist that that probably wouldn’t be the best course of action if he wanted to keep Jake at ease.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, mate. My name’s Ste-”

“Steven. Sí, yo conozco. I know.”

The Brit paused momentarily, not sure as to how he should respond in a way that didn’t seem like he was pushing for information.

“I take it you’re not a new appearance then?”

“Let's just say it's been a while.”

Then it fell silent. As much as Steven liked to try and talk to people, he’d always been awkward at small talk. Especially when it was obvious that the person on the other end seemed as though they would rather lick an electric cattle prod than continue speaking. He didn’t hold it against Jake, the man seemed closer to Marc in his increasing dislike of nattering. Which is why Steven took it as a cue to simply be glad for the internal companionship after almost two weeks of solitude. If Jake didn’t want to answer, Steven wouldn’t ask; he’d just enjoy the other man’s faint presence. Slowly, he rolled onto his side on the sofa and opened his eyes to look at the TV that was still playing the documentary. Feeling a lot lighter than he had in a while, he spoke aloud to the man with a content tone.

“You alright with watching this, or is there something else you’d prefer?”

[trickster-jpeg]

I See The Danger, It's Written There In Your Eyes.

Summary: Steven is frontstuck and hasn't been able to talk to Marc in nearly two weeks. When he sits down to try and establish contact with the man, he accidentally ends up speaking to someone else he's never met before.

Warnings: Steven does briefly go into a small spiral of doubt about whether the system is real/if he's just made it up and its actually another disorder or something.

Word Count: 2121 It's On AO3 -> Here

Maybe before his awareness of the system, Steven would’ve been happy to just be able to live his life on his own. But now that he was comfortable with the familiar presence of Marc coexisting with him in this life, it was honestly incredibly jarring to be alone again. He was frontstuck. Completely isolated from his counterpart, with no way of accessing the innerworld and no idea how to get back in contact. He was totally cut off from the man for who knows what reason, fronting on his own and being in control for now upwards of almost two weeks, and he hated it.

It was even worse when the doubt set in. The anxiety and fear that had started to steadily grow as each isolated day passed, his mind slowly being laced with doubts and worries. Logically, he knew that Marc was there somewhere. He knew that they were plural, that they had dissociative identity disorder. That his mother was abusive and dead, and that he was an alter just like Marc. He’d spoken to Layla about his doubts and she’d been extremely reassuring and understanding of the current circumstances.

But that didn’t mean his anxiety wasn’t there. What if it was just some elaborate story, completely made up and all in his head? Maybe it was something else. That he was still mentally ill, but it was something else. Could just be some kind of episode, maybe a mood disorder. Delusional or maybe even a rational way to stay in denial about it all being a personality disorder. Suffice to say, his mind was spiralling down the rabbit hole the longer he was stuck on his own and he was getting desperate for some kind of sign that it was real. In his last call with Layla, she’d suggested taking a day for himself. To try and just acknowledge what was happening within their system and accept it, even if the acceptance was fake. To simply pretend it was a planned ‘Steven’ day that he and Marc had agreed upon and avoid ruminating on it as best as he could.

So that’s what he was doing today. Self-care, whoop whoop!

He’d stayed in bed a lot later than he usually would, totally because he was laying in and not because he couldn’t find the motivation to get up until he physically rolled off the mattress onto the floor. Then he’d made himself breakfast… Lunch. Bordering closer to tea time rather than lunch if he was being totally honest with himself. Layla had brought over curry the night before when they’d hung out, so he pulled out the leftover remnants of his takeaway and reheated them in the microwave. Nothing better to do than sit on the kitchen top and watch the container spin around in the machine until it was ready. Sluggishly, he’d reached behind him to mess with the CD player that sat behind him, tucked away in a little nook, and luckily for him it had something in it. Pressing play, the music crackled to life, something soft yet with a steady pacing. A tether to secure and protect him from drifting off into his head in the silence.

Eventually, the numbers ticked down into single digits and Steven reached over to pull the door right before it started beeping. Not caring much about the heat stinging into his fingers through the container, he tipped the contents into a bowl and moved to flop down onto the sofa. Remote in hand and fork in the other, he balanced the dish on his blanket covered lap and switched on the TV to some random Blue Planet documentary. With eyes fixated to screens, he shovelled the curry into his mouth. Steven wasn’t hungry, but he cared enough about the body that he forced himself to eat. Just in case Marc showed up.

Marc. The one thing he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. Couldn’t even go an entire day without thinking about him. About the system. The half of him that was missing. Not missing. No. Marc was still there, he wasn’t gone. He’d be back, he wouldn’t leave Steven. Not without saying something. Anything. He couldn’t be alone. Maybe he could try to reach out again. Just for a minute or two. It wouldn’t hurt just to try.

It was with a slight desperation, one of which he was choosing to ignore, that he put down the now empty bowl and moved to lay down. Meditation, or at least the classical type of it, had never really worked for Steven. Marc was the same, he could never stay still for that long and whenever he did he started spiralling in ways that dug up old wounds instead of fixating on the present. Instead what the Brit did when trying to get into a meditative state, was he’d try to take a nap. For some reason, he found it easiest to enter the headspace when he was laying down on something comfortable with his eyes closed, almost falling asleep but just on the cusp of clinging to his consciousness. He’d try to reach out, to grasp onto something tangible and use it as a beacon to drag him closer towards the innerworld.

Taking a few deep breaths, the man shuffled into a more comfortable position and tried to let himself go. His thoughts continued to flit about, cropping up in random ways and interjecting. It was only when he reached the point of recognition that this was the closest he’d get to achieving a quiet mindscape, he tried to reach out to the American.

“Marc? You in there? I’d really appreciate something, anything really. Just a sign that you’re alive and that this isn’t all just some elaborate mental invention…”

A minute passed. Or at least that’s the amount of time he assumed had passed. It was hard to know when you didn’t want to actively check a phone or a clock. He tried to keep his mind as still as possible, not wanting any disruption to block out a response just in case it was a faint thing. Staring into the dark void of his inner eyelids and sighing in disappointment, a familiar sense of discouragement settling in his chest. Steven wanted to try again, but he didn’t want to just set himself up for more disappointment. He just didn’t want to be alone.

Faintly he thought about just giving up and calling it a day, deciding it would be more productive to continue watching the tele and listen to David Attenborough tell him about fish or something. That was until very distantly a feeling overcame him almost as if telling him he wasn’t on his own. Something that should’ve been extremely reassuring if only for the fact that he knew it wasn’t Marc saying that to him. It was something else. Someone else. And honestly, Steven couldn’t tell if he was more on edge about it, or if he was actually happy that someone new had shown up. At least they were new to him, because Marc sure as hell never made any mention or hint that there could be a third alter in the system.

With a new spark of energy, he blinked his eyes open hastily and sat up with the impulse to find a mirror. Clumsily, his feet carried him towards the bathroom and he stared at his reflection nervously. His pupils flickered over his own face, scanning to see any differences (no matter how small) that might signal a new person. He could feel his pulse rate rising ever so slightly with a certain thrill at the prospect of having another headmate, questions whirring around his mind about what they might be like. He concluded they’d be nice, if they’d had the decency to respond to him just then instead of staying hidden and quiet, then they had to be nice. What was their name? How did they sound? What did they like? Who were they?

Distracted with his spiral of curiosity, he barely managed to notice the ever so familiar grip of someone subtly trying to take over the body, or at least guide it away from looking into the mirror. A whispered thought that wasn’t his saying something about finding it weird, not wanting to be seen like that. Which made sense to the Brit. He’d found it quite jarring to see himself like that. Or his not-self. Expecting to see a reflection of himself only to be able to catch a glimpse of Marc. The uncomfortable awareness of being consciously perceived by someone that wasn’t you. So, he allowed his eyes to drift and took the initiative to turn themself away from the mirror, deciding it might be nicer to just lay back down and try to talk that way.

“Hello? I heard you, I felt you, I know you’re in there somewhere…”

Steven didn’t want to be too forward, and he especially didn’t want to be demanding. If the alter wanted to remain hidden, he would respect that. Albeit very reluctantly. So, he left it open ended. An invitation to initiate conversation on the other alter’s terms. They could respond if they wanted to, he let them know that he was aware of them, meaning he knew he was no longer alone. Whether their goal was to simply reassure Steven it wasn’t all in his head, or if they’d finally gotten comfortable enough to show themself, the man was just glad that he had been given some kind of relief from the denial and doubt.

He lay in comfortable silence, simply waiting for anything that may or may not be said or pushed towards him to feel. It was a strangely relaxing way to pass the time, just floating in his own little bubble just on the edge of sleep. It was only when he felt another nudge of something that he tried to be more forward with his interaction.

“Do you… do you have a name? Something I can call you by?”

A few beats of awkward silence passed before he heard something. A faint bit of pressure settling to the side of his head as a slightly murky voice pushed cautiously through his mind. It felt sturdy, reliable in a distant way, yet comfortably familiar enough that he knew he could trust it despite the alter’s inner conflict as to their own reveal. It was almost as if the alter was actively trying to fight against their own instinct to stay invisible on the sidelines, pushing through the discomfort of being known just to help Steven’s sanity.

“...Call me Jake.”

Instantly, Steven began to grin, his emotions bleeding all through the innerspace as he tried to convey his happiness at the response, as well as to just try and reassure the alter- to try and reassure Jake that he was extremely glad for the company. From somewhere he felt the man sigh internally at the large display of emotions, but he made no move to retreat so Steven took that as a win. He wanted to question the man more, to get to know him and interact with him, almost as if to catch up on the missed time they’d not had together yet. But he got the gist that that probably wouldn’t be the best course of action if he wanted to keep Jake at ease.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, mate. My name’s Ste-”

“Steven. Sí, lo sé. I know.”

The Brit paused momentarily, not sure as to how he should respond in a way that didn’t seem like he was pushing for information.

“I take it you’re not a new appearance then?”

“Let's just say it's been a while.”

Then it fell silent. As much as Steven liked to try and talk to people, he’d always been awkward at small talk. Especially when it was obvious that the person on the other end seemed as though they would rather lick an electric cattle prod than continue speaking. He didn’t hold it against Jake, the man seemed closer to Marc in his increasing dislike of nattering. Which is why Steven took it as a cue to simply be glad for the internal companionship after almost two weeks of solitude. If Jake didn’t want to answer, Steven wouldn’t ask; he’d just enjoy the other man’s faint presence. Slowly, he rolled onto his side on the sofa and opened his eyes to look at the TV that was still playing the documentary. Feeling a lot lighter than he had in a while, he spoke aloud to the man with a content tone.

“You alright with watching this, or is there something else you’d prefer?”

[atplblog]

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Mattress production lines combine various manufacturing processes to deliver high-quality mattresses efficiently. Here’s a breakdown of key stages and the machinery involved.

1. Material Preparation – Foam Cutting:High-density foam and other materials are precisely cut using computerized cutting machines. These machines ensure consistency across batches, optimizing material usage. – Spring Coil Production:Mattresses with innersprings go through coil manufacturing, where automated machines create coils and then assemble them into a spring unit.

2. Layer Assembly – Bonding and Layering:Various layers, like foam, latex, and spring units, are stacked and bonded using adhesives. Automated bonding machines apply adhesive evenly, speeding up the assembly. – Quilting and Padding:Quilting machines add texture and reinforcement to the mattress surface, stitching fabrics with additional padding for comfort.

3. Mattress Assembly and Final Stitching – Edge Reinforcement:Some mattresses have reinforced edges, which require specific machinery to add foam or metal borders to improve structural integrity. – Encasing and Stitching:The final stitching process uses encasing machines to wrap the entire mattress in fabric and secure the edges with durable stitching.

4. Quality Control and Packaging – Each mattress undergoes rigorous testing for firmness, structural stability, and comfort. Defective units are either reworked or discarded. – Finally, packaging machines compress and seal the mattresses in vacuum-sealed bags, ready for storage or shipping.

The production line relies on advanced machinery and quality control to meet diverse demands for durability, comfort, and design.

[m6rija]

⟡ ⠀hope of devotion⠀⠀⊹⠀⠀ soshiro hoshina & you

gn reader. hurt/comfort, established relationship. reader is a soldier within the third division, no one knows about the relationship but mina. part two.

even though those lives tied to the past had slipped through your fingers unannounced- you would do everything you could do to protect those around you, those people so dear to you and even those you didn't know, now and in the future.

as a member of the defense forces, you knew all too well how ephemeral, fragile and weak human lives were.

yet, considering yourself part of humanity's shield against kaiju, you let your life dance closely to the fire

and the flames embraced you, calling out with greed and despair

because you were a prodigy in your generation, being able to release 86% of combat power during the tests alone.

all eyes were on you, all depended on you

and you would give your life in exchange for the protection of others.

so as soon as you were out of oxygen and your throat was covered by a metallic taste, it never crossed your mind to withdraw from combat.

and when you started to become part of the attire of a white bed, he would be with you

regretting not having arrived earlier.

you were fighting a honju on your own despite countless warnings; you took charge of evacuating the incapacitated soldiers from the area and protected those who supported you during the battle.

you took on the role of a defensive force as long as someone of higher rank could assist you— however, the wounded were increasing and you did not want to allow anyone on your battlefield to suffer serious consequences.

“it's one life in exchange for saving many.”

was what you thought as soon as your ribcage was pierced, debris greeting you on the heavy pavement.

and if it hadn't been for that probably several soldiers would have lost their lives.

the last thing you remember before you lost consciousness was seeing the vice-captain arriving on the scene, cutting the kaiju with agility and skill.

you smiled, weak and in immeasurable pain

for you knew that the soldiers would no longer be in danger, on their own and against such a strong monster.

from that moment on you began to wander in an endless limbo, aimlessly, among your thoughts and sound asleep on a soft mattress. you felt your body light, as if you lacked any kind of concern.

you did not know that you underwent emergency surgery, how you suffered from a serious lung injury and how many thought they would lose a strong bastion of the third division that night.

you were given oxygen by machine, and your vital signs were carefully monitored.

you had no family, so you never left the base and were allowed to rest in the base infirmary.

soshiro was the only person you could consider family.

he had an overwhelmingly busy schedule— but every day, after filling a cup of coffee and getting up at sunrise, he would come to see you.

it was a silent date that became a part of his daily routine.

he would intertwine your fingers with yours

he would watch you attentively

hoping you would wake up and give him one of your contagious smiles as usual.

it had already been a week since you were hospitalized

and he didn't dare to say it out loud, or think about it,

but he missed you— for to him you were much more than just a number among the soldiers.

“lately i see you coming into the infirmary more often.”

self-absorbed, he was unable to notice when ashiro entered the room

“are you worried about their situation?”

“they're part of the division, it's natural for me to see how they're doin'.”

he had told a half-lie

and it was just that his way of speaking retained that playful tone, despite his current position

“isn't there something else?”

mina looked at him with a face bordering near inexpressive, waiting for some kind of answer from him

you were his light, ever since you gave him a reason to protect, to fight for others and not only to feel worthy enough

he was devoted to you, only you

to the glow that you radiated every time your eyes fell on him

to the determination with which you trained alongside your colleagues, to surpass your own limits

to the warmth you displayed— like radiant sunshine

“i don't know what yer talkin' about"

he said it bringing one of his hands to the back of his neck, laughing with an almost unrecognizable hint of nervousness.

but ashiro could read between the lines

“they would have scolded you if they saw you in this state.”

she sighed, grabbing the door with the intention of leaving.

“don't worry too much. they are a strong person, i'm sure they'll wake up soon.”

and that is what hoshina longed for the most.

[evalinens]

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