#Weaving Machine Spare Parts

[becertainlust]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day today! This is my first time requesting a drabble (?) I recently started watching mha for the first time, and katsuki and shoto caught my eye ><

I really reallyyy love your fics! Especially the bakugo ones 🧎‍♀️ I was wondering if you could do a drabble of katsuki and shoto with this type of scenario that I saw on insta. [https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGfb89xTp59/?igsh=MWR5cW1reTg3aWJ1dg==] It's just soooo giving katsuki and shoto 😭 You could add more twists into it if you like to! I'd love to see how you would fit the scenario for each of them ^ ^

Thank you in advance if ever you accept this request >< (It's also fine if you don't want to !)

LOVE YA! | Katsuki Bakugo

synopsis: Mirror me baby.

content: fluff.

You knew you shouldn’t have gone.

High school reunions were a recipe for disaster. Especially when the same fake-nice girls who used to whisper behind your back now acted like they were doing you a favor by acknowledging you at all. They hadn’t changed—not really. Just more polished now. More venom behind the veneers.

“So, you say you have a boyfriend?” That was the moment the whole night went downhill.

Oh?” They leaned in, saccharine curiosity dripping from every word. “Funny we haven’t seen him. Must be... long distance?”

“Nah,” you said coolly, “he’s real. He’s just not into this fake crap.”

They laughed like you’d said something adorable. Like you were making him up.

You clenched your jaw, rage bubbling in your chest like a firework ready to blow. And then—like the gods heard your prayers—the distant rumble of a motorcycle echoed through the lot outside the banquet hall.

One of the girls frowned. “What the—”

You didn't even bother responding.

You grabbed your purse, manuvered through the crowd, and stepped outside just as a sleek black motorcycle rolled into view, engine snarling like a beast on a leash. The rider pulled to a smooth stop, boots scraping against the asphalt, and pulled off his helmet.

Blonde hair, sharp eyes, familiar scowl.

Katsuki Bakugo.

“Hey, baby,” he growled, voice low and lazy as his crimson eyes locked on yours. “Sorry I’m late.”

Bakugo swung one leg off the bike, the engine growling low before cutting to silence. He pulled off his helmet, tousled blond hair sticking up in all directions, and set the helmet on his thigh like he had all the time in the world. His crimson gaze locked onto you, sharp and unreadable—until the corner of his mouth tugged up.

He leaned against his bike, and you neared just close enough that the smell of smoke and sweat and something sharp—him—wrapped around you like armor.

Without a word, he reached up and gently swept your hair back, fingers brushing your temple like he owned the moment. Then, quick and sure, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks as his lips ghosted your skin.

"You're messing up my hair," you muttered, but your voice was soft—traitorous.

"Hah," he drawled, cocking a brow. "You’ll live."

From behind, the soft chorus of stunned, hushed gasps was everything you needed.

Bakugo handed you the spare helmet like it was part of the show, the picture of unbothered authority.

“You coming or what?” he asked, throwing his leg over his bike, "They look boring too"

You smiled, throwing a teasing fist into his shoulder, turning just enough to catch the stunned expressions frozen on their faces.

"Sorry for my sudden leave, get home safe"

You slid on the helmet and didn’t look back.

The bike roared beneath you, a living, breathing machine as Bakugo tore through the city streets like they were his to command. Neon lights blurred into streaks of color—red, blue, gold—reflected on wet asphalt, the rush of wind curling around your body, tugging at your clothes, ripping laughter straight from your lungs.

You clung to him, not out of fear, but want. The kind of grip that said, don’t slow down.

He weaved effortlessly through traffic, every turn sharp and smooth, every stoplight a suggestion he didn’t feel the need to obey. You felt alive—more than alive. The cold night air stung your cheeks, but your chest burned with adrenaline, heat, and something wild.

Then his voice crackled through the small speaker embedded in your helmet, low and rough.

“Still think I messed up your hair?”

You huffed a breathless laugh, pressed flush to his back, your chin brushing the collar of his jacket.

“You did,” you shot back, lips curling. “And I’m not forgiving you just because you look hot doing it.”

“mmm. That so?”

The bike surged forward faster—like it reacted to his mood, his ego, his everything. You yelped, but your grin stretched wider.

“Katsuki!”

“Hold on, princess,” he drawled through the comm, that smugness laced with something dangerous. “If we’re gonna show off, might as well really show off.”

You tightened your grip, heart hammering. Street signs whipped by, your laughter tangling with the roar of the engine and the beat of the night. Behind you was a banquet hall full of ghosts. But right now? You were fire in motion.

And Bakugo? He was the spark that lit the fuse.

The city flew by in a rush of sound and color, the cool night air tangling your hair, the scent of rain-slick pavement mixing with the burn of Bakugo’s speed. Streetlights and signs blurred past, but you didn’t care—not when you were pressed against his back, not when the world felt this alive.

Then, through the comms, his voice cut in—gruff but calm, like this speed was nothing to him.

“I was thinkin’... we swing by the park.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “Huh?”

“The one near the bay. Celebration night. Happens every fourth Friday—fireworks, food stalls, dumb shit like sparklers and dance tents.”

You smiled against the inside of your helmet, his version of romantic showing itself in fragments. “You wanna take me on a date?”

“What if i do?.”

But you could hear the smirk.

He turned off the main road, slowing as the hum of music and laughter floated through the air, glowing lights up ahead signaling the celebration already in full swing. The park shimmered—lanterns strung through the trees, families gathered on blankets, vendors hollering over grills.

Bakugo pulled into a shadowed edge of the lot and cut the engine. The sudden quiet was jarring, but your heart still thundered.

The park celebration buzzed in the distance—music thumping faintly beneath the chatter of families and friends, lanterns swaying above the crowds like lazy stars. Bakugo had parked just out of sight, the low rumble of the bike finally going quiet beneath you both. The night air was still, heavy with the scent of grilled food and fireworks waiting to be lit.

He moved to take off his helmet.

“Wait,” you said quickly, lifting a hand. “Don’t take it off yet.”

He stilled, brows furrowing beneath the visor. “What now?”

You gaze down into his visor, wincing at your wind-tossed reflection. Your hair was everywhere, and your lip gloss? Practically a memory. You fished a compact and tube of gloss from your bag like a girl on a mission.

Bakugo huffed beside you, leaning back on the seat with exaggerated impatience. “We’re just goin’ to a dumb park, not the Vogue”

You didn’t answer, too focused on swiping gloss back over your lips, fluffing your hair with quick fingers. Once satisfied, you clicked the gloss shut and turned to him.

“Alright. Now you can take it off.”

He scoffed, lifting his hands—but you reached first.

Carefully, you stepped between his legs, fingers brushing his wrists as you tilted his helmet up for him, slow and deliberate. His breath hitched just slightly when your eyes met through the lifting visor.

Your hands lingered on the edges of the helmet as you pushed it up and off, revealing his face inch by inch—the strong cut of his jaw, the flush creeping just beneath his cheekbones.

Oh.

He was blushing.

It wasn’t much—just a faint warmth rising to his ears, but for Katsuki Bakugo, it was practically neon.

You blinked, amused and smug. “Are you blushing?”

“mm—shut up,” he muttered, yanking the helmet the rest of the way off and setting it down hard on the bike. “It’s hot in there.”

You grinned, stepping back just enough to appreciate the view. The cuts of his glowing skin and broad shoulders almost making you want to chew him up.

“Sure it is.”

He didn’t look at you right away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You done fixin’ your damn lip gloss?”

“Yeah.” You slid your hand into his. “Let’s go my blushing boy”

He rolled his eyes, but let you lead the way, hand tight in yours.

Still blushing.

_________

a/n: sorry i took so long. I feel like this might have triggered a fic idea hold on...

[tabathastan]

Being Helena Targaryen’s Niece would include

Being the niece of Helena Targaryen came with unique experiences and cherished memories that shaped your childhood. Helena, with her gentle and loving nature, adored you wholeheartedly, viewing you as a special part of her life despite your connection to Rhaenyra, her sister. She often expressed her gratitude for having a mother like Rhaenyra, appreciating that you and your brothers were spared the complexities and challenges that came with her own maternal relationship.

During your family's frequent visits to King's Landing, you found solace in Helena's company amidst the grand halls and bustling courtyards. While your brothers reveled in boisterous duels and displays of valor, Helena preferred the quieter, simpler moments spent with you. With deft fingers, she would weave beautiful braids into your hair, transforming it into ornate styles adorned with delicate ribbons and flowers. Those moments were filled with laughter and secrets, as you both shared stories about your dreams and aspirations away from the watchful eyes of the court.

Unlike Helena's brothers, who often teased her for her eccentricities and tendencies towards the whimsical, you embraced her uniqueness without reservation. You admired her individuality and celebrated the bond you shared, fostering a friendship that would endure the trials of court life. In her presence, you felt a sense of belonging, a sanctuary amidst the political machinations that often overshadowed your family's legacy.

[qingyingpocketlirary]

Silken History; Part 2

This is a post that has Key information for my Snaphots and Tea Collection serises and also for information inportent to the back story for The Spider Web Story.

It also contains some HEAD CANNONS. Please take note they are head cannon's not Orginal to the Book JTTW or considered Cannon to the Lego Monkie Kid fandom while reading. Thank you!

Spoilers for The Spider's Web, do not read until after you have read parts 5 and 6.

After the assault upon the Hollow, everyone believed only the Emerald Queen survived, even the Emerald Queen believed this to be the truth.

They were all wrong.

Minglou. The Jade Queen, Fourth daughter of the Violet Queen and titled as ‘Kěwàng de línghún’ The longing soul by her mother, also escaped the assault. Recently pregnant and thus stuck indoors, she had snuck out to enjoy the cool night air and was spared the worst of the assault, but she was badly burnt and scarred by the flames when she went back to search for her sisters and mother. Unable to find them and  with only her Mother’s Crown in hand, she fled not into the underground, but into the forests, disguised as a woman cradling her babe to her breast as she ran.

For weeks she wondered, seeking a place to safely lay her eggs and a place to rest and recover, until after many aimless wandering days, she came upon a familiar and friendly face, sat at a table decorated with fruits and cakes to be shared over a hot drink. 

Chi Yue, the tea sage disciple who had spent time amongst her family only a few years before, in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of tea for herself, a black furred monkey and Princess Iron Fan.

The three took the Jade Queen in secret to a place no one could find them, and with their help, the Jade Queen was able to rest, recover and lay her eggs in peace. She told them of the ruination of her home, of how she feared no one else had survived, only to be told that the Emerald Queen, her youngest sister had escaped with a small hand full of the Clan’s men and a Queen’s Guard, but had declared herself the Last Queen already having thought she alone had survived. The Jade Queen chose to let the world believe this, though it has left her with immense guilt and shame, as she has watched from a distance as her youngest sisters struggle and fight to maintain the small remnants of their clan.

In the years since, the Jade Queen has lived a quiet and calm life, tucked away in the forested crater of a small mountain only a few miles from the Demon Bull Family’s Winter palace. She leads a peaceful life, weaving, knitting and sewing silken crafts with both her own hands, and with the help of machines as the era changed around her, through Princess Iron Fan and Chi Yue’s help with producing, marketing and selling her work and helping to arrange the trade, buying and selling of her wears, she has managed to fool Heaven into thinking that the work is done by many small groups of surviving spiders rather than just one Queen with a lot of time on her hands.

She has lost her desire to explore and wander the world, losing the safe place she had always known as home and known to be safe so violently and having to start all over again stole away the desire in her soul to do such things. Instead she settled into her little home and set to work keeping the Silk Trade going in memory and honour of her family. She is happy with her life, but also saddened that she can not go to her sister. She is afraid that if she does show herself, whoever attacked their home would return and finish their line forever and so, with a heavy heart, she stays away, knowing that with each year that passes, the pain of the loss and the distance hurts both her and her sister even more. 

When word began to spread that people were looking into the Hollow and what had happened to it, the Jade Queen grew paranoid about her safety. Through Chi Yue, she reached out to Sun Wukong and with the Demon Bull King Family’s blessing, Sun Wukong placed down an enchanted barrier spell similar to the one that protects the Waterfall cave. He wove it into the ground and explained that only those with permission could enter once it was activated, and access could only be given from the Jade Queen, Princess Iron Fan and Chi Yue.

To further protect the Jade Queen, the Demon Bull Family also laid down an illusionary spell, making the forested crater of the mountain appear as a charred ruin so as to discourage any investigation. Not even Red Son knows just how close the Jade Queen is at times.

Despite her best efforts and uttermost care, only one of her eggs reached mature age and hatched at the turn of the modern century, giving her the joys of motherhood to a precious, violet skinned, four eyes daughter. To honour her late sisters, she gifted her daughter the title ‘Miǎnfèi gōngzhǔ’ the Free Princess and to honour her mother, she gave her daughter the name Zǐsè. To protect her daughter, the Jade Queen taught her both the history of their lost clan, and also the ways to properly defend herself using both magic and physical strength. She taught her how to hide beneath a glamour so she appeared less Spider-like so as not to draw unwanted attention. The Jade Queen went so far as to allow her daughter to learn skills and magics from Chi Yue and from Princess Iron Fan when she became of age, hoping to give her daughter every advantage should she ever be in need of a means to protect herself.

But, like her, Zǐsè wanted to go out and explore, to learn and see and experience all that there was to see. And while it hurt her heart to know that her daughter would be away, the Jade Queen would not deny her daughter the freedom she had been denied for so long. The Modern era helped bridge the distance and with time, Zǐsè was able to teach her mother how to use a cell phone and a laptop, making facetime call and sending emails back and forth became the norm.

Zǐsè found great joy in racing and after a few years, she’d been asked to race for a large charity that helped to fund the continued improvements of children’s lives and then another charity who focused on preserving the natural beauty and landscape of rares at risk of being lost. To further protect herself, Zǐsè gave herself a new name when racing, as was apparently common for all racers in the industry to better promote their charities and brands.

Thus, the world came to know of Spindrax, the violet rider.

Below is a brief summary of The Jade Queen’s relationship to her daughter and minor Head Cannons about the two.

~ They talk every day via a phone call, no matter what they are doing and they do video calls once a week.

~ The Jade Queen, being so old now, is unable to move much. So she does not leave the crater she has made her home in, often when she does need to move she does so with the help of the mech spider body Princess Iron Fan’s son was able to repair for her. (This was before Demon Bull King was sealed away)

~ Spindrax buys her mother little gifts often and visits her whenever she’s in the area. She also makes sure to stop by her mentors’ homes and thank them for helping to keep her mother from feeling lonely.

~ The Jade Queen worries often for her daughter, but is thankful for the new technology that allows her to check in on her daughter.

~ Once every year, Spindrax will dress in a hanfu made from her mother’s own silk webbing and do up her hair in the Royal style of her late Grandmother while her Mother dresses in her own hanfu and styles her hair in a similar fashion. Then they both sit in quiet prayer for one whole day and night to a shrine where the Crown of the Violet Spider is housed.

~ Spindrax knows she is related to the Spider Queen who attacked Megapolis, but at her mother’s request doesn’t reach out. She wants to, but understands that her mother is still afraid of what could happen if they are found out.

~ They both know about the account set up for them and they know that Sun Wukong contributes to it, they send him Thank you baskets filled with Peaches from their own garden.

~ They have had small arguments and disagreements in the past, but they make a point of never going to bed angry with each other.

~ Spindrax does not like that she has to hide her Spider features with a glamour, but for the sake of her mother, she does it, but only when not at home.

~ Spindrax wears a full body undersuit when racing that is made from her mother’s Silk webbing, it cannot be ripped or torn. When word got out that she had such a suit, many Racers asked what it would cost to get such suits for themselves.

~ The Jade Queen has a side business making and designing custom undersuits for racers. 

~ She made one for Mei and has since been receiving thank you cards and little gifts of dragon forged needles and enchanted threads.

Because she can not move as much anymore, Chi Yue commissioned Red Son to build a handful of simple drones to maintain and tend the land the Jade Queen inhabits, these drones do much of the heavy labour around the Jade Queen, from the farming to wood cutting and preparing meals. These drones run on both magic energy, and on a special battery that charges from the natural thermal vents that protect the boundary of the Jade Queen’s home.

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

That's all the lore and backstory I have for The Spider’s Web. Hope you all enjoy!!!!

[helloiamadrawer]

𝚃𝙰𝙳𝙲 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 🎪

Warnings: none! just general/cute headcanons of the silly circus gang 🤸

Gangle can make some downright delicious matcha green tea, she has a set of cups and ofc tea bags in her room so when anyone in the circus is upset or stressed from a wacky adventure, she'd offer to make some for them. (Jax would probably be the only one to refuse but hey he's missing out)

All of the girls of the circus had a sleepover once (it was definitely Ragatha's idea :) ), and when it came to the most invigorating activity being a pillowfight, Zooble kind of hesitated.

"Yeah, I think I should opt out of this one you do know I hit hard Ragatha..right?"

"Oh come on Zoobs!" Ragatha cheered," If I can take a butcher knife to the head a thousand times you sure can't hit me harder than--oof!" a pillow ricocheted at her face, sending her bouncing around her room like a ball in a pinball machine (imagine the sound like the pinball makes while hitting the machine with the situation that is happening to Ragatha)

Finally coming back to solid ground, stars revolve around her head as she weaves from side to side as Zooble immediately ran to her followed by Pomni and Gangle to help the rag doll up and keep her steady. "I'm so sorry, I told you I hit too hard!" "Are you okay Ragatha?" Pomni asked cautiously, waving a hand in front of her face. "I'm good..no worries." she chuckled lightly, a wavered smile paved on her face from being clocked by a damn pillow. Rest assured, they never did pillowfights again because Zooble kicks too much ass lmaooo

Caine is a great singer AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE and here's how everyone knew: he left a door open one day leading to some sort of auditorium different than the one at the Tent, Pomni was the first to see the door, she hesitantly stepped into the other world.

An array of seats were swarmed through the area but no Npc's were in any of the seats but on stage there were a group of them singing a very flowing vocal number, it sounded nice and calming and then walking out in the middle of the stage was Caine, after their measure of singing was cut off by a motion of his hand, silence fell over until the chime of a triangle rang out and he started singing ♥️ his voice was remarkable (song below)

Pomni=flabbergasted and in awe that this a.i could sing so well, she could almost feel herself floating from the graceful power of his singing voice she HAD to tell everyone! she ran to everyone's room, spreading the word and by the time Caine finished performing, all the circus members applauded and cheered.

Ragatha and Gangle were crying a little cause it was so beautiful.

Caine was startled at first no one ever came to his singing performances but momentarily starts bowing in reciprocation of the wonderous appreciation for him.

Pomni has actually asked Caine if she could have a change of outfit, guess what the a.i does? JUST GUESS? Bro changes the color theme of her fit b r u h 😂

Jax and Bubble have kissed once but it was off camera

Zooble was so tired one day that the next morning Jax saw them sleeping in her own 'Zooble Box' full of their spare parts. The purple rabbit thought this would be a funny picture on the wall so he snapped one then getting slapped around by the grumpy assortment of parts after

Ragatha loves to bake. She could bake almost everything you could imagine. Her fav thing to make is pineapple upside down cake or peach cobbler 😋

Kinger collects fireflies in mason jars to have some light in his dark little pillowfort during the day and then the following night he sets them free into the night. he thinks of them as his tiny house guards 🥺🥺🥺

Whenever somebody is in emotional turmoil, instead of Ragatha being the one for emotional advice Pomni has learned to take her place sometimes since she has transformed Gummigoo into a more hopeful being after his traumatic realization of him being an npc 🥲

She's invented her own kind of comforting strat s since she has known now that her friends really care about her. You can say it kind of inspired her to be like Ragatha but in her own unique way 💟

Zooble listens to breakcore/vogue music because it helps them with being comfortable with their mix n' match parts and feeling whole. Sometimes feeling like a fem/them queen helps being in this hellhole of a digital realm 💅

Jax would say rizz and not know what it means, just only says it cause it sounds cool 🙄 bro is literally rizzing up ppl in the show (watch the pilot or ep 2 you'll see what i mean)

[star-spacer]

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

[primamchorus]

Moving Pieces

The machinations of fate and duty weave their way through the oncoming days as each piece plays its part. Where a part of the board remains veiled in blissful ignorance, the other part of the board must prepare for the fog of war to lift so that they may play their parts to the best of their abilities. Then there are also those who wish to mold their fate betwixt their very own fingers as events start to come to a crest.

Word count: 3,344

FFXV: Reimagined Table of Contents

<- Previous • Next ->

"Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever sit inside that beautiful car again…" Prompto wistfully sighed as he rested his arms over the back of the dining booth. He stared longingly outside the window toward the garage — an exaggerated vie for humor…perhaps for himself.

As it stood, though, the group had to stay overnight at the Hammerhead pit stop as the Regalia was taken care of. Yet another wrench thrown into their plans of being punctual in arriving at Galdin Quay. At least they had taken care of the reapertail menace that the people of Hammerhead had wanted quelled for a while.

Still…they did have a schedule to abide by.

"Sitting most of the day was pretty nice," Gladiolus agreed, looking over the booth's back toward the garage as well. His arm was resting across the back, a small sheen of sweat on his skin from a morning jog around the area before it got too hot out.

"Napping was even better," Noctis chimed in, elbow propped upon the table as his other finger idly traced circles on the menu he had.

"Are you all quite done?" Ignis asked, his brow locked in a slight furrow as he listened to the lamentations of the others — exaggerated or no. He had been busy counting up the gil they earned from showing off the reapertail barbs as proof to claim their bounty from the Hunter representative. It was not a lot, but it was still better than nothing.

The reapertail barbs had been…accepted, yes, but they were also cumbersome items that made their way into the inventory of the party. Materials to have been used for elemancy as they had no use otherwise…

As Ignis set aside small stacks of gil to calculate how they were to budget moving forward, he sighed and leaned back in the booth. He then looked toward everyone else who looked none the worse for wear after their exploits.

"We'll have to take more jobs as we come across them, I'm afraid… If we want to ensure a comfortable journey that is…" Ignis informed the everyone before he finally started taking the bits of payment and placing them into a coin purse.

Prompto slid into a slouch in his seat, canting his head back against it with a grimace that accompanied his groan of impatience. "Man, and I was really looking forward to meeting Lunafreya before the wedding was supposed to happen. How can I be Noct's best man and not even know the lady he's marrying!?"

Prompto's question was left hanging, and when he looked up to see why it seemed everyone was paying him no mind, he saw that everyone had their attention toward the window. Turning his attention as well, Prompto caught sight of Cindy walking toward the diner with purpose to her steps and a furrow to her brow. A far cry from the chipper woman they met the day prior.

"… What's eating her, I wonder…" Prompto muttered.

The bell to the diner rang as Cindy made her way in. She spared no time finding where the boys were and walked over immediately.

"Something didn't happen to the Regalia, did it?" Noctis asked once Cindy came to a halt at their table.

"Thankfully, no," Cindy began. Her shoulders heaved with a sigh, her lips pursing with concern. "I actually got a hunt for y'all since ya seem done with the varmints that've been causin' some right chaos 'round here."

Prompto leaned forward — as did Gladiolus and Noctis. Ignis was the only one that seemed to keep an air of calm about his person.

"Something else has been stirring up trouble?" Gladiolus pressed, moving his arms so that they were folded over his chest.

Shaking her head, Cindy went on to explain: "This hunt's actually for a person — fella named Dave went off a while back, and we ain't heard a word of anythin' from 'im since. If ya still got that map I gave you, Highness, I can mark where he said he'd be goin' off to."

"Yeah, right." Noctis reached back into one of his pockets and the produced the folded map for Cindy to take.

"Some bachelor party this is turning out to be, huh, Noct?" Prompto said with a bit of a laugh while Cindy circled a part of the map some ways outside of Hammerhead's borders.

"Don't even joke," Noctis groaned.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lands of Tenebrae grew smaller and smaller as Lunafreya stared out the window of the airship. Ravus hovered close, though kept a stiff upper lip as he stood at the helm. There had been nothing Lunafreya could have said or done to change this outcome — not when she had been surrounded by magitek infantry at the time and the only patrol she had that was of any comfort was summoned away before she could make what was supposed to be a discreet escape from Fenestala Manor so that she could take a boat to cross the waters to Accordo.

So now Lunafreya stood there in the airship, her eyes pointed out the nearest window. The irony of still being caged while flying… It made her lips twitch back bitterly.

"You're not still moping, are you?" Ravus asked, glancing over in Lunafreya's direction. "I can't imagine you would try to escape the wedding. Is it not what you wanted?"

Lunafreya's jaw clenched momentarily. Slowly looking back over her shoulder at Ravus, Lunafreya kept a placid expression. It was the same expression she forced herself to carry in the presence of those who have clipped her wings — Ravus included.

"Niflheim speaks of wanting peace, and yet they freely offer me as the Oracle of Tenebrae to wed with the Prince of Lucis?" Lunafreya continued. "Does it not strike you as strange? Why not offer a lady of Niflheim if they mean to build a lasting foundation of peace?"

"… Another thing that the Niflheim Empire has bade me go through with," Lunafreya started in response, voice unwavering. Her brow furrowed slightly as she turned her attention back to the shrinking visage of Tenebrae.

One last look…

Lunafreya had been suspicious ever since Ravus approached her and broke news of Emperor Aldercapt's plans for her. To say her heart leapt at the news would have been an understatement — marrying one's childhood friend was a mercy seldom afforded to those within hers and Noctis' positions. Though, to maintain an act of ignorance or confusion, Lunafreya could let no one know she had been communicating with Noctis for years now with the aid of Umbra and Pryna.

"Solara is far too you—"

"I am clearly not speaking about a child, which you clearly think I still am." Lunafreya's words bit at Ravus, intentionally so. "There are other eligible women of Niflheim within positions that could build a better trust between the two nations, yet they choose Tenebrae knowing the Oracles and Royals of Lucis have been allies since times of old."

She knew the general rotation — the political motions of trading princes and princesses in arranged marriages between nations. Get them wed, get them to bed one another, and then produce an heir. What Lunafreya failed to see was how Tenebrae and Lucis having a more solid link to one another benefited Niflheim when they already had Lucis backed into a corner.

Even if the marriage was a claimed 'olive branch' to the treaty negotiations, the arrangement reeked. It also spoke to how much of a fool the Emperor must have thought Lunafreya was — how much of a fool anyone was for buying into such a ploy. Perhaps her brother was a bigger fool than she gave him credit for.

"… It is not your place to question the reasoning behind the emperor's decisions," Ravus said after a moment, sighing with a hint of annoyance soon afterward.

"Perhaps, then, you should ask more questions for yourself," Lunafreya retorted, keeping her back pointed toward her brother. She caught the sound of Ravus issuing a scoff, further proving his annoyance for the discussion at hand. He was the one who initiated, however, so Lunafreya felt little for his discomfort or upset due to the direction their chat took.

"We arrive within Insomnia in the next twelve hours. I suggest you make yourself comfortable," Ravus said, returning his attention toward the console in front of him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Luche," Drautos called out as he walked down the hall of Glaive HQ. There was a severe expression on his face.

"Sir." Luche straightened his stance, standing at attention as Drautos neared.

"My office. Now." Drautos made no effort to slow down, passing Luche as he continued down on his way. Luche was heard falling into step behind Drautos, and their trek remained silent. As they reached the office door and Luche was gestured inside, Drautos went to take a seat at his desk after closing the door behind them. Again, silence remained an ever present companion to them, Drautos' chair creaking the only thing breaking the silence as he leaned back.

Then, Drautos finally dug into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a folded slip of paper. He tossed it onto the desk, watching as Luche stared down at it. Bringing his elbows to sit upon the armrests of his chair, Drautos looked up at Luche. His severe expression remained.

"… I'm giving you the opportunity to explain yourself," Drautos said.

"Sir…?" Luche remained stock still before the wooden desk, his eyes flicking up to meet with Drautos. Tentatively, he reached out, and Drautos could see how Luche's fingers trembled. When he unfolded the paper, the change in expression was visible — how Luche's clinging to this stoic sense of self gave way to this grimace of dread as his eyes briefly skimmed the contents of the slip.

Drautos gave Luche a look of expectation, brow raising now that the slip and its contents had been seen.

"It's…" Luche began, his fingers then gripping the paper tightly to make it crumple while his expression twisted into anger. He then spat, his voice an irritated hiss, "You can't tell me that you want to keep fighting this pointless war the king sends us out to with little regard if we come back alive or dead."

Luche crumpled the paper further and then threw it down onto the floor before looking back at Drautos as his emotions continued to bubble forth. "All the king cares about is this last bastion of safety for the people who came before those who were so unfortunate to lose their homes to Niflheim! He turns his back upon the people of Lucis for this city!"

Drautos lifted a hand to cease Luche from continuing.

"I should assign you new duties with someone to watch over you," Drautos said, a steeled edge to his tone.

For a moment, Luche's brow twitched as he regarded Drautos with some confusion. Though his stance remained rigid, he kept his attention steady. There was a question that danced behind his lips — that much seemed obvious to Drautos as he read Luche's expression.

"I have a job for you instead — someone of your caliber should see to it," Drautos went on.

"… If this is a means to have me under your thumb, I'd rather take the punishment," Luche tersely said.

"On the contrary…" Drautos rose from his seat and walked to the front of his desk, leaning down to pick up the discarded scrap of paper. He then tucked it away into his jacket once more. It would have to be burned later. "I'm sending you outside the Wall to take care of…an inconvenience to your plans. Rest assured that this mission I want to send you on won't reach the eyes nor ears of any of the military nobles that command the Guard and the Glaive. This matter is between us only."

Luche's eyes narrowed, his lips pursed as he attempted to hide his disbelief. After a moment of consideration, he finally asked, "And what is it you'd have me do, Sir?"

"A drop point interception. I suggest you take any of your trusted allies with you — once you have them collected, contact me." Saying this, Drautos pat the location on his jacket where the crumpled paper was. "And once you're out at the location, you can use any force necessary… In fact, I encourage it. For hearth and home."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blood coated Aestus' hands and fingers. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping them down as he walked along the now empty halls of the Fenestala Manor. Once they were mostly cleaned up, he dug into his pocket to pull out his identification cards; they were branded with Gralea and Niflheim's crests and coat of arms.

Rubeus Cinis was the name printed across the identification card. That along with whatever vitals that needed to he included. Height. Weight. Eye color. Hair color… All alongside the standard brands and numbers that were assigned to citizens of the nation.

Aestus tossed them carelessly over his shoulder, the plastic cards clattering against the marble floor. No longer were they useful to him. Not with Niflheim already having made its way into Lucian territory — not with Lunafreya already on her way over.

A different pocket buzzed, and Aestus paused, fishing the phone from his breast pocket out and answering it.

"This is Cinis," Aestus answered, idly walking toward one of the stained glass windows and peering beyond it to the best of his ability. The magitek that patrolled the grounds had since been called away.

"Rubeus!" The voice on the other end sounded relieved. "Are you en route to arriving in Insomnia?"

A small huff of air left Aestus' nostrils. Composing himself, he kept his voice low: "I ran into…complications on that front. But there's a second wave heading out. I'll be meeting with Brigadier General Tummelt and departing with his fleet into Lucis."

"Understood. We look forward to receiving you." The line clicked and went dead. Aestus looked down at his phone briefly before he tucked back away into his coat.

"I'm sure you are…" Aestus quietly commented to himself. Looking forward, he continued down the opulent hall, a stoic expression upon his face. With the Fenestala Manor more or less to himself, there were some things that Aestus wanted to see to before he made a call for transportation back to Niflheim. So he traversed the familiar route that led to Stella's old room.

Glancing about, Aestus made sure he truly was alone before he silently opened the door and slipped inside. Stella's room is how he remembered it being: dark and untouched since her death.

Disappearance…

Lunafreya's voice nagged in way of correction at the back of Aestus' mind. Even if he did not believe that Stella was around any longer, Lunafreya's insistence that Stella was still somewhere out there clawed its way through his memories. Perhaps it was better to hold onto that hope…he had come to that conclusion after all. Aestus was certain Lunafreya only said as such to have some glimmer of hope in this 'gilded cage' — as she so called it. Not that she was wrong, of course…

Aestus walked through the room, his light footsteps further muffled by the blue and white floral rug that spanned a large portion of the room. He refused to draw the drapes from over the stained glass windows to let in more light, instead pulling his phone out again to use the torch it provided. With the beam of light guiding his way, Aestus walked over to the desk that sat all by itself a couple paces away from the bed. Reaching under the hollow that allowed for someone to sit at it, his fingers trailed over the wood until he felt a latch.

Pressing it firmly, something soon popped open, its sound dull within the desk. Once Aestus heard it, he knelt down to look under the hollow to find the newly opened compartment. There were envelopes and pictures nestled within — items ferried to him thanks to the aid of Lunafreya and her divine messengers. Tucking some of the smaller items away, it was only when Aestus got to an unmarked envelope that he opted to ignore after receiving it earlier that week.

He tore it open and pulled out the paper within.

Spade,

The sky will shatter above all, though you probably knew this. The deer will need to flee…but none of them are ready to become the wolf. They are but fawns; if only they could keep their camouflage.

The sun's light will dim soon. With it, the world. It falls to a select few to continue to light the way. The wolf included.

A wolf must not snap its jaws at the bird that is to come.

A hastily written message, Aestus realized. His brow furrowed before he sighed irritably and crumpled both message and envelope in his hand. After a moment, flames licked at his palm, eating the paper within till it became nothing but ash. Letting it fall to the ground, Aestus lightly clapped his hands together to rid himself of the residue before taking his leave of the room and turning off his phone's torch.

It was time to call for transportation and prepare for the return to Lucis…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Babysitting was not what Libertus liked doing. On one hand, the passenger he was chauffeuring was quiet. On the other hand, the passenger he was chauffeuring was quiet.

Libertus glanced up into the rear view mirror, looking at the woman who sat in the back of the car — Primam Chorus, her name was. He knew the Chorus twins — knew that they were nobles that were made to serve in the Glaive at any rate. He was as confused as any of those that were in his station. Hell, he bet even Drautos was confused about why her and her noble twin brother were serving alongside outsiders to Insomnia.

He could ask, he supposed.

"So, uh…" Libertus started. "Why's it you and your brother were put into the Glaive?"

"Huh?" Primam looked up from leaning against the window and staring idly out. She shook her head, and her voice soon came out, hesitant in nature: "Oh…it's… Our mother, she…"

Libertus restrained his sigh of impatience as silence filled the air between them.

"… Sorry, it's…" Primam continued. "It's a little bit of a touchy subject, but I guess…it's… I guess it's not as touchy as anything you've been through beyond the Wall."

"We ain't playin' any tragic backstory competition."

Primam managed a small scoff of amusement. That was a kind of victory on Libertus' behalf — he would take that much.

"My mother thought it best that my brother and I serve as Glaive because… Well, because of our ancestry. House Chorus saw ennoblement through a Galahdian trader who was skilled in combat and gave his loyalty to the king at the time," Primam briefly explained. "So…our mother said we should…serve alongside those who we should see as our kin."

"Huh…" Libertus' brow furrowed slightly. He glanced up at the rear view mirror again. "Sounds pretty harsh as far as nobility is concerned. Ain't you the ones who usually end up servin' the king?"

A wry laugh left Primam's lips. "I suppose my mother doesn't make a habit of visiting the Glaive… Nothing seems to be 'too harsh' for her." She shook her head. "But yes… Many of us do usually end up becoming Crownsguard. My brother and I had sent in our applications after our schooling had concluded. Though I… I had put in a request to…also pursue college courses at UIC."

That must have been part of the 'touchy subject' with how Primam's tone shifted.

"University of Insomnia City, huh?" Libertus kept his eyes on the road, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. He felt a pang of familiarity for the situation. "Shouldn't be surprised you had somethin' nice goin' for ya. Sorry it didn't end up workin' out."

"Thanks…" Primam replied, looking back out the window.

[rulettebitch]

A part of us

Once, you and Charles Xavier were everything to each other—now, he’s a ghost at your door, stirring old wounds. But Logan’s words, raw and real, confessed a truth you couldn’t ignore. Torn between betrayal and confession, who do you choose when your heart is split in two? (This is Charles Xavier x Reader x Wolverine fanfic, with multiple endings)

... │Chap 7 │ Chap 8│ Chap 9 │Chap 10 │Chap 11 │...

Chapter 10

It felt good to be on a mission again. But what was even better? The way heads turned when you walked past. It was a little trick Charles had taught you long ago—the art of seduction, or rather, how it felt. All it took was a little cleavage, a lingering gaze, and just a hint of your mutation to make their hearts flutter, their brains foggy, as if love itself had brushed by them. It was a trick you’d mastered well. 

Oxytocin and oxygen—two things that felt oddly parallel. One you needed to live, the other to love. And you were damn good at manipulating both.

You reached the security room without issue. Luck was on your side—they were too busy searching for some lost intern to pay you much attention. And with just the right amount of wide-eyed innocence, you played the part. They showed you around, left you at a desk, and within seconds, you settled in.

Once they left, you got comfortable and started flipping through the camera feeds, zeroing in on the ones that mattered. It was almost too easy, and trouble seemed miles away. So easy, in fact, that you got bored. To pass the time, you started sketching a little map of the building’s layout, just in case. You never knew when it might come in handy.

Then, out of nowhere, someone barked, “Newbie, get me a coffee.”

Shit.

You barely spared the man a glance before slipping away, weaving between desks as fast as you could. The coffee machine felt agonizingly slow. By the time you rushed back with the cup, your pulse was hammering. You dropped it in front of him and spun back to the monitors.

But they were gone.

Panic flared in your chest as your fingers flew over the controls. Then, you spotted movement—armed guards, gathering near the kitchen, weapons raised.

You bolted out of the security room, grateful for the little map you’d doodled earlier. But when you reached the kitchen, the doors were already open. 

No time to think.

You took their breath away. Literally. Their lungs emptied in an instant, their bodies collapsing to the ground before they could fire a single shot. The silence that followed was deafening.

Charles.

You turned to him, searching his face, fearing you’d been too late. But the bullets—

They hung in the air, frozen in place, just inches away from their targets. And then they were gone, scattered harmlessly to the floor. Peter stood at the center of it all, grinning, his hair even messier than before.

The bullets veered off course, missing their targets completely. Peter was there, grinning like a madman, his hair a mess from moving at lightning speed. In a matter of seconds, he’d redirected every bullet, saving the day. You were still reeling, your heart pounding, when Charles rushed everyone toward the door, pulling you into his arms. He slammed the door shut and turned to you, his voice calm but urgent.

“Man, that was close.”

Charles wasted no time. “Move.”

He ushered everyone toward the exit, one hand pressing against your back. You barely registered the contact. Your eyes flickered back to the unconscious guards, the ones you had nearly—

“Now.”

At Charles’s command, you released them, letting their lungs fill again, bringing them back to life.

All but one.

One of them didn’t move.

The breath caught in your throat as you stared at the still body, willing him to wake. He didn’t. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

You had killed him. You’d killed someone. The realization hit you.

Not an enemy. Not some monster. Just a man. A worker, doing his job. And with a single thought, you had taken his life. It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just doing his job, an innocent man caught in the crossfire. And you’d taken his life in an instant.

What had felt like a game—a skill, a trick—had turned into something else. Something lethal. Just as Charles had warned you.

The room spun. Your vision blurred, your legs gave out, and the world went dark. The last thing you felt was strong arms catching you before the darkness took over.

[ki-pulse]

    A storm is coming. Adams can smell petrichor on the air that lifts his hair and ripples the pond below the shrine. He keeps a hand cupped around the kodama balanced on the red banister in case the breeze picks up. He doesn't think the koi will eat it, but better to be safe than sorry.

    Don't they say that scent is the sense most tied to memory? Rain invokes a multitude of emotions, and tonight it brings nostalgia.

    The breastplate felt strange to him, so the blacksmith's reaction was little surprise. Her remaining eye nearly bugged out of her head, lips parted in shock. She rubbed her soot-stained hands raw on her hakama before taking it from him, cradling it with reverence. "Anjin," she said, "Where did you find this?"

    From the side of the road, like many of the things he'd gathered over the years. He'd paused just enough to grab it before catching up with Hanzo. It was a long march from Osaka.

    "This is...powerful," the blacksmith said, "Touched. Graced. I don't know how else to describe it." She called to the back of the forge. "Grampa?"

    The old man emerged, lifted bushy eyebrows, and once everyone had settled down, told the story of Susanoo.

    When he finished, though William considered himself a samurai in soul, it was a pirate who had one question: can I make it mine?

    The blacksmith looked between the plate and the one he wore and measured the potential for blasphemy with the challenge to her skill. The gleam in her eye made him unclasp his armor without hesitation.

    It took her three days, but whatever she'd done had worked. The breastplate was the both the same and different, both young and old. It bore the scars of sword swipes and bullet grazes, yet it had no memory of receiving them. Wearing it felt unfamiliar, but that would change, he knew. He felt good. Strong. Ready to face the depths of an inverted temple and the Spanish ninja weaving dark machinations in its heart.

    The kodama tugs on his finger, breaking him from his reverie. The storm has indeed arrived. A forest of water falls from the sky, yet so unmoored from reality was he, went completely unnoticed. He's soaked to the bone, hair and clothing weighed down like solid iron. He could care less.

    A voice speaks on the wind. Of course we remember who you were, it says, He walks amongst us still.

    William gathers the grateful kodama in his hands, shelters it close to his chest. He spares a glance at the pond, but its surface is obliterated by the rain.

    He doesn't know who he'd see in his reflection.

[herosplatling-replica]

Sword Theft

General - RD Possession AU, 2707 words (part one)

[ Author's Note: i blacked out and before i knew it i wrote a second part to this. here you go ✌️ ]

The break room was dark, but quickly becoming a homey place. Jay paced back and forth as she added more things to the nest she was constructing, finally beginning to reach a point where she was almost satisfied.

The supervisor took a step back, exhaling as she surveyed her progress. Jay was pleased, but felt it perhaps needed more food. She leaned down to place a few snack bags of chips from the vending machine – someone had broken the glass right in in a fight from what she could tell – and winced at the sting in her shoulders.

She had been trying to ignore the dull pain in her back, but it was becoming more and more insistent, to her dismay.

Jay winced and sucked in her breath through her teeth, trying to shrug off the pain. It felt like there was something rooting around beneath her skin, culminating on the top of her shoulder blades. The pressure felt like when the wings on her head sprouted, and she didn’t like what it implied.

No, focus. This first. Jay shook their head, re-centering their thoughts.

She had been working on the nest, twisting blankets and spare lab coats into a weaving pattern. It had come along nicely, and Jay was pleased with it – but it was still missing something. She wanted to find stuff for her fledglings to defend themselves with if danger came around while she was away.

Weapons. They need weapons, he thought to himself. But what kind? They didn’t exactly have anything particularly dangerous in the hospital, save for-

Oh. The sword wielding duo.

Jay grinned and straightened herself back up, brushing her clawed hands on her pants. She already had snacks and drinks in there, so weapons for self defense was all she needed before she went to go find the interns and retrieved them.

Her back made a dull ring of pain in her shoulders again, and she bit the inside of her lip. Just stay focused. You can do that much, can’t you?

Jay just needed to find one of the two sword wielders, take their blade, and make it back here before anybody noticed. She supposed she should go to check their rooms, since she doubted they would be wandering around with them.

It’s smarter to do it before they hurt anyone with those swords…

Well, better to do it now than later!

The supervisor clapped her clawed hands together, hyping herself up. She doubted that any of the others would come across her nest while she was still preparing it, so it was fine to leave for now. Jay grinned as she stepped out of the break room and closed the door behind her, waiting for the click of the automatic lock to set in.

It locked behind her with a resounding chunk, and Jay sighed in relief. There wouldn’t be any intruders when she got back, hopefully.

From where she had begun making her new little refuge, there was the physiotherapy ward and the SVT ward between her and the sword duo’s room. Jay had a feeling that the others were like her by now, so she kept her guard up as she stepped into the lobby.

“Oh my god she stopped responding, why isn’t she responding?!” She could hear someone say. Jay peeked her head out into one of the halls, spotting Ian running into the plant room. She briefly considered stopping him, before remembering that the birds weren’t in the plant room anymore.

Well, she had more important things to take care of. That being sword theft.

Jay left Ian to it, and proceeded to make her way down the hall. She could see a few blurry shapes that she recognized by silhouette: Cole and Nicole, holding hands with purple growths on their bodies, the trio of kids, though they just seemed off, and, if she squinted, a shape that looked like Ada skipping down the hall with her yo-yo. She couldn’t tell for sure, and briefly regretted not grabbing her glasses.

Just have to play the cards I’m given at this point, Jay thought to herself. She continued to walk down the lobby hallway, half expecting to find the Janitor in one of his usual spots but feeling some strange relief to see he wasn’t there.

Maybe he’s safe. Hopefully he’s safe.

Jay blinked and shook her head. He wouldn’t have anything of value to the nest, so Jay should just keep moving before one of the patients in the hall lunged at her.

She gave Cole and Nicole a wide berth, her head wings spreading out to make herself look bigger. Nicole briefly looked up at her, the barista’s eyes glowing purple and glazed over – but she paid the supervisor no mind.

No point in attacking someone if they’re not actively a threat, Jay assumed. When she was far enough from the two in the hall, her wings settled down and folded back against her head.

The trio of kids were next to stand in her way, and the three of them stared up at her with eerily tight smiles. Now that she was a bit closer, Jay could spot a hazy purple halo behind their heads.

“Back off, no room for more in here,” her mouth moved on its own, and the kids laughed in synchronization that would’ve scared Jay more if it weren’t for the current situation.

“That’s too bad. It’s fun,” the three said at the same time.

“I’m fine, thanks. Go ruin someone else’s day with your ‘fun’.”

Jay picked up speed as she stepped past them, though she kept an eye on the kids until they were out of grabbing distance. She didn’t like the vibe they were putting off.

Just a bit further. Then you can find the others, and keep them safe.

The supervisor sighed to herself as she opened the door to Samurai and Insomniac’s room.

She was immediately met with Samurai, his head wreathed in a crown of purple flame. Jay balked for a second, before realizing he wasn’t moving. It seemed that he was possessed as well.

“Just getting something,” Jay murmured, stepping around him. The Samurai didn’t respond, just standing as still as a statue while the supervisor searched the room.

The possessed Samurai held his sword firmly in his hand – so Jay assumed he wouldn’t give it up without a fight. They were sure they’d lose if they tried right now, anyway. You’ll be a bigger threat later. Get the other sword while you can.

Jay bit the inside of her lip, stepping around him to search the room. She could feel a presence staring at her – likely whatever had Samurai in its clutches. She briefly thought about moving him elsewhere, before thinking better of it.

He’s too heavy to move, and he won’t cooperate. Stubborn thing.

She wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but decided it was better to listen to it. Jay stepped out into the zen garden, finding some dried purple blood – then Insomniac’s sword.

Jackpot.

The supervisor pulled it out of the ground, briefly looking around for the owner. As far as she could tell, Insomniac wasn’t here anyway. There was a smudge or two of blood on the edge of the sword – but nothing that a quick polishing couldn’t fix. Jay tested a swing with it, then held the blade in her dominant hand as she looked back towards the room.

Samurai was staring, watching her silently with those flames dancing above his head.

Creep.

Better not to head out that way anyway. Jay pulled her key card out of her pocket, looking for another way into the hospital from the zen garden. As far as she remembered, there was an alternate path or two.

When Jay looked back up, she saw that Samurai went back to staring at the door of his room. She made a quiet sigh, and went to fiddle with one of the other hospital entrances.

Thankfully, one of them sat open just a crack. She reached for the handle-

And now Jay was wet. She could feel her blood pressure rise as she grumbled, looking up at the ceiling. A bucket of water was tipped over at the top of the doorway, and elsewhere-

“Ohhhh, god, I can’t believe that worked! Pffft! The look on your face was priceless, Jay!”

Yep. Jay’s head wings shook the excess water off, the dampened feathers clinging to each other. The supervisor turned to find Ada, cackling madly as she clutched at her abdomen. Now she was going to have to preen them and wait for them to dry, and-

“Oh WHOA. What’s with the look, Jay? Are you feeling-”

“Don’t,” Jay ground out between her teeth-

“-a little UNDER THE FEATHER?” Paige laughed again, wiping a tear from her eye.

“EUGH.” Despite herself, Jay flapped her head wings threateningly at Ada, scattering droplets of water everywhere. She could see that the doctor had the same purple hue as everyone else in her eyes and her clown nose, so she was just like them. However, Jay found herself a bit annoyed by this. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like keeping that troublemaker on a leash?”

“He’s fiiiiiine, he’s not gonna do anything bad,” Ada waved a hand at her, leaning to pick the bucket back up to refill it. “So the fun police’s here, huh?”

“SOMEBODY has to keep the rowdier bunch of you in line.”

“Boooooo. You should have more fun with things, you never get out anymore.”

What part of this is me, and what part of that is Ada anymore?

The brief feeling – one that felt like dissociation – passed before Jay could think on it further. She had to get back to work, now that she had the weapon for the fledglings to defend themselves if she wasn’t there.

“I have to get back. Don’t get yourself or your vessel killed, will you?” Jay groaned, using her free hand to wipe the water out of her face.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop being such a birden on you now-”

“That one’s not even funny, that one’s just shoving ‘bird’ in the-”

“You’re so hawkward! Jeez! Tough crowd. Toucan play at that game, you know-”

“GOODBYE,” Jay grumbled, stomping off. All she heard in response was Ada honking her clown nose, giggling as she started to set up the bucket over the door again.

Shouldn’t we be more concerned? That’s two of the staff, now-

No, it’s fine. They can have their fun, it doesn’t matter.

Jay bit the inside of her lip, speeding up to head back to the break room. The others out there, they’re more than capable of being hostile. So, it’s up to us to get something safer set up.

Jay’s head felt hazy, but she kept moving. She could catch glimpses of herself in the glass as she passed by the patient rooms, every time feeling slightly off-put by the glow in her eyes. Is that what she looked like? Or was it the concussion?

She tried not to dwell on it.

Eventually she made it back to the break room, having more or less completed a lap around the hospital. She could hear people screaming, others laughing, the whole place in an uproar – but it was fine. She just needed to get this done, and then the next step can start.

Her back ached again, this time a little more insistently. Jay groaned, swiping her keycard through the break room scanner. It unlocked, and she stepped inside.

But then-

“AAH! Wait- Wait, Jay it’s-”

She blinked, and suddenly found herself standing over Ian, the radiologist covering his head as she held the sword in the air. What was I-

She was in the break room. Apparently she hounded Ian into the corner of the room, and he was on the floor fearing for his life.

“Why are you intruding on the nest?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I-Is that what that is?! Why did you-”

“WHY.”

“Eep! I-I was just looking for you, and I lost Ada along the way somewhere, and… and the hospital, everything’s going to hell-”

This one’s not a threat, Jay thought, and backed up, leaving Ian to collapse against the wall heaving to catch his breath. She frowned to herself, trying to find a good spot to put the sword in the nest.

“What happened to you? Are those… real?” She heard Ian ask, shaking like a leaf against the break room wall.

As if to answer him without saying anything, she flapped her head wings once. Ian made a startled noise, and pressed further into the wall.

It’s kind of funny to mess with him, though. I’m finally being taken seriously.

A quiet part of her thoughts told Jay to be nice, but that was quickly set aside when she found a good enough spot. The supervisor held the sword out in front of her with both hands, before burying the point into a corner of the nest that was further away from the door.

“Good enough,” she murmured to herself.

“Jay, look at me-”

She did, and Ian made another startled yelp as she turned her head with her head wings fanned out. “What?”

“I-I… I, um-”

“I’m not going to attack you,” she sighed. “Yet, anyway.”

“Yet?!”

“You’re clean. You’re not a threat. You’re… a doctor, more or less,” Jay mumbled, straightening her spine to loom over him. “Right now, you’re the best shot they have. So, no, I’m not attacking you yet.”

“I don’t th-think that’s as comforting as you think it is,” Ian wheezed out.

Jay grinned in response, the action making Ian sweat. “Trust me, it’s good for now. You can fix all of them, right?”

“I-I… I’m talking to Jay, right?”

That gave her pause. “I- yes. The intern that worked with you, you are speaking to her.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Look, just get to work. They’re going to find you otherwise,” Jay mumbled, reaching for the door again. That got Ian to protest.

“W-wait! Where are you going?! You’re- you’re not going back out there, are you?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I go out there?” She turned back to look at him, not missing the way he flinched. “Aren’t you worried about the fledglings?”

“The- the what?”

“Ugh, I have to be so literal here- the interns, the others?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you Jay, I’ve been running for my life the past 15 minutes,” Ian wheezed, dragging a hand down his face.

The supervisor clicked her tongue at that, which startled Ian. “You’re hopeless sometimes. Go, in the nest, there’s food there. Recover, then get back to it.”

“To- wait, you want me to sit in the..?”

Jay simply shot him a glare, her damp feathers shaking one more time. Ian swallowed thickly and nodded, carefully standing before stepping into the nest.

“Where did you get all of-”

“Good, you CAN follow orders. Stay put. Or don’t, if you feel lucky risking it out here. I’m more worried about the others. I’m sure you can take care of yourself, mm?” She twisted the doorknob, nudging the heavy door open with her foot.

Her back stung again – sharper this time – as she turned back to look at the radiologist, and she didn’t miss the look of horror spreading across his face.

“Jay. Jay, your-”

“See you,” she grinned, shutting the door behind her before he could blubber on about anything else.

Now that that was finished, she could get to the next step of her plan.

She had to find the others.

____________________________

Ian panted as he dug through the nest’s contents, trying to find anything that could potentially help his situation. There was just- just rags and blankets everywhere, discarded trinkets, bags of snack food, bottles of water. Nothing that could help with fending off the possessed, minus the sword that Jay apparently stole.

“Whyyyyy did I have to come into work today?” he groaned into his hands, pressing them into his face.

“Hey! Why so glum, chum?” Ada’s distorted voice rung out, and he opened his eyes to find his coworker’s yo-yo spinning in front of him.

Great.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Technology

From Science, The Machine

Technological innovation has been used to increase efficiency and maximise profits, yes, but also to maintain and optimise the control of bosses over workers (both in and outside the workplace). Where profit and control come into conflict, control is usually prioritised, as a loss of control puts profit — and ultimately the boss class itself — at risk. Today’s technological society dates from the Industrial Revolution and the new sciences of the 17th Century. The old idea of the world as animistic (alive) and organic was discarded. A new abstract science and a model for ruling class order replaced it: the Machine. Order was the predictable behaviour of each part within a rationally determined system of laws. Power came from active human intervention. Order and power came together to make up control: rational control over nature, society and self.

Machines were rarely the reason for setting up the new factories, which were a managerial, not a technical necessity. Those invented in the early years of the Industrial Revolution to replace hand labour did accelerate the development of factories: Arkwright’s Water Frame (1768), Crompton’s Mule (1774), Cartwright’s Power Loom (1784), Watt’s Steam Engine (1785). But most manufacturers did not adopt the ‘most potent’ self-acting tools and machines until they were forced to do so: strikes in Midlands factories led the owners to commission a firm of machinists to construct a self-acting mule at a cost of £13,000, to avoid conceding higher wages. Machinists christened the dreaded new machine patented in 1830 “The Iron Man”. The factory-based organisation of the weaving industry did not develop simply because it was more efficient. Many of the new machines were expensive, and were only developed and introduced after the weavers had been concentrated into the factories, following great resistance.

Much worker resistance took the form of machine breaking. The wrecking of coalmines during widespread rioting in Northumberland in 1740 and frame breaking in the East Midlands hosiery trade are examples. Other workers, particularly the Luddites, opposed both the new machines and the new social relations of production they created. Machines threatened employment and the relative freedom, dignity and kinship of the craft worker. There was also widespread support from other classes, such as farmers, who were threatened by the new agricultural machinery. Between 1811 and 1813 the government was forced to deploy over 12,000 troops to tackle the Luddites: a larger force than Wellington’s army in Spain. The Lancashire machine wreckers of 1778 and 1780 spared spinning jennies of 24 spindles or less (suitable for domestic production), and destroyed larger ones that could be used in factories. Machine breakers won many local conflicts: in Norfolk they succeeded in keeping up wages for a number of years. Wrecking destroyed John Kay’s house in 1753, Hargreave’s spinning jennies in 1768, Arkwright’s mills in 1776. During the widespread spinning strikes of 1818, shuttles were locked in chapels and workshops in Manchester, Barnsley, Bolton and other towns. The Luddites were eventually defeated by the gathering political momentum of industrial capitalism, supported by strong military force and technological advance, which changed the composition of the labour force. For instance, the length of spinning mules was increased to reduce the number of workers required, displacing adult spinners and increasing the number of assistants, especially children; these changes were made despite being very costly. “A new generation had (now) grown up which was inured to the discipline and precision of the mill”.

[garaksapprentice]

Review: the Daedalus Falcon e-spinner

Originally posted on my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2023/09/review-daedalus-falcon-e-spinner.html

(There's a ton of photos in this one and much as I love you all, I cannot brain moving them all over here. So if you want all the pics, please check the blog.)

I confess, this is a departure from my usual "let's do things with the least amount of money we can get away with" style. In my defence, I strive to be frugal rather than cheap. I don't mind spending the money to get a good quality, durable product, if it's something I know will get a lot of use. An e-spinner definitely fits that category for me, for several reasons.

One, I fall well on the frog hair end of the spinning spectrum, something most traditional wheels just aren't designed to accommodate. I actually found it faster (and easier on my legs) to use a spindle for the kinds of fine, high-twist yarns I prefer to spin. But, there are limits to how fine I can comfortably go on a spindle - anything past about 50 WPI and I have to concentrate just on the spinning. Not good when you typically use a spindle on the go.

Two, I have a lingering knee injury that doesn't like the treadle action of most spinning wheels (something I find hilariously frustrating given I ride a cargo bike anywhere I can't take the train).

Three, I spin mostly to weave. Much as I love spinning, I like it to end eventually so I can move onto the weaving part of the equation.

After three straight months of research, the Daedalus Falcon came out as the hands-down winner for my goals of speed, fine yarn, and product durability.

Why Daedalus?

Daedalus manufacture high-end e-spinners and spinning accessories. All their products are designed to need little to no maintenance, and to last 20+ years - they're seriously well put together.

They make five different e-spinners to suit just about any spinning preference, from super bulky art yarn to ultra fine frog hair. The Falcon is specifically designed for production spinning of fine yarns - it can reach speeds of 4,200 RPM, over twice what I could get from my Ashford Traditional wheel.

Ordering

I'll be honest, I spent a long time thinking about which model, and whether to order a Daedalus at all. These beauties are high-performance machines built to last. But, that means they come with the price tag of a high-performance machine. Plus currency exchange. Plus postage. (Yikes.) In all, I spent just under AU$2,000 on my Falcon set-up (I ordered three extra bobbins at US$90 and some yarn control cards for US$24).

At the time I ordered (November 2022), there was an estimated wait time of 12 months or more. Luckily for me, if not my bank account, Daedalus expanded their production capacity over the 2022 Christmas break. I reached the front of the Falcon queue in June 2023 (seven months from sign-up). At the time of writing (September 2023) there is no queue for the Falcon, and the Daedalus team are working to banish their waitlists completely.

The package

My Falcon came party disassembled, cradled in bubble wrap. (I wasn't thinking about writing a review when I ordered it, so I didn't take pictures.) The flyer assembly was individually wrapped for transport, as were the speed controller, inverter, cables, and welcome pack/spares bag.

The inverter is a standard laptop style pack. It comes with a US-ended jug plug, but that's easy to change out for whatever your local plug end is. I dove into my box of spare cables and leads and had a compatible jug plug in less than two minutes. If you don't have a box of old computer cords lying around, what century did you time travel from plan ahead and buy a new one.

Importantly, the inverter outputs 15 volts! Make absolutely sure that you've got the right one when you go to spin! Most laptops nowadays run on 20 volts - you don't want to damage the motor by running it faster than it's designed for.

{pic on blog}

The extension cable for the speed controller, and the power end on the motor itself, is some non-standard end that I've never seen before. (It's probably very common among people who know things about electronics; I'm not one of them.) It's similar to USB-A connectors in that the ends are directional; if you don't get them the right way up, they won't connect. The cord itself has a protective, braided outer and feels very sturdy.

From top to bottom: the outside of both ends, the female end, and the male end.

The Instructions

The guidebook (also available as a PDF on their website) is beautifully designed, and clearly written. The parts diagrams are clearly photographed and labelled. I've found the instructions easy to follow, even with a scattered brain.

It includes:

getting started

fine tuning the tension

how to use the speed controller

a page of "handy tips"

how to change the bobbin

an RPM speed table

changing settings in the speed controller menu

maintenance

flat packing for travel

the Daedalus battery (purchased separately)

Daedalus' social media and contact details

The first page has a QR code that takes you directly to the Daedalus YouTube channel, where you can find videos on how to assemble and disassemble each model. My one quibble here is that the QR code takes you to the channel as a whole, rather than to the specific playlist for the model you bought. The videos themselves are short, to the point, and well shot with clear lighting and narration.

Also, the manual states that the speed controller has been limited to 50% max speed in the settings - mine wasn't. I've seen other folks on social media also say their controller wasn't speed limited for this model, so it's something to watch out for.

About that battery

Daedalus offer a battery bank that's designed to work with all their e-spinners (yay!). Unfortunately, due to issues with postage, they don't mail them outside the continental US (boo!).

While their website does say that they'll help you find a compatible battery that you can purchase in your country, this is complicated by the part where all their stuff runs on 15 volts. In Australia at least, 15v battery banks with a standard laptop cable input simply don't exist. I spent six weeks trying to find somewhere to buy a battery - I eventually gave up due to my brain frying any time I tried to look at listings.

While I'd like the option of a battery eventually (it would be much easier to set up in the back yard that way), for now I've made peace with needing to lug extension cords anywhere I want to spin.

Spinning Experience

So far I've only spun commercially prepared wools, so this won't be a thorough review of the Falcon's performance over a variety of fibres and preps. (I'll attempt that later, when I get the chance. And finer wool cards.)

Noise

It's quiet. Really quiet. At least two people at every guild meeting I've taken it to have commented on how quiet it is. Most of the noise comes from the flyer rotation, and considerably less from the motor. I'm quite sensitive to noise, especially higher pitches, so I was concerned about this. Luckily it hasn't been an issue. (If you're the sort of person who can hear electricity, it may bother you. I've lost that mysterious ability as I've aged, for the most part, so I can't say for sure.)

I have noticed that the noise changes/gets louder at speeds above about 70% - again, this is simply due to the fact that the flyer is turning at ~3,000+ RPM. At worst I have to turn the laptop up slightly to better hear the video I have playing. The breeze off the flyer sure helps with air circulation on a warm day, too.

Threading

The size of the hooks (loops, really) and the inner part of the orifice make threading a breeze. I do occasionally struggle with very fine, high twist threads, especially when I'm rethreading after a break. That's partly finding the right angle to hold the thread at so that it catches in the hook, and partly my fingers not always co-operating.This is the position I find works best for threading the orifice.

I wouldn't want to try it with a non-Daedalus orifice hook, though - there's quite a bend in the hook, and it's there for good reason. Luckily the Falcon body has magnets on it to always keep your hook nearby.

The magnets + hook combo is great for holding the end of the thread when you're not spinning, too. I just wrap it around the middle of the hook a few times and stick it back on the magnets.

Take-up and tensioning

The take-up is wonderfully light, and can be ridiculously fine-tuned to match what you're spinning. When take-up drops below an acceptable level (once or twice per layer of bobbin filling), a tiny adjustment (less than a quarter turn) is usually enough to get things back on track.

I've filled four part-bobbins so far (two I'm still working on, one I ran out of fibre), at ~65 WPI, 45 WPI, and ~85 WPI. On each empty bobbin, I started with the spring completely compressed and the cord just barely tight/without slack. It took a few minutes of trial and error with each fibre to dial in the correct tension, but once I did, it was basically hassle-free for each spinning session thereafter.

That being said - I found correct tensioning quite tricky to dial in at first, because the hook and dial had shifted on their arms during shipping. If you put your wheel in something to travel with and find the tension is all screwy next time you go to spin, that's something to look at.

This circumstance isn't covered in the guide book, so it took me a while to work out why my "maximum tension" on the dial still wasn't enough to draw on the yarn I was spinning (it only became apparent about a third into the bobbin). Once I realised that the tension dial had rotated on the shaft in transport, I was able to reset it by simply rotating it back to a more vertical position.

{pic on blog}

This is an extreme example, but both the tension dial and the spring hook opposite it can rotate like this if you're not careful.

Starting/Stopping

At first I didn't think I'd need the foot pedal extension cord - surely I'd just be able to bop the controller on and off with my hand while I was spinning?

I was quickly disabused of this notion partway through my second bobbin. When things go wrong while spinning a 60 WPI single at 2,500 RPM, they go wrong fast. Being able to turn the Falcon off with my foot, while frantically trying to salvage whatever's gone wrong, is essential.

A really nice bonus to the foot pedal is that I'm not stuck in one position while spinning - I can sit, stand, rock from side to side, even crouch or kneel. I have back and shoulder problems and an old knee injury, so being able to freely change posture is a godsend for keeping my muscles happy.

And the soft stop/start - oh. my. Dog. I did not realise how much nicer my wheel spinning life could be. A soft stop is built in to spindle spinning by default, and I genuinely didn't realise how much I missed that on a wheel until I started spinning on the Falcon. I sing its praises whenever the thread breaks - the end stays loose and easy to find on top of the bobbin. No matter how gently I tried to stop my treadle wheel, more often than not the thread end would be buried somewhere in the hills and valleys on the bobbin, and there would be much swearing during retrieval.

Bobbin size

Daedalus advertises the Falcon bobbin as holding "two ounces (60 g) of 30 WPI singles". After plying a couple of bobbins of sock yarn with it, I would call this a conservative estimate. I managed to fit 70g of a 32 WPI, two-ply yarn on one bobbin - and it wasn't even well packed!

I've included a couple of in-progress bobbin shots, and what the singles on them currently measure/weight, below. None of them are even close to full, unfortunately - this is the order I spun them in, and right now I need to concentrate on the last one since it's due by December.

{pics on blog}

Sliver from Bendigo Woollen Mills. ~75 WPI, 31g. 19.5 micron merino top from Nundle Farms. ~82 WPI, 29g.  Handpainted 20 micron merino from Kathy's Fibres, ~82 WPI, 12g.

Final thoughts

This powerhouse is not for everyone. It's made for a specific purpose, and it fulfils that purpose beautifully. But it would probably suck at doing things it's not designed for.

While I'm sure you could spin 20 WPI or even 10 WPI singles with it, it won't do the job as well as an e-spinner designed for that. The other Daedalus offerings are worth a look, if you're not as into spinning frog hair as me.

But if you have a deep, abiding love for spinning lace-weight and finer yarns, this is an e-spinner worth looking at. Expensive though it was, it's one of the best fibre-related purchases I've made. (It easily beats the sewing machine and the overlocker combined.)

I'm definitely an outlier here - I have the not-at-all-typical goal of one day having a completely hand-spun, handwoven, and hand-sewn wardrobe. As such, production spinning is my jam - I want fine, high-twist yarns, that commercial mills simply can't replicate. And I want them as fast as my skills will let me go. With that in mind, the Falcon makes complete sense for my spinning goals.

Obligatory disclaimer: I'm not affiliated with Daedalus, and this post isn't sponsored (not that I'm against that, mind. This apprentice has to eat). All opinions are my own.

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

You should actually be beautiful, and demure, and barefoot (...) For every "beautiful demure barefoot" day

I really wish women would understand teh barefoot part as the threat it is

It is not a promis, Ladies it's a curse ... a declaration of war

You know where barefoot and pregant comes from?

Linen looms

Those looms had foot pedals and becasue most peopel wore wooden shoes you had to take them off to use the foodt pedals (same for things liek the spinning wheel, you take of your shoe so you have better contro overteh machine)

barefoot means

Every second of your finite life you aren't cooking or cleaning or nursing or giving birth or weeding teh garden or mucking out teh stable or feeding teh animals or rearing the children or teaching teh children or spinning threat or sowing new clothe or darning socks etc ...

You are sitting at teh loom and weave your live away

YOU GET NO SPARE TIME

The alt-right's foothold into Gen-Z is frustrating and I can see from over here how they're doing it.

You've got a generation of young-adults who are learning to be adults for the first time and for so many of them it sucks. It sucks to be in your first shitty apartment where things break, and to have your first shitty car that needs maintenance, and to be working a low-paying service or retail job where you get berated all day and barely scrape by. And you go home and you have taxes to figure out and electric bills to figure out and a screen on your phone to rot into to destress.

And this is men and women, equally, in this spot. But the alt-right messaging gets to tailor their approach to gender.

And hey women, yes you working a shitty job for shitty pay, overwhelmed by financial responsibilities and car repairs, what if you actually didn't need to do ANY of that? You don't need to. And you don't need to feel guilty about it. (You're not quitting, you're not being lazy), you actually are just embracing the chance to be exactly who an ideal woman should be. You should actually be beautiful, and demure, and barefoot in a sunny kitchen, glowing, pregnant, hearing the joyful sounds of your children while you bake a roast for your wonderful husband (strong, protective, loves you, handles the finances, handles the jobs, handles all the things you hate). OUR ancestors (don't mind the dogwhistle) did this for GENERATIONS, and modern society has failed you instead!

It's offering to break women out of all the parts of their real life that suck, and do it in a way that promises they're actually being better, being more admirable, more moral, more respectable, more correct, can feel good about, can feel proud about, as a Woman as Feminine as Mother as Goddess.

And the thing being promised does not need to actually reflect reality. It's a fantasy. It is not real. For every "beautiful demure barefoot" day, you'd be having another one covered in shit changing diapers of screaming infants with screaming children while your husband ignores you because it's Women's Work (take pride!) But that doesn't matter. It just needs to sound better than the reality they're living.

Then the men are targeted too. And it's the same in that it's getting to them by appealing to pride in their gender, but the messaging is different. It's "those finances are hard but ACTUALLY you're leveling up, you're grinding, you're finance maxing." It's hard but it's the kind of hard that is a challenge you can WIN at, boast about, post about, prove your manliness. Knowing cars, knowing home repairs, knowing taxes, that's your MAN pride, and you are so elite, you are so sigma, you are the envy of everyone, you are a masculine man. Women love you. Women will defer to you. Strong, respected, moral, loyal, unshakeable. Unlike those pansy men (mind the homophobic dogwhistling) who will whimper and cry like girls. You are better.

The shitty retail job is actually humble beginnings because you're minmaxing your way to financial success (bitcoin, crypto, investments). You can sleep with any woman you want as long as you're confident, and then you'll find one who understands how smart and confident and strong and protective you are and she will defer to you as her man. She will birth your children and teach them good morals and you will make it. Our ancestors lived this way for generations (dogwhistle) and modern society took it from you.

And with that messaging it makes it clear who the enemy in all this is - modern society that has convinced women to torture themselves with high education and terrible jobs, turned them Ugly with Ugly opinions and bad hair and nasty attitudes, yelping about "rights" and "equality" (pitting them against men! TAKING things from men!) All the while, society has been trying to emasculate men--replace them with women, make them soft and emotional, make them gay, make them WEAK. We've been made WEAK.

The naive women hearing this go "I'm not ugly! I don't hate men! I DO hate my job and my finances. I've been tricked. I'm actually rebelling by declaring my goal is to get a Perfect (White) (Christian) moral husband who will make all our decisions and protect me and our children." (And when she's financially trapped in an abusive marriage...? When she's suicidal with PPD but her husband won't touch that because it's Woman Hysteria...? And when her husband leaves her for someone who was as hot as she was 20 years ago and now she's figuring out finances, health care, taxes, bank accounts for the first time in her life...?)

And the men go "They've been TAKING things from us for too long! It's time to be men again! It's time to take pride! I am strong and confident. I am in charge! I never show weakness!" (And when he's got a gun to his head due to the depression he's never been allowed to talk about as Women Feelings...? And when he's financially ruined from a crypto scheme that stroked his ego and robbed him blind...? And when he's dead from alcohol poisoning and none of his adult children notice because no one's spoken to 'Dad' in 15 years...?)

And it's so hard to fight because you're arguing against a fantasy. How do you disprove their fantasy? It's so hard to explain to them, hey you're working a shitty job where you have no future because the rich bastards took it all from you. And now you're doing their work for them. You hate society because of what they've done to it and now you're doing their work. Now you're targeting groups who've never done anything to harm you and the guys responsible are laughing to the bank. How do you explain? How do you disprove fantasy?

[aldiraweavetech]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Budgeting for a Rapier Jacquard Machine

In the textile manufacturing industry, very often a competitive environment bears upon the decision of which weaving technology to invest in. Rapier Jacquard machines have been characterised as the fastest and most versatile of all weaving solutions and are considered the most advanced. Speed, precision, and the ability to create highly complex designs make it a winning machine among a new set of textile entrepreneurs, taking their designs one step further beyond its efficiency. 

One needs a heavy investment to purchase a Rapier Jacquard machine; hence, careful budgeting is a must. This blog describes step-by-step how budgeting for a Rapier Jacquard Machine should take place, touching upon why working with a reliable Rapier Loom Machine Manufacturer in Surat, like Weavetech, makes a world of difference.

Step 1: Understand Your Production Requirements

Before setting a budget, analyze your business needs. Ask yourself:

What type of fabrics will I produce?

How many meters of fabric do I need per day?

Do I require basic patterns or complex jacquard designs?

What width and GSM (grams per square meter) are ideal?

Understanding these requirements helps you choose a model that matches your capacity goals, reducing the risk of overspending or underutilizing the machine.

Step 2: Research the Cost Range

The cost of a Rapier Jacquard Machine can vary significantly based on factors such as:

Weaving width (e.g., 170 cm, 190 cm, 360 cm)

Number of jacquard hooks

Automation level (fully or semi-automatic)

Speed and control features

Brand and after-sales service

Estimated 2025 prices for custom Rapier Jacquard Machines may range from ₹10 lakh to ₹35 lakh, depending on configuration and features. Manufacturers of Rapier Loom Machines in Surat like Weavetech provide custom solutions with flexible pricing suited for every range of textile operations.

Step 3: Calculate Additional Costs

Your machine budget shouldn't just include the base price. Consider these extra expenses:

a. Installation and Commissioning

Most manufacturers offer professional installation and machine setup, which might incur additional charges.

b. Accessories and Spare Parts

Include costs for:

Jacquard cards

Heald frames and warp beams

Lubrication systems and belts

c. Operator Training

Training your machine operators ensures better productivity and fewer breakdowns. Weavetech offers complete training support as part of our value-added services.

d. Maintenance & Service

Plan for periodic maintenance, including spare parts and service visits.

Step 4: Explore Financing Options

Not every business can afford an upfront payment. That’s why many loom manufacturers offer:

EMI-based purchase plans

Leasing options

Tie-ups with finance companies

Government subsidies for textile units

Weavetech works with several financial partners to help you make cost-effective decisions while reducing the financial burden of your machinery upgrade.

Step 5: Compare Multiple Manufacturers

It’s essential to compare machine specifications, pricing, service support, and performance guarantees across different brands. Look for manufacturers with:

Proven experience in the weaving industry

Positive client testimonials

Robust R&D and innovation

Nationwide service network

Weavetech is one of the leading Rapier Loom Machine manufacturers in Surat, which has made a mark in supplying state-of-the-art weaving solutions that require little maintenance and conserve energy for the textile industries to be handled smoothly throughout India and outside.

Step 6: Evaluate Long-Term ROI

Instead of just thinking about the purchase price, consider:

How much fabric output will the machine deliver?

Will it reduce manual errors and rework?

How many years will the machine serve your production?

What are the energy savings compared to older models?

Investing in high-quality machines from reputed brands like Weavetech ensures you get superior durability and performance, resulting in a better return on investment.

Step 7: Plan for Space and Utilities

Don’t forget infrastructure costs when budgeting:

Factory floor space: Ensure your unit has enough room for installation and fabric movement.

Electricity: High-speed Rapier Jacquard Machines need stable 3-phase power.

Air compressors (if required) and proper lighting.

Your budgeting plan must include these essentials to avoid hidden expenses.

Why Choose Weavetech?

If you’re looking for a Rapier Loom Machine Manufacturer in Surat, Weavetech is the name you can trust. Here’s why:

Tailored Solutions – Machines built to match your production capacity

Robust Engineering – Low maintenance and long-life performance

End-to-End Support – From installation to operator training

Affordable Pricing – With flexible EMI and financing options

Customer-first Approach – On-time delivery and dependable service

With years of experience and concentrating on continuous innovations, Weavetech empowers textile manufacturers with weaving machinery that has been built for the future.

Budgeting for a Rapier Jacquard Machine is nothing but a quintessential strategy that could act as a turning point in the fate of a textile business. A well-planned budget, along with a proper manufacturing partner, would pave the way to the parallel run of high productivity and premium fabric quality, and of course, long-term profit.

Let Weavetech, probably the leading Rapier Loom Machine Manufacturer in Surat, help take that leap with you. Connect with us today to get a custom quote and step into the age of smart textile weaving.

Blog Source -- A Step-by-Step Guide to Budgeting for a Rapier Jacquard Machine

[lumin-au]

JapanQuest 2025 Day 4: Act 2 - Bingo!

Nishiki Market was our planned final Kyoto stop. Sweet potato crisps. Thin, salty, and dusted with icing sugar. It was a good start. However, many of the stalls seemed overpriced. We discussed and came to a conclusion. If we were going to spend money, we might as well sit down for a proper meal.

Sali found a yakitori place on Google Maps. 5 minutes away. We look around at the location but found out it had since moved. The second option was another 7 minute walk. Drats. Fully booked. The third, only 2 minutes away. A place called Bingo. Seemed open and a few spare seats. I was looking forward to some Yakitori.

I slid the door open.

A pink-haired woman with high pigtails popped out from seemingly out of nowhere, dressed like a J-Pop punk rocker. She spoke quickly but kindly, her words sharp and efficient.

“No reservation?” No.

“No English menu?” Uhh… That's fine. (We had Google Translate. How hard can it be?)

“No vegan or vegetarian options?” Not a problem.

“Need to leave by 7:30pm. 90 minutes okay?” Easy.

She nodded and waved us forward.

We squeezed through a narrow sliding door, our seats barely having 10 centimeters of space. J-rock blared in the background. The entire place filled with high energy. Two chefs and the pink-haired waitress moved at an impossible speed, weaving around each other like parts of a well-oiled machine.  That’s when we realized. This wasn't just any restaurant. This wasn’t a yakitori joint. This was something else entirely. We've found ourself in a Izakaya.

One of the chefs, a woman in a bright yellow shirt, turned to us. Her eyes sharp, movements fluid.

“Special set menu?” she asked.

We barely had time to think. “Uh… sure.”

“Drink?”

“Cola.”

“Two?”

Before we could even nod, her hands blurred. No—multiplied. One moment, she had two. The next, four. Ice. Cups. Drinks. Slammed onto the table before we could even reach for them. And before we could finish pouring our drinks—

“Sashimi?”

We hesitated. Raw fish? Definitely outside our comfort zone.

“Uh… sure.”

BAM. A plate appeared before us, delicate slices of fish arranged like artwork.

We exchanged glances. Then, cautiously, we tried it. It was cold, smooth—melting on our tongues. Completely unexpected. We looked at each other in surprise. Before we could even process it—

“Unagi tamago?”

We barely understood what she said before another dish slid in front of us. Eel wrapped in a soft, golden omelet. Well, if we’d already gone this far…

We took a bite. The warm, silky egg wrapped around the rich, flavorful eel. Somehow, it was just as good as the sashimi.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Something fast, darting between the customers and the fryers. A man in a black-and-pink floral shirt, moving like liquid electricity. He barely glanced at the fryer as he flipped ingredients in, and somehow, each one landed perfectly. His hands sparked bolts of lightning as the oil sparked and bubbled in front of him.

Sali and I kept looking at each other, overwhelmed. This wasn’t just a meal. This was a performance.

Meanwhile, the woman in yellow wasn’t slowing down. If anything, she was speeding up. Her hands. Now six, maybe eight. Moving at an inhuman pace, preparing the next dish before we’d even finished what was in front of us.

A plate of golden spring rolls slid toward us. We took a bite. Crispy, with smoky, spicy chorizo inside. An unexpected combination. Absolutely divine.

J-rock continued to pound in the background. The restaurant buzzed with energy.

Her 8 hands continued to shift into a blur as another dish appeared in front of us. She didn't stop. She started preparing dessert for another batch of customers. Thin cucumber slices embedded inside a piece of fish. The sheer craftsmanship alone made me take a bite. Not for me, but damn, I had to respect the skill.

(I could not get a pick of most of the food as everything was so fast paced. This one is sadly not from the restaurant but resembles what she made.)

At that moment, I caught sight of the electric chef again. He was leaning down, slicing beef tongue with smooth precision. His shoulder held a phone to his ear as he was having a fast paced conversation. Was he booking a reservation while cooking?

His lightning fingers crackled with energy, the knife gleaming with the shock singing and cooking the meat as he cut. Then, in one fluid motion, he threw the meat like a frisbee. The lightning dissapated and it landed perfectly in front of us. Hot, pink, and glistening.

We barely hesitated. One bite, and it melted in our mouths. Hearty and flavourful. Not at all chewy as we would have expected.

The chaos of the izakaya wrapped around us. Flashing hands, sizzling oil, lightning dancing between fingertips. Time blurred. Dishes came and went before we could even react.

I had to capture this moment. "Photo?" I asked.

All three of them turned in unison, smiling and looking at each other like they knew something I didn't. “Of course!”

I snapped the picture. I looked at the photo. Their energy was the same. Their expressions. But the lightning and multiplied arms were gone.

I stared at the screen, then at them.

I know what I saw but I feel like it was impossible to capture the feeling. You had to be there.

We paid, thanked them excessively, and stepped outside. As we were leaving, the pink-haired waitress jumped out, holding a massive jar of candies.

"Pick one!"

I reached in and grabbed a butterscotch.

"Ooooh, good pick!" she grinned. "Thank you for eating at Bingo! And welcome to Japan!"

She winked and waved as we walked away, still in a daze.

Maybe it was the full belly. Maybe the adrenaline. Maybe the ibuprofen finally kicking in.

But the 35-minute walk back to the station felt effortless. For the first time all day, my feet didn’t hurt.

At Lawson’s, Sali picked up a mitarashi ice cream ball. Sweet chocolate ice cream with soy sauce in the center. A bit odd, but she liked it.

I just needed water.

Back at the apartment, we collapsed onto the bed.

Eighty kilometers walked this week. Tomorrow, we return to Tokyo for some well-earned rest.

[aqeelindustriesonline]

Dobby Machine Manufacturer in India - Aqeel Industries

Aqeel Industries is a well-established name in the textile industry, recognized for its high-quality and innovative solutions. As a leading Dobby Machine manufacturer in India, the company has earned a reputation for delivering durable, efficient, and advanced weaving technology to meet the growing demands of the textile sector.

What is a Dobby Machine?

A Dobby machine is a key component in the weaving process, used to control the lifting and lowering of the warp yarns. It allows for the creation of intricate and complex fabric patterns that cannot be achieved with a standard loom. The dobby mechanism uses a series of hooks and heddles to raise specific warp threads, enabling the production of fabrics with varied designs. These machines are integral to producing woven textiles such as home furnishings, apparel, and industrial fabrics.

Dobby machines play an essential role in the weaving process, as they facilitate a higher level of creativity and flexibility. Unlike traditional looms that produce simple fabrics, dobby machines enable weavers to introduce a range of patterns, textures, and designs, making them indispensable in modern textile manufacturing.

Why Aqeel Industries?

Aqeel Industries has solidified its position as one of the foremost Dobby machine manufacturers in India due to several key factors that set it apart from other suppliers in the market.

Innovation and Advanced Technology

Aqeel Industries is committed to bringing cutting-edge technology to the weaving sector. Their dobby machines are designed with advanced features that enhance their operational efficiency. The incorporation of automated systems, precise controls, and electronic components ensures that each machine runs smoothly, improving both the quality and consistency of the finished fabrics. Their machines are also designed to be energy-efficient, reducing operational costs for textile manufacturers.

High-Quality Build and Durability

At Aqeel Industries, quality is a top priority. Their dobby machines are constructed from high-grade materials to ensure long-lasting performance. The robust design minimizes the chances of wear and tear, which increases the longevity of the machines. This durability makes Aqeel Industries' dobby machines an excellent investment for businesses looking to enhance their weaving operations with minimal maintenance.

Customization and Flexibility

Every textile manufacturer has unique requirements based on their production needs. Aqeel Industries understands this, which is why they offer customization options for their dobby machines. Whether it's the number of harnesses, the patterning capabilities, or other specific features, their team of engineers works closely with clients to develop machines that perfectly match their needs.

Skilled Workforce and After-Sales Support

Aqeel Industries takes pride in its team of skilled professionals who design, manufacture, and install dobby machines with precision. Furthermore, they provide excellent after-sales support to ensure the smooth operation of their products. With prompt servicing, regular maintenance, and availability of spare parts, Aqeel Industries ensures that customers experience minimal downtime, allowing them to maintain a high level of productivity.

Global Reach

While Aqeel Industries is based in India, their dobby machines are used by textile manufacturers around the world. The company's products have found markets in various countries, attesting to the global trust in the quality and performance of their machines.

Conclusion

Aqeel Industries stands as a leader in the field of Dobby machine manufacturing in India, offering innovative, high-quality, and customizable solutions for textile manufacturers. With their focus on advanced technology, durability, and customer satisfaction, Aqeel Industries continues to set the benchmark for excellence in the weaving industry. For businesses looking to enhance their textile production with state-of-the-art dobby machines, Aqeel Industries provides the perfect blend of performance and reliability.

[moltengoldveins]

m240 machine gun - I am not here for a long time but by golly I am here for a good time.

that being said, I actually have a pretty complex and detailed zombie apocalypse plan. Really, it shouldn’t be that difficult to handle if the zombies follow most zombie media rules. Heck, even if they DIDNT, I’d still have some damn good plans.

first off, what’s the first fear when dealing with zombies? A bite. Do me a favor. Got any decent denim jeans? Maybe a jacket? Try biting that shit as hard as possible. Not a dent - your teeth aren’t going through that without some work. Same with a few layers of duct tape. Ergo, duct tape the major areas of your body, avoiding the joints to preserve mobility. Wear an under layer, and then loose jeans and a jean jacket. Wrap your hands and wear gloves. Tape your neck and shoulders, then wear a scarf or pick a jacket with a collar. Wear a mask and ideally a ventilator. Depending on how fast and strong the zombies are, that will likely be enough to keep most of them from hurting you before you can fend them off. Use screwdrivers as improvised stabbing weapons, go for eyes or joints, don’t try to get the screwdrivers back. A baseball bat is great, but when dealing with zombies, the best thing to do is just to avoid them, or take them down as expeditiously as possible. Doesn’t matter if they’re still waking - if they can’t see you, they can’t chase you.

second step of the plan? Bicycle. Quiet, easy to maintain and repair, easy to move hide and transport, requires neither gas nor electricity. Basket on the front and side saddle pouches on the back allow for decent storage.

third step of the plan? Find out where the nearest museum is with a display of plate armor. Use perhaps your local library if the internet is already down, they often have useful info, and even if they don’t, they’ll have information on disease prevention and wound treatment. Break in and put it on, ideally over a padded underlayer. Spend a day or two learning how to move in it - it’s designed to fight in, it’s totally possible to do gymnastics in it. Now you are immune to bites and also to a lot of glancing bullet wounds. That’s where the term ‘bulletproof’ came from. A bullet proof. Chest plates were shot, and the dent was proof that the bullet couldn’t break through.

forth step? Home base. If your home is compromised, bike away. You will need a med kit, a fire kit, food, clothes, as many books from the library as you can manage, and some weaponry. Check to see if the armor display had a sword or a mace. Find somewhere abandoned, a house that looks decently insulated. It doesn’t need to have food, that will come later, the important thing is that you’re far enough from a city center to avoid gangs and close enough to still be a part of the community that will inevitably crop up once the gangs are dead or subdued. You’ll want a house with a fireplace and heavy curtains, preferably one not visible from the road. You’ll also want to choose a way to get in that you can easily repair later. You will need to start growing what food you can immediately. This will be greatly aided by information you could access via the library. Until then, a book of edible wild plants, a small stockpile, a lucky break or two with the neighbors’ pantries, and ideally the food you took with you from your house should keep you going. Do not eat any mushrooms. Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.

fifth step? Defenses. This will largely depend on the type of zombie and the terrain you’re dealing with.

Sixth step? Is there a local vet. If so, find out if they’re alive. They probably are. Offer them help, a place to stay, anything youve got that you can spare - they are absolutely going to be vital in the coming days you will need them. Find them as much medical paraphernalia as possible. Set them up somewhere where they won’t be seen.

Seventh step? Choose a skill that will be useful for trade in the coming days and learn it. Beekeeping for honey, weaving for fabric, grow tobacco or plant herbs, learn distillation, tap maple trees. If you know something useful, find a way to apply it. Stockpile whatever you can.

Eigth step? Rabbits or chickens. Good meat animals, the eggs are useful if you’re going poultry. Use what you have on hand for the coop, maybe attach it to the house - defensibility is your friend. Getting them is gonna be a hassle - trade may or may not be possible. Trapping and domesticating them is ideal?

Ninth? You will eventually have to return to civilization. So will everyone else. People don’t tend to get shockingly violent for no reason - most people you find will be trying to do what you’re doing, nothing else. People will most likely begin organizing themselves again. This is good! Offer trade, help when you can.

tenth? Once you’re decently situated, find a hobby. You won’t make it without a hobby. Raid a Michaels and steal all the beads, nobody’s gonna have taken those. Paint, draw, read, write, juggle, birdwatch.

All this being said if you need meds you’re probably fucked in that regard u less you know how to make your meds from scratch or a replacement like them meds are really important and the absolute first target of any apocalypse scenario.

Spin this wheel to get a weapon for a zombie apocalypse.