#automatic front and back labeling machine

[adinathinternationalindia]

Automatic Two Side (Front & Back) Sticker Labeling Machine

Automatic two side front and back sticker labeling machine uses for pasting labels on both the sides of containers. Double side labeler uses for pasting labels on square, oval, rectangular bottles which requires labels on each side of the surface. Machine having fully automatic with conveyor belt mechanism for transportation of containers. We have different machine models which can do ranging from 60 per minute to 300 per minute. With servo controlled label dispensing system, machine perform precise label placement operations. Understandably our automatic double side sticker labeling machine eliminates manual labeling activities and control parameters accurately.

Adinath’s automatic two side front and back labeling machine consist HMI based touch screen for enhanced accessibility. Owing to its precise technology and VFDs, the machine makes precise labeling on single side or double side a breeze.

[rattycattyfanfic]

if you're still taking writing suggestions: t4t adamanda on a run 2 the grocery store? (i am so desperate for t4t adamanda crumbs though i would take anything at all LMAO)

t4t adamanda my beloved!!! what if we were 2 grotty smokers going jigsaw food shopping and we were both trans and traumatised. have this idk!!

737 words (woohoo!), brief mentions of canonical starving & trauma

She feels far away, swaddled in John’s too-big hoodie and hidden under the shadow of a baseball cap as she browses rows of gaudy plastic packaging. Her mind is abuzz with the logistics of the latest trap, counting down the seconds they have to do the weekly grocery run before she has to get back to him. She can barely focus on the snacks in front of her, the frosty soda cans, and so after a brief glance behind her, she snags a random packet with barely a glimpse at the label. John’s credit card is burning a hole through the pocket of her cargo pants, and yet she squirrels the mystery bag safely inside her hoodie – pure instinct, muscle memory. 

“Hurry it up, idiot,” she grunts, scuffing her boots against linoleum until she’s hovering at Adam’s shoulder. “We’ve gotta get back.” Her hip knocks into his, and the poor guy startles for half a second, freezing before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. His hair is getting longer, a little scruffy, but it looks good on him, somehow, in the same way that ugly JNCOs and his increasingly gaunt eye bags look good on him. 

“Yeah, right,” he mutters, “Whatever,” and pushes an armful of snacks into her hands. Amanda works her jaw slightly and resettles herself, struggles not to drop anything. It’s all shit, pure shit, Doritos and deli meats and snack cakes, and she smothers the laugh that threatens to bubble up, because it’s exactly what she’d pick too. She glances up, winces at the fluorescents, and Adam is already trailing towards the till. She follows absently, compelled to stay close as if he’s still her captive and not now one of them. There’s always the risk that he’ll run, crumble under the weight of their job and go straight to the cops laden with indisputable evidence, but somehow Amanda knows Adam wouldn’t. 

He’s too much like her. Too much like her, and people like them rarely get along well with the authorities. 

Adam has gathered even more snacks on the way to the till, a helpless kid picking up every vaguely appealing thing he sees. It makes her want to roll her eyes, and then it makes her feel sick. She remembers getting him out of that bathroom, keeping him on her couch – half-hostage, half-patient – and feeding him until his belly hurt, reminding him to eat slower, steadier as she’d nursed him back to health. Guilt wriggles in her gut, and she can’t bring herself to needle him about John’s poor credit card. Thing is probably fucking bottomless anyway. She’ll let Adam have this. 

He’s pointing out a carton of cigarettes when she dumps the armful of so-called groceries at the till, mumbling and directing the cashier’s arm like a fucking claw machine. “No, not those – stop, yeah, that’s it,” he chirps, and snatches them up greedily before they even hit the counter. He gestures vaguely towards Amanda, a little sheepish, and the cashier looks at her expectantly. 

“John would have a conniption,” she says and hands the cashier John’s card, eying the cigarettes, the way Adam’s fingers edge along the packaging, already tearing at plastic and cardboard. He gives himself away in moments like this, aggravated movements over a cigarette carton, a frustrated edge that he tries to keep hidden under quick jokes and dopey grins. Their shared late-night cigarette breaks are probably the only thing keeping him together, some days.

“Probably,” Adam agrees with a shrug, and bounces on his toes a little, antsy. “I’ll bum you one,” he offers, and edges towards the automatic door. 

“Yeah, you will,” Amanda grumbles, and pushes one of the polythene bags full of his stupid snacks into his hands. Adam rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath, but he takes the bag and quirks the very corner of his lips, and for a moment they are just two stupid people. Later, that stupid oaf of a detective will yell at them for buying absolutely nothing of nutritional value, and the two of them  will smoke a cigarette under the cover of that leaky tin roof outside the warehouse and talk about nothing. She’ll share her shoplifted snacks with him, whatever they turn out to be, and maybe someone will get the other off with hands and mouth, unabashed and hedonistic, and they’ll just be two people in this shitstorm of a life.

[theburkoftales]

Irish Goodbye

I didn’t think to call ahead. In retrospect, I should have. It’s the polite thing to do, even when you’re dropping in on a friend on short notice. A five minute heads-up never hurt anyone, not really. But I wasn’t thinking to hard about being polite at the moment. I didn’t even think of where I was going, I follow the path to your apartment on a whim.

It was only a twenty minute walk, but the sun had set by the time I got there. The super didn’t even ask who I was there to see, all we exchange is a silent nod. The elevator isn’t working so I take the stairs two at a time, all the way to the fourth floor. Six doors down and I’m standing in front of your door. It’s identical to the other doors, but I would have known that door anywhere. Even standing outside of it brings me a sense of calm, like it’s the secret entrance to some kind of haven that only I know. My saving social grace is that I knock instead of barging in like I so desperately want to. You don’t answer the first time, so I try again. I knock faster, more intensely. I worry that you’re out until I hear movement. It’s just footsteps, your footsteps, I’m sure. They’re fast at first, then slow. And then there is silence.

“You there?” I say, even though I know you are.

You move around behind the door, shifting things aside, setting things down, shuffling endlessly. There’s a brief silence.

“Hello?” you say, voice steady but strained.

“Hey, it’s me.”

I’m certain that you know this, but I humor you anyway.

“Oh hey,” you say, completely unreadable. It puzzles me for a moment.

The pause is becoming odd. I break it eventually, since you show no signs of intending to.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

There was more silence and I fear that you might refuse me. Not now, not today, please. My fears are dashed when you open the door, slowly. I enter and scan the room, more out of force of habit than anything. The kitchen and living room look exactly how they always do, tidy, but not clinically clean. There are dishes in the sink and disorganized cushions on the nearby sofa. The television is playing Jeopardy at an unobtrusive volume. I sniff the air automatically and am met with the familiar combination of lemon-scented furniture polish and coffee. You step out from behind the door, wearing a paint-stained t-shirt and pants along with a pair of latex gloves.

“Hello.” I say again, now that I can see you.

“Hi, I didn’t know you’d be stopping in. I was in the middle of cleaning.” You say it lightly, but with a hint of accusation.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think to call. I was nearby, so I figured…” It sounds unconvincing, even to me, so I don’t bother finishing that sentence. The silence that follows is drawn to its absolute limit before you say:

“Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah, if you can.”

“Sure.”

You walk over to your liquor cabinet, open it, and take out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

I get the glasses from your cupboard and we meet each other at the kitchen island. You pour our drinks silently and we both take the one closest to us. Neither of us speak until the first sip has been taken.

“So?” you ask, sitting down.

“Can’t you just enjoy my company for a minute?”

“Not when I’m in the middle of cleaning I can’t.”

You haven’t bothered to take off your gloves, not even to drink your whiskey. My eyes are wandering around the kitchen once again, taking in the homeliness of the scene. Beautiful mahogany cabinets, a marble counter top, usually littered with appliances and utensils. It seems today is the exception. Everything from the coffee machine to the knife block is gone, even the miscellaneous hot pads and dishtowels are all stowed out of-

“Fine, I’ll bite,” you interrupt my train of thought. “How’s work?”

“Work’s alright,” I say, distractedly bringing my eyes back to see that yours never left my face. For a moment I forget why I came here, why I bothered to walk the twenty minutes from my house at sunset.

“I broke up with Sam,” I say. Somehow it doesn’t seem as big a deal as it did when I was on my way here. Then again, that might be the whiskey in my system.

“That sucks. I thought you liked her?” you say.

“Yeah, me too. But I… uh, well I do like her, but maybe more as a friend, you know?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reassure me. “What did she have to say?”

“Well, she was confused, I think. I don’t know. We didn’t really talk that much about it, she kind of just left afterwards.”

I take another sip as a dull wave of regret and panic washes over me. “I, uh, well… give me a sec, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

I stand up but so do you.

“It’s kind of a mess in there. Like I’ve got all my shoes in there right now, I’m cleaning my closet so…”

“I really don’t care-”

“Let me clean it up in there, I’ll be just a minute.”

I don’t feel that I have a choice, so I sit back down and ignore the pit that’s forming in my stomach. I know you’re not seeing anyone at the moment, but I still have no idea what you’ll say to me. I might lose this haven forever, I might lose you. A nagging voice at the back of my mind is hissing that I’ll never be able to be with anyone if I can’t sort out my feelings for you, and the same nagging voice is telling me this is the only way to do it. With nothing else to do, I take another few sips of my drink. I welcome the spreading haze and briefly I wonder how much you would have to drink to hear me out. I didn’t really have to go to the bathroom, but you’re taking longer than a minute according to the clock on the fireplace mantel.

Part of me is curious to see what your house looks like when it’s not in order, what your things look like when they’re strewn everywhere, when you haven’t organized them for my sake. I stand up and finish the rest of my drink with a trembling hand. I make my way towards the bathroom and put my hand on the doorknob. It’s locked from the inside.

“Give me minute!” you call from inside. “Go sit in the kitchen, I’ll be right out.”

The toilet flushes and I turn to go back to the kitchen when my gaze strays to the two rooms opposite each other at the end of the hallway. One of them is a guest bedroom, with sparse furniture and decorations. I’d slept there before, only once when I’d gotten properly drunk and it looked virtually the same. I’d never been in the room across from it, your room. I pretended to struggle with my better judgment for a second before turning the doorknob gingerly and pushing open the door.

Whatever I was expecting of your bedroom, it certainly wasn’t this. The parts of your house that I had seen were colorful, lived-in, just so full of you. This was the opposite. The walls were bare, the desk was empty, the bed completely stripped of sheets and blankets. It was just a mattress in an empty white room.

My brain seemed to have jammed for a second. You had said you were cleaning out your closet, you didn’t mention anything about the rest of the house. I ambled around the bed to the walk-in closet and stared, mouth agape. It was picked clean as if by scavengers. This is almost too much to take in. I stumble back, and fall against the bed.

“Hey, you can come into the bathroom if you want, I’ve cleaned up in there,” you say from outside the door.

I have no recollection of needing to go to the bathroom. I’m sweating, and the whiskey is not sitting well. “Did you hear me?” You say, and I can hear your voice coming around the corner. You appear, looking over your shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. You turn back to the bedroom and your face goes white. You hide one of your hands behind your back.

“What’s…what’s going on here?” I ask. I’m doing my best to keep my voice steady, and it seems to be working.

“I told you I was cleaning my closet.” There’s an attempt of your usual sarcasm there, but it falls flat. “I guess I didn’t mention that I’m starting from scratch. The old stuff is going to the Goodwill, don’t worry. It was just getting out of hand-”

“What about…” I interrupt you and gesture at the walls, the desk, the empty mattress. “Spring cleaning,” you answer. “See, this is why you have to call ahead next time, so I don’t catch you off guard with my chores.”

“What about your shoes?” I ask, the pit in my stomach deepening. Every word you’re saying drips of guilt.

“What?”

“Your shoes in the bathroom. Didn’t give those to charity I guess?” I’ve gotten some vitality back, and I start standing up. Your eyes are fixed on me, reading my expression, my slow movements. I even get the sense you can see the words I’m saying as they leave my mouth.

“Well…I’m keeping my shoes,” you say, backing away. I know I’m walking forward. I have no idea where I’m trying to go, but I think I’m trying to get to you. To make you tell me what we both know is true.

“Where did you put them?”

You say, without missing a beat: “in the guest bedroom.”

I don’t know if I should believe you or not, but I can’t see any harm in checking the guest bedroom. If I’m wrong, I’ll know it in a minute. If I’m right… I don’t want to think about that.

You step back out of the doorway, back against the door to the guest bedroom.

“Let me see.” I say, already feeling your answer before you say it.

“No,” you respond.

“Why.”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

“Jesus, you’re such a child.”

“You’re acting like one now. Go back to the kitchen. Let’s talk about you and Sam, okay?”

Bringing up Sam now reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place, and a gnawing dread creeps into my soul.

I back away from you and turn towards the kitchen, thinking hard and fighting to overcome the haze of the whiskey. I regain my seat, and you do too.

You don’t bring up me going to the bathroom, and neither do I. I never had to go in the first place, I just needed to catch my breath. You take sips of your drink and watch me all the while. I pour myself some more, but I don’t drink it.

“Where are you going?” I say at last, trying to sound casual. My voice nearly breaks.

You’re quiet for a long time.

“I’ve got a ticket to Malta.”

I don’t say anything. You’ve confirmed my worst fears. I should be glad that you think I can handle the truth, but the fact of the matter is that I can’t, and I’m trying not to show you that.

It’s your turn to break the silence that follows. Before you do, you stand up and walk to the garbage, toss your gloves in, and replace them with new ones that you got from one of the kitchen drawers.

Then you sit down and ask me:

“Are you gonna try and see anyone else, or are you staying single for a while?”

I smile at this. It’s a cruel joke, in all actuality. I left Sam because I saw a future with you, and you’ve made it only too clear that you never saw one with me. But I can’t be the one to tell you. Not now that I know you’re leaving.

“I’ll date around, I think,” I say, and take another sip. The alcohol is a bad idea right now, but the mechanics of lifting the glass, sipping it and putting it back down are all that’s keeping me sane.

“Why are you…” I can’t finish the sentence. If I do then it might just actually be real.

“Don’t,” you say. “It’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do.”

I’m breathing fast by now. You can’t tell me that. There’s always something I can do. I can morph myself to be whatever it is that will make you stay.

Before I can think, the words come stumbling out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, whatever it is that I did, I didn’t mean it, I never meant it. I’ll call next time, I’ll never show up uninvited if you want-”

“No, stop-”

“Do you need space? I’ll stay away from you if you want. Hell, you don’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want to-”

“Listen to me-”

“I just have to know that you’re gonna stay here, okay? Please say you’ll stay-”

“Stop.” You put a hand over my mouth and I realize that I’ve started to cry. Damn it. I didn’t even notice.

“I’m not leaving because of you, okay?”

I pull your hand off my mouth. “Can’t you stay because of me then?”

You don’t respond, you simply draw your hand away. I can see that you’re closing yourself off. You do this whenever anyone expresses their appreciation for you, or tells you how much you mean to them. I’ve tried not to, for as long as I’ve known you, but every day you take up more space in my mind.

“Wait, I didn’t mean that… hold on… let me… I’m too drunk for this okay? You know what I’m trying to say, right?”

You don’t make any movement, but your eyes are fixed on me, so far removed from what I’m saying that any emotion has been replaced with cold calculation. I hate when you’re like this. I feel ridiculous and small when I try to tell you things when I find that you’re not really there.

Finally, at long last, you say something.

“Look, let me start over how about that? Hey, how are you? I didn’t expect to see you today. How’s work?”

I look at you, helpless. There’s nothing I can do to get through to you now. Your barriers are up and they are impenetrable as always. I clear my thoughts and dry my face. You slide me a napkin, but you remain impassive.

“Work - work is good. I’ve been promoted to district manager.”

“Wow, that’s good news.”

You’re relaxing again, now that you think I’ve moved past your impending disappearance.

Without thinking, I blurt out:

“I’m in love with you.”

Silence. You look genuinely shocked. Not blank, or sarcastic, or whatever phony emotion you conjure up when you’re behind your walls. It’s real shock, plain and simple, and for a moment, the tables are turned in my favor. I’m the one who is at ease and comfortable while you’re left to deal with the magnitude of what I’ve just said.

Rapidly as ever, you seize control once again. “You didn’t say anything. I didn’t hear that, okay?”

“I did, I did, there’s no use denying it.”

You look at me, as if betrayed to the very depths of your being. “Get out.”

I’m shocked at first, humiliated the next and finally devastated. “No, let’s talk about this, come on.”

“I refuse to talk about this. I’m leaving, get that through your head, and nothing you can say or do is going to convince me otherwise. Got it?”

I realize my mistake as you say it. There’s nothing for me except to stand up and walk dejectedly towards the door. You watch me go and I’m praying that you’ll tell me to turn around and stay, but you don’t, and I can’t force you to. With one hand on the door, I say my last words to you. “I do love you, okay? I don’t expect you to love me back, I just want you to be happy. If going to Malta or wherever the hell will make you happy, go for it. You don’t owe me anything, but I’d like to think I owe you my soul. So do with it what you will.”

I exit the apartment much the same way as I entered it; unceremoniously and looking for condolences.

[atinytokki]

Mechanosis

Chapter 2: 불 (fire)

불

fire

Music drifted through Gyeongseong Station at four in the morning.

Usually, San was awoken by the chiming clock, and would ready himself for work then sit and watch the sunrise while Hongjoong slept in, tired from a late night before.

Today, they were both roused earlier than expected by the sweet melody of a flute in the station below.

Separating himself from a grumbling Hongjoong, San peeked down towards the tracks to find the mysterious flute player.

A woman stood there with a basket in front of her to collect coins from passing strangers, and from the looks of it had amassed a small amount already in the business of the morning commute to various factories across Hanseong.

People were resilient in the face of new problems, and San watched her play with a soft smile on his face, even though he had nothing to share with her.

The click of boots on the tile floor drew his attention away, and at the end of the corridor he saw the station inspector, making a beeline for the musician.

Disappointed, San watched him approach her and confiscate both her instrument and her money basket, claiming in a loud voice that such public performances were illegal as ordered by the Ministry of Technological Advancement.

She was sent away, dejected, with a warning and San retreated to his hiding place, where Hongjoong had dressed for work and was waiting for him.

They didn’t speak on the walk to Namsan, keeping their heads down and moving at as quick a pace as they could with Hongjoong only having half his vision and trying not to be run over by any of the steam-powered palanquins, wooden carts, and sundry vehicles taking to the roads in the morning.

Namsan factory was strangely abuzz with chatter when they arrived, and the pair nudged their way to the front of the crowd to attempt to find out what they were all staring at.

As he glanced up at the massive overhead sign meant to display a comparison of their daily quota with the currently produced number of machine parts to track their progress, San began to understand why.

The number was over twice as high as usual. It was outrageous.

Never in a single day could he produce so much, let alone Hongjoong who struggled to use his peripheral vision.

As his gaze swept the room, San noticed a few additions to the machines they typically worked with. Finally, a supervisor came forward to demonstrate the usage of a number of brand new saw-type machines added to the assembly line since yesterday.

“You may have noticed your daily quota has increased,” he stated redundantly. No one dared answer him. “This is due to our great Innovator’s newest design— an automatic blade that drops by itself every thirty seconds. You must work faster to keep up, so as a result our production will increase exponentially.”

“There are no guards or tethers,” Hongjoong muttered to San as he inspected it from afar. “Nothing to prevent it from chopping your fingers clean off if you aren’t quick enough.”

San forced down a gulp at the prospect. He knew he’d have to handle the metal monster soon enough, as the blade did not retract automatically, but would need to be pushed back up into its natural position after each usage.

He spent the work day getting acquainted with it as quickly as possible to avoid being punished by the supervisors. Their demands were especially high today, and a salary cut or even being laid off was too dangerous for someone in his position.

“Hurry up, you idiot!” A man suddenly yelled from farther down the line.

It took a moment, but San realised it was the worker on the left side of Hongjoong, yelling at him for being too slow again. Thankfully, they’d been placed a little behind the automatic saw contraption and were busy labelling metal sheets, but a few had congregated in Hongjoong’s space and clogged up the line as he struggled to see the new materials San was handing over from his right unless he turned his head constantly.

Attempting to placate the man, Hongjoong gave a small bow of apology and explained, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know more had come, I couldn’t see—”

The worker didn’t care to hear his excuses.

“You can see fine!” He argued in an irritated tone of voice. “Why do you wear that bandage still anyway? It’s been years!”

Without any sort of permission or cause, the man pushed himself into Hongjoong’s space and ripped the bandage from his head aggressively to prove his point.

Anger spiking inside him, San put himself between the two, first checking that Hongjoong was alright where he curled in on himself and pressed his hands to the burn scar on his face in rigid embarrassment.

When he saw the moisture in his hyung’s eyes, both tear ducts still intact, San wasn’t afraid to get in the worker’s face to fight back.

“How dare you? You know nothing about him, you should back off—”

“What’s going on there?”

A supervisor’s sharp scolding interrupted and all three participants bowed their heads in apology, none answering.

“Who is responsible for this?” The man asked, annoyed. Before either could get a word in edgewise, the other worker pointed at Hongjoong, who was now on the floor feeling around for his bandage, wherever it had fallen.

“Come here,” the supervisor ordered him, giving only seconds to act before he hauled Hongjoong up, taking his face in a tight grip and turning it back and forth after wrenching his protective hands away.

San clenched a fist at his side but forced himself not to act. They could still make it out of this with a warning.

Still, he saw the way Hongjoong’s face burned with crimson shame. It didn’t matter whether his eye was “healed” or not, he clearly couldn’t see out of it and the wounded appearance being viewed by others was something upsetting to Hongjoong. Even San had only seen his eye a number of times, mostly accidental.

“You’re fine,” the supervisor announced curtly before dishing out punishment. “Leave this factory. You will be paid nothing for the day, return tomorrow and do not slack off again. If you cause another incident, you’ll be dismissed on the spot. Now you’ve been forewarned.”

Stiffly, Hongjoong bowed his thanks and removed his work apron, head down so his hair would cover his face from view. The room was so quiet, San could swear he could hear his hyung’s heartbeat.

As soon as the supervisor’s back was turned, San snatched up the bandage and reapplied it on Hongjoong’s face, walking him to the entrance where they could share a few brief words.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry, I wish I could do something,” he told him sincerely.

Even with his eye covered, Hongjoong still wouldn’t look at him.

“Everyone was watching, the whole factory,” he whispered through tightness in his throat. “It was humiliating.”

“Hyung—”

“And now you’ll have to work alone!” Hongjoong let out a dark chuckle. “I’m sorry I’m so useless, I promise I’ll use the time to buy you food or something.”

“You’re not useless,” San insisted, maintaining eye contact for as long as he could until Hongjoong shook his head and glanced away.

“I’ll pick you up after work?” The older changed the subject, clearing his throat to remove any building emotion. San sighed in response, as always.

“Yes, I’ll see you then.”

“Be safe,” Hongjoong warned. “Take breaks if they let you.”

And that was it. San didn’t see him for the rest of the work day.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t be paid double, he worked twice as hard to cover Hongjoong’s absence anyway, wary of the worker next to him causing another incident.

At the end of the day, they were all trying to collect their pay and make it home. This man was no different.

Famished and hacking up what felt like all the moisture in his lungs, San didn’t even realise when closing time came without a single break for rest or water and he had labelled hundreds of products until the line stopped running and the workers began to clock out.

Blinking his bleary eyes, he glanced at the exit to see Hongjoong waiting for him. San’s feet moved towards his hyung of their own accord and his body practically melted into him.

“I’ve got you,” Hongjoong whispered so only he could hear, and San put his arms around the older man’s neck and climbed onto his back for the walk home. His legs could hardly carry him anymore.

“‘M hungry,” he whined, knowing he sounded like that fourteen year old child he’d been when they met those years ago. “Did you get food?”

“It’s waiting back at the hideout, Sannie,” Hongjoong consoled him with a pat to the knee as he navigated the crowded evening streets in the direction of the station. Home. “Just hang in there a little longer.”

Even when he had been laid down on his sleeping mat and food had been spooned into his mouth, the constant harsh cough wouldn’t let him sleep.

Whimpering from the pain in his throat, San curled up and let Hongjoong pet him, pushing sweaty hair off his forehead and placing a wet cloth on it.

“Does that feel better, Sannie?”

Sannie.

Hongjoong only used the nickname when San wasn’t doing well. Tonight was one of those nights. Perhaps worse than it had ever been before.

“Mhm,” he hummed in agreement, trying to coax a smile from his anxious hyung, but it wasn’t enough.

He was still in pain and his body felt like it was on fire.

For what seemed like hours, he squirmed in bed, throwing the blankets on when a chill overtook him and then off again when the fever spiked and the blankets were suffocating.

“So hot,” he cried, knowing he sounded pathetic and not caring about it. Everything hurt so bad, and there was no end in sight.

“I know you are, Sannie,” Hongjoong murmured, chewing on his lip nervously. “I’m going to go fetch some medicine, alright? Is it okay if I go do that?”

“What?” San whispered hoarsely, trying to rise from the bed in a panic. “N-No, don’t leave me alone, hyung, please.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” Hongjoong told him softly, gently removing his hand from where San was clutching him like a lifeline. “But I need to get something to bring your fever down and treat that horrible cough of yours. Don’t you want to sleep peacefully tonight?”

Tears filled San’s eyes. He did want to.

Peaceful sleep, uninterrupted by his torturous cough, sounded like a dream too good to be true. But he was afraid of closing his eyes and drifting away all alone. What if he couldn’t open them again? What if he died in his sleep right there and Hongjoong didn’t make it back in time?

Was he being abandoned right now?

“No, no, please,” San sobbed, outright crying now despite the spikes of pain in his throat every time he made noise. “You can’t leave me, we can’t afford medicine, I don’t want to die—”

Hongjoong shushed him reassuringly, hugging him close before laying him down again, leaving water and blankets in close reach. “You won’t die, San. You’re going to be fine, alright? I promise you.”

Lower lip trembling with the urge to sob aloud again, San nodded in acceptance of his promise.

If Hongjoong was promising, he meant it.

___

Yeosang tapped his fingernails against the counter idly. He was wrapping up his evening at the apothecary shop and neither Yunho nor his friend had made an appearance yet the entire day.

In fact, only a handful of people had made appearances at all and they were ministry officers, people Yeosang was wary of— and certainly not hoping to run into again.

There were days in his highly illegal career of ferrying traitors away from Joseon that had passed with much more thrill and exhilaration. Despite knowing those moments when he let his guard down were the most dangerous, Yeosang’s boredom couldn’t keep him awake, and he caught himself dozing off behind the desk three times before a customer entered and the chimes by the door alerted him.

“Hello? Could you help me?”

The raspy voice of the customer sounded, somewhat panicked, so Yeosang straightened his apron and flashed a reassuring smile. Years of pretending to be friendly for the yangban made it an easy habit to fall back on.

“Yes, what can I get for you?”

The man turned his head around and gave him a once-over, Yeosang returning the favour and taking stock of his visitor.

He looked to be about the same age, height on the shorter side, with dark, disheveled hair, and a curious bandage wrapped around his head, covering his right eye.

“Perhaps an ointment or optical treatment—” Yeosang commented, already reaching for the nearest shelf with eye cream.

“No, no, for my friend,” the customer panted, regaining his breath as he clearly must have run there. “His lungs are weak from the smoke and he’s worked himself to the point of sickness again.”

There was desperation written all over him, though he tried to rationally explain the symptoms.

“His cough is worse than usual, and he’s burning up with a terrible fever and these chills— he hasn’t been able to rest at all, he’s too uncomfortable— and I’m worried, please, tell me you have something for him.”

While Yeosang did have medicines stocked and was glad to sell them, he was painfully aware as he rifled through the supplies that he was no licensed apothecary and that his forays into chemistry didn’t typically involve experiments of a medical nature.

Most days, the shop was managed by an actual physician, one who would gladly step aside and take a day or two off when Yeosang needed access to his favourite central hub to keep an eye on someone.

“Well, there are a number of tonics here that could potentially bring down a fever,” he noted, trying to sound professional. Another chime from the door drew his gaze and immediately distracted him.

It was Yunho’s friend— the man who had reportedly been his servant before— entering the shop and idling near the skin treatments.

“Which is best?” The anxious customer asked, leaning over the front desk as if to see the vials Yeosang had in front of him. “I don’t care how expensive. I’ll give you everything I have, the clothes off my back if I have to.”

“Here,” Yeosang picked one at random and handed it to the man, not even glancing at the label. “Take this one. Go.”

“B-But how much is it?” He stuttered in surprise, turning the small bottle to find a price tag. From the way he blanched, it must have been expensive. “Won’t you ask me to pay?”

“No,” Yeosang practically hissed, eyes darting back and forth as he tracked the mysterious stranger across the room. He needed to speak with him, privately, and the interaction with this customer had gone on for too long. “It’s on the house, just take it for free. I trust you can see yourself out?”

“Yes, of course!” The man’s face brightened with gratitude and he pocketed the vial before heading for the exit, calling over his shoulder, “Thank you so much!”

Yeosang didn’t respond, eyes still on the tall stranger while the other customer left. Regardless of the number of times he had made contact with the important targets he spent so much time spying on, it was always slightly nerve wracking to initiate dangerous discussions with someone whom he may have misjudged.

Just as he was about to approach him and begin his investigation, the man moved towards the door and stopped in front of it suddenly.

The telltale sound of the lock clicking followed a moment later.

It seemed this man also desired a conversation alone with Yeosang. From the way his back tensed, it looked like he was poised to strike, and Yeosang found his fingers subconsciously moving towards the knives hidden under the desk.

Just as his hand wrapped around the handle, the stranger turned and launched himself over the desk, pinning Yeosang to the wall with a clockwork pistol to the forehead.

The knife in Yeosang’s hand was poised against the man’s neck, having been raised just in time to lock the two in an impasse.

“Who are you?” The stranger growled in a sonorously imposing voice.

Finally able to get a look at him now that he was so close, Yeosang noticed the intense glint in his small eyes, his sharp nose and the way his full lips were pressed together as he gritted his teeth. He looked seconds off from murder, and capable of it, too.

Yeosang decided to provoke him.

“What, you aren’t going to introduce yourself first? It seems only proper, seeing as you started the conversation.”

“Song Mingi,” he barked before leaning in closer, ever so subtly insecure that his intimidation wasn’t working.

“Jeong Yunho’s friend?” Yeosang confirmed, watching Mingi’s face tighten nearly imperceptibly at the name. “I’m Kang Yeosang. I only want to talk.”

“You’re a spy, aren’t you?” Mingi snapped back quickly, tilting his head almost mockingly. “Master Jeong put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Confusion clouded Yeosang’s mind for a moment before he realised what was going on, and answered calmly, “No, I don’t work for his father.”

The presence of the gun made itself known again, pushed harder into his temple as Mingi growled, “Then who?”

“Listen,” Yeosang huffed, lowering the knife and trying to squirm away. “If you’d let go of me, maybe I’ll explai—”

“Tell me who hired you!”

Yeosang froze as Mingi’s yell shook the apothecary shop. For a moment it was just  the sound of their breathing until Mingi realised he’d lost control of himself and took a small step back so Yeosang had room to lift his hands, palms out, between them.

“No one,” he explained slowly. “I work with a man they call the Mechanist. Not for him, with him.”

Mingi’s brow was furrowed in thought as he stared into space contemplatively. Clearly he hadn’t considered this as a possibility.

It gave Yeosang the space to slide out of his grip and return to his place behind the desk, hand falling on the knife again even while he faced the attacker standing behind him. Just in case.

“That’s why I needed to catch you alone in the shop,” he went on, as unthreateningly as possible. “So the spies tailing you wouldn’t be alerted.”

“Funny,” Mingi scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s why we kept returning to the shop. Because we thought you were one of them, and thought to smoke you out.”

“Well!” Yeosang laughed awkwardly, hoping it would loosen Mingi up. “What a coincidence.”

When finally the man holstered his weapon, Yeosang allowed himself a moment of jealousy.

Seonghwa always insisted they operate on a no-technology fighting style. No clockwork, no steam engines, just good old fashioned household items. And crossbows.

“That’s a nice pistol you’ve got there,” he commented dryly. “Where’d you get it?”

Mingi responded with a deadpan, “Where do you think? My former master was an entrepreneur.” He cut straight to the point a moment later, “What is it you want with us then?”

Just as eager to drop the small talk and finish business before real customers began to wonder why the door was locked, Yeosang passed over a letter he’d written and sealed with Seonghwa’s stamp.

“To beg the help of your friend, Yunho. We believe he may be aligned with our cause and serve as a great asset to it.”

“And what would he receive in return?” Mingi snorted, taking the paper and turning it over in his hands as if to inspect its exterior.

“He’s a detective, isn’t he?” Yeosang asked rhetorically with a growing smile. “Perhaps I have some useful information for him.”

___

The day San’s fever broke, Hongjoong wasn’t home.

All week since giving him the medicine, he worked in the factory by day and tended to his friend by night.

There was no time for sleep, and rarely any time for finding food.

Still, San’s health would not improve without it, so he stole away from his bedside when he got the chance and traded his wages for groceries.

It was one such evening that San opened his misty eyes to see the crisscrossing metal beams of the station ceiling, no longer delirious but alone, and realised his life had been saved.

Nonetheless, he was in a panic when Hongjoong returned with his arms full of supplies that night, only to be tackled in a hug that he couldn’t pry himself out of.

“I thought you had left me,” San whispered when finally Hongjoong dropped his things and hugged him properly, no longer too stunned to react.

“Never,” Hongjoong insisted just as fiercely.

“Did you heal me?” San hesitantly asked over their late evening meal, much more shyly than Hongjoong was used to from him.

“The medicine healed you,” scoffed Hongjoong, shaking his head in joyous disbelief. “I just kept you comfortable as best as I could.”

“Thank you,” San replied softly, with a wide smile. His dimples were on full display, and he ate his food so vigorously, it put Hongjoong’s mind at ease that he must have done well indeed.

“You feel better?”

“Much better!” San chirped with his mouth full. “I can come with you to the factory tomorrow, so you won’t have to work alone anymore. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“But that’s what got us into this mess,” Hongjoong pointed out in warning, shifting where he sat with his legs crossed to relieve some of the soreness of constant motion. “I don’t want… I don’t want to lose you again.”

It was vulnerable, much more vulnerable than he usually was, and San knew what it took for him to say such a thing.

“You won’t,” he promised, reaching out to squeeze his hyung’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

True to his word, the next day he departed for the factory alongside Hongjoong, and together they manned the new machines, positioning sheets of metal to be sliced in half by them.

The danger of operating such an invention was heightened by the lack of sleep, but Hongjoong did his best to keep his eyes open and trained on San when he could.

He hid it well, but he was still weak from the intense illness he had recently overcome. And he was always wearing those shirts that were too big for him.

Twice before the lunch break, he nearly got part of his sleeve chopped off, giving Hongjoong a near heart attack, but scolding him was no use. He didn’t have anything else to change into, and it was too cold to remove any clothing anyway.

At the end of the day, it finally happened.

The cuff of San’s dopo caught on the edge of the slicing area after he had reached across and then moved to pull his hand back.

He tried to wrench it free, but from his side of the machine it couldn’t be done without ripping the fabric.

“Hyung!” He cried, knowing the blade would descend any moment now. His dominant hand frustratingly gloved at the moment, Hongjoong quickly reached across with his left hand and attempted to wriggle it free, panic building in both of them as it ever so slowly gave way. It was taking too long.

Only seconds remained before the scheduled chopping, and feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Hongjoong finally freed the sleeve and pushed it back out the other side to remove San from harm’s way.

The blade dropped automatically just before he pulled his own hand clear, and a sickening crunch echoed through the factory.

Hongjoong’s heart stopped.

All around him, there was stillness. Like the entire world had frozen in place, with a great gasp going up from the other workers.

San rushed to force the blade up, and almost completely numb, Hongjoong tried to flex his fingers. He couldn’t move them. He couldn’t even feel them. There was no sense of anything below the wrist until the shock was overcome by pain.

Consuming, overwhelming pain.

“Oh, oh no…”

His throat was closing in on itself from the panic as he watched blood pour continuously out of his hand. Where his hand used to be.

It was like a fountain spurting red in pulses with every heartbeat, and he watched in morbid fascination, slowly becoming nauseated by it.

“Sannie, I can’t… my hand…” he muttered through the haze in his brain, weightlessness descending on him. It was so hot, he was choking on the fire that spread from his wrist to the rest of his body.

Hongjoong blinked and suddenly he was on the floor. His legs had given out, and there was a wetness on his face.

Tears. He was crying.

“San?”

Where was San? He was too dizzy to recognise anyone in the surrounding crowd, everyone’s face a blur.

All over again, Hongjoong felt like a child.

Scared and alone on a factory floor, and his parents were dead and no one would help him, and blood was everywhere and it was so much, so much blood—

“Hyung! Hyung, I’m here, please stay awake.”

San’s voice.

Hongjoong wrenched his eye open, unsure when it had closed, and turned his head until San came into view.

He looked scared, more scared than Hongjoong had ever seen him even when he was deathly ill, and it caused chilling dread to take root in his stomach.

“Is it bad?” He whispered, though he wasn’t sure if the words came out.

San seemed to tell from the movement of his lips and checked the stump of flesh that remained of Hongjoong’s hand, pressing his own shirt to it tightly. Immediately, it was soaked through with deep red.

“It’s… I don’t want to lie to you, hyung, it looks bad, but I’m sure you’ll be alright!” San forced a smile, but he was crying now too, and turned to yell at the gathered crowd of factory workers, continuing to add fabrics to cover the wound, from his own dopo to Hongjoong’s durumagi.

“Don’t just stand there, all of you! Someone help, please! Call the authorities or a doctor or something, someone—”

No one moved an inch.

“What’s going on over there?” A supervisor barked from behind the mass of faces. “Get back to work!”

Hongjoong tried to obey, he’d already been issued a warning once, but couldn’t bring himself to stand. His life was draining at the site of his severed hand and he knew he didn’t have long from the way his breaths were quickening.

“He’ll die, I’m begging you!“ San sobbed, more terrified than Hongjoong had ever seen him.

He was the cause of that panic.

“I’m sorry.”

He wouldn’t be there to take care of San anymore. This was all because he wanted to keep San safe from harm, but he’d been too slow yet again and now he was paying for it with his life and San would be alone after everything he’d done to bring Hongjoong in, abandoned by the only family he’d ever found.

San faced him again with a tear-streaked face and shook his head. “No, don’t say that, you’re going to be fine, you’ll see!” He was clutching the wounded wrist to the sopping material of his jeogori now in one hand and stroking Hongjoong’s wet face with the other, bloodstained hand. He could feel it smear over his cheek and the scent of it became overwhelming. “Don’t… don’t leave me now, alright? Promise?”

Exhaustion was washing over Hongjoong in the wake of white hot pain. He knew he would die soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it.

His eye was growing increasingly vacant. He wanted to answer, but his lips didn’t move. The words worked their way up.

“I tried.”

He didn’t promise.

___

The air outside smelled like rain. It drifted in through an open window, distracting Hongjoong where he sat with his bags in the main room.

He frowned in worry as his parents handed him scroll after scroll to pack up. “Why are you giving me this?”

“In case something happens and we…” Mother stumbled over the words as she rolled the blueprints tightly and bundled them together. “…and we get separated. You can wait for us with the designs.”

Hongjoong protested weakly, “But, hyung—”

“Only has the key,” Father broke in, his voice extremely calm despite the way his hands fidgeted. It was the nervous sort of fidgeting, not the idle kind. “Hongjoong, your bag.”

Obediently, Hongjoong handed it over and tried to swallow down the uneasiness in his throat.

His parents were stuffing it full of blueprints of their designs, and although they didn’t explain why they were packing up their life’s work, the torches on the horizon were enough for Hongjoong to put two and two together.

He remembered the day, months before, when Beomjoong had put his own things into a sack and boarded a ferry that took him out of Joseon, never to return. Hongjoong had cried and clung to him the entire time on the wagon ride to the port, begging him not to go.

The entire thing had never been his choice but their parents’ decision, and Hongjoong resented them for it a little even now as they all prepared to follow him out of the country. To where, he had no idea.

He was fifteen now, and he understood why they couldn’t stay here any longer. He also understood why they had tried.

The Kims were a uniquely creative family of geniuses. The methods of harnessing steam power which they had devised were especially attractive to government ministries, and no matter how many times they said no, no matter how many times Hongjoong answered the door and politely informed the gentlemen that his parents weren’t interested in selling them, the officials returned and insisted.

It had led to their sending Beomjoong somewhere safer with the key to their most important design, an invention never built but often dreamed of, a key that could be used one day if such a machine was ever constructed.

But it could not be taken by the Ministry. In their hands, it would be a most fearsome weapon.

Knowing the key was safely elsewhere only took some of the load off their minds, with many designs still strewn about the house and an entire company of soldiers on their way.

“Quickly, son, your durumagi,” Mother fussed, fastening the coat as tightly as she could, worrying her lip between her teeth the entire time.

There was no reason for Hongjoong’s parents to hide their anxiety from him when he was old enough to know what was headed for their family.

The future was quite literally knocking on their door, and it would stop for no one.

“Head through the back and we’ll meet you near the wagons, alright?” Father instructed, helping him shoulder his bag properly before peeking through the paper blinds to see a large congregation of torch bearers outside.

“Please come soon,” Hongjoong whispered from the threshold, ashamed of his own fear when his parents turned to the door with such bravery. “You won’t leave me alone, right?”

They turned to look at him and smiled, shooing him out the back door.

Mother sounded so sure of herself.

“We’ll be right behind you.”

Hongjoong only made it down to the end of the road before seeing the smoke go up from his house.

His parents hadn’t followed as they said they would, and he knew the odds were greatly against them.

The waiting wagons were another ten minutes away, and he was still the only one on the road.

Mother and Father weren’t coming. They were stuck in a burning house, Hongjoong just knew it, and he knew they were throwing their lives away for no reason.

The remote possibility flashed across his mind as he stood there, frozen in the middle of the road, that this was all a trap. That the ministers wanted him to charge in and save them, so they could get the blueprints in their clutches again.

But Hongjoong wasn’t a child anymore. He could sneak in and save his parents without anyone knowing, he was sure of it.

And so he sprinted impulsively for home, one last time, thinking he could make a difference with his newfound bravery.

The smoke was billowing at a tremendous speed into the evening air, and the heat was so intense that Hongjoong could feel it from the other side of the stone wall, but he scaled it as easily as he had since he was a little boy and crawled into the house silently, holding his breath with practiced ease.

It was a nightmare.

Furniture was knocked over, trinkets and models were strewn across the floor, and the wooden frame of the house itself was on fire, consumed with a roaring blaze that climbed up curtains and licked away at the ceiling.

“Mother! Father!” Hongjoong cried out over the noise of the destruction. They were nowhere to be seen.

Hoping he could find them in another room and free them in time, he dragged himself along the floor, avoiding burning papers and dishes and making a beeline for the side rooms.

Tears pricked at his eyes from the thickness of the smoke, but he tried to remain calm while holding his breath, knowing if he inhaled it, he was as good as dead.

Suddenly, hands were wrapping around his midsection, lifting him upwards as if he weighed nothing and wrenching the bag from him.

“No!” He screamed, kicking blindly at his attacker, who dropped him face first to the ground and disappeared.

Hongjoong never even saw his face.

Feeling the flames encroaching, he realised his options were few. His parents may yet be somewhere inside, though the chances were growing slim by the second, and now he had to recover the designs from the man who had grabbed him, a man much bigger and stronger than he.

“Please…” he couldn’t keep a sniffle from escaping him as the terror of his situation descended on him.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly and utterly alone.

“Someone help!”

He knew there was no use in yelling. Any neighbours who cared to assist them would have done so by now, or else retreated to somewhere safer with their own valuable belongings.

Managing to stumble again to the back door, Hongjoong called out again, a yell that hardly sounded intelligible, and reached for the small patch of sky he could see through the haze of smoke.

At that moment, the doorframe collapsed, sparks went flying, and all Hongjoong knew was a searing pain in his eye before he was writhing on the ground.

His hands were pressed to his face, blood dripped through his fingers, and he was trapped now with no way out.

Elsewhere in the burning house, his parents breathed their last.

They had died so Hongjoong could escape. And he had brought their designs right into the lap of the Ministry.

Guilt that stung more than the pain of his wound burned through him and Hongjoong surrendered, a sobbing mess on the floor, to whatever fate had next for him.

He did not expect to wake.

___

Taglist: @p4rk-junhee

A/N: Things are ramping up now! Hopefully you’ll stick around as our characters continue to be slowly introduced :D let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist and what you thought of this chapter in the comments! And stay tuned for more updates on various works because it's starting to look like I've finally killed my writer's block!!!

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

[simarazauberhandwriting]

Working on Sophias Story again :D

-> A little later, Sophia reached maintenance shaft [xy], where the main security system of the SD of the Abyss Chrusher was located. The light activated by a motion sensor flared up in cold white with a delay of a few seconds. Neon Xilkor tubes of the NX-6 series had this somewhat unpleasant habit, which the manufacturer Asterisk never rectified. Despite this, Hallinger-FTL continued to install them in all maintenance rooms of their ship series to this day. The Davar class in particular suffered from this fact, as it had a higher number of such areas due to its modular design. As a result, Sophia had only been able to recognise the large control cabinets and component racks by the myriad of flashing LEDs when she arrived. This sea of red, orange and green diodes, which greeted her auspiciously from the steel racks, secretly watched over the entire crew and ensured that the safety units of the individual SERAHs were working.

Now that the white light flooded the room, she saw it in its entirety, and with it the technology inside. In contrast to the blinking confusion of the Sevix control racks on the right side of the room, the Servagul control cabinets on her left, unusual for a Davar-class ship, emitted a soft green glow. The reason for this was that Servagul built light panels into the doors of their products, which no self-respecting shipbuilder needed. Such nice lighting did nothing but waste power unnecessarily. Sure, ships like the Abyss Chrusher might not lack power, but that was no reason to be so wasteful.

Shrugging her shoulders, the engineer lifted her tool and the testing device before taking them to the control cabinet labelled SUR-2, where she set them down. She unlocked the door with her CAM and the handle whirred out, allowing her to open the cabinet. Sophia sighed, pulled open the cupboard door and, coloured by the light from the front panel, saw another flood of flashing or glowing diodes emanating from the security register cards. It was a sight that filled the engineer with joy, because she had hardly been able to wait to get back into the bowels of the Abyss Chrusher, but the work that was to follow was rather dull. So she plugged her headphones into her CAM, put them in her ears and switched on an album by a band Liv had shown her a few days ago. A harsh guitar riff accompanied by the vocals of a woman singing in the language of the Marlan system rang out.

She then began checking the security tabs, which initially consisted of informing the SD-SERAH of her work via the control panel in the top frame of the device. In fact, Sophia was only slightly keen on an emergency lockout of the SD, even if she could override it with her system authorisations. Basically, you had to give Servagul and Sevix credit for the cleverness of their products. After all, the automatic security system, which according to Ela - unfortunately there were no plans on this subject - summarised one subsystem of the drive per cabinet in order to pass them on to SERAH in a bundle.

You could imagine the tabs and their subsystems as the nervous system of a body, which transmitted every pain of the machines to the consciousness or to an AI. SERAH then reported the information to the Abyss Chrusher's SAM, the ship's main AI, which ensured that appropriate action was taken. What the SERAH was to the SD, the SAM was to the entire ship.

Sophia pulled a small screwdriver from the side pocket on her left arm. She used it to loosen the two neck screws on the top and bottom of the front panel of each of the seven assemblies. She was then able to pull them out by the handle to insert them into the test device. This established a serial, wired connection with the fuse register in order to then interrogate the main function of the unit on the two circuit boards of the modules. For this purpose, the test device simulated a fault by sending a specific signal sequence via the bus interface. The module processed this within a few femtoseconds and signalled an alarm back to the test device. At least that's how it worked when everything was OK. The process only took a few blinks of the eye until the technical measurement results - such as resistance, time and induction values - appeared on the display of the test device. Confirmation of the success or failure of the analysis could then also be obtained.<-

The story of the empty sky - 1 Dreams of electronic tears Chapter 10, A fairy tale of normality

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 4

Today is Choice.

This is a snippet from near the end of my very self-indulgent "A Debt Repaid" story. Which I still need to finish writing the first chapter for.

"A Debt Repaid" is a sequel to "A Debt To Pay", which can be found here.

============================================

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Fiona asked as she trailed Audrey down the stairs to Wilson’s lab.

“I…I just want to hear him out,” Audrey replied. ���If we don’t like what he has to say, we don’t have to go along with it. But I…I want to hear his plan.”

“Alright…”

The two of them descended further into the lab, surrounded by tubes of what appeared to be vibrantly colored ink. Audrey winced as they passed them, trying not to look.

Eventually, they came to a set of doors splattered in color, which opened automatically upon them approaching. Beyond that there was another set of doors, which also opened as they drew nearer.

And there was the lab. They could see it behind a glass window, sealed off from the little alcove area they now found themselves in with a single hydraulic door.  There were lockers to their left which Fiona had to stop herself from searching, as well as another of the ink wells that Audrey could apparently now travel through.

“Audrey!” Wilson’s voice crackled through the PA system. “You made it. And you brought your little friend. Good! Come inside, my dear! We have much to discuss. But make sure you’re ready. Where we’re going, there will be no return until we’ve accomplished our mission.”

“So, we’re doing this?” Fiona asked, looking at Audrey.

Audrey nodded with grim determination, tightening her grip on her pipe.

Together, the two women stepped into the lab. Wilson stood before them, hunched over a table littered with blueprints and vials of what they assumed were ink. Further into the lab were various machines and pipes and boilers, none of which the women knew the purpose of. Fiona moved a bit closer to Audrey.

“Thank you for coming all this way,” Wilson said, turning to face them.

“I wanted to hear what your plan to destroy the Ink Demon was,” Audrey responded flatly.

Although externally she seemed cold and detached, internally she was terrified. She wanted to believe Wilson was going to fix everything and help her get home, but the words of both Fiona and Sammy had shaken her faith in him. He had brought her here in the first place. She’d just…She’d needed something to believe in. But Wilson might not have been the best choice.

“Of course.” Wilson nodded. “The Ink Demon is a formidable foe. To truly destroy such a monster, he must be dethroned. Humiliated.”

“Are you sure you need to destroy him?” Fiona asked. “I’m sure he could be talked to if you approached it the right way.” Granted, Wilson talking to the Ink Demon probably wouldn’t work, but she and Audrey certainly had a chance.

“Oh, my dear.” Wilson gave her a patronizing smile. “If only all problems could be solved so simply.” He patted her head as one would that of a child, then continued, ignoring the way Fiona’s hands formed into shaking fists. “For months now I’ve been working on something that will do exactly that. Cast out the demon and put a new deity in his place.” He began to walk, leading them to a large cylinder in the back left corner of the lab. “Stronger, more powerful, and controllable. Together, we just need to unleash our ultimate weapon. Come. Let me show you my creation.” He stepped aside as the tube opened, revealing a drawing on an easel.

The drawing was of a cherubic little cartoon boy with blond hair and chubby red cheeks. He was wearing what looked like a sailor’s uniform, standing in front of a blue ocean and a palm tree, with a little crab by his feet. The drawing was labelled “Shipahoy Dudley”.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Wilson asked. “Simple, but elegant. A treasure. Powerful beyond anyone. The Ink Demon will fall, and we can have peace at last.”

“He is pretty cute,” Fiona begrudgingly conceded.

“It could work…” Audrey admitted. “But it sounds risky,” she added. “How will we control him? We don’t want to repeat Joey’s mistake.”

“Control him?!” Fiona sputtered. “He’s not some kind of puppet for you to jerk around on a string! If you bring him to life, you need to treat him like a human being! That was Joey’s mistake!”

Audrey shot Fiona a warning look. Poking the bear wouldn’t do them any good. They needed to hear Wilson’s full plan. Fiona shrunk a bit under Audrey’s gaze, but she was clearly still extremely upset.

“No. We don’t,” Wilson agreed, completely ignoring Fiona’s outburst. “All of the factors must be perfect.” As he spoke, the tube slid closed, beginning to rotate. “The right design, the right science, and…” The tube slid open again, revealing what appeared to be a person sized chamber. “The right soul.” Suddenly, sawblades appeared from slats in the tube, causing both Audrey and Fiona to stumble back.

“What?” Audrey’s eyes went wide.

“At last, your purpose is revealed, Audrey.” Wilson stepped in front of her. “This is why you’re here! With your soul inside him, my creation will live forever.”

“Stay away from me!” Audrey yelled. “You’re insane!”

“We need to go. We need to go right now.” Fiona tugged on Audrey’s arm, although she was shaking too much to run.

“Come now, Audrey,” Wilson said, voice sickly sweet. “Part of you knew this was your path. Although…” He paused, slowly turning his attention to the panicked Fiona. “If you truly cannot be convinced, perhaps your little friend will do.”

“No! You’re not using either of us!” Audrey snapped, putting herself between Wilson and Fiona.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to use her?” Wilson asked, taking a step toward them. “Think about it. If she provides the soul for my creation, we could rule this place together.”

“I don’t want to rule anything!” Audrey backed away, still placed firmly between Fiona and Wilson.

“Well, then I can send you home.” Wilson shrugged. “You never have to think about this place ever again.”

“I…I thought you said we needed to save your father!” Audrey tried to sound as angry as she had before, but they could all hear how her voice faltered.

Wilson smiled wide. “I lied. My father is beyond hope. Perhaps you know him. Nathan Arch, owner of ArchGate, industrial genius, business tycoon.” As he spoke, his expression soured. “For years, I’ve lived in his reaching shadow. He always had time for the grand creatives of the world, the doers as he called them. He knew only the best! The biggest thinkers! How could his lowly son ever hope to compete with that? But now, thanks to you, I can.”

“Well, that explains a thing or two.” Carmine’s voice came from Fiona’s bag.

Fiona looked on the verge of tears, looking frantically between Audrey and the door.

“What do you say, Audrey?” Wilson asked. “Why not let me use her? After all, you said yourself, she doesn’t understand what you’ve gone through. Wouldn’t you like to teach her a lesson?”

Audrey was silent, genuinely considering Wilson’s proposal. She was so tired of fighting. She was so tired of this awful place. She just wanted to go home.

You could leave this all behind, a small traitorous voice whispered in her mind. Wash your hands of your father’s sins. Move on. She wanted to come here, didn’t she? Let her stay.

Fiona tried to run. She didn’t get very far before Wilson grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her back.

“Let me go!” Fiona screamed, kicking and attempting to hit Wilson with her free hand. She was starting to cry as she struggled. Wilson held her at arm’s length, keeping her far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her short arms.

Despite her previous mental turmoil, Audrey knew her choice was clear now. “Leave her alone!” She surged forward, swinging her pipe at Wilson.

Wilson caught her wrist as she swung, halting the pipe’s trajectory. “So, that is your choice,” he said with a smile. He shoved Fiona away, sending her stumbling back to hit her head against the wall and crumple to the ground.

“Let us go!” Audrey tried to hit him with her other hand, but Wilson grabbed that arm and held it too.

“No need to struggle,” he cooed. “My signal prevents you from using those devilish powers of yours…and more importantly, keeps the Ink Demon from getting in. It’s time to die, Audrey…” He began to drag her toward the now whirring saws in the chamber. “And live again…” She tried to struggle against him, but it was no use. He was much stronger than she was. “As a god!”

They were almost at the chamber now. Audrey could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn’t count on Fiona to help her. Not after being shoved into the wall like that. Plus, if Wilson could overpower her, Fiona stood no chance. And it wasn’t like Carmine was going to be any help. He’d already expended a great deal of energy getting them past the Keepers. Audrey had to get free on her own.

Spurred on by adrenaline and desperation, she used her limited mobility to whack the pipe against his head. This did little to stop Wilson from continuing to drag her, but it loosened his grip enough that she was able to get that hand free.

“No!” She ripped her hand away. “Not this time!”

Pulling her arm back, she swung the pipe with all her might, landing a solid enough hit to disorient Wilson and make him let go of her other hand as both of his went up to clutch his head. Not wasting a second, she used to opportunity to push him away. Right into the waiting saws. Wilson screamed. Audrey looked away. The tube slid closed again, a sign behind it lighting up, now reading, “Subject accepted”.

The sweet, metallic scent of blood filled the air.

Fiona let out a small, strangled noise that sounded like something between a sob and a squeak.

“Are you alright?” Audrey asked, turning back to her.

She didn’t want to look at the tube. She couldn’t look at the tube. Killing a human being was so different from killing an ink creature. The ink creatures simply dissolved back to the ink when they died, the only sign they’d ever been there being a small puddle on the ground.

A human remained.

Fiona didn’t answer, still staring at the tube with wide eyes.

“Fiona.” Audrey knelt in front of her, blocking the other woman’s view of the carnage. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Fiona took a shaky breath. “My…My head hurts. But I…I think I’m okay.”

“Good.” Audrey nodded. “We should…We should go.”

She helped Fiona to her feet, gently leading her toward the door that had opened in the back.

[rohan9794]

Bottle Labeling Machine: Complete Guide to Precision Product Labeling

What is a Bottle Labeling Machine?

A bottle labeling machine is an automated or semi-automated system used to apply labels onto bottles of various shapes and sizes—round, flat, oval, or square. These machines are engineered for high accuracy, speed, and uniformity, significantly reducing labor costs and errors associated with manual labeling.

Whether it's a wrap-around label on a soda bottle or a front-and-back label on a shampoo container, these machines handle it all with seamless efficiency.

Types of Bottle Labeling Machines

1. Manual Bottle Labeling Machines

Ideal for small-scale or home-based operations

Hand-cranked or foot-pedal operated

Low investment, minimal automation

2. Semi-Automatic Bottle Labeling Machines

Operator places the bottle, and the machine handles the labeling

Perfect for startups and small to mid-sized businesses

Compatible with wrap-around, single-side, and double-side labels

3. Fully Automatic Bottle Labeling Machines

Bottles are fed and labeled automatically on conveyors

Suitable for high-speed production lines

High output, precise alignment, reduced labor needs

4. Rotary Labeling Machines

Designed for ultra-high-speed lines

Uses a carousel system to label multiple bottles simultaneously

Often used in beverages, pharma, and cosmetics industries

5. Shrink Sleeve Labeling Machines

Applies shrink labels using heat tunnels for 360° branding

Common in juice, soft drinks, and energy drink packaging

Applications of Bottle Labeling Machines

Food & Beverage Industry

Juices, mineral water, milk, sauces, syrups, oils, alcohol

Date coding, branding, and compliance labels

Pharmaceuticals

Tablets, syrups, liquid drugs

Includes batch number, expiry date, and dosage information

Cosmetics & Personal Care

Shampoos, conditioners, lotions, perfumes

Requires visually appealing labels to reflect brand identity

Chemicals and Agro-Products

Fertilizers, pesticides, cleaning products

Requires resistant, long-lasting adhesive labels

Core Features of Advanced Bottle Labeling Machines

1. High Labeling Speed

Capable of labeling 20 to 300 bottles per minute, depending on model and label type.

2. Accuracy and Precision

Label placement tolerance as low as ±1 mm, ensuring professional appearance.

3. Label Sensor System

Automatically detects label gaps and bottle positions to prevent misalignment.

4. Adjustable Conveyor System

Compatible with a wide range of bottle sizes and shapes.

5. Integrated Coding Devices

Allows real-time printing of batch numbers, barcodes, and expiry dates.

6. PLC and Touchscreen Control

Easy programming, operation, and error diagnostics through HMI systems.

Benefits of Using a Bottle Labeling Machine

Enhanced Branding: Professionally applied labels elevate product appeal

Time-Saving: Speeds up production lines exponentially

Reduced Human Error: Increases labeling accuracy and consistency

Compliance Assurance: Meets global labeling standards (FDA, FSSAI, EU)

Versatility: One machine can handle different bottle types and label formats

Low Operational Costs: Cuts labor costs while boosting throughput

[aim-technologies]

Sticker Labeling Solutions for the Bottling Industry 

Efficiency and presentation are inseparable in manufacturing. A product could rank among the best in quality and still completely lose out in the markets due to improper labeling. A sticker labeling machines make product identification, branding, and compliance easier and faster than ever before. 

Today, these machines have become a necessity in industries dealing with high-volume packaging. They ensure every label is placed accurately and neatly, thereby saving plenty of time and money while giving branding a professional look.  

Learn more about- Sticker Labeling Machines: Types, Features and Applications 

What Makes Sticker Labeling Machines Essential? 

Whether in food processing, pharmaceuticals, or cosmetics, these machines can handle the labeling process for almost any label job fast and accurately. 

There are several reasons why more industries apply these machines today: 

Automation Reduces Manual Workload: Label thousands of units without fatigue or inconsistency. 

Speed Up Production: Automatic systems are built for high throughput without compromising precision. 

Adaptability Across Products: Suitable for jars, containers, boxes, and bottles in particular. 

Long-Term Cost Savings: Reduction in human error, labor charges, and downtime during production. 

Bottle Labeling Machine - A Specialized Solution 

For firms dealing with bottled products, the bottle labeling machine provides a tailored approach. These machines accommodate bottles that are round, square, or oval-shaped and place labels on the front, back, or wrap-around side. 

From water bottles and juice bottles to shampoo and detergent containers, the bottle labeling machine is the name in mass labeling for: 

Beverage industry 

Chemical industry 

Personal care product industry 

Health and wellness sector 

Ensuring proper adhesion even on curved or slick surfaces, this machine essentially brands with a professional appearance. 

Choosing the Right Sticker Labeling Machine Manufacturer 

Choosing the right sticker labeling machine manufacturer is extremely important. You want someone who not only supplies the machines but also understands your production needs and provides installation support and timely maintenance. 

A dependable manufacturer ensures:  

Up to high-quality build standards 

Machine always performs consistently 

Customization to a certain product line 

Technical support and training 

One invests in a good manufacturer; that is to say, one is investing in the operational success of their brand for years to come.  

Learn more about packaging automation in our blog, How Sticker Labeling Machines Improve Efficiency in Packaging 

Various Industry Applications 

Here is the flexibility of the sticker labeling machines: their adaptability for: 

Fast Moving Consumer Goods and Packaged Foods: Fast labeling for jars, packets, and boxes. 

Pharmaceuticals: Bar-coding, dosage instructions, and batch details. 

Household: For detergents, cleaning agents, and sprays, labels have to be put on nicely. 

Personal Care: Labeling has to be perfect on lotions and creams.   

Conclusion: Aim Technologies Is Your Partner 

Aim Technologies is a trustworthy name when you want an efficient and durable labeling system. As the top sticker labeling machine manufacturer, Aim Technologies has solutions for the best of the industries, whether it is a standard sticker labeling machine or a customized bottle labeling machine. Their machines are designed for efficient working, ease of use, and longevity. 

Having Aim Technologies as a partner gets you one step closer to a packaging operation that is efficient, professional, and scalable. 

[tradebirddigital]

Pharma Machine Manufacturer & Supplier in India | IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd – Trusted Pharma Machine

IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd stands as a prominent Pharma Machine Manufacturer in India, offering a comprehensive range of pharmaceutical machines that meet stringent industry standards and cater to the needs of pharmaceutical producers across the globe.

Leading the Way in Pharmaceutical Machines

IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd has carved a niche in the Indian pharmaceutical machinery industry through its innovative approach, superior engineering, and commitment to quality. As one of the most reputed Pharma Machine Suppliers, the company offers equipment that serves the full spectrum of pharma production – from formulation and granulation to tablet compression, capsule filling, liquid processing, and packaging.

The pharmaceutical industry demands precision machinery capable of handling complex formulations and high production volumes without compromising on hygiene and efficiency. IRM Enterprise delivers on all fronts, offering tailored solutions to both small-scale manufacturers and large-scale pharmaceutical corporations.

Wide Range of Pharma Machines Offered

IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd specializes in a vast portfolio of pharmaceutical machines engineered to optimize production, minimize downtime, and ensure regulatory compliance. Key offerings include:

Tablet Compression Machines: These machines are essential in compressing granulated powders into tablets of uniform size and weight. IRM’s tablet press machines are known for their robustness, user-friendly interface, and high output efficiency.

Capsule Filling Machines: Designed to accurately fill powder, granules, or pellets into capsules, these machines ensure dose consistency. Available in both semi-automatic and fully automatic variants, they serve diverse production needs.

Liquid Filling and Sealing Machines: Perfect for filling oral and injectable liquids, these machines guarantee precise fill volumes and sterile sealing – critical in maintaining drug efficacy.

Granulation Equipment: Including high shear mixers, fluid bed dryers, and oscillating granulators, these machines prepare the base material for tablet or capsule formation.

Powder Processing Machines: From blenders to mills and sifters, IRM Enterprise manufactures a full range of equipment that ensures uniform mixing and size reduction of pharmaceutical powders.

Packaging Solutions: IRM offers a variety of machines for blister packing, strip packing, labeling, and cartoning. These machines help maintain product integrity and extend shelf life.

Why Choose IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd as Your Pharma Machine Partner?

As a trusted Pharma Machine Manufacturer in India, IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd brings several advantages that set them apart:

✅ Unmatched Engineering Expertise

Backed by years of experience and a skilled R&D team, IRM Enterprise incorporates the latest technological advancements into every machine they produce.

✅ Compliance with International Standards

All machines are designed to comply with GMP (Good Manufacturing Practices), WHO, and other international standards, ensuring acceptance in global markets.

✅ Customization for Diverse Requirements

Every pharmaceutical production unit has unique needs. IRM provides customized machinery solutions that align perfectly with specific production goals and space constraints.

✅ Durability and Reliability

The machines are built with high-grade stainless steel and precision components to ensure long-lasting performance with minimal maintenance.

✅ After-Sales Support and Training

IRM Enterprise is not just a machine supplier but a long-term partner. They offer complete installation support, operator training, and prompt after-sales service to ensure smooth operation.

Serving the Indian and Global Market

IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd is not just a Pharma Machine Manufacturer for the Indian market but has extended its reach across international borders. With exports to Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and parts of Europe, the company has become a reliable name worldwide. Their commitment to delivering technologically advanced and cost-effective solutions makes them a preferred Pharma Machine Supplier in competitive international markets.

Future-Ready Manufacturing Solutions

The pharmaceutical sector is constantly evolving with the integration of automation, data tracking, and smart controls. IRM Enterprise is well-prepared to meet these future demands by offering machines embedded with Industry 4.0 features. With innovations like PLC-based automation, touchscreen interfaces, real-time data monitoring, and remote diagnostics, their pharmaceutical machines are designed for the future of smart manufacturing.

Industries Served

IRM Enterprise caters to a diverse clientele, including:

Pharmaceutical manufacturers

Nutraceutical companies

Biotech firms

Ayurvedic and herbal medicine producers

Research laboratories

Veterinary medicine manufacturers

Each sector requires high levels of hygiene, accuracy, and scalability—features IRM’s machines are specifically designed to deliver.

Commitment to Sustainability and Clean Manufacturing

IRM Enterprise is equally focused on sustainability, integrating energy-efficient designs and reducing waste in the manufacturing process. Their pharma machines are designed to reduce power consumption, optimize material usage, and promote eco-friendly operations—ensuring a greener footprint for your manufacturing unit.

Quality Assurance and Certifications

Every machine undergoes rigorous quality checks at every stage of production. IRM Enterprise is ISO-certified and adheres to strict QA/QC protocols. Their machines meet national and international compliance standards, giving clients peace of mind and assurance of consistent performance.

In a competitive and quality-driven industry like pharmaceuticals, the importance of reliable, high-performance machinery cannot be overstated. IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd, as a trusted Pharma Machine Manufacturer in India, stands as a beacon of quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction. Their comprehensive range of pharmaceutical machines is a testament to their dedication to excellence and their deep understanding of the industry's evolving needs.

Whether you're looking to set up a new pharmaceutical manufacturing unit or upgrade existing equipment, IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd is your ideal partner for world-class machinery and ongoing support.

Ready to Upgrade Your Pharmaceutical Production?

Get in touch with IRM Enterprise Pvt. Ltd, your trusted Pharma Machine Manufacturer and Supplier in India, for top-of-the-line pharmaceutical machines tailored to your needs.

Let’s build the future of pharmaceutical manufacturing—together.

For more info: https://www.karnavatiengineering.com/ 

Call Now: 7567876473

Email id: info@irmltd.co.in

Location: S. No. 342, Nani Kadi, Taluka - Kadi, Dist - Mehsana, Gujarat - 382715, India

[adinathinternationalindia]

Double Side Sticker Labeling Machine

Double Side Sticker Labeling Machine or front & back sticker labeling machine is simple mechanism linear design machine to label bottles, jars, cans, tins & other containers. Bottle labeler can label PET, glass, plastic, aluminium, metal & tin containers. This equipment incorporates modern Micro Processor Control Label Dispensing mechanism with sensing system for Label and Product. Specially designed electronic and mechanical system to apply transparent (No Look) Labels on bottles at very high-speed using optional special label sensing system. Interestingly no change parts/format parts require for changing one size to another size of bottle.

Automatic bottle labeler available in India, with unique single point synchronized speed control system. Machine also available with optional Turn Table for Feeding of containers for online transfer of containers from Capping/Inspection machine to labeling and online transfer of labeled bottles to packing conveyor/inspection system, this system helps for continues labeling operation for bottles.

Machine can be supplied with Optional Toughened (Tampered) Glass or Acrylic Safety Cabinet. Machines having required all basic features as a standard fitment to match the current market needs and also saves cost and time. Adinath range of sticker labelers can be attached to bottle liquid and powder filling lines. Machine also called as pharmaceutical labeling machine, glass bottle labeler, plastic bottle labeling machine and syrup bottle sticker labeling machine.

[phoenixplans]

5 Ways to Spring Clean Your Digital Life

Your devices deserve a reset too. These quick tips help you declutter your digital world and reclaim some peace of mind.

There’s something magical about spring—new growth, fresh starts, and a renewed sense of clarity. We clean our homes, reset our habits… but how often do we spring clean the one space we live in all day long? Our digital lives.

Between the avalanche of emails, the dozens of open tabs, and the graveyard of forgotten files on our desktops, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. The good news? A digital reset is easier than it sounds—and it feels so good.

Here are 5 ways to declutter your digital space and make room for peace, productivity, and a little more breathing room:

1. Inbox Detox

Let’s be honest—most inboxes look like a junk drawer. Set aside 15 minutes to:

Unsubscribe from newsletters and spam you never open

Archive or delete old conversations

Set up filters or folders to auto-sort incoming mail

Bonus tip: Try email batching—check your inbox only at set times to reduce overwhelm and distraction.

2. The App Audit

Scroll through your phone. How many apps do you actually use?

Delete the ones collecting digital dust

Organize your home screen by categories or folders

Hide or disable the apps that steal your focus

Your phone shouldn’t feel like a slot machine. Make it a sanctuary instead.

3. Purge Your Photo Gallery

Thousands of pictures—and how many are screenshots of memes or blurry duplicates?

Back up important photos to cloud storage or an external drive

Delete anything you don’t need or want to remember

Create albums for quick access to your favorites

Decluttering your gallery makes space for the moments that really matter.

4. Reorganize Your Home Screen

Your digital “front porch” deserves a glow-up.

Choose a calming background or minimalist theme

Move the most-used tools to your main screen

Turn off notifications that constantly pull your attention away

(Pro tip: I use Buzzkill to automate how my notifications are received now. For example, when a specific notification that I receive daily comes through for the day's free assets from one of my favorite websites, Buzzkill automatically opens the notification, making me deal with it right then and there. On the other end, I have my banking notifications that have my balance in them hidden under a "Nothing to see here" tag until I'm ready to view or swipe away and if there is any notification from my daughter, it reads it out loud and keeps reminding me about it until I either reply or swipe it away. Finally, I auto-dismiss most YouTube notifications unless they include "Josh Johnson" as a keyword because I'm always excited to watch my favorite comedian that day.)

Less chaos, more intention. Your nervous system will thank you.

5. Tidy Up Your Files

Your desktop isn’t a junkyard.

Move files into clearly labeled folders

Delete old downloads, duplicates, or documents you no longer need

Back up everything important to a cloud service or drive

Try sorting by task, project, or priority—whatever works for your brain.

Final Thoughts: Clear Space, Clear Mind

Digital clutter might not seem like a big deal until you realize how much noise it’s creating in the background of your day. A tidy device can bring clarity, boost productivity, and make you feel more in control.

You don’t have to do it all at once. Pick one task a day—or even one per week—and let your digital life bloom, one refresh at a time.

Need help getting started?

Our Digital Declutter Checklist is live now on the social media platform of your choice. Grab it and let your spring reset begin.

Want a little help staying on track?

Check out our Phoenix Reset Kit that launches this week in the Etsy shop or browse more self-care and productivity tools designed to help you rise. Click here to shop.

---

Delete the junk. Reclaim your focus. Rise like you damn well mean it.

—Katie (aka the redheaded rebel who once had 47 tabs open and called it “multitasking”)

P.S. The Phoenix Reset Kit is nearly finished (I’m fighting perfectionism with every pixel). Stay tuned—it’s dropping later this week, and it’s built to help you burn the old systems down and build better ones.

[usedbottlinglines]

For sale: Used Modular Labeling Machine SIMAC Sellers PP 770-8T 8000 bph

For more information: https://www.usedbottlinglines.com/machines/used-modular-labeling-machine-simac-sellers-pp-770-8t-8000-bph-et216/

The used modular labelling machine SIMAC Sellers PP 770-8T-2S-2E, year 2018, has a production capacity of 8000 bottles per hour and is compatible with glass and PET containers.

The machine is equipped with 8 plates operated by electronic cams with stepper motors, running in a clockwise direction.

It features 3 labelling stations for applying self-adhesive labels on the front, back, and neck of the bottle, with automatic label adjustment and electric adjustment of the labelling heads.

[reazreviewzone]

InkFlow AI Review: Turn Any Video Into Multilingual Content in 60 Seconds BY [Dr. Amit and Atul Pareek]

Introduction: InkFlow AI Welcome to my InkFlow AI Review. InkFlow AI is a copy-write free UGC content writing tool that feels human, & creates SEO-optimized blogs, viral social media posts, ads, & sales copy effortlessly in 60 seconds in any language. Dr. Amit and Atul Pareek launched an AI-powered tool, the InkFlow AI app. It works in 3 simple steps. The agency wants to enter your selected URL or Word, and InkFlow AI automatically generates content for blogs, social media, and emails—in just a few seconds. An audience can write unlimited smart blogs, rank higher, & convert more with the AI tool. Write SEO-friendly content without hassle that helps you dominate blogs, social media, YouTube, etc. The InkFlow AI is a passive income machine that magically turns any URL, YouTube video, or just a keyword into UGC content—in 60 seconds. Where doesn`t need any tech skills, experience, or monthly payment, and InkFlow AI review agency gives a 30-day money-back guarantee and a free commercial license. I think InkFlow AI is the world's first revolutionary AI app. You say goodbye to ChatGPT, DeepSeek, Rytr, and Jasper.

Visit Here>>

Overview: InkFlow AI Review Author/vendor: Dr. Amit and Atul Pareek Product: InkFlow AI Launce date: 11/03/25 Official website: VISITE HERE Front-end price: $37 Business: ok Write UGC content—highly recommended Instantly Create Text Into High-Quality 4K HD Video Watch/Create Video—Any Language Social Media Marketing: Number One passive income—ok Recurring System: OK Payment: One Time Local Business: High Recommend Money-Back: 30 Days Money-Back Guarantee Funnel/Tool: Automated & Done-For-You Support: Effective Niche: Any Niche of your choice

How does InkFlow AI work?

Step-1 Paste URL or Keyword: First choose a URL or keyword and select your content type—email, blog, ad, or eBook.

Step 2: Customize: Customize a blog, article, ad, or eBook, like tone or template. Or the style and fine UGC content for better engagement.

Step 3: Discloser & Earn: Publish high-quality UGC content, blog, ads, video scripts, sales copy, and email. Get a free commercial license and a 30-day money-back guarantee.

Visit Here>>

Money-back guarantee: InkFlow AI A 30-day money-back guarantee could be a customer-friendly approach that permits buyers to ask for a full discount within 30 days of buying in case they are unsatisfied with an item or benefit. This approach builds belief and certainty, empowering potential clients to buy with negligible hazards. It illustrates the seller's commitment to quality and client fulfillment. To claim a discount, clients ordinarily ought to return the item in its unique condition or cancel the benefit within the desired period. This ensures it is commonly utilized in businesses like computer programs, e-commerce, and membership administrations. While it can increment deals, businesses must guarantee clear terms to anticipate manhandling. By and large, it's a win-win, advertising clients peace of intellect and businesses a competitive benefit.

Start With: InkFlow AI UGC content business: Sell high-converting content to clients. eBook Agency: Publish and sell eBooks, leads, and reports. Make Offers: Create offers for SEO optimization. Instant Viral Content: Write high-quality content and go instant viral on social media with only one click. Affiliate Marketing: Now too popular, affiliate marketing requires the creation of unique content for an engaged audience. The app agency works on your behalf. Ready-Made System: where there are 15+ million templates and images. Take and go to profits.

Make the Right Decision: InkFlow AI Review Why invest in InkFlow AI & how to get benefits inside? This is a massive question for entrepreneurs. Now I explain why invest in the app. Create marketing content like email, eBook, blog, and social media posts. Turn any URL or keywords into UGC-label human-like content in a few seconds. Open email rate 100% that is direct in one click. You can publish any content with just one click on social media and marketing sites. The app writes human-like content and ensures originality & readability. Generate multiple language contents and publish multiple sites at a time. The app publishes auto-post and uses powerful tags on your behalf. Expertly provide repurposed content and turn any video into multiple blogs. Provide an audience outline for SEO content instantly. InkFlow helps you rank on Google's first page. Use 15+ million ready-made AI images. Customize tone, style, and template with AI. Provide 100% flawless content every time and check grammar accuracy. InkFlow AI provides support for plagiarism & citation. Globally support 100+ languages. Rewrite and optimize the content of audience choice. Boos your content and lead generation 10x with AI. Stop wasting time and start a new journey with AI. Doesn't need any tech skills and experience. Free commercial and UGC license.

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Winning and Losing Side: InkFlow AI

Winning side: InkFlow AI Review UGC content priority Turn any URL into content Multi-lingual content service Multiple Publish capability Instant viral on social media SEO optimize system Google Analytics system Create business agency Generate eBook, blog, and product review Unlimited content and passive income priority 24/7 support Doesn't require experience and tech skill 30-day money-back guarantee Free commercial license Step-by-step training Customize font and template

Losing side: InkFlow AI Review

Depends on internet connection Limited time offer Make right decision

OTO & Pricing: InkFlow AI Front-End Price: Inkflow Commercial ( $ 32 to $ 47 )

OTO-1 Inkflow Fastpass ( $ 230 )

OTO-2 Inkflow Mega Suite ( $ 127 )

OTO-3 Inkflow Agency ( $97 )

OTO-4 Inkflow Enterprise ( $67 )

OTO-5 Inkflow Elite ($97)

10 Free Bonus

BONUS-1 Step-by-Step Training: The agency learns how to write UGC-level content and earn $10,000 per month

Bonus-2: How to Sell AI Content: Unlock AI Agency and Boost Your Earn 10x.

BONUS-3 Automating Content Creation: Hand-free proven system and Learn how to automate blogs, ads, sales copy, and social media content for businesses using AI.

BONUS-4 Guide to Launch of a 24/7: Built automated guide system and 24/7-day support.

BONUS-5 Create Product Descriptions & Sales Copy: The agency teaches how to create compelling product pages, landing pages, and ad copy that drive sales effortlessly.

Bonus-6 Secrets to Run a Lead Generation: Learn how to use AI-generated content to attract, qualify, and convert high-value leads for businesses with AI agencies.

Bonus-7 Copywriting & Ad Content: Create high-converting copy for businesses and sell your services per project & copywrite free license.

Bonus-8 Leads & Recurring Income: The InkFlow AI agency provides how to earn and generate in a few seconds.

Bonus-9 Multilingual Content Agency: Learn how to package and price your services, scale your agency, and generate recurring income by serving businesses worldwide.

Bonus-10 Cash in on Custom Video Scripts: Turn AI-generated video scripts into a high-paying service! Learn how to sell scripts to content creators, businesses, and marketers, and package your services.

Final Opinion: InkFlow AI Review I think the app is best for the current world and trends in 1 place. An audience can create videos into multilingual posts and publish them on social media. You can customize the template, font, color, and image. Get a copyrighted article and a free license. Generate and turn video into any multi-language content. So InkFlow is the world's first writing app. You make high-converting leads and sell.

Affiliate disclaimer

Thank you for perusing my genuine audit. My fair conclusion is shared within the survey.

An affiliate disclaimer may be an explanation to advise gatherings of people that a company or person may gain a commission or other emolument on the off chance that they buy items or administrations through joins on their site, web journal, social media, or different stages. This disclaimer is basic for keeping up straightforwardness and complying with legitimate requirements, such as those set by the Government Exchange Commission (FTC) within the Joined Together States. It guarantees perusers or watchers know of any potential predisposition or budgetary motivating force behind proposals.

Ordinarily, the disclaimer is set noticeably at the start or conclusion of substance and clearly states the nature of the partner relationship. For illustration, "This post may contain partner joins, meaning I win a commission if you buy through my joins at no additional cost." This builds belief with the group of onlookers while ensuring the substance

[sticker-labelling-machines]

Automatic Sticker Labelling Machine

 In today's fast-paced manufacturing and packaging industries, precision, speed, and efficiency are crucial. Sticker Labelling Machine At Brothers India, a leading automatic sticker labelling machine manufacturer, supplier, and exporter in India, we offer a wide range of sticker labelling machine solutions for industries.

Why Choose an Automatic Sticker Labeling Machine?

Automatic sticker labeling machines are designed to enhance productivity, reduce human errors, and ensure consistent labeling quality. Whether you need a round bottle sticker labeling machine, a carton sticker labeling machine, or a pouch sticker labeling machine, the right labeling equipment can streamline your operations.

Types of Automatic Sticker Labeling Machines

1. Round Bottle Sticker Labeling Machine

For manufacturers dealing with cylindrical containers, such as bottles and jars, the round bottle sticker labeling machine ensures seamless application of labels, improving efficiency and accuracy.

2. High-Speed Vial Sticker Labeling Machine

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Conclusion

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[shreebhagwatilabeling]

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[maxtalksalarmclocks]

The Coolness of Transparent CD Players

CD players are kind of the coolest thing. You take a disc with an iridescent surface, then put it in a machine that spins it incredibly fast, and then that machine bounces a laser off the disc and onto a lens to read patterns of data. How cool is that?

Quite a few alarm clock manufacturers realized it was cool enough that it could be a design element! I previously showed you two alarm clocks, the Sony ICF-CD855V and its copycat, the Timex T609, that have transparent windows so you can see the CD inside the drive. This is convenient in that you can check which CD you have loaded, and it's also just incredibly cool-looking, as you can see the CD art, and then watch the CD spin!

Well, today I've got three more alarm clocks with a transparent CD player, giving you this same aesthetic satisfaction of seeing your music spin round and round. (I've also got one more alarm clock that fits the spirit of this post, if not the exact theme.) Let's dive in!

Jensen JCR-560

Frankly, this alarm clock seems like kind of a piece of crap. The Amazon listing is still up, and of the eight featured reviews, FOUR say the clock runs fast. Which is a problem!

But at least this clock is a cool-looking piece of crap. Rather than shaping the clock to be large enough for a CD, Jensen intentionally dangled the CD drive off the side of what looks like an otherwise normal(-ish) alarm clock!

To load a CD, you flip down a door on the back, then snap the CD onto a transparent piece of plastic. Unlike with the other clocks I'll show you, the iridescent side of the CD is visible through the transparent section, rather than the label side.

Besides the wild CD drive, Jensen definitely tried with this clock's aesthetics. With the almost-metronome-like shape, the five dials on the front, the large speaker grille, and the wood paneling, this machine feels almost retro (like 80s-and-before retro), except for the giant CD drive. I do think the mirrored dials and uninspired silver plastic make the design look a little cheap...but still. I've never seen another clock that looks like this, that's for sure!

Aiwa FR-CD3000

This one is just straightforward and cool as heck. The whole front is basically a big, giant, transparent CD mechanism! I believe the door flips upward so you can snap the disc in, and then you push it closed.

There's something about the lines of this machine's design that feel really perfect to me. The way the seam of the CD door horizontally bisects the silver region, but the CD door protrudes down and interrupts this line. The way the CD mechanism and display are offset to the left, and the way the controls on the silver zone are asymmetrical to match. The way the transparent plastic of the CD door continues down to cover the display. The way the whole front looks like a sleek silver rectangle growing out of a curvy black boombox, which itself has more controls cantilevered toward the user. The way the speakers on either side look like weird little legs or arms. The way the silver zone mostly has music controls, and the black zone mostly has clock controls.

This thing is beautiful in an electronics sort of way!

Emerson CKD2328 / CKD2330

I've shown off this clock before, and it has like thirty-seven things going on. Analog radio tuning with a digital frequency display, touchless snooze, a display that automatically dims in a dark room, a remote control (on the CKD2330 only), a ridiculous giant antenna for AM radio, AND perhaps the only glitch I've ever seen a company be too lazy to fix, and instead just document in the instruction manual:

What a bunch of crap.

But this clock DOES have a very cool CD mechanism. When you press "Open/Close," the whole front of the clock motors up and over so you can load the CD:

And then you press the button again to close the clock. Just like with the Aiwa, Emerson uses the transparent plastic on the front of the clock to cover both the CD and the display, making for a cool aesthetic. (Also, while we're talking about aesthetics, that sticker on the clock above is removable. I have to work with the pictures I can find!)

This YouTuber has a cool demonstration of what the clock looks like while a CD is playing, and of the blue light that shines when the CD door opens. (Though her clock is broken, so she has to open the CD door manually. The instructions say never to do that because it can break the motor mechanism, but if it's already broken, what else can you do?)

One of the neat design traits of this clock is how the CD extends off the left edge of the clock. But, WILDLY, I'm pretty sure this results in the CD's edge exposed while it's spinning! Like a little buzzsaw that you should absolutely never touch if you like your fingers! The images below show where that exposed edge might be. I'm...sort of shocked they were allowed to sell this clock this way? But it's not like the U.S. ever cared much about consumer safety, so maybe it's no surprise.

(Also, did you not think this clock was sleek and slim when you first saw it? And then you saw the other photos and realized it's like a hundred inches deep. It's a chonker!)

RCA RP3765

I'm not going to discuss this clock in detail, in part because, while I think it has a transparent zone, you can't actually see the CD! Boring.

But! This machine does have a cool motorized CD door. Which will probably break just like with the Emerson, but will certainly look cool before it breaks. Take a look in the video above!

Sony ICF-CD855V

I know I talk about this clock ALL THE TIME, but do take a look at how cool the transparent CD mechanism is in the video above. (More cool videos are here and here!) You can see me discuss this clock's visually beautiful design here and here.

That's all!

Frankly, why doesn't every CD alarm clock have a transparent CD drive? That's just a missed opportunity for joy and visual appeal.

I'm glad I could bring these machines to your attention today! See you soon!

Image credits:

Jensen JCR-560: Amazon, eBay, eBay, eBay

Aiwa FR-CD3000: Amazon, Wallapop

Emerson CKD2328 / CKD2330: Etsy, YouTube

RCA RP3765: YouTube

Sony ICF-CD855V: YouTube