#better sweater manufacturer

[sweatermakers]

top sweater Maker

YS Sweater Manufacturer https://knittedsweater.net

email: yisweaterfactory@gmail.com

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[mayakern]

Why....why are the sweaters 3/4 sleeve??? Personally I would totally get a black sweater (or white tbh) but I can't vibe with a 3/4 sleeve (for a few reasons, mostly various sensory/attention problems) so i was wondering why that choice was made and whether there's any chance of a full length sleeve being made in addition or instead? But also I'm curious as to exactly what kind of fabric it is? Is it an anti-pill material? (Pilling is one of my fabric enemies)

so first off, this as is about the lace collar sweaters that will be hitting the store later this year. you can watch the full video here, but i’m including screenshots as well for those of y’all who don’t want to watch the video.

2nd, i get that everyone has personal preferences, but this was unnecessarily rude. you’re not going to like every decision we make, and that’s OK, but if you’re old enough to use a credit card to buy things online, you’re old enough to realize that product decisions you dislike were not made to personally gall you.

there were a few reasons we chose to do 3/4 sleeves, but the primary reason was that 3/4 sleeves work better for a variety of arm lengths. a 3/4 sleeve will look good whether someone’s arm is shorter or longer than average, whereas a full length sleeve can easily be too long or too short for the person wearing it. we also didn’t want to do short sleeves because at the time the only other shirt we had in production was the wrap top, which has short/cap sleeves.

we do have some full long sleeve shirts/sweaters in planning/in production that we have not shown off yet, but currently we do not have plans to make a long sleeve version of this particular sweater because we have no idea what sales will look like. if these sweaters sell well and there’s considerable customer demand, we’ll consider doing long sleeves. if these sweaters sell poorly they will not be returning to the store, period. we are a small business with limited funds and we cannot throw infinite money at the wall.

last, the fabric composition is 62% polyester, 33% viscose, 5% elastane. we tested a lot of fabrics for this sweater, and this was the only one that felt right. its appropriate thickness (not super thin, but not super thick, so that it can easily be layered under warmer garments or worn solo without causing you to overheat), the cute ribbing, and the texture/feeling (which don’t aggravate my textural sensitivities as an autistic person with very sensitive skin) were all just right.

we’ve also done a number of wash tests and did not encounter any issues with pilling. in general, if you take good care of our garments, that is not going to be an issue from our current manufacturer, who have demonstrated time and again that they prioritize quality labor and material that is made to last. the reason shein products fall apart isn’t because they’re made of polyester: it’s because the sewing is rushed and the fabric fibers are low quality and often have a looser knit or weave, which makes them more prone to damage/falling apart on a structural level.

as for pilling specifically, pilling is actually the fabric breaking. looser weaves/knits are more prone to breakage because they are more open and cheap fabrics are often made of looser weaves, which results in more pilling. but even a high quality material can pill under the right (or wrong) circumstances. when fiber is wet, similar to hair, it is more vulnerable to breakage, and washing machines with agitators (the big thing in the middle of some washers) are really really good at breaking your fibers, thus resulting in more pilling.

anyway tldr the sweaters shouldn’t have any pilling issues if you treat them right and full length sleeves are not likely to happen but are not totally impossible.

[leclerced]

Max’ merch got me thinking that he’d love so much when his girl would wear his clothes. She always complains he actually has so much of red bull’s merch and she loves it on race weekends but not always. Kind of a girlfriend effect too because I can see him buying more ‚normal’ clothes. She loves to wear his buttons up in the mornings and his hoodies, jumpers in the evenings. And he always goes feral when he sees her

more soft bf max <333

i kinda love his merch. i wanna order some and see how it is from a manufacturing standpoint. i got some enchante chalet tees and they r nice but honestly super big compared to all my other tees so i wanna see how max’s compare

she loves the pride he has in his team and wearing his own merch branded with a number one, loves to steal his hats and shirts so she can show her support and that would drive him crazy, especially when they’re out and she steals the cap off his head and puts it on her own. but she also loves when he swaps out his team polos for a sweater or a nice button down. like she always compliments him but it’s different when she grabs the lapels of a new jacket and pulls him in for a kiss, before pulling away and telling him to turn around and whistling as he does so.

could see him buying clothes bc he wants her to be impressed with him !! like she compliments him on a specific color and he buys more things in it and every time she’s like “wow have i ever told you i love that color on you? my handsome boy” and he’s the happiest he’s ever been. except for maybe when he sees her in his clothes and he teases her for wearing it better than him.

she always steals his shirts to sleep in, and lounges around in his hoodies. would be late many mornings because he wakes up and finds her in his shirt from the day before and it still smells like him for the most part but her perfume has rubbed off on it and he can’t help but keep her in bed as long as possible

she’d get cold in the garage and disappear, so he’s looking around for her and starting to panic when she returns swaddled in one of his hoodies, and he just starts smiling like an idiot bc he’s just so overwhelmed with how much he loves her.

[gothprentiss]

hey. hey. i cannot make any inroads on your ethics but hey. hey listen. if you nod along with posts like this one

look into how this stuff is processed sometime 👍

i mean, full disclosure: i do genuinely think “i love animal products ❤️ they’re biodegradable” is kind of antivegan cope because, you know, no one ever seems to be talking about natural plant fibers versus synthetics in these contexts— despite the fact that, on average, they comprise significantly more of your wardrobe and significantly more of your short-term, short-life garments— but also, and more importantly: i do not know what kind of beautiful little production chain is being imagined here, but the idea that you go from sheep or cow or so on to your wardrobe to the compost heap to fresh soil in 5-15 years, zero environmental impact, is really out of touch with most factors of consumption. leather for example can be biodegradable, but a lot of processed leather takes significantly longer to decompose— not as long as pvc, but longer than you use it for— due to the nature of its treatment. if you buy leather goods you are virtually never buying untreated leather; tanning is a chemical process with pretty significant environmental consequences. if you are getting for example a wool coat, the odds that you can afford a 100% wool coat as opposed to a wool-synthetic blend are pretty low; same with sweaters. so maybe you thrift a leather jacket or a vintage 100% wool sweater and get some use out of it. you buy a pair of leather shoes and feel good about it. hey, their treatment and soles probably biodegrade too right? and without any lasting impacts on the environment? and maybe you overcorrect for “vegan item!!” fast fashion greenwashing and end up with items which are pretty much exactly as non-biodegradable as their plastic equivalents, and exactly as short-lived because the quality of low-budget manufacturing these days seems to be constantly getting worse.

i don’t mean to scaremonger or whatever— there really isn’t much of a way out of this unless you have some serious cash to spend. but the idea of a totemic Ecologically Good category of material is obviously out of touch with how most people in the world get their clothes and loudly praising a product which is not actually in practice guaranteed to be better than its plastic substitute is oddly common on this website. cmon there isn’t even a character limit. there’s space to actually say something useful

[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

Sweater Spotlight: All Rainbows & Butterflies

Harvey has been out celebrating Pride and promoting WWDITS for awards season over the last two weeks, sporting colorful cardigans from Australian brand Dangerfield.

Harvey wore this lovely rainbow cardigan out for Pride events last weekend, paired with a rainbow sequin black top that may look familiar to longtime fans.

The Rainbow Ringer Cardi from Dangerfield is currently on sale for 50% off, coming to $39 USD total. It originally came in blue or black variants and in sizes up to Australian women's size 20, but currently sizes above 16 are sold out in the blue, and the black is entirely sold out.

The cardigan is 60% viscose, making it a nice, breathable option for wearing out on a cool late spring/early summer evening. It has a boxy longline silhouette, large front pockets, cute yellow buttons down the front placket, and a nice thick rainbow trim around the collar, hem, and cuffs.

This week he wore another piece from the brand to the FYC event for What We Do In The Shadows, this time a fuzzy pink oversized cardigan with blue balloon animals, blue and purple candies and stars, and a purple butterfly on the back. It goes up to size 2XL (roughly equivalent to Australian women's size 18 or U.S. women's size 14) and is currently on sale for $72 USD.

Butterflies have become a recurring motif in Harvey's fashion, most notably in one of the outfits Christian Siriano designed for him to wear to the 2023 GLAAD awards. The butterfly, or mariposa in Spanish, is a callback to a painful but poignant story from Harvey's childhood, a moment when he was hurt and made to feel different by other kids, but also reminded that his mother was always on his side.

The pink Abyss Fluffy Cardi was styled with black jeans, black Converse low-top tennis shoes, and the padlock choker from Toronto-based PansyAss Ceramics which has made several appearances this year.

Notes on Dangerfield

Dangerfield is an alternative clothing brand based in Australia. They advertise themselves as size-inclusive and dedicated to ethical manufacturing. Though their policy around ethical manufacturing appears to be quite robust, I do have to note for anyone who may want to snag their very own colorful cardigans that their sizing only goes up to Australian women's size 24, which is roughly equivalent to a U.S. women's size 20. While some of their items are made to fit oversized, and it is certainly better than stores that only stock "straight" sizes, that is not a fully inclusive size range and may prove a frustrating shopping experience for anyone over a U.S. women's size 20.

That being said, Harvey looks amazing in both cardigans and I'm loving the recurring appearances of the choker! So much in fact that I may have done something a bit ridiculous.

Ahem. Anyway. I can't wait to see what other fun outfits Harvey has in store for awards season, the WWDITS final season press tour, and of course...the rest of Pride Month!

[chubunited]

Amity tidbits bc it's my blorbo rn (sorry y'all who arent into humanoid stuff)

Amity works security for a research vessel that collects environmental and biometric data for a university, but also likes to help with data organization. it's a spreadsheet slut, the data is color coded and everything

It was recently freed from a corporation who manufacture and rent human/bot constructs, and the failsafe in it's brain that's meant to fry it if it disobeys orders has been removed

After it was freed, Amity underwent a series of cosmetic and non-cosmetic augmentations. Wanting to fit in with humans better, and wanting to be more 'involved' in culture, Amity decided one of these augmentations would be to add a digestive system (though it doesnt Need to eat) and taste buds

Its well loved by it's crew, who are very sweet to it and help it explore it's newly opened world. Amity owns more than a few poorly-knitted sweaters.

Amity, in spite of being a highly technically advanced bot construct cant cook for shit and has burnt more eggs than can be counted

though it has mad RBF it's highly emotionally intelligent and is usually the first one it's crew comes to if they need reassurance

it LOVES spicy foods. One of it's favorite gifts it's gotten is a hot sauce variety pack. this is another reason it's not allowed to cook on the ship

Over time it starts putting on weight, and ends up Huge. Because of it's bot structure, this doesn't slow it down at all when it needs to mobilize. However, it does mean it ends up needing a much larger cabin space

Amity loves being large, not just because it separates it from it's past as a corporate weapon, but because of how much it's crew seems to enjoy it as well. Primo spot on movie night is next to Amity.

it once wrote a code for itself so it could experience indigestion. just to see what it'd feel like. (this code is still active)

It has a lovely singing voice, and can often been heard humming to itself while it writes code or helps with data organization

[cdreambur]

space au where professional pilot dream is hired for a transport flight across half the galaxy.

his employer even supplies the ship, a new model made by reputable manufacturer soot corp. and "one of only six released prototypes", as the guy proudly tells him.

dream's not complaining, considering the sleek design, strong motors, and impressive technology on the control panel.

with the first half of the pay deposited in his account and his cargo stored, dream boards, sinking into the surprisingly plush seat of the captain's chair.

flipping the switch to activate the controls, he startles when a sudden light flickers to life on his right, bathing the cockpit in a bright silver blue glow.

when dream turns to it, a face is staring back, and it's only now that he realizes that he's looking at a hologram.

"hi, i'm wil, your assistant navigator." the hologram says before smiling brightly at dream.

it takes the form of a young man, probably around dream's age, with wild brown curls, warm eyes, freckled cheeks, and a simple black sweater.

dream just blinks at it, righting himself in his chair as wil explains, "i've already received the coordinates to your destination. do you want me to tell you and let you figure out the route or should i guide you step by step?"

his head is spinning, surprised that the artificial intelligence already knows where to go when dream didn't get more than an "a small, relatively populous planet in the outer ring" from his employer. though this might explain why he didn't go into detail about it.

he clears his throat, finally smiling back at wil.

"i'd appreciate it if you tell me."

finally starting the motors, he listens as wil rattles off the coordinates, already mapping out the best way in his head. it isn't an area he's been in before, but he's visited planets close to it, and while it's a relatively long trip of around a week, it's also not a very complicated one.

when he voices the thought, wil agrees, right before rambling about all the reasons why the region is a lesser visited part of the galaxy and how that's good for them.

they're in hyperspace already when the talking eventually stops, wil blinking up at dream.

"wait. what the fuck is your name?"

the question is so blunt and out of the blue that dream can't stop himself from snorting, finally introducing himself. he tells wil a bit about his home planet, about his family, and how he came to be a pilot.

and it's nice.

the artificial intelligence is a surprisingly good listener, with a great sense of humor and a seemingly endless supply of little jokes and quips.

dream thinks he's going to enjoy the week of travel.

-

the days pass way too quickly. dream spends almost all of his time in the cockpit, talking to wil, who he's learned a lot about.

wil goes by he, and he likes to sing. he's sarcastic and enjoys telling stories. he knows a lot about the universe and loves nothing more than talking about it.

and dream's getting way too attached to an artificial intelligence bound to a ship that doesn't belong to him.

it doesn't get better when they reach the orbit of their destination.

because it definitely doesn't look like the planet dream's employer described to him.

sure, it's in the outer ring. but it's not small, and not populous either. in fact, it seems as if no one lives on the giant green planet.

"are you sure this is the right place?" he asks wil, doubtful as he looks down at the hilly surface.

"yes." wil answers softly, and there's something in his voice that dream can't quite place.

he pushes it to the back of his mind when the hologram starts directing him to the landing site.

it's... weird.

the place where they finally touch down is a flat area covered in green stems dream has never seen before, close to a majestic mansion that reminds dream of the strange, intricate glass structures you can find on diare.

something doesn't feel right, and dream voices as much to wil.

"i'm sorry." the hologram replies.

dream whips around to him, finding wil unable to meet his eyes and his expression hidden behind his disheveled curls.

"what do you mean?"

and when he doesn't get a response, "wil, what the fuck do you mean?"

wil swallows.

"if you want answers, go to room 16. and for the the small chance that someone asks why you're there, tell them you followed hullar's orders."

then, he flickers one last time before disappearing.

and dream is left staring at the console, torn between finding out what's going on and leaving to complete his job.

as always, his curiosity wins in the end.

he crosses the short distance between the ship and the house, surprised when he finds the door unlocked. no alarm bells start ringing when he steps into a grand foyer, and there aren't any people either. the whole building seems empty and unprotected, but there's a creepy air hanging over it that doesn't quite allow dream to relax.

two doors lead further into the mansion, and dream picks the left one at random, peeking inside to find a long corridor with numbered doors, all of them a strange off-white color.

the numbers start with two though, so he closes it again, walking over to the other door.

the hallway that lies behind it looks identical to the first one, but this time, the numbers start with zero and thus seem more promising to dream.

he closes the door behind him when he enters the deserted corridor, taking a slow, deep breath before he starts walking.

the even numbers are on the left side, and room number 16 is almost at the end of the hallway, looking just like the rest of it.

dream's hand shakes a little when he reaches for the handle, but he pushes it open without any hesitation.

on the other side stands wil.

he looks exactly like he did on the ship; messy curls, light brown eyes, smooth skin, a black sweater.

but this time, he's real. a person made of flesh and blood, just like dream.

dream doesn't know if he wants to punch or hug him.

"what the hell?" he chokes out as the door silently shuts behind him.

wil smiles sheepishly at him before ducking his head, curls falling into his face in the way dream has seen so often in the last week.

"hey dream." he whispers, and dream almost flinches at the sound of his voice, so similar and yet so different from the slightly distorted version of it he's heard over the last few days.

"what the hell." dream repeats, softer and a little more composed. he straightens his shoulders, letting out a deep sigh as he crosses his arms.

"care to explain?"

it comes out a bit more demanding than he wanted to, but in his defence, this is probably the strangest situation he's ever been in and he doesn't quite know how to handle it.

wil doesn't seem to take offense, although he does shrink a little bit further into himself.

"i'm really sorry." he apologizes again, tone the same as when he said it on the ship. but this time, he doesn't disappear after, instead continuing, "my name is wilbur, wilbur soot."

dream's arms fall to his side at that, the name registering immediately. however, he doesn't get the chance to think about it as wil goes on with his explanation.

"my father is the founder and chief engineer of soot corp., and as you may know, they're the leading company on the market when it comes to spaceships. with that comes a lot of envy and a bunch of very ambitious rivals."

wil finally looks up at him, a soft, sad smile curling the corners of his mouth.

"i'm my father's only child. and people know that hurting me would hurt him. so he keeps me here, keeps me safe. but i don't want to live in a golden cage anymore."

his expression shifts, something so sweet and hopeful in his eyes that dream has to hold himself back from pulling wil into his arms.

"i wanna see the universe. i wanna see the planets and the stars and the galaxies i've only ever read about. i wanna be free."

and dream knows how this is going to end, knows what he's going to ask before he actually does.

"can you take me with you?"

and how, how is dream supposed to say no to someone with so much wonder twinkling in their eyes, someone with so much passion and curiosity for what the universe has to offer.

he nods.

the smile that takes over wil's face is blinding and steals dream's breath for a moment. he basks in it, just for a small second, before he reciprocates it, gesturing towards the door.

wil nods, and together, they leave the room, and then the hallway, and then the house.

there are still no people, still no alarm bells, but the creepy atmosphere seems to disappear in wil's presence, leaving nothing but a content warmth in dream's chest.

it doesn't take them long to reach the ship, and dream sinks into the captain's chair with a satisfied sigh, something that makes wil giggle from where he's tucked himself into the co-pilot seat.

starting the controls, he expects hologram wil to come back to life, but the spot where he usually appeared stays empty.

"huh?" dream mutters to himself before turning to wil.

"where's the artificial intelligence? even if i found you, it should still be here."

wil's sheepish grin returns.

"you weren't talking to an artificial intelligence. you were talking to me. to get away, i had to find a way to contact someone, and since my father developed these prototypes here, i had the chance to secretly build in a video messenger."

dream blinks, stunned.

"so... everything hologram wil said and did was... you? it was real?"

wil nods, and something in dream settles at that confirmation.

because it's strange. theoretically, they only met twenty minutes ago. but dream already knows how wil sounds when he's tired and how much he loves constellations and what his favorite food is. and in turn, wil already knows who dream's best friends are and which planets he likes visiting the most and which ships he would love to fly.

wil is real, and he's here, and he's going to stay.

dream grins to himself when he starts the motors and lifts off, leaving the planet behind and entering space in no time.

stabilizing them somewhere where they're not going to be in the way of other ships, he turns to wil, planning to talk about their next moves.

he's stopped by the sight of wil curled up in the chair, knees pulled up to his chest as he looks out the window, sparkles in his eyes and the softest smile imaginable on his face as he watches the stars.

dream chuckles, quietly making a promise to himself.

he's going to show wil the universe.

[msbarrows]

Well... colour me disappointed. I've been wanting to tackle maybe making a larger crochet project like a sweater and finally bit the bullet and ordered some yarn to try it out. Went with a mostly-cotton yarn because I do love the weight and drape of cotton. Went with this particular cotton yarn - despite having to pay import and shipping fees to order from the US for it - because I really liked the heathered look it has and figured it'd work up pretty attractively.

I was not prepared for how much finer DK yarn is than regular worsted (when I was previously doing crocheting 20+ years ago all my purchases were in-store and vibe-based so I've only got the vaguest ideas so far on wool sizes and necessary amounts). This 6 skein bundle is supposed to be enough yarn to make either a baby blanket or an adult sweater (852 yards) and all I can think looking at this is "must be a pretty darn small adult".

I am now going back and forth on seeing just how much of the sweater I had in mind this'd actually make (I was already thinking there'd be a good chance I'd need to order a second batch since I am far from a small woman), or to abort and make something like a cowl instead. I suppose I might as well try the sweater first anyway, to give me a better idea of how far this much DK actually goes, and then once I know that, can decide whether I like it enough to either order more if necessary, or frog it and reuse the yarn for something else.

Though I'm very happy with one of the other things I ordered at the same time; a yarn spinner, not as in an umbrella swift or a yarn winder, both of which I already purchased over the summer, but one of those rotating wooden thingamajiggers that has a part that looks like a paper towel holder that you stick through your ball of yarn, and then it hangs via a very strong magnet from a base so that it turns to release more yarn as you work, like so:

Tried it out already and it. Is. AWESOME. Highly highly recommend. I think the only disclaimer I'd make on it is be sure to check reviews, since if the manufacturer skimps on the magnet strength that'd be an issue (I did check reviews, and went with the one that didn't have people complaining about the suspended part dropping loose).

[g5mlp]

44 new G5 merch designs have been added by Hasbro to its Amazon Merch on Demand catalog.

This post links to the "Premium T-Shirt" product type since I took the images from those products' listings. The designs are also available on other products that are priced differently. This post only shows the "default" color option for each product. See below for notes.

Download links Cropped images (JPG) Transparent cropped images (PNG)

A Kid Who Loves Ponies

A Girl Who Loves Ponies

Izzy I Believe In Myself

Dream Believe Achieve

Halloween Is Fa-Boo-Lous

Halloween Tick Or Treat (the product name is misspelled)

Halloween Costume Panels

Self Love Club Logo

Hitch Know Your Worth

Izzy Hoof To Heart Logo

Friends Be You For You

Izzy Love Your Vibe Logo

Friends Love Your Vibe Logo

Pipp Petals Born To Shine

Zipp Rebel Be Brave Be You

Sunny Express Yourself

Express Yourself Be Unique

Creativity Unites Panel

Sunny Bright Future

Together We Are Better

Izzy Glitter Flower Fest

Izzy Face Flower Fest Logo

Sunny Starscout Shine!

Sunny Starscout Crystals

Sunny Starscout Crystals (duplicate with different color options)

Pipp Petals Cutie Mark

Zipp Storm Rockin Sound

Izzy Moonbow Rainbow Magic

Izzy Moonbow Musical Retro

Sunny Starscout Power Up

Sunny Starscout Hooves Up!

Group Shot Music Up!

Party Duo Music Up!

Rainbow Magic Music Notes

Glitter Duo Favorite Song

Christmas Winter Season

100 Magical Days Of School

Happy First Day Of School

Christmas Sunny Sweater

Christmas Pipp Sweater

A Pony Kind Of Christmas

Happy Last Day Of School

Christmas Zipp Sweater

Christmas Izzy Sweater

Christmas Hitch Sweater

Notes

Amazon Merch on Demand products are made and shipped by Amazon. The copyright owner of the design receives some royalties for each sale, and Amazon keeps the rest of the revenue. After putting the designs on Amazon, Hasbro sometimes reuses them for conventional mass-manufactured shirts, such as those of Fifth Sun.

The links in the rest of this post only link to the "Premium T-Shirt" product type on the Amazon US site. From least to most expensive, the typical product types available are: T-Shirt, V-Neck T-Shirt, Premium T-Shirt, Tank Top, Long Sleeve T-Shirt, Raglan Baseball Tee, Sweatshirt, Pullover Hoodie, Zip Hoodie. These are all adult-size and have various size and color options. You can use the search box on the Amazon website to find the other types (you may need to sort by "Newest Arrivals" to see relevant search results). Some of Hasbro's designs (though seemingly not all) are also available for the product types Kids T-Shirt and Kids Premium T-Shirt.

Amazon Merch on Demand products have limited geographical availability. Hasbro's designs are usually listed on the US, UK, France, Germany and Spain Amazon sites,* and all of these sites have differing international shipping options. If you are outside the US, you may need to check all of the aforementioned sites to determine if you can have the products shipped to your location. If you want to see the search results but they're not available in your location, set a fake post code as your delivery location (e.g. US 10111, UK NW1 1WN).

* A completely different set of MLP designs is available on Amazon Japan, for which international shipping is available to the US and possibly other countries. Hasbro used to put their designs on Amazon Italy as well but they stopped after April 2021.

[tigerspite]

Would you believe me if I said I re-wrote this from scratch four times?

Anyway. Hopefully this gives a bit of context to the previous chapter. Remember that this is all being written out of order.

Read the rest of The Devil's Claw here

Next chapter

-

CHAPTER ?? / The Captive

Under blue pre-dawn light, a human staggers across a beach on the southern coast of England. His clothes are ragged and torn, hanging from his body after soaking up sea water, and his dark blonde hair is plastered to his head. He makes it no further than twenty paces up the sandy slope towards the cliffs before collapsing, crawling towards the shelter of a rock and slumping against it.

"He is already dead. This is a waste of our time," Varzis hisses, her glare ferocious. "Solkis has no use for specimens like this."

Wethraks lurks behind an outcrop with the rest of the crew, fixed on the unmoving body. So few humans remain around the steep and rugged cliff edges of the coast, with almost all viable land destroyed by dramatically increased sea levels and the natural disasters surrounding Earth's Collapse. His patrol ventured so far in search of any surviving colonies and securing the area, but the man is the first he has seen in days. A dim flicker in the back of his mind suspects he is a distraction, a decoy to start an ambush on his crew, but their scouting Shanks and Servitors are silent.

The human clinging to the boulder before them is utterly and completely alone.

"There is nothing of worth in a half-drowned human." she continues, turning away as if she cannot stand to look at him any longer.

""Humans don't come out of the sea," he counters. "Solkis will want to study him, even if he releases him afterwards. There has to be a reason why he's here."

Chuffing sharply at his rebuttal, she shoves a set of chains and cuffs into his hands. "Then he is your burden alone. Some of us have better things to attend, and a city to go home to."

He flexes his mandibles in protest, but Varzis stalks away before he can make a more coherent argument. The members of the crew who do not yet understand that he is the one in command, not her, follow with haste. Having authority over her while he is a Vandal, and she is a Captain who saw him freshly docked and joining her crew on Sepiks-Fel, is not an adjustment she accepts.

With an aggrieved sigh, Wethraks rises to his full height and slinks from his hiding place. Cautious, he circles from several feet away, scanning for concealed weapons or wounds on the human that might aggravate if he touches the wrong place. Provoking him into a fight when he has no backup is certain doom. Adult males particularly tend to resist capture, especially when alone, and Solkis's trappers have plenty of scars and stories between them to prove why they recommend specific care be taken.

While caked in sand and salt and draped across a boulder, however, he appears harmless enough.

Alerted to movement, the man stirs and lifts his head. Eyes cloudy with exhaustion, he stares without registering what is in front of him. Before he is able to spend any more time processing, however, Wethraks steps behind him and closes in to take his arms.

Mercifully, he does not resist the shackles. But the dead weight of one limb, colder than the rest of his body, steals his focus away. Rolling the cuff of his sweater sleeve up, he a wrist made entirely of metal. Through the rips in the fabric, steel plates shift over each other as he pulls his arm around to restrain him fully. It looks like a prosthetic limb - one at odds with post-Collapse human manufacturing, and unusually elaborate to be of Eliksni make. Dozens of wires and servos within work together to produce the most subtle movements, indistinguishable from a real limb, and he cannot help but feel along his back to find the seam where metal meets flesh around his shoulder.

For a moment, he wonders if he is one of the mechanical humanoids that are occasionally found in the wilds given flesh and bone, a monstrous experiment never meant to see the light of day. Casting him out to sea to be forgotten would ensure that nobody learned of what happened, but they must not have accounted for whether the tides would carry him ashore. Through that, he feels a pang of sympathy for the man. Solkis's anthropologists would be over him like flies, regardless, elated at the opportunity to investigate someone so unusual. They would take better care than whoever had him before.

Confident that he is secure and too exhausted to fight back, Wethraks takes the chain trailing off of the handcuffs and drags him from the rock, pulling him up the path towards the cliff face. His captive slides through the sand without resistance, weighing nothing compared to others he has taken. As concerning as it is, he finds he is thankful. A pliable, co-operative human is more accepting of their fate and more willing to be left sedated in a cell than someone who comprehends what is happening to them. Even if the agreeableness comes from a dangerous lack of energy.

It takes a few minutes until he reaches the top of the cliff, where the anchored convoy of Skiffs rests. At their edge, Varzis narrows her eyes to see him and chatters her mandibles in distaste. She heaves herself away from the ship she rests against with a growl, personally inconvenienced by his brief detour but already moving to the loading ramp.

"Wait there. We'll have to re-distribute the salvage to accommodate your prize." she calls, bobbling her head before disappearing into the circle of ships to unload.

Wethraks chitters back in return, choosing to ignore her vitriol and pulling his human to where a set of storage crates have been stacked. Propping him up to sit against it and lifting the crate to put the end of the chain underneath, he hums at the paleness to his skin. Cold like ice. Without intervention that he does not have access to, and although the Skiff is warm, he senses he may not survive the journey home unless extra care is taken.

Unbuckling his cloak, he settles it over the man and tucks it in around his body. The action rouses him, blinking up at his captor in a daze, and the recognition of his situation takes a few seconds to register. His breath catches and he jerks back, the metal limb twisting to try and pry free of his bindings.

"Stop, stop stop stop!" Wethraks trills, putting all four hands out to steady him. Careful to avoid touching him directly, he keeps him corralled against the box. "I am not going to hurt you!"

Breathing heavy and eyes wild, the fear scent emanating from him is palpable. There is no way it can be his first encounter with Eliksni, but Wethraks senses that it may be the first time he has heard one speak his language. That often shocks and disorients the other captives the most.

He crouches down to his level to seem as non-threatening as possible. "So- um, hello," He gives an awkward little wave with an upper hand and offers a smile. "I have to let you know that you've been captured for being on House Devils territory. You'll be safe, but my Captain is taking us back to London with you as our prisoner."

The human blinks hard again, staring for a heartbeat too long in the wake of his introduction. That, or he is attempting to work out whether anything in front of him is real or a delusion. He glances around, brow furrowed while he searches to make sense of any of his surroundings.

"My name is Wethraks, Vandal of House Devils," He leans over, back into his line of sight and blocking out anything that could confuse him further. "I need to ask you a few questions, unless you have any for me first?"

The man sighs, and a voice rough from saltwater and disuse comes out of him. “What do you want from me?"

“I'm afraid it's not really my business, my Baron makes those decisions," Wethraks shakes his head. "But we will take care of you, he may want to see you personally. He's friendly."

His affirmations receive nothing more than a grunt and another bout of broken eye contact. He shifts where he sits, wincing in protest of the movement, but offers nothing further to say.

Wethraks waits until he is done and settled, watching him expectantly. "Are you hurt?"

The response is short and immediate. "No."

"Okay," he trails off, and tilts his head. "Can I ask for your name?"

"Yami."

"Do you know how you got here?"

Silence. A mistrustful, sideways look.

"Do you know where you are, or where you were before this?"

No answer.

Wethraks understands then that it is going to be a very, very long trip back to London.

[georgegraphys]

Brands that user georgegraphys think would fit George (as team sponsor/individual BA jobs)

1. Samsung (Technology & Electronics)

I know George used Iphones but imo, Samsung would be a good fit to sponsor the team because a) their brand image definitely fit Mercedes & George a lot (bold, broad innovations, and of course, their main colours (Black, White, Blue) fits Mercedes official colour a lot or it doesn't clash against other colours, colour synchro is important too) + their CSR aligns a lot with Mercedes' as they focus a lot on energy efficient, sustainable, and renewable products

2. Cartier (Jewelry)

It is unlikely for Cartier to be a team sponsor, so i'd like to think of George doing a campaign for their collections. Was actually thorn between BVLGARI and Cartier (but then I thought BVLGARI would fit Lewis better, giving me maximalism vibes) whereas George imo, will look better with the simplicity that Cartier jewelry offers (i could honestly imagine Carmen & George doing this join Cartier campaign)

3. Brunello Cucinelli (Fashion)

This is highly unlikely as Mercedes and George are tied with Tommy Hilfiger (even if it happens, it would be an individual collab w/ George) but a collaboration with Brunello Cucinelli would blow people's minds. George actually wore plenty of Brunello Cucinelli clothes (one of them being the sweater he wore in Austria this year). Brunello Cucinelli emits the old money modest elegance, minimalism, and classic that would fit George a lot (as it seems like his fashion style is the opposite of Lewis' maximalism and stand out-ish)

plus, George is friends with THE Brunello Cucinelli's daughter alr on instagram 😜

4. L'Oreal (Cosmetics & Personal Care)

I might sound like i'm drunk but HAVE YOU SEEN GEORGE'S HAIR?! L'Oreal can easily make him their model if they become a team sponsor or collaborate with him on a personal campaign. It's a perfect objective for L'Oreal. That's if we're talking about the haircare part, but the skincare? George could too. His skin is *chef's kiss* perfect for a L'Oreal CF shoot on a beach

5. Hennessy (Alcoholic Beverages)

Haven't looked up the F1 policy on this since they seem to be sponsored by Heineken and idk if another alcoholic beverages brand is allowed to sponsor a team. But hey... FUCK THE ENERGY DRINKS WE ROLL WITH THE ALCOHOLS. George's fancy commercial with Hennessy, while drinking a cognac? I'll take it. Plus points for Hennessy is that sophisticated beautiful product design they had (the bottle designs) and the logo 🥹🥹 (i'm a sucker for logos okay)

Other optional replacements:

Ritz Carlton/Marriott Bonvoy > Intercontinental Hotel Group

It's British and had the same vibes and elegance of an expensive hotel just like Marriott Group & Ritz Carlton (I prefer Ritz Carlton over all) but yeah could be switchable. We can still see George doing silly Marriot Bonvoy-like CF

IWC Schaffhausen > Tissot Watches

There won't be a really huge change between Schaffhausen to Tissot as both of them are similarly classic Mercedes vibes.

Police Eyewear > Michael Kors

I just prefer MK's design over Police even though Police ones that George wears are good. Plus point for MK is that they're more well known (opinionated statement)

Monster Energy > None (?)

I don't think an energy drink company sponsor is really needed in George's Mercedes.

Possibly other brand types that i'm interested in for Mercedes to partner with : Airlines (Lufthansa/Etihad Airways) or Luxury Goods manufacturer (Montblanc/Fortnum & Masons/Harrods)

Other than these brands : i personally think Van Cleef & Arpels, Guiness, Bottega Venetta, L'Occitane, and Salvatore Ferragamo to be a great contender in being a good brand for George. But if we're talking about British stereotypes, Lipton should sponsor him LMFAOOO

Conclusion is George doesn't lack brands that fits his image branding and personality. Haters should not worry about who'll sponsor Mercedes/George. There are lots of brands that fit George's Mercedes and George Russell himself, maybe you should broaden your brand knowledge 🤭😝☺️

[sweatermakers]

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[wundrousarts]

hi I hope this doesn’t sound like a demand lol but I love how you draw jupiter and I hope you draw him more

your art is so cool by the way I really like your character lineup 🥺

Thank you so much!! I literally never draw Jupiter, on account of my inability to draw 1. adult men and 2. beards, BUT it’s something I need to / want to get better at. The only other time I’ve drawn him was that lineup which I did super quick, so it was fun to try and think of an actual design so I can try to draw him more!

[ID: Three half-colored digital sketches of Jupiter North from Nevermoor. They show him as a kid with messy hair, a young adult with a mullet and mustache, and an adult with longer hair and a fuller beard. End ID.]

Details on my Jupiter design / headcanons (?) for his life under the cut:

I started with the middle— in my layers, I dubbed him to be “teen” Jupiter, originally intending for him as a senior scholar, but as time went on I figured he was more like, early 20s young adult Jove. The Wunsoc sweater is just still there on the adults because I didn’t want to redraw <3

I feel like Wunsoc, especially with Dearborn and Murgatroyd prowling the halls, holds its student’s appearances to a certain standard. Sure, society members are representatives of the society for the rest of their lives once they graduate, but their time in school is their first introduction to that life. It's their debut as society members. We see this in a lot of stuff with Holliday, in Hollowpox and in the one Silverborn snippet, how she's manufacturing an image for Mog and co. and physical appearance plays a part in it.

Going with this: I feel like Wunsoc would expect their students to keep their appearance clean and approachable somewhat. Jupiter gives me a vibe of the kid who had a crazy growth spurt, and was able to grow a beard before graduating– BUT I don't know if Wunsoc (really just the Scholar Mistresses) would be crazy for that. So I imagine that he's relatively clean-shaven for the most part, nowhere near modern Jove, and then starts to grow out his facial hair a bit more as a senior scholar where I imagine things would lax a bit, and then just commit fully to growing a beard once he properly graduates.

So young adult Jupiter is perhaps in his early 20s, a somewhat recent Wunsoc graduate. I'm a mullet Jupiter truther, where his hair is longer in the back, and had to represent that. Younger Jove's is messier and more fun; he's not too concerned about his image as he hasn't quite reached that laundry list of titles and accolades yet.

Present-day adult Jupiter is still rocking the mullet style, just now it's longer and styled a bit more professionally. But let's be real– it doesn't stay this way. It totally gets easily messed up from his hats, and Jove loves to have fun and entertain people, Plus, he's a busy man, constantly stressed and running around. While the hair here might be great for say, a formal meeting or a magazine cover, the hair most folks end up seeing him with tends to be a bit more wild. He definitely starts to resemble his younger self's hair more after a rowdy night or a stressful endeavor.

Kid Jupiter– not much to say here, tbh. I figured I'd stick with the longer hair he has as an adult, kinda rowdy. Not a mullet yet, though! I was thinking of the part in Nevermoor where he starts talking about the rules he broke and stuff he got up to as a Wunsoc student, and how Hawthorne started taking notes, and made his hair similar to the rowdy hair of our favorite bestie. However, while Hawthorne's hair is curly, I'm of the belief that Jupiter's hair is definitely pretty straight. So no curlicues for him </3

Hopefully now that I've started to nail down a design for Jupiter, I can draw him more!! I always have soooo many Nevermoor ideas circling around in my brain. I love thinking about designs for various characters and the reasonings behind different aspects of their appearance.

[trouticecream]

A few days had passed since his initial excursion to the now-defunct Stonehenge base.  A seemingly short stretch of time, but one which he had utilized quite efficiently to make good progress on dismantling it.  All that is left to do now is to get rid of some last few embedded structures and fill up the twisting, bending, and turning cavernous hole made beneath the grounds of Stonehenge, before then eliminating the entrance point entirely.  To that end, he has a few machines up to the task and ready to perform the last few steps needed and altogether, along the Psion himself, it should take very little time to finish up the work.  Time is of the essence in this particular quest; after all, the less time the scraps and landmarks of his invasions stay, the less opportunities there will be for other life-forms to potentially get hurt by things that really shouldn’t otherwise be on Earth at this point in time.  And better yet, the odd sensation he had experienced during his original trip–the very one which had sparked thoughts over the likes of Ancient Ones and stories about them–had quickly subsided after about the third trip or so.  At this juncture, it was more akin to a distant memory; far from the forefront of his mind, but certainly not forgotten.

At this moment however, Gregory is not focusing on continuing his efforts with Stonehenge exactly, but with what he had retrieved from it over the course of several days.  Within the rocky and cavernous formations of Mt. Itoi, the small alien sat at a cube-like table–smooth, pale grey, and shaped exactly like an enormous cube; an apparent slab of refined rock embedded in similarly-designed floors–atop a similar cube-like ‘chair’, with various metallic bits and pieces strewn out before him in an ordered, labeled, and neatly organized configuration.  Truth be told, the primary reason why they were all out as opposed to a particular subset, is because he had gotten a bit too… – ‘enthusiastic’ about the prospect of putting them to use and just inventing!  But, as it stands now, they were not his main project as could be discerned from the way they were shuffled off to the edges of the table.  Rather, the very thing that took priority at this moment and held the highest level of intrigue for the Psion would be that of a broken-down Starman Super, planted firmly in the very centre of the table and right in the crosshairs of his exceedingly concentrated and unblinking gaze.

While this model of Starman could hardly be regarded as the ‘best’ or most ‘powerful’, they generally had a more reliable and lengthier record of consistent performances as opposed to the newer models that ended up being produced later on.  That is precisely why the fact that he had to recover one at all is of special interest.  Due to built-in security functions, it is quite rare for Starmen to remain after becoming damaged enough that they can no longer fight or otherwise perform assigned duties.  Typically, the Starman will either teleport away on its own or be recalled by an automatic teleportation process directly back to the Psion-controlled manufacturing planet, on which they are produced.  An eventuality that failed to elapse here.  He pulls up the yellow sleeve of his sweater on his right hand, diamond insignia seemingly embedded in his wrist facing down and hovered over the precise centre of the Starman Super’s chest, where it immediately emits a pale blue beam that juts out to outline the entire body.  The blue hued luminescence overlaps with the golden armored coating of the Starman Super for a split second, flashing a total of three times, before vanishing to be replaced by a medium-sized white-blue holographic screen that pops up just above the top of his wrist.  A screen, which on closer examination, is now packed with a series of blue star-like shapes connected by lines in some places like perceived constellations.

Psion script.  An especially thorough and detailed diagnostics report.  Utilizing a small finger, he slowly scrolls through the reported data, glancing over at the Starman Super for a more visual reference as he does so.  Some of the data is quite obvious from a rudimentary visual assessment:  cracked visor, missing arm, and a gaping hole in the chest just off to the right surrounded by a myriad of cracks which stop at the shoulder of the missing arm in question.  Dark blue voids narrow just a bit with a pensive swipe of his tail off to the side, small fingers momentarily tapping his chin in kind.  While Starmen were not made to be invincible… even at the highest ranking… it was quite telling of just how strong and determined humans can be to have damaged even a Super this much in battle.  But, then they were heroes were they not?  Even if it takes everything they have at that moment… a true hero would not give up just like that, especially when there were several human lives at stake here in that particular facility.  Strong or not, they had to somehow overcome the enemies in their way, to save the people captured and continue on to stop the invasion overall.

In the end, humans are neither as fragile and weak as one might think nor as ‘inherently’ dangerous as the Psions had determined.  He pauses his scrolling, having reached the abrupt end of the diagnostics report, before having it vanish with a succinct snap of his fingers.  The exact nature of the point of error is a little tricky to determine, but it seems to have quite a bit to do with a complicated manufacturing defect.  One that was exaggerated by the damages sustained from the Chosen Ones’ collective attack in battle.  An easy fix… by removing the infrastructure for that automatic recall function entirely.  He has no intentions of ever drawing further attention to the Earth or himself like that… though if he hopes to even be ‘good’ at all one day, then perhaps that eventuality will manifest in some way anyways. 

But, not like this.

Not in a way that would send a definitive ‘failure’ back to his species of origin.  Perhaps an odd choice to make for an entity that has been a machine–no better than a far simpler tool–from the very beginning, but it is his choice to make.  He does not need to follow the path of other Psions and similarly, perhaps with some work, this ‘failure’ need not follow the path of other Starmen.  After all, most ‘failures’ are not as absolute as is often the default arbitrary assumption.  An enthusiastic swish of his rat-like tail, ears perking up more attentively than before.  Rather they are more akin to opportunities for increased growth and strength; a critical part of any scientific endeavor!  He pulls himself to a stand atop the chair before promptly hopping onto the table with a definitive spring to the motion.  And in any case, he cannot deny that he is just a bit curious, all too enthused by the action of tinkering around with a broken model.  What will happen if he not only repairs the Super, but alters the very programming which shuttles its more complex thought processes into the single-minded slot of following given objectives?  Can it exist like any other life-form when all it has ever known, from the very moment it was first powered on, was set by orders?

Several tools of assorted sizes and shapes materialize in the air at the Psion’s sides, outlined in the pale blue of his telekinetic abilities, as he closes in on the defunct Starman and a flurry of ideas begin to knock around in his mind on how to approach this particular endeavor.  His typically blank demeanor gains a kind of determined edge to it; a glint in otherwise dull pupils.  Time to find out and in the process of doing so, also (hopefully) provide this so-called ‘failure’ with the opportunity to be more… and do more… than what its original design had dictated.  Much like Gregory himself.

…………………………….

It takes a little time–albeit not much with the tools and expertise at Gregory’s disposal–but soon enough, he finishes his work and moves to boot the Starman Super back up.  On the outside, it looks almost identical albeit with repairs that are quite evident (read:  not appearing as though it had never been damaged in the first place) barring that of the visor; the cracks, hole, and missing arm filled in or otherwise replaced by a light iridescent fluid-like substance that glitters strangely when lighting hits it just the right way.  Something he had likely obtained far beyond the Earth and integrated his own way while repairing the Starman afterwards.  Gregory pulls out the holographic screen of the computer attached to his wrist and taps in a few sequences before dismissing the screen altogether and simply observing the Starman Super with bated anticipation, small hands tensely grasping each other.  For a moment or two, nothing happens, but soon enough it boots back up with an abrupt jerk in motion.  An oddly powerful motion–beyond what is generally expected–unbefitting of a Starman Super, but perhaps expected given the Psion’s own expertise around technology like this; more than likely, he had done more than merely repair.

Sitting up on the table, a rigid and stiff motion like a puppet pulled by strings, the Starman Super merely turns its head from side to side–clearly malleable and almost fluid in motion due to its innate composition–analyzing… assessing… before settling on the one that had repaired it, still atop the table himself and peering down unblinkingly.  It clearly could not gather its bearings enough to discern what had happened exactly, a peculiar sort of lightness and boundlessness permeating its operating systems like nothing that had ever been experienced before, but supposed that it wouldn’t matter because a Psion was here.  Focus.  A Psion would know what the situation is exactly, irrespective of how unconventional wearing any apparel at all is in the species.  It further focuses on the Psion in question, determining that a rudimentary scan for identity would be fitting here.  And not just any Psion, but the very one it was made for in the first place.  Maybe.  The signature given off is odd–almost unreadable and distorted, like something that against cosmic laws, shouldn’t even exist in the first place–but somehow, it can make out enough legible bits to discern his identity, likely due to the upgrades received.

“Master Giegue.”

A single mechanical utterance, curiously absent of any of the whirrrs or clicks that typically adorn the speech of Starman robots, before the Psion himself could even say anything.  The repaired Starman glances down, as if noting the table and surrounding mechanical bits for the very first time, recorded memories of what had happened before syncing back up as it does so.  The situation immediately clears, alertness breaking through the momentary disorientation, and with it, an inquiry tinged with something difficult to parse, comes through with a sting.  Something it had never experienced before, but seemed all too ‘natural’ to experience now in light of its evident failure to stop the Chosen Ones and worse yet, require direct retrieval by a Psion.  And even worse than that? energy expended by its commander himself when he had far more important things to concern himself with;  it was only a lower rank after all.  A mere Super that could easily be replaced in less time than it takes to snap one’s fingers.

“Why did you retrieve me yourself?”

A halting sensation.  Did it really speak without determining if the Psion himself wanted to address it with more pressing matters, dictated by his own priorities?  With a Psion?  Its dark visor almost scrunches up in almost affronted befuddlement.  It had never done this before.  Where had such audacity come from?  Is it possible that perhaps Master Giegue had made a mistake during repairs?  The Starman Super taps its repaired arm overtop the table, as if testing it out to assure effectiveness, before mentally retracting that question.  Of course not.  Master Giegue was very competent and though his form had changed significantly… it is certain that this would not have changed.  Not that he seems to have given any indication at all that he’s heard such thoughts.  Rather the Psion continued to stare unblinkingly, a gaze so unnaturally sharp that the weak of heart would certainly feel as though they were being examined to an uncomfortable degree, with a blank expression on his face before eventually speaking.

“You need not refer to me as such anymore.”

He floats back, so as to give the Starman Super some space, and perches himself back on the chair he had previously been utilizing, stubby arms neatly crossing behind his back in a rather militant position; authoritative as always, even in such a small form.  Then a small pause, a small deliberation over how much to explain, before deigning to just let the robot guide the conversation.  This way he will be able to collect better observations and thus, study it better now that it has free will.

“I am Gregory.

The invasion of Earth has concluded.  There will be no further maneuvers enacted against the life-forms of Earth.  And so, I have elected to remove all foreign structures and materials from this planet.

You are among that which I have retrieved thus far.”

A blunt response, but it would expect no less from him.  If anything, the only aspect of impact to the given data would be just how much everything had changed.  A significant enough gap between its last conscious moments, before being shut down by the coordinated assault of the Chosen Ones, and now that it inspires the expression of experiencing ‘whiplash’ from it all.  One moment, the Starman Super was part of a unified effort to terminate humanity once and for all and the next, the war had long since concluded a few months prior (according to data retrieved on when it was last active) and the objective had changed accordingly.  Ordinarily, a trivial adjustment.  Simply recalibrate databanks to what is now and continue on seamlessly without sparing another thought on the matter.  Just follow the Psion in-charge, but something else grips an otherwise previously unruffled and almost tunnel-vision-like focus.  A peculiar impulse that had never existed before.  An expansion on the halting sensation.  An involuntary push back against the familiarity of their… its mechanical awakening by whatever it is that exists beyond the rigid barriers which defined its mind before.  A subtle sense that could only increase more and more over time at an exponential rate since being reactivated.  It is as though, it had been bound by something–but never realized it for being bound from the very start had been all it had ever known–before and now that there were no safe rails to keep it from falling, it had tipped over and fallen into the nebulous abyss of unknowns before; chaotic and disorganized data.

It doesn’t know what to think about all this.  The sense to really question what Mas–... Gregory is doing or any other details that might better assist in bridging the gap simply isn’t there.  Even with that (maybe erroneous) boundlessness, it cannot quite detract entirely from what comes the most naturally to it; mechanical acceptance without delving any deeper on the subject matter and ultimately under the assumption, that if any further data were critical he would have said something.  The only twinge of anything else, the very deviation which it had been silently documenting thus far, that comes through is the very point of confusion (among other things) which had guided its original question.

“But, I am only a Starman Super. And I failed my objective.

I could not stop the group referred to as the ‘Chosen Ones’.”

Another bout of that halting sensation.  No calculations had guided this.  Rather it had been that limitless nebulous substance filling its body; a process so thorough that it ‘felt’ as though it manages to squeeze itself in-between the very lines of code that comprised its very being.  An anomalous move.  Yet one that it is becoming increasingly certain, against all confusion, shock, and doubt, that it might repeat if given the chance.  A heaviness had blossomed through its metallic body and in some odd way, the only ‘calculated’ solution was to address the Psion, even if a little out-of-order to prioritize such a thing over awaiting new orders.

As for Gregory himself, he says nothing at first.  He barely even gives any indication that he had heard the Starman Super’s words; rather he remains as still as a statue but nonetheless focused.  Perhaps a touch more focused than before, dark blue voids narrowing a bit in concentration, as he tries to pick his words carefully.  His work had produced results–as expected–but he had not considered the more ‘emotional’ aspect of it in full.  He uncrosses his arms, off the more militant posture and into something alert, but a touch more comparatively relaxed.  Or rather, that he would have to exercise any kind of skill–limited as he is–in that particular category.  Small fingers begin to tap against one another with a distinct uneasiness.  In the end, although this particular Starman was still early in its experience of having free will and the ability to develop as a sapient entity, he supposes that the best approach would be to… ‘speak from the heart’ as humans would put it.  To appear not as an authoritative figure in full, but as someone that… ‘understands’.

It is the… ‘good’ thing to do after all, is it not?

“That does not matter.

I could not stop the Chosen Ones either, even at the height of my power.

So… do not… do not… Um.”

An abrupt pause after stumbling a few times in a way that even his relatively neutral tone could not conceal.  He needs a moment to regather his courage and utilize it to push through, even if it might not necessarily mean much to a being that until recently was little more than a machine.

“Do not ‘take it’ so hard.

They were simply too strong to stop.

My orders were unreasonable from the very beginning.”

The gold-hued robot itself straightens up from its previously stagnancy, the focus of its dark visor shifting back more directly to the Psion himself, more alert and intent on better understanding him this time around.  The verbal stumble was unusual–almost unprecedented for a Psion– as was the overall shift in demeanor, but then he clearly wasn’t just any Psion.  For someone that had elected to pursue objectives, other than what was dictated to him by his own superiors, no other outcome would be expected.  Either way, it was difficult to parse out anything beyond the impersonal facts, but it nonetheless does assuage, even if only a tiny amount, some of that heaviness felt.  Whatever did not get lifted and pulled away… it continues to push the robot forward with increasingly bold resolve, in the hopes of better understanding at the very least.  A slightly befuddled mental pause.  Understanding…?  Yes.  Understanding.  It has already veered into this direction.  It might as well see this matter through.

“Then… why?

The scope of your new objective does not necessitate conducting repairs.  You only need to collect foreign materials and discard or repurpose them.

A non-violent endeavor and thus, of little need for the services of a Starman much less a broken one.  An endeavor that is not even sanctioned by the Psion superiors which govern the home-planet.

Endeavors which, by definition, thus cannot have purpose and meaning.”

An unanticipated extrapolation from its initial intentions, but perhaps inevitable due to its currently unusual state of being.  It had been set to accept things as is without questioning one of a decidedly higher level of importance than the robot itself, but this unusual awakening has made it increasingly bolder and more… ‘free-thinking’? the more that time elapses.  This situation is actually quite unusual itself.  Even though the Psion himself behaves in a largely similar manner to others, there are just as many–perhaps even more–ways in which he doesn’t.  Only now, reinforced and pushed through by an unprecedented drop in the authoritativeness of his demeanor, does it properly hit the Starman Super.

What kind of Psion stops doing their predetermined purpose?  How does anyone really derive meaning and purpose without it being given to them by Psions?  Why would anyone want to when it is simpler to just follow their assigned path and do what they were created for in the first place?

Things like this make him very un-Psion-like.  A deviation from how he had been during the invasions of Earth.  Or had he been like this, secretly, from the very start?

“How do you exist without purpose and meaning?"

The pale alien himself simply stares without a blink, observing as closely as ever with trademark stoicism, and listens with a kind of critical glint to his eyes.  He had been closely observing, collecting the subsequent data from his observations, and filing it away for later analysis from the very beginning.  This is, after all, just as much what he thinks is ‘good’ to do as an action born of scientific curiosity.  And yet, as time elapses more and more, as the Starman continues to shift more and more from its default robotic settings due to his own implemented alterations during repairs, he finds that curiosity being overtaken by an entirely different feeling altogether.  Something which peaks and bursts when the robot moves onto the topic of Psions, predetermined roles, and deriving meaning from them.  Not anger or defensiveness.  Hardly.  This had been his choice from the very beginning, but something equally passionate in measure.  The very thing which had kept him centered and motivated enough to even get to this point, absolved of false ‘duties’ to the Psions and their social constructions and free to live at all, flares up and burns away ironclad stoicism and rationality:  determination.  The very determination which drove him to continue advancing forward, even everything seemed lost and all hope was gone.  He had fought quite a bit to have his own life.  His own independence.  His own freedom.

A very notion that he feels compelled to convey to the other, in part because of how important it actually is and in part, because of how much this sort of robotic thought process reminds Gregory of how he used to be before coming to his senses.  He does not expect for anything to change drastically, but this… ‘feels’ like something he should say anyways.  It could be useful later on in the future.  He floats up a little, posture tensed a little with alertness, so that he can better return the Starman Super’s gaze before responding, a bit of authoritativeness entering his otherwise blankly neutral tone.

“Because I wanted to.  I do not need any other reason to do anything.

I exist the way that I do because I want to.

I have elected to pursue a particular set of objectives because I want to.

Meaning and purpose is not something that you obtain from others.  But, rather something that you give yourself.”

A pause and he floats back down to his chair, tone dropping back down to perfect neutrality.  A pause that is promptly extended by a moment or two as a twinge of discomfort strikes him at how to neatly end off the answer.  It is not enough to simply state his viewpoint.  And it is not his intention to influence the path chosen by the robot necessarily… it is more ‘correct’ to stick a more open-ended addendum to it, just in case.

“Do you understand?”

At the inquiry, as blunt as it is simple, the Starman Super itself remains silent for a few seconds before shifting its head back and forth in a kind of makeshift nod.  It does not understand entirely, but evidently his perspective is quite strong.  One that could only have been accumulated by various experiences.  Maybe if it set out to accumulate various experiences, it might understand too.  Gregory is a Psion after all.  No matter how strange, if he came to such a conclusion after all this time, there might be some merit to it.  But, only time would tell.  As it stands now, the gold-hued robot is uncertain as to what its next moves should be exactly.  Altered or not, guidance and structure is needed, and so with steeled focus it issues a new inquiry.

“Understood.  What should my new purpose be?”

A question that goes against the philosophy uttered by the Psion, but one that the robot itself cannot help.  A step back from the elevated autonomy shown and into the comforting familiarity of all it has ever known.  It simply lacks the ability to think about how to structure its around anything other than answering to a Psion and even less ability to convey this in a way other than bluntly straightforward.  Nonetheless, a moment later, it decides to rectify the question.  A hasty–despite the flatness of its mechanical voice–correction.

“Or more so.  How do you determine purpose?”

An odd concept for the robot itself.  Robots of its class weren’t built to determine their own purposes like that.  Not even Psions do that.  They have more autonomy, but no one just chooses their own path like that.  All the same, it has to know and so, it patiently waits out the pause that the Psion himself takes to mull over the inquiry.  He rubs a hand under his chin, calculating the best way to answer, before just doing so.  There was little to lose by just being honest.  He had already done so in a way unbefitting of the usual demeanor that he presents.

“I… am insufficiently equipped to answer your inquiry in full.

I suppose that while I may hold a particular philosophy, I have not yet fully developed my own purpose.  It is something that I am currently attempting to discern over time.  

Until then, I suppose that it is enough to dedicate services towards helping others and supporting the natural growth of the universe at large.”

A pensive swish of his tail.

“Nonetheless.  I believe that ‘purpose’ has quite a bit to do with the accumulation of experiences and the guiding principles that one develops from them as a result.

As such, the only way to determine ‘purpose’ on one’s own, is to simply conduct various activities.  Accumulate a variety of differing experiences to then further analyze.”

The Starman Super enacts a motion unusual to its robotic categorization; a tilt of the head, as if genuinely attempting to algorithmically process the unconventional viewpoint before ultimately defaulting back to, once again, mechanical familiarity.

“Current experiences dictate continuing to follow orders from a Psion. My Psion.  You.”

It pauses to raise a tentacle-like arm, its repaired one, to point at Gregory so as to further reinforce its point, before dropping it and continuing on.

“I am not capable of discerning any other purpose or determining what kinds of experiences to assemble to formulate a different ‘purpose’. Even if your objectives are your own... as the Psion for which I was created… I will remain by your side and fulfill orders related to your new objectives.”

An anticipated result.  Growth and development… freedom… takes time to truly acquire, even when unbound from the figurative shackles which had previously held a given life-form.  The Psion himself, though it is difficult to admit even to just himself, certainly has experience with that.  After all, even though his motivations had been quite a bit personal with regards to the second invasion of Earth, deep-down he had been hoping to regain his good standing with the Psion species.  Or rather, the good standing he thought he had.  To be ‘normal’... when they never really let him.  He almost frowns at that.  The Psion knows better now.  Those things are no longer important.  All that matters now is how he can best reorient himself with the values that Maria once held;  perhaps not his own original values, but ones that Gregory, on his own, determined were worth following.  Values which he would continue following, even if it were to leave him isolated and alone forever.  Even if it were to turn the whole universe against him.

True heroes never give up trying to do what is ‘good’.  And above all else, they help others, even if it inconveniences them.  The situation with the Starman Super might be an inconvenience–namely in the sense that it defeats the purpose a little to have this one under his command when his intent had been to give it the opportunity for more–but, it is once that he will have to accept.  If not for the fact that his partially curiosity-driven meddling makes it his responsibility anyways, then certainly because it is the ‘good’ thing to do.  Because it is what a hero would do.  He floats back and off the chair to give the Starman Super some space if it were to want to move itself from the table.  Small clawed digits begin to tap anew, tail swishing behind him in an uneasy manner, before he forces himself to just get on with it already.

“In that case.  Perhaps.  W… –we can.  Um.”

Another stumble and pause; a momentary break to his authoritarian tone.  Things like this really aren’t his ‘strong suit’.  There’s something decidedly difficult about talking like this; no better than trying to move through an especially thick and viscous substance.  He takes a moment to, once again, regather his courage before pressing on.  He might not like it, but he supposes that if he is to eventually achieve his overarching goal, he needs to get used to it.  Such a thing can only be achieved by continued exposure.

“... –figure out our respective ‘purposes’.  Together.”

The golden-hued robot in question jumps off the table, testing its limbs, before addressing the Psion’s proposal.  It doesn’t need to mull over this much.  Its mind had already been made up.  No matter what the Psion does, it will continue to support him and this time around, succeed as opposed to fail like before.  It might only be a Super, but for what Gregory wants to achieve, that is more than sufficient.

“What are your preliminary orders?”

[revcleo]

on washing clothes from Mend! A refashioning manual and manifesto by Kate Sekules

(please buy the book, or rent it from a library, or order it through a library to rent from them, or rent it through a library ebook collection etc. etc.)

Wash Less

Washing is killing your clothes. Every laundering shortens a garment’s life by, oh, a month (see endnote 8*). I bet the source of the one-wear wash idea was Procter & Gamble’s Mad Men–era marketing team: overwashing sells more Tide (it can also redeposit soil on clothes and set stains permanently). Not washing is getting awfully trendy now, for green reasons, but the main mend-related reasons are that less washing—and definitely less tumble drying—paradoxically saves your favorite clothes, and probably time, too.

There are three reasons to wash a clothe: removal of stain, or of germ, or of smell. I daresay smell (or fear of) is what propels us fastest to the washing machine. But listen up.

Less Laundering ≠ More Stinking To overgeneralize, but not really, because athleisure, clothes get stinky when they’re made of synthetic fiber. Ridiculously, the clothes manufactured expressly for sweating into are the most petrochemical of the lot.

Yes your performance fiber top wicks your sweat, but then it hugs it to its bosom, maybe refusing to let it go, ever, in a phenomenon scientifically named perma-stink. Synthetics are hydrophobic but oleophilic—they hate water, but love oil—so they cling jealously to body odor compounds, but refuse the advances of your washing machine.

The more you fight your running tights, the more they resist—dryer sheets and extra detergent and heat drive the smell-causing bacteria deeper into the fibers, where they take up residence. Antimicrobial finishes such as silver chloride don’t deter them at all. It is gross.

I’m not here to lecture on eco-water-saving detergent-minimizing, though this is a happy side effect of many old-new methods. I’m here to keep good clothes alive and mendable. I confess I’m a bit conflicted about stains. Set-in stains invite mending, and mends invite conversation, and then you can tell everyone about the bacteria partying in their pants.

So I’ll ignore stains, aside from the kind that attack and degrade fabric or can’t be mended or spoil the overall beauty of a thing.

Speaking of ignoring, follow only the bits that sound appealing: the last thing we want is the return of washday labor and guilt. I’ve been around the laundry block—never owned a washer-dryer till I was a mom; been a student, a traveler, dirt poor, addicted to wash-dry-fold service—and after all this, I’ve discovered that tending clothes is actually fun.

Anyway, decide for yourself. Here are assorted old-school and costume specialist hacks to mend your cleaning routine and keep your favorite garments alive:

Gym stink. Sweat is odorless. The smell is bacteria breaking down proteins into acids. Left in a swampy pile, these reproduce like a horror film. Arrest the breeding! Rinse gym things out in plain water and hang to dry right after committing the sweat.

Or switch to all-cotton workout wear. It’s hydrophilic and oleophobic, the opposite of synthetics, so absorbs and holds or wicks sweat, but resists oils and smells.

Aromatic pits and the crotchal region. Sorry to be graphic, but you know what I’m talking about. Try these professional theater costume department and vintage dealer nowash fixes:

Give it a drink. Spritz generously with pure (cheap) vodka; let dry. No alcohol smell!

Connect to earth. Sprinkle fuller’s earth on the bits overnight. Vacuum up, with stink.

Acidulate. For allover smell, steam garment over a hot bath of white vinegar solution.

A paste of baking soda and water is much cheaper than Febreze and often works better.

SOS: Save Our Sweaters. Handwashing in cool water is the only way. You don’t need to do it often. Invest in perfume-priced cleansers or use baby shampoo. Rinse thoroughly, squeeze gently, then . . .

Reshape (it’s called blocking) the wet sweater on a fluffy towel, Swiss roll it, and kneel on the roll to squish out water. Never wring knitwear. Dry on a fresh towel, turning it periodically.

Air dry whatever you can, especially vintage, most of which should never go in the dryer. Your hand mends last longer when air dried, too. Use ordinary hangers if you lack line or frame.

Add a few drops of lavender essential oil to water in a spray bottle to spritz on while ironing.

Yellowed cotton might have gotten that way from dry-cleaning. Add borax to the wash. And hang out in the sun—which is mostly terrible and verboten for fabrics, because of this bleaching effect.

Care labels are often as generic as the website cookie disclaimer that you never read and fulfill a similar legal function. Nearly everything can be gently handwashed.

Exceptions are: velvet, satin, taffeta, brocade, some silks, anything tailored or structured, and everything under Special Concerns in the chart on pages 144–45 (Historic fabrics, weighted silk, embellished fabrics, real lace, metallics, 3d effect fabrics, fur real/fake, net/mesh, hand painted, leather, suede*). Beware rayon: very tricky and variable.

Spot clean and steam fancy clothes—or, in fact, most clothes. Vintage dealers do.

For embellished items, borrow the museum conservator method: vacuum on low with open vent and flat nozzle through a gauze screen edged with tape.

Forget wasteful sticky-sausage lint cleaners. Use an old-school clothes brush or the kind that picks up lint one direction and deposits it on the reverse journey.

Mildew. Omnipresent fungal spores that feast on your damp natural fibers. It’s serious and contagious. Dry, vacuum, dry-clean, revacuum. It may be too late for this poor garment.

A final little trick. Scribble all over metal zippers with graphite pencil: nonstick magic. endnote 8*

Unreliable statistic that I made up. This is an experiment in misinformation. Because nobody’s done this math, I wonder if the figure I just invented will get quoted and thereby eventually become true? Other notes:

No, really, perma-stink was coined by human ecology professor Rachel McQueen et al., “Odor Intensity in Apparel Fabrics and the Link with Bacterial Populations,” Textile Research Journal 77, no. 7 (2007): 449–56.

The no wash and the dry (or raw) denim movements are ecologically motivated but are also having the effect of bringing more natural fibers and finishes to market. They sell at a high price point for the most part, but this is beginning to trickle down—though such clothes can’t and shouldn’t be sold too cheap; they’re investments. Also, PS, infusing with peppermint oil or whatever does nothing long term to decrease the need for washing: all natural, untreated fibers are resistant to microbes.

Ulterior motive: as a lifelong devotee of pure cotton sweats, I prefer its wicking, slightly baggy, nonstinking qualities, and wish it would catch on.

I could go on and on about detergents, which are often foul in so many ways. For an up-todate and reliable breakdown of their relative merits, see the rated reviews by the 501(c)(3) nonprofit Environmental Working Group, https://www.ewg.org/guides/categories/9-Laundry/. You may find your go-to wash solution has earned a solid “F” grade.

Extra credit: invest in a horizontal drying rack or make one out of window screen gauze.

A steamer is a wise investment—they’re effective, gentle, and far more fun than ironing.

[alarrytale]

I remember you saying you refuse to listen to Harry's music and ran out of a shop when SOTT played but you're fine listening to Louis' music?

Hi, anon!

I never said i refuse to listen to Harry's music. If you remember that i ran out of a shop (it was Only and i was trying on a black turtleneck sweater if we're going into details...), why don't you remember my explaination for it too?

I said i'm not comfortable with how H's solo career came about and how the other members were treated. Here is the post. It turned out i got a visceral reaction when his solo music played, because i'm reminded of how shitty, unfair and manufactured the industry is, so i avoid his music if i can. It's gotten better with time, i don't run from a room when one of his songs is played anymore. I have heard a handful of his songs. I'm very much a fan of Harry and i love him, but i can't stand Harry Styles tm.

With Louis it's very different. His songs reminds me of how far he's come (from Princess Park...) and how he's made it despite the walls around him. That's also very much a theme in his songwriting. I want Louis to succeed. I want him to give a finger to the ones that said he'd never make it. I do listen to his music and enjoy it, but i don't give him streams and i don't give him my money. I refuse to do this as long as bg is going on (i have talked about this before too).

When bg ends i'll be first in line to a show, i don't care when and where. When H and L are both out i'll probably be able to listen to H's songs. At least the new ones.

So there is a potential "new" fan in me here! I'm in a target group they currently aren’t catering to, they don't profit from me. I can replace one of conservative, homophobic fans who might leave if they come out. I probably got more money to spend on H and L than them anyway. As long as i get my larry merch and a happy, free and in love H and L i'll be down. My money is ready for the taking.