#Spool Market

[industrialresearch]

The global piping system and piping spools market size was valued at $4,832.5 million in 2019, and is expected to reach $6,035.0 million by 2027, registering a CAGR of 4.5% from 2020 to 2027. 

[infinitiresearch]

Oilfield Casing Spools Market| Market Size, Share, Trends, Analysis, Growth and Forecast, 2024 – 2028

Originally published on Technavio: Oilfield Casing Spools Market Analysis North America, APAC, Europe, Middle East and Africa, South America - US, Canada, Saudi Arabia, China, Russia - Size and Forecast 2024-2028

The Oilfield Casing Spools Market is positioned for thorough analysis and significant growth across major regions, including North America, Asia-Pacific (APAC), Europe, the Middle East and Africa, and South America. This research, covering the forecast period from 2024 to 2028, aims to provide insights into market dynamics, regional trends, and the size and forecast of the market.

In North America, particularly in the United States and Canada, the oilfield casing spools market is expected to experience substantial growth driven by the ongoing exploration and production activities in the region. The robust energy sector, advancements in drilling technologies, and the presence of major oil and gas reserves contribute to the demand for oilfield casing spools. The market is characterized by a focus on efficient and reliable wellhead equipment, with casing spools playing a crucial role in maintaining well integrity.

Asia-Pacific (APAC), with key contributors like China, is witnessing notable growth in the oilfield casing spools market. China's increasing energy consumption and efforts to enhance domestic oil and gas production drive the demand for wellhead equipment, including casing spools. The region's dynamic oil and gas industry, coupled with rising exploration and drilling activities, contributes to the expansion of the market.

Europe, with a focus on countries like Russia, is a significant player in the oilfield casing spools market. Russia, as a major oil and gas producer, is investing in modernizing and expanding its energy infrastructure. The European market reflects the importance of casing spools in ensuring the safety and efficiency of well operations, particularly in challenging offshore environments.

The Middle East and Africa, with a focus on countries like Saudi Arabia, present a dynamic landscape for the oilfield casing spools market. The region's status as a major oil-producing hub drives the demand for reliable wellhead equipment to support exploration and production activities. Saudi Arabia, with its vast oil reserves and commitment to industry advancements, is a key market for oilfield casing spools.

South America, with countries like Brazil, contributes to the growth of the oilfield casing spools market. Brazil's focus on offshore exploration and deepwater drilling activities fuels the demand for wellhead equipment, with casing spools playing a vital role in offshore well integrity.

The forecast period from 2024 to 2028 anticipates sustained growth in the oilfield casing spools market globally. Factors such as increasing energy demand, technological advancements in drilling operations, and the exploration of unconventional oil and gas resources will drive market expansion. Manufacturers and suppliers will focus on product innovation, customization, and meeting stringent industry standards to cater to the evolving needs of the oil and gas sector worldwide.

To Learn deeper into this report , View Sample PDF

In summary, the oilfield casing spools market across these regions is experiencing dynamic growth driven by factors such as global energy demand, exploration activities, and advancements in drilling technologies. The forecast period is expected to see continued expansion, with stakeholders in the oil and gas industry emphasizing the importance of reliable and efficient wellhead equipment, including casing spools, for sustainable and productive operations.

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[quotes-by-dilanka]

Design is the rendering of intent.

—Jared Spool

[augustinewrites]

your little flower stall is strategically set up a few feet from one of the trendiest restaurants in this area of tokyo. 

it’s a smart spot, one that men like reo can appreciate when he’s already ten minutes late for his date. he’d quite literally just left work, a last minute meeting having forced him to get ready in the back of his car in his haste to arrive somewhat on time. his shirt is untucked and his pants are wrinkled from being left in the trunk for so long.

he winces when he catches his reflection in a window, running a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. he definitely can’t show up empty handed when he’s late and looking like this. 

“good evening,” he greets, a little breathless as he approaches your stall. his eyes scan the bouquets available, looking for any safe picks and frowning when he realizes you’re out of roses. so he shrugs and picks up whatever’s closest. some kind of yellow flower.

“yellow carnations?” you murmur as he digs into his pocket for his wallet, prompting him to glance up at you. “an odd choice.”

“how do you mean?”

“it’s an unusual choice for a date, is all.” 

he raises his brows. “how do you know they’re for a date?”

“oh, come on,” you grin, leaning against the counter. “a handsome guy like you doesn’t have someone to buy flowers for?”

he knows it’s probably just a marketing pitch, but his ego swells nonetheless. “handsome, huh?” 

you simply shrug - tease - and place the carnations back into their bucket to grab a different bouquet. you cut a strip of white ribbon from its spool, winding it around the stems. “go with these instead. if your date knows anything about flowers, these will definitely get you laid.”

reo actually laughs at that, as he strongly doubts the wannabe influencer he’d been set up with knows much about the meanings of flowers, but he’ll take your word for it. he hands you his card, not-so-secretly hoping that you’d caught a glimpse of his name on its surface before you swiped it through your machine.

when you return it to him, he pulls a handful of bills out of his wallet and stuffs them into your tip jar.

“oh,” you start. “that’s too much–” 

he flashes you a smile that’s been called ‘swoon-worthy’ before, waving you off as he tucks his wallet back into his pocket. “don’t worry about it! you’re saving my life here.” 

“your sex life, you mean?” you quip, but your eyes sparkle at his praise as you hand him the bouquet. “well, thank you for your patronage, sir.” 

he quickly dips his head in thanks, a little reluctant as he heads towards the restaurant. 

_____

monday mornings aren’t especially busy for you, as bleary eyed office workers don’t have much need for flowers. 

which is why you’re surprised when the man from last friday starts approaching your stall, holding a cup of what you assume must be coffee. he doesn’t quite look like you remember, from the impeccable cut of his suit to the way his hair is neatly pulled back. he’s even wearing aviators that you’re sure would look ridiculous on anyone else, but for some reason make him look like a movie star. 

he pulls them off with his free hand and hangs them off the pocket of his bag, waving at you like you’re old friends. he looks so earnest and excited that you can’t do much else than blush and raise your hand in response. 

“morning,” he greets once you’re close enough to hear. “this is for you. for last friday. i wasn’t sure what you’d like so i just got their special.” 

he holds out the cup, whose logo you now recognize from the overpriced cafe down the street. you take it, smiling. “i take it your date went well then?”

he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shrugging. “sure.” 

“did you come to buy her more flowers?”

“ah…i don’t think i’ll see her again.” 

you perk up at that. just a little. “oh?” 

“yeah,” he sighs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “i, uh, kinda wanna see where things go with someone else.” 

oh, of course there’s someone else. a guy like him probably never has a shortage of options. (and who are you not to capitalise on that?) “maybe some flowers will help.” 

you think there’s something mischievous in his smile. “definitely. what do you recommend?”

_____

reo is running out of places to put his flowers. 

they’re all over his office. they line the entirety of his windowsill and take over the free space on his desk. a small clump of white daisies in an old coffee mug. a single rose in his pen cup. his assistant has to crane her head around a vase of lilies to deliver her reports at the end of each day. 

what can he say? you’re one hell of a salesperson. if anyone had asked him what his favourite flower was before, he’d have no idea what to tell them. in truth, he’d never given much thought to something so impermanent as flowers.  

but you easily become a permanent part of his routine. each day he stops at your stall, utilising the information he’d gathered from the internet just moments before to impress you with an educated floral choice. 

you always smile when you hand him the bouquet, and he wonders how your product isn’t sold out at the end of each day, with a smile as enamouring as yours. 

when his office is overrun by floral accents, he starts bringing them home instead. his neighbours gush about what a great boyfriend he is each time they catch him returning with a new arrangement. they say that whoever he’s coming home to must be a ‘very special someone.’

they don’t know that it’s just nagi, who barely looks up from whatever game he’s playing but comments mildly that he didn’t think reo was a flower guy. 

“everyone’s a flower guy,” he’d quipped as he unwrapped the brand new vase he’d bought to accompany the bouquet of peonies and anemones you’d given him. 

and if nagi noticed he’d come home blushing the day you called him your most important customer, he didn’t say anything.

_____

“hey,” he asks on a particularly slow sunday afternoon. you’re in the process of wrapping - by his request - a bundle of lilacs, which happen to be your favourite flower. “come to lunch with me. i can get us a table—” he points to the restaurant behind you. “—there.” 

you don’t answer right away, allowing yourself a moment to make sure you’ve heard him right. “what would your girlfriend think?”

he looks confused as you hold the lilacs out to him. “girlfriend?”

“yeah…isn’t she the one you’ve been buying all these flowers for?”

he blinks a few times before hanging his head with a chuckle. “no i— i don’t have a girlfriend.”

he doesn’t have a girlfriend. so that would mean…

“you’re asking me out,” you realize, averting your gaze to the counter with all the awkwardness of a kid receiving their first valentine. “i’d love to, but i can’t just close—”

“what would you make in a day?” he blurts. “ideally.” 

“well, ideally i’d be sold out—”

he flips his wallet open and hands you his card. “i’ll take everything then.”

“everything?” you echo. 

he shrugs, shooting you a wink. “what can i say? i’m a flower guy.”

“reo,” you laugh, pushing his card back towards him. “i’m not going to let you pay me to go out with you. just go grab some takeout and come back here. a pretty face like yours is bound to sell.” 

“you’re whoring me out for business?” 

“i’m just being entrepreneurial,” you counter. 

he crosses his arms over his chest, a handsome grin on his face. “alright, but i’ll need to be compensated for my efforts. maybe even with a kiss…”

you roll your eyes (albeit with a smile) as you point at the restaurant. “at least buy me lunch first.”

[cravinganescape]

The Seiko UC-2000 was one of the first "smart watches" to hit the market in 1984. The watch itself could store up to 2k data, perform calculator functions, and, of course, tell time.

The UC-2200 (bottom image) was an external keyboard dock that offered additional computer functionalities with its spool-fed printer, 4K of RAM and a 26K of ROM via a plug-in Application ROM pack (Microsoft Basic) – other ROM packs had games or an English to Japanese translation app.

[pitufitaispunk]

Velvet Ring

Chapter One: Unforgiving Sun

Pairing: Riff x Latina!Reader (West Side Story 2021)

Velvet Ring Masterlist

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

June 3, 1957

I groan dramatically as I try to cool myself down with Anita's red folding fan, the flimsy lace hardly does anything to relieve me of the humid air. I squirm in my bed, the fuzzy fabric of my knitted blanket feels unbearable against my skin in this heat. Just as I toss the fan onto the floor, Anita twirls into my bedroom with a flourish. She has a bright smile on her face, the puffed skirt of her lavender dress swishes as she walks.

She begins rummaging through my drawers aimlessly, "Nena, voy a recoger- is that my fan?" She points down to the floor, her brow quirked at me. I confess that I almost always take Anita’s things without asking her and she gets annoyed with me for it, but she can’t stay mad at me for long. We’re a lot like blood sisters in that way.

I smile sheepishly and quickly sit up, watching as Anita snatches the fan off the floor, "Can you blame me for taking it? It's the hottest day of summer!" I exclaim, adjusting the straps of my white slip.

Anita rolls her eyes at me and slams the dresser drawer shut, "It's not even 100 degrees out. Get up and get dressed. I'm going out to buy some fabric." Now it's my turn to quirk my brow at her.

"What are you buying more fabric for?" I ask. Anita tilts her head and sighs, as if I should know the reason why.

"You do remember there's going to be a dance in a few weeks, yes?"

I toss myself face down onto the bed again and groan, burying my face in my pillow, "¡No quiero ir! Nardo will make me go with one of his friends and I hate dancing in front of people and it will be so crowded-" Anita forces me to sit up.

"You're young! You should be enjoying your life, not spending it locked away in your room. The only time you ever get out of this apartment is to work. You're going to the dance y eso es definitivo. You'll wear a beautiful dress — thanks to me, of course— and I'll make sure Bernardo picks a friend that is a good dancer to be your date." Anita grins and I know her word is final.

I roll my eyes and get up from my bed, "Está bien. I'll come with you to buy the fabric, just let me get dressed." I walk over to my dresser and grab a blouse and a skirt.

Anita squeals excitedly and runs into the kitchen to grab her coin purse, "Apúrate, I want to go before the morning rush!"

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

I always loved going to the market with Anita, even on sweltering days like this. The bustling crowds and constant chatter made me feel at home. When we lived in Puerto Rico, my mother used to take Bernardo and I with her when she went shopping. Bernardo always hated it, the old ladies that worked the stalls would pinch his cheeks and comment on how handsome he was getting. My mother and I laughed at how embarrassed he would get. So now, I appreciate when Anita lets me tag along with her to the market.

Anita tsks softly as she looks through the different rolls of fabric, "I think I will make my dress black..." She mutters to herself.

I turn my head and gasp as I notice a sleek red fabric. Anita huffs a laugh, "Mamita, you know your brother would never let me make you a dress from that fabric."

I pout, "Why does he treat me like I'm still a baby? I'm 18, a grown up! I should be able wear whatever color dress I want." I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

Anita laughs, "Lo siento, Y/N, pero I'm making you a white dress... and if you want people to stop treating you like a baby, then stop pouting like one."

I scoff at her words. Deep down I know she’s right, but white is just so bland and boring. Who would notice the girl in the simple white dress? Nobody. It's like Bernardo wants me to be single all my life. That is if he doesn’t marry me off to one of his friends.

I sigh as Anita begins looking through the different spools of white fabric.

"I think you will look beautiful in this." She says with a smile, holding up a sheet of lacy white fabric.

I can't help the way my gaze softens as I imagine the delicate lace turned into a dress, "Maybe a white dress won't be so bad."

Anita pats my shoulder, grabbing a spool of black fabric for her dress and the lacy white fabric she picked for mine, "I'll go pay for these, you wait here." I nod, watching as Anita heads up to the vendor.

I hum softly to myself as I continue browsing the fabrics for fun as I wait for Anita to come back. Crash!

My head snaps up at the loud noise. I immediately see a group of white boys running away from knocked over crates of fruit a few stalls over. They laughed and whooped triumphantly as they made their escape, their pale sweaty skin glistening beneath the harsh sunlight. The Jets. I roll my eyes and am about to continue looking through the fabric when one boy catches my eye. I pinch my brows curiously as he picks up a mango from one of the knocked over crates and rubs it on his shirt, halfheartedly cleaning it before biting into it. The mango’s juice drips down his chin and onto his neck, I feel my cheeks heat up. I note that he’s a bit scrawny, he’s got slightly toned tattooed arms and a broad chest, but he’s still skinny enough where I wonder if this mango is the first ‘meal’ he’s had in a while. I slowly raise my gaze to his face again and realize he’s staring right at me. I’m frozen in place by his blue eyes. His lips quirk into a hint of a smirk before he hurries away to catch up with the other boys, tossing the bitten mango over his shoulder.

“Y/N!” Anita’s voice calls behind me, startling me just a bit. I turn and watch her walk over to me, a grin on her face and a brown paper bag in her hand. She shakes the bag slightly, making the fabrics inside rustle, “I got them. Let’s go home.” I nod and traipse behind Anita back to our apartment.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Once Anita and I get home, we’re greeted by Bernardo and two other Sharks at the dining room table. I notice they all look a bit serious, Nardo was tending to the wounds on his fists, but as soon as he notices us, he smiles.

“Hey, where were you two?” Bernardo asks kindly, though his brows were still slightly furrowed in concern. Nardo always did that. Whenever he’s feeling worried or scared about something, he slaps on a fake smile and acts like nothing is bothering him. Usually his concern is revolving around the Jets, but he never brought that business home. Sometimes, I can hear him and Anita talking about it through the walls, but he’s never spoken directly to me about the whole gang rivalry with the Jets.

Anita smiles and walks over to him, “We were just picking up some things for our dresses.” She leans down and kisses his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain. “¿Y ustedes? What were you doing?” Bernardo smiles broadly and guides Anita into his lap, “After we finished up at the gym, we talked about…” He looks up at me, his face hardening momentarily, “Things.” He gives her a tight lipped smile, Anita nods curtly in understanding.

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously and take a seat across from him, “What kind of things, Bernardo?” He just chuckles at me, “Don’t worry about that, pollita.” I roll my eyes at the nickname. It was my family’s name for me as a child because my legs were skinny like a baby chick’s. Bernardo always called me pollita in front of his friends to embarrass me. I assume he’s using it now to shut me up, but it takes a lot more than a little name to get me to stop talking.

I sigh, “Nardo, no soy una bebé. I should know about the Jets y-“ He shakes his head vehemently.

“No, pollita. Es demasiado peligroso, I don’t want you getting mixed up in all this. Tienes que entender que el mundo de las pandillas no es para chiquillas como tú.”

I slump in my seat in defeat. I knew my brother was serious and although I still felt like arguing with him, I knew that wouldn’t help me in convincing him that I am a mature adult. I decide to drop the topic of the Jets for now, but I was going to learn more about them one way or another.

I check the time and realize I have to start heading to work.

“Ya tengo que irme.” I mutter, standing from my seat. For the past three months, I've been working at a flower shop, La Orquídea. My boss, Señora Rivera, is a little old woman with curly gray hair and a shorter stature. She always wears bright red lipstick and the frilly pink apron from our uniform over a frumpy dress— she’s also always napping on the job. I don’t mind working at the florería too much. However, I previously wanted to get a job at Doc’s because Valentina is a kind woman and I feel comfortable with her, but Nardo protested the idea. He claimed that too many Jets hung around Doc’s and that I should work somewhere that was deeper into Sharks territory. Obviously, I tried to reason with him, but when Nardo puts his foot down, he doesn’t budge.

Anita stands from Bernardo’s lap and hugs me, “Que tienes un buen día, nena.”

I smile at her then lean down to hug Nardo as well. He pats my back, “Ten cuidado.” He says softly, his expression serious as he points up at me.

I laugh, grabbing my purse and packed lunch from the kitchen counter, “I’m always careful.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Next Chapter

[daisyjonesgf]

I feel like... Finnick can be so Crow bf/husband material.

So, like, him just going about his day (mayhaps on his way to or from a swim) and he sees something that catches his eyes; maybe it's a heart-shaped rock, or a shell, or even some sea glass and his first thought is always "oh, my s/o will love this"

He'll pick it up and pocket it and take it straight home.

And it's not even just random bits of pretty nature; if he sees something at the markets (ie; a pretty bracelet, a spool of ribbon in your favorite color, etc.) and yk he's getting it for you. (Heavy on the ribbon bc yk he'd learn hair braiding techniques with it or he'd let you tie a ribbon around his arm; whatever suits your fancy)

Safe to assume you have a little drawer somewhere in the house for all these trinkets & a scrapbook full of pressed flowers, scraps of fabric, ribbon, and pieces of paper from certain events.

Point is, that he sees a bit of you everywhere he goes and it gives him a possibility to show off his two biggest love languages: Acts of Service & Gift Giving.

110% Finnick is gift giving his little butt off, there are just jars of seashells and sea glass all around the house because he thought of you when he saw them. photo frames you've decorated with them because you need to make space for all the trinkets he brings you. they're around the doorways, in the garden to decorate around the flowers, around the little pond he dug you, around the mirror, this man is a lover.

he could truly buy the market out of house and home because he's always finding something for you. jewelry, your favorite fruit, bouquets, little knickknacks that remind him of your niche interests, wind chimes, things he'll know you'll find beauty in and want to polish up (even though he'll insist on doing said polishing for you),postcards, baskets, etc etc etc. type of guy you softly scold because he spotted a rock at like a restraunts garden or something and is snatching it because it reminds him of you, but he's just the sweetest.

he sees you everywhere

[geodethecrow]

summer is dying early this year. perhaps it is a summer of death, of the snapped sunflower that was eleven feet tall before the wind took it, of a deer still splattered on a windshield, of my cat slowly getting skinnier. the summer of shelf fungus on a downed tree’s corpse, of the power lines spooled on the road after a bad storm, of the volunteer squash plant in my front yard flowering but not fruiting for lack of pollination, living but unable to carry on beyond a single iteration. it had a younger sister, once, across the sidewalk to our porch, before I squared the first one in brick to ward off the lawnmower.

it's barely August and already the night breeze is taunting me with hints of the ice to come. it's spreading up the stalk and bursting cell walls with spikes of remembrance and anticipation of what winter truly does to me. fall is lovely but it leads to the season of my bones being covered in hoarfrost and my brain cracking apart like a calving glacier, and I want to spend as little time as possible in the dark. so I cling to what summer is leaving behind, the baskets of peaches at the farmers’ market and the sunburn warming my cheeks. I hope the turning leaves burn bright enough to stave off winter for a while.

[zarnzarn]

I absolute adore your Athena fic and how you interpreted “make her kingdom fall” as Athena’s mind but I had an angsty thought. Yes Athena is the goddess of wisdom, of strategy, of so many mental thing but she is also the goddess of handicrafts, especially weaving. Something that would be incredibly difficult with such severe burns and burn scars……

anyway, just a thought.

BRO DONT DO THIS OMG.....

oh dude but youre so right.... She picks up some thread at the market with Telemachus one day for his mother's birthday, and smiles fondly at Penelope's squealing enthusiasm for the gift, picking up a protesting Telemachus in a hug and squeezing Athena's hand gratefully. She begs for Athena to try out the thread with her, dragging her over to the loom and sitting her down, asking for tips and tricks.

and athena sighs and removes her metal gloves to pick up the thread and-

Cries out. Drops the shuttle, knocks over the loom as the sharp pain that burns through her, the fine thread sliding across her palm in a motion she had done so many times turned into an agonizing line of fire along the burns she had just realized were the reasons her hands had been so tender and sore. Penelope rushes over and grabs for her hands, Telemachus going for the thread and cutting it away before the ichor can disintegrate the spool fully.

Penelope manages to get Athena's hands away from where she'd clutched them against her chest, prying them open and gasping in horror, a hand going to her mouth. They stare down at the ruined mess of them, pink and shiny and raw, bleeding in the middle.

Athena looks down mutely, feeling the shame and mortification settle heavy on her. Even weaving. Even weaving he took from her. Goddess of Weaving, and she could no longer do even that.

For a moment, she can barely bring herself to confront the fact that there were others standing in front of her- that Penelope and Telemachus were staring at her disgrace- then Penelope throws herself onto her, trying to fold Athena into her arms for comfort, sobbing.

Athena stares at nothing, blankly swinging her gaze to Telemachus, who is also crying, hands at his sides as he looks at her. She kneels down when Penelope pulls at her, lets herself be pulled under Penelope's chin, the Ithakan Queen, one of her chosen, and slowly rests her head against her chest as Penelope cries on her behalf.

Even weaving.

[balketh]

Is...

Is Valve actually spooling up marketing for Half Life 3?...

There was (yet another) rumour(?) only a day or two ago, from a Valve 'insider', with discussion of playtesting for HL3 in 2025...

This guy ONLY ever logs onto his twitter to post... When a release is coming up. He did it for HL:Alyx. Everything else has been related to releases of Alyx or a podcast he was on around that time. In other words, it's the strongest ever indicator that something HL3 related is actually coming.

I'm not coming at it like that, so don't come at me with 'but Valve Sucks!' etc; I don't care. I'm not rooting for Valve.

It's just one of those modern myths, you know? Not just the game and its release, but its story as well. I want to know how both tales go.

I read Epistle 3. I thought that was it. Are we getting that? What about Alyx? Finally the Borealis? Tying Portal and Apeture into it all?

It holds just as much meaning, to me, as any myth, from any other time, or place. We just swapped paint and cave walls for electrons and silicon. I want to be here when myths are made real.

I want to see how the story ends.

Fuckin', even Skyblivion is nearing release... Y'know, one of the most well known 'this is too ambitious and will never be finished' fan projects for video games...

What a time to be alive.

[miharaikko]

My 2024 writing round up

Thank you for the tags to @firenati0n @0npurpose @sophie1973 @clockwrkpendrxgon @kj-bee

I started writing fic this year in May and managed to put out 21 pieces, 19 oneshots and 2 multi-chapters. I would have never imagined myself as a fic writer, considering I barely knew the concept a year ago, but here we are—brain rot so active and ideas overflowing 🤷‍♀️

I’m so thankful to all the people willing to give my little stories a chance. Thank you for all the kudos, comments and overall yelling on twitter and discord. 

And thank you to my Red Umbrella gang. Since meeting y'all in June my life has significantly improved 💕 Can’t wait to see what 2025 brings us! ✨

My AO3: miharaikko My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue Number of fics posted: 21 Number of Words posted: 91,717

Breakdown under the cut.

MAY

Pearly Gates (M, 5K)  Alex sees Henry across the dance floor and is mesmerized by his ivory skin and the pearl top he is wearing.

JUNE

Love will abide (take things in stride) (E, 15K)  Henry should be getting married tomorrow. Instead, he's at a pub, considering if he should go back to the hotel of a man he just met.

JULY

waging my wars behind my face and above my throat (M, 3K) Henry is having a bad day and Alex helps him through it (part I)

AUGUST

I was already on my way (GA, 1.1K) Henry is having a bad day and Alex helps him through it (part II)

SEPTEMBER

touch my phone (as if it’s your face) (GA, 5.3K) Alex texts the wrong number. It turns out to be the right one in the end.

just you and I (GA, 1K) Slices of life, inspired by Tom Odell's Grow Old with Me

OCTOBER

In the heart of Wales (Yng nghalon Cymru) (GA, 2.8K) Alex and Henry get lost in the heart of Wales

only thing on my grocery list (is your lips) (GA, 2.2K) Henry keeps visiting his local market and trying out new recipes, all for the sake of a cute vendor

more than a game to play (the truth is on my tongue) (E, 2.5K) Being friends with benefits shouldn't matter. But when Henry gets jealous, it starts to matter.

I was cold as a stone (but I found what I'm lookin' for) (GA, 2.6K) Henry retreats to a cabin in the woods for some peace and quiet, but he also finds something else there.

all eyes on you, my magician (all eyes on us) (GA, 3.8K) - collab with tothemoon_andsaturn Henry is a magician, but he is falling under the spell of Alex.

three words, infinite possibilities (GA, 1.8K) Alex figures out that his feelings for Henry are more than he thought.

a beagle's guide to finding love (GA, 5.7K) When David feels like henry could use a new friend, he takes the matter into his own paws.

pink silk ribbon kinky thingy (E, 7.2K) Alex finds a spool of silk ribbon which makes him feels things. Henry helps him process those feelings.

NOVEMBER

saturday night love (GA, 1.3K) A-list actor Henry decides to come out during an SNL sketch. Alex is the SNL regular who gets to kiss him during it.

DECEMBER

Spotify Wrapped - a Series of Unserious Drabbles (M, 2.7K) writings based on my 2024 Spotify Wrapped

a beautiful sight, we're happy tonight (M, 2.8K) - collab with tothemoon_andsaturn Henry takes Alex to visit Wales. The lack of snow doesn't stop Alex from transforming the day into a winter Wonderland.

but if you’re leaving, I gotta know why (M, 4K) Alex overhears a conversation between Henry and Bea and realizes there's a lot more things that he feels for his roommate.

...for so long (M, 6.2K)â Henry is tasked with baking gingerbread and he gets a helping hand from a friend

both your hands (in the holes of my sweater) (M, 6.4K) Henry and Alex lend each other certain clothes items over the years

s'mores (let me taste you some more) (E, 8.8K) Stuck in a cabin due to a storm, Alex and Henry only have marshmallows, crackers and chocolate as supplies. They make the best of it, while also tending to some old wounds.

WIPs & UPCOMING FICS

I've been yapping about these 3 since the moment they each came to mind, but with the collections I took part in, and other smaller ideas that never let my mind, I haven't been able to finish them. But my goal for 2025 is to bring these 3 babies to the world:

Red Wine and Royal Bleu Cheese - vaguely established plot, where Alex visits a winery where he meets Henry

Clay your love on me - Alex is a TikTok potter and Henry is a fan of his live videos

no title yet, but this will be my multi-chaptered Magnum Opus once I manage to write it, based on the following prompt: Friends with benefits (they share a house to split the rent) with detriments (they used to date but broke up for self-sabotaging reasons) with perks (sometimes they spend the night together. it’s fine) with troubles (one of them is moving away. it feels worse than the breakup)

And I also have an upcoming fic for the Wrap It Up exchange.

[beautitudes]

if you have, like me, lost your mind over the armandaniel interaction in episode 5 and you want it imprinted over the backs of your eyelids, here. for me and you both.

Curious…

[Armand stands over you. He’s commandeered your body.]

Rise. Armand. From Polynesian Mary’s, I was with Louis.

I can’t move…

Move your body?

Yeah… Yeah. I don’t want…

To die? On that item, I think I know something you don’t. I’m told you’ve lived a fascinating life.

I never said that.

No, Louis did.

[Leave him alone, Armand. Armand!]

You held Louis’ attention. He confessed his innermost secrets to you.

I wanted drugs… We didn’t even have sex, man.

A hundred and twenty-eight boys he’s brought here…

He said five.

… and you’re the first he didn’t consummate and drain.

[This is so bad!]

That makes you special.

Please, man. I’m just a shitty little kid from Modesto.

That warrants investigation.

I could be on my knees in a second.

Bartering with desire. Is that what makes you fascinating?

He didn’t even want me in the end. I mean, look at my neck! I’m fucking bleeding down to my ankles!

Vera?

She’s a single mother. Works in a titty bar on Market Street.

Kevin?

Some Vietnam vet who lives in the Castro with his Vietnamese refugee boyfriend with no legs.

You think in all these spools you’ve arrived at some ineffable truth?

Nah, it’s all bullshit.

An instinct to self-efface, is that what makes you fascinating?

Okay, yes. I’m good at getting angles, getting people to open up. I can’t feel my body, it’s freaking me out…

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Shh…

Armand!

You’re going to teach me how to be fascinating.

[Leave him be, Armand! Stop!]

In middle school, you stole your dad’s Playboy magazines, sold them at recess. A little dirty, a little deceitful, but it’s enterprising. Is that what makes you fascinating?

How are you..?

In high school, you told a girl you’d only do her if she had a paper bag over her head. She agreed and you did it even as she cried. A splinter of coldness in you, is that what makes you fascinating?

My legs are starting to cramp…

Even his transgressions are ordinary, Louis, the pinhole’s closing back up!

Okay, it’s you who’s fascinating! You can red minds, right?

Louis thinks I’m boring.

I have Charlie horse, left leg…

Do you find me boring?

No…

Do you want to hear my story?

Yes. Yes! Yes.

My first memory. I’m being run down by slavers in Delhi. My second… Hmm. An eager black hole.

Oh my God.

I’ll keep digging. But I’m not hopeful there’s much more to you, Daniel, other than a hole.

[husbandomail]

Can I request a meet-cute scenario with Noé please? He's such a cutie! 💛

one instance of fem pronouns for the reader!

He was always wearing white.

He’d appeared at random one day, and you almost hesitate to set the tarte down in front of him, even though your job is quite literally feeding strangers— but the cafe is too busy, and your coworkers, too slow. So you just drop the berry-red dessert in front of the white-clad gentleman and keep bustling across the restaurant floor. When you scan your tables later, he’s practically inhaling the thing; you suppose the state of his expensive clothes is his own business.

The second time you see him at the cafe, he’s still wearing white. Now that you’re not quite as busy as last week, you’ve a chance to examine him properly as you wait the table; he towers over you, the stark white of his sleeves matching the snowshade of his hair.

His eyes are red. A deep, eerie red, the kind that makes your body prickle and hairs stand on end. Even as he tries to politely ask a question, you look away.

But no matter how determined you are to interact with the vampire as little as possible, he continues to reappear, as if— ironically— your reflection. He’s there in the market when you stop by after work in search of fresh vegetables; his broad shoulders barricade an aisle in the hardware store when all you need is a spool of twine. That’s probably what you get for frequenting Paris.

Even now he plagues you, with his haunting eyes tracking every step, dip and twirl across the cafe floor. “Excusez-moi,” he states, plainly enough that you can’t ignore it. Is this how butterflies feel when pinned to a board?

His smile is more gentle than you’d expect of a beast. “Another coffee, please!” He lifts the mug by the rim— oddities, he’s still wearing his gloves, and you silently take the mug from him before it can slip. It is, once again, the lunch rush— meaning you’re also in a rush.

Too much of a rush, perhaps.

In your scramble to bring his mug back and continue on with your other, non-vampiric tables, you trip. Forwards. In the direction you were already walking. When you instinctively try to catch yourself as the world tilts, the mug goes flying out of your hands, spilling the fresh-brewed coffee all over the vampire wearing white.

The cafe falls silent, but you couldn’t tell either way, with as loudly as your heart beats in your ears. The vampire just blinks slowly; his carmine gaze wanders from the fresh mocha stain as it spreads across his coat, to you, sprawled on the floor, visibly blinking back tears.

“Hey—” he surprises you by sliding out of his chair and crouching next to you on the floor. “Are you alright?”

“‘m sorry about your jacket,” you blurt out, one hand scrambling uselessly to find a napkin. “I’ll have it cleaned, monsieur, or pay for a new one—”

“Noé is fine,” he gently interrupts you. “And there’s no need for that.” His hand closes around your wrist to calm your frenetic movements; the world spins around you for another moment and then you’re back on your feet, his hands on your arms to keep you upright. Damn— he’s taller than you’d expected. “They’re just clothes. Fabric doesn’t matter as much as your well-being. So I’ll ask again— are you alright?”

Hesitant, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his for the first time. It’s almost enough to make you recoil— you’ve only ever heard of vampires as bloodthirsty beasts, yet his eyes are entirely human.

“—I’m fine,” you finally mumble.

“Well, mademoiselle Fine,” Is he teasing, or did that go over his head—? Funny, you’d expected his smile to be sharper than that. “Why not sit with me until you calm down?”

[sabrinahawthorne]

Meet The Cowboy

[image ID: A black & white illustration of a white woman wearing a denim jumpsuit, leaping upwards and away from the camera. The woman wears her hair in a loose ponytail, and a single devil's horn pokes from the left side of her forehead. Her left hand is raised in a fist, which glows with a magical energy. From between each knuckle on that fist emerge three taut, immaterial threads, implied to lead off-screen and towards some number of other combatants. End ID.]

The Cowboy never has a plan of action - they never think ahead. They make a mess, and use their quick thinking and quicker mouth to fight their way out.

Cowboy Touchstones:

- Kakashi Hatake (Naruto)

- Hat & Clogs (Bleach)

- Spike Spiegel (Cowboy Bebop)

The Cowboy makes enemies wherever they go, but as a rule they themself don't hold a grudge. Correspondingly, they don't begin play with any Rivalries. Rather, they begin with two Loyalties, reflecting the surprising commitment and selflessness at the heart of their blasé attitude.

Allowing the Cowboy to wiggle out of all those tight squeezes are their seemingly endless array of tricks and feints. Their unique character progression mechanic, On Your Toes, exemplifies this, allowing them to swap out one known Technique for a new one of equal or lesser tier between scenes. This means that you'll never fight the same Cowboy twice; they'll always surprise you.

Cowboy Icon: Alice, Celebrity Thief of Lantis City

She/Her

Known to citizens of the Underworld as The Prince of Lies, Alice is a humanoid Chimera with a mysterious past. She spends most of her time menacing the upper class of Lantis; breaking into vaults, private chambers, and other high-security locations, stealing valuable trinkets and selling them on the black market.

Aiding her in her criminal life is Alice's Pneumatic Technique; Spooling Essence - Tapestry Thief. With it, she's able to pull on the strings of a person's soul, temporarily stealing attributes of their body or personality and taking them onto herself. She can steal their senses, their memories, or even their own Pneumatic Techniques - at least for a time.

To learn more about Alice, Lantis City, and CLASH!, Pledge to the Crowdfundr at Otaku: The Cowboy tier to get access to a mini-manga all about her adventures when you receive your physical copy of CLASH! Shonen Battle Roleplay.

[elsewhereuniversity]

Hi! How close is the current crazed sewing kit to completion? I’m a textile major- wait sorry, introductions- call me Rivet (not like the frog, like the metal thingy that holds things together) she/her. Anyways. I’m a textile major and I want to create the worlds most fucked up non-euclidian quilt. Its my capstone project. If the kit’s already claimed or not ready for usage/consumption/harvest, that’s alright, i have some favors and a variety of the currency the goblin market uses, but i’ve really got my eye on the weaving tablets and myriad pins of this iteration. I promise i’ll use it all though! Or, at least, i’ll keep the odds and ends tucked away for future projects. I’m willing to trade a ship in a bottle that sails on an ocean affected by tomorrow’s weather, a cursed bonefolder that actually, yknow, folds bones instead of paper, and a bolt of fabric i spun and wove myself. Nothing overtly magical about it, but it is a nice shade of red.

The fourth crazed sewing kit is ready and it is yours.

A swatch of bloodstained blue velvet

Swatches of stiff fabric that shift chameleon-like to match any other

A walnut shell containing yards of fabric woven from starshine

A bloodstained pincushion in the approximate form of a person, filled with human hair and fingernail clippings, among other things

A seam ripper that only cuts the threads you intend it to

A pair of iron shears, decorated with gilt filigree, which only cut things that have been measured twice

A needle of steel, which is efficient but bites

A needle used to stitch a wound, which now only pierces flesh

A needle of silver, used as a sword by a very small hand. Any thread spun through the eye is unbreakable while it's being sewn.

Thread of human hair, cut and regrown

Thread of human hair, golden

Thread of horsehair, one strand jet black and one snow-white

Thread of gold and of silver, the first of which sooths and the second of which energizes

Thread of variable length, glowing as though white hot

Fabric-pencils which trace possibilities, leaning theatrical

A mannequin which wants nothing more than to swap places with you, and will do so at the first opportunity

A spool of oakwood plated with gold, which ensures you will have just enough thread to finish any project you use it with.

A drop spindle of oakwood which turns hay to gold

Two buttons of silver which shine in the dark, from a coat made of night-sky

A squatcho from a beret, seemingly made of lead inside the fabric casing.

Pliers plated with sterling silver, to remove recalcitrant needles

[the-fiction-witch]

Study

Media - Nanny Mcphee Character - Simon Brown (Age Up) Couple - Simon X Reader Reader - Y/n (Wife) Rating - 12 Word Count - 1073 Requested- You have to do more Simon Brown x reader stuff🙏 Love your stories, keep it up! <3

The house sat perfectly peaceful, the sound of the rain muffling the world beyond the stained glass windows. The gentle pottering and pattering of the raindrops falling onto the various surfaces, a gentle tickle of the windchime still playing its tune in this storm. Within the house the log burner crackled and popped as the damp would burn on the hot flames, the lights out as the power never worked in the rain and storms leaving the room lit only by the log burner's flames and the candles that littered the room. The only sound to break through it all was the clicking and clacking of typewriter keys being elegantly danced over, with the familiar sound of the spool being pushed back at the end of each line.

Simon Brown sat at the desk, typewriter under his hands. He worked diligently and speedily, copying down from the previous draft that sat on the desk beside him the typer writer key marks littered with pencil notes to implement. Mostly misspellings, punctuation and formatting elements. His small wooden bin beside his desk overflowing with crumpled pages.

He wore brown trousers, and a light cream button down his sleeves rolled to his elbows so as to not risk catching the cuffs in the typewriter's often vicious keys, a blue waistcoat embroidered softly with birds only noticeable in the lights shimmer. All his clothes fit him comfortably with signs of alteration in the seams showing their wear. His blonde locks were messy as he often ran his hand through them absentmindedly when he was thinking, his tongue between his teeth as he worked, with his favoured pencil behind his ear.

A gentle creaking grows louder in the halls of the house and soon enough the study door opens to reveal Simon’s wife, Y/n Brown.

She dressed in her sky blue and cream dress with a square neckline and cap sleeves, a lobster tail crinoline, and a large blue bow at the small of her back, the dress hemmed just perfectly so she could still see her little house slippers when she walked. Her hair pinned up in an intricate milkmaid braid, and her baby bump notably poking itself out as she swells larger. She carries with her a small tray with a teacup, saucer, sugar, milk, a plate of three small muffins and a teapot with a knitted cosy on top.

When he hears her come in he flips his draft page over hiding the contents and immediately stops typing resting his elbows on the desk, his hands clasped together and he set his chin on his hands.

“I’m not disturbing am I?” She asked softly,

“No. No. you’re alright.” he answered,

“I come baring tea,” She cooed as she set the tray down on his desk far from any of his important papers, and she poured him the first cup, “It’s elderflower and rose today,”

“No more Lemon and tea tree?”

“Unfortunately not, you have the last for bed.”

“Fu-” He began but his eyes met her as she gave him a very threatening look, “Fudge.” He corrected,

“Umm,” she hummed,

“I said fudge! Nothing wrong with some delicious fudge,” he said taking his tea and having a small sip,

“Yes, but it’s what you were going to say,” she warned,

“No idea’ what you're talking about, I was going to say fudge.”

“Course you were Simon,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tied around his office, “That damn clock has stopped again.” She sighed tapping the old mantle clock hoping it would begin to tick again,

“It has?”

“Hadn’t you noticed it hasn’t moved in three hours?”

“... I’ll be honest, I kinda just thought I was being really productive today.” He sighed, “I was wondering why you were bringing me tea so early,”

“You need a new one, don’t need to give you an excuse to be locked in here all day any more than you already have.”

“I know, It’s just sentimental Y/n,” He sighed, “I’ll pop it somewhere else and head to the market next Sunday to see if we can find one,”

She nodded and went to his small bin gathering any fallen papers, “May I?”

“You may,” He nodded re-reading his writing,

“Are you sure?” She asked picking it up,

“I’m very sure,” he nodded,

“Final answer,” she warned as she opened the log burner door,

“You may throw it away Y/n I promise.”

“Alright then,” she nodded starting to toss the crumpled papers on the fire,

He sighed seeing his hours of work be burnt but he knew it was all scrap anyway,

She returned the empty bin to beside his desk and had a peak over his shoulder to read what he’d written but he put a hand over her eyes, “Hey!”

“It’s not done.” He glared, “Keep those adorable little eyes off Mrs.”

“Just a little snippet?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, “Go on, scamper.”

“Fine,” she pouted,

“Ohh before you go have you seen my pencil anywhere?” He asked,

She chuckled softly and pulled it from behind his ear as always,

“Ah! Thank you Y/n,” he smiled, he took the pencil and then her hand giving her knuckles a tender kiss just beside her wedding ring, he then took her bump in his hands softly stroking her dress as he cradled her belly giving the baby within a big kiss, “Hello little boy, you cosy in mummy’s belly? Yeah? You stay nice and warm in there then till your all ready to come for cuddles,” he cooed,

“He likes it when you talk to him,”

“He does?”

“Of course, he always stops wiggling when you talk to him,”

“Doesn’t that mean he doesn’t like me?”

“No, he’s happy, he’s listening and enjoying daddies cuddles,”

“Awww my sweet little boy,” he cooed kissing her bump one more time, “I’ll see you later for dinner?”

“Of course, I’ll come and get you,” She smiled,

“Can I get a kiss from my lovely wife before she goes?”

“You may,” she nodded leaning down to give his lips a small peck,

“Love you,” he cooed rubbing his nose on hers,

“Love you too Simon,” she smiled before she left his study going to do various other chores around the house,

Simon tried to hide the blush that still rose to his cheeks even after so long being married to her, he still got all blushy and giddy when she kissed him or told him she loved him. He took another sip of tea before turning his page back over and continuing on with his work, now with a wide and cheery smile.