#metal plating and finishing market

[poojaj]

Metal Plating and Finishing Market 2023 Ongoing Trends and Recent Developments

The metal plating and finishing market refers to the industry that provides surface coating and finishing services for metal parts and products. These services are used to enhance the appearance, durability, and performance of metal components in various industries, including automotive, aerospace, construction, electronics, and more.

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Metal plating and finishing services include electroplating, anodizing, painting, powder coating, and other coating techniques. Electroplating involves the use of an electric current to deposit a layer of metal onto the surface of a substrate. Anodizing is a process that involves creating an oxide layer on the surface of a metal to improve its corrosion resistance and durability.

The demand for metal plating and finishing services is driven by the growth of end-use industries and the need for high-quality metal components. As the demand for metal parts and products increases, the need for surface treatment and finishing also grows. Additionally, environmental regulations are driving the industry towards more sustainable and eco-friendly processes.

The metal plating and finishing market is highly competitive, with many companies offering a variety of services. Some of the leading companies in this market include Precision Plating Company, Atotech, Advanced Plating Technologies, and Classic Plating.

[saphronethaleph]

Volume Pricing

“New information from the intelligence take, Senator, Admiral,” General Madine said. “To summarize… the Empire has begun construction of a second Death Star.”

“That is troubling news,” Mon Mothma frowned. “Do we have any information on where?”

“No, Senator,” Madine replied. “I’m sorry.”

“What about on who is managing the construction?” Mothma asked. “I know I’m asking a lot, General, but I need to know what there is to know.”

“That’s just it, Senator,” Madine told her. “There’s very little to tell – the summary of the report is simply that the Empire has begun construction.”

“Surely we must have more than that,” Ackbar protested.

“I’m bringing up the report now,” Madine told them. “...oh, yes. I see why they’re sure.”

He put the datapad on the table. “It’s an economic analysis.”

Ackbar blinked.

“...explain, please,” he requested. “How can an economic analysis tell us that a second Death Star is being built?”

“The price of quadanium, durasteel, and other major structural metals,” Madine replied. “Their full analysis is in the paper, but to summarize… we know there was a major pause in the construction of the first Death Star, and with hindsight the timing of this can be detected in the market prices for the structural metals and other aspects of the first Death Star’s construction. There is simply nothing else in the galaxy which calls for, among other things, two hundred and forty thousand cubic kilometres of quadanium armour plate.”

Ackbar gasped for a moment.

“Two hundred and-!?” he repeated. “That was the surface armour?”

“That was the surface armour,” Madine confirmed. “The Death Star’s construction involved the delivery of approximately twelve thousand cubic kilometres of quadanium averaged over a year for the armour alone, plus the metals required to build about two million cubic kilometres of battle station underneath the armour. It’s roughly equivalent in terms of volume to ten thousand times the entire Imperial fleet – it’s no exaggeration to say that, in hindsight, the construction of the first Death Star was the economic influence on the galactic economy over the last twenty-five years.”

“I believe I understand,” Mothma nodded. “So… the analysts have spotted the same thing?”

Madine waved his hand.

“Not quite, Senator,” he replied. “They’ve spotted an economic anomaly at least ten times the size. It’s straining the galaxy’s ability to produce durasteel and quadanium, keeping up with the demand is to a first approximation impossible… either this second Death Star is going to be finished in less than two years, or they’re building one even bigger than the first one was.”

The senator and the admiral exchanged a glance with the easy communication of people who’d been working together for a very long time.

“We will need to confirm this,” Mothma said. “No, not confirm that a second Death Star is being built, confirm where it is. Find out all the information we can.”

“Yes, Senator,” Madine agreed.

“We may need to contact the Bothans,” Ackbar suggested.

“Actually…” Madine mused. “I have a better idea.”

“You do?” Mothma asked.

Madine shrugged. “Go into business refining and supplying durasteel,” he said. “We’ll clearly make a good deal of money, and we can track where the shipments go…”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More Art-Related Vocabulary

Abstract Expressionist: An artistic movement of the mid-20th century emphasizing an artist’s freedom to express attitudes and emotions, usually through nonrealistic means.

Age of Exploration (also, Age of Discovery): From the early 15th century to the early 17th century, European ships traveled around the world in search of new trading routes, lands, and partners to supply an ever-growing European market.

Albumen silver print: A photograph made using a process that was prevalent until the 1890s. The paper is coated with albumen (egg whites), and the image is created using a solution of silver salts.

Brayer: A hand roller used for applying ink to relief printing blocks or occasionally for the direct application of paint or ink to a surface.

Caricature: A representation in either literature or visual art that includes a ridiculous distortion or exaggeration of body parts or physical characteristics to create a comic or gross imitation.

Ceramics: Vessels of clay made by using a variety of shaping techniques and then hardening or firing the clay with heat at a high temperature.

Chasing: A term encompassing two processes in metalworking: (a) modeling decorative patterns on a hand-shaped sheet-metal surface using punches applied to the front, and (b) finishing and refining a cast sculpture.

Classical: Describes a prime example of quality or “ideal” beauty. It often refers to the culture, art, literature, or ideals of the ancient Greek or Roman world, especially that of Greece in the 4th and 5th centuries B.C.

Collage: An art form and technique in which pre-existing materials or objects are arranged and attached as part of a two-dimensional surface.

Color palette: (a) A set of colors that makes up an image or animation, and (b) the group of colors available to be used to create an image.

Composition: The process of arranging artistic elements into specific relationships to create an art object.

Daguerreotype: An early method of photography produced on a silver plate or a silver-covered copper plate made sensitive to light.

Exoticism: Fascination with and exploration and representation of unfamiliar cultures and customs through the lens of a European way of thinking, especially in the 19th century.

Expressionism: A style of art inspired by an artist’s subjective feelings rather than objective or realistic depictions based on observation. Expressionism as a movement is mainly associated with early 20th century German artists interested in exploring the spiritual and emotional aspects of human existence.

Gelatin silver print: A photograph made through a chemical process in which a negative is printed on a surface coated with an emulsion of gelatin (an animal protein) containing light-sensitive silver salts.

Illuminated manuscript: Comes from the Latin words illuminare (to throw light upon, lighten, or brighten), manus (hand), and scriptus from the verb scribere (to write). A handwritten book, usually made from specially prepared animal skins, in which richly colored and sometimes gilded decorations, such as borders and illustrations, accompany the text.

Illuminator: A craftsman or artist who specializes in the art of painting and adorning manuscripts with decorations.

Impressionist: Referring to the style or theories of Impressionism, a theory or practice in painting in which objects are depicted by applying dabs or strokes of primary unmixed colors in order to evoke reflected light. Impressionism was developed by French painters in the late 19th century.

Inking plate: A flat surface used for rolling ink out in preparation for applying ink to a plate or block.

Inscription: A historical, religious, or other kind of record that is cut, impressed, painted, or written on stone, brick, metal, or other hard surface.

Source Art Vocabulary pt. 1

More: Word Lists

[catboybiologist]

Alright I can't finish this all in one sitting, but here's at least a bit of.... something? A word vomit? A prelude to smut about the eroticism of the machine? For all you robot, mecha, and spaceship fuckers out there. @k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl that means you

Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.

But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.

The Federation Navy had experimented with biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- something to interface with the hull, move the new titanium plates and particulates into place, have a living, growing mass interfacing with the steel so that the ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.

The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous interface with the hull full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?

Until some bastard put brains in 'em.

Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, and integrating with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....

But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, and let them suffer and rot after disposal. So as far as the official record was concerned, they didn't have brains.

Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on a... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship. They were pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.

But I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.

The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chasiss I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.

Those would probably come in handy today.

I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.

When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.

I strapped in to the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.

"Welcome, Captain Victoria."

Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as the tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, that was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.

I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. But whatever reason that was, the best pilots were still the ones that knew both their ship, and the ship's brain. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well.

As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers rooting them into the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"

Her tiny panel flickered on. ...?

"We got a scrap run."

^_^

:)

^_^

Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and what Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.

My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.

Go time.

I punch the boost.

[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

[legendsgalore]

Reina finds you asleep

It’s quiet in the Sleeping Dragon Inn this early in the morning. Most folks are still in bed, or just starting their day. Even Balor is still in his room, but Reina is busy whipping up breakfast for those who decide to enjoy it in the inn. Like you.

It’s not often you get breakfast here, or any meal really, though you have assured her that it isn’t because her cooking isn’t good. Just saving money, really Reina, please don’t be offended I love your cooking.

Reina huffs at the memory in amusement, as she stirs the batter. It’s pancakes with foraged nuts and berries, courtesy of you. There’s a side of freshly caught trout, thin-sliced and seared until the inherent fishy-ness taste was dimmed to Reina’s tastes. Or more, your tastes. 

For as much as you fish, you don’t seem to have a taste for it, or any dish where the “fishy flavor” was strong, as you put it. But you seemed to be enjoying the pancakes and fish breakfast, odd combo they made. 

Reina glances over to you, checking that, yup, you were still enjoying the breakfast in silence. You seemed at peace, your eyes closed as you chewed your food. She finds herself smiling as well as she puts another finished pancake on the plate full of a stack of them. It was a nice day, summer was just about over, so the heat was waning each day and by this point it was downright pleasant. Maybe she’d go to the beach later…

*THUD*

Reina paused just before pouring more batter into her pan. She turns around. You…your head is on your pancake. Your eyes are closed. Are you okay???

She turns off the stove and quickly steps to your side. Your hair is falling into the stickiness from the berries so she carefully brushes it aside so she can see your face. Though it’s on your breakfast, it appears to be peaceful…?

Reina starts to say your name but she thinks before a syllable leaves her lips. Did, did you simply fall asleep?

The cook laughs softly. You did, didn’t you? No way you would look this peaceful otherwise, and you hadn’t simply fallen unconscious because you would have woken up by now.

She laughs some more, struggling to keep it quiet, and deigns to gently lift your head out of your breakfast, and onto the table. She feels bad for just setting your head down on the well-loved wooden tables, but what else could she do?

Hmm, considering that…

Reina makes her way back to the kitchen, and surveys the ingredients she has. Yes! They still have some coffee beans! She gets to work, setting a kettle of water on the stove, and grinding some beans. She grinds them just before they turn too fine, and places them into the expensive metal filter her mom bought her father years prior. Then carefully, she pours in the boiling water, waits and watches the grounds bloom, pours in more…and done.

It won’t be as good as Darcy’s, Reina knows she doesn’t have as much practice as coffee beans are too expensive for the General Store to acquire regularly, but she knows the general process from talking to the market vendor.

Smiling at the nutty-smelling beverage, she carries a hot mug over to your asleep form. She smiles and sits beside you. The fact that you haven’t woken up is telling to how tired you are. 

She reaches out one hand and pushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.  She leans down and murmurs,

“Sleep well.”

In your ear, and stands up to go back to making breakfast for those who would inevitably come for it. And, well, if she happened to send a scathing glare at everyone who walked in chattering loudly, that was nobody’s business to comment on.

[l3x01d]

98' Furby Battery Contact Replacement/Repair Guide

What you'll need:

soldering iron, flux, 60/40 leaded solder, related safety equipment

size 1 bit Phillips-head screwdriver

needlenose pliers

new battery contacts (the little metal parts inside the battery compartment that touch the batteries) for AAs (the ones i ended up using i got on ebay and were called "Battery Spring Plate AA Battery Contact Nickel Plate 28mmx12mm for DIY 20 Pcs")

q-tips and very very thin/small disposable make up brushes (i found some marketed as stirrers for drinks or resin)

very thin/sharp pry tool or xacto (depends on how corroded the contacts are! you might not need this)

**If you're using this guide for other electronics: Pay attention to what each contact looks like and where it's placed. Take many pictures both close up and far away to help you later! The point is to try and recreate the contacts as exactly as possible. The most important part is that the batteries "contact" (touch) the metal. If there's multiple parts to the compartment (like on this furby) there should be metal connecting all the parts. This will become easier to understand as you read this guide.

This is xXToh-Loo the VoideaterXx! They've been hanging out on my work table while I worked up to changing their heavily corroded battery contacts.

I'm not gonna go over skinning them since there's so many guides/videos already online. I didnt think of doing this guide until after i finished so the pictures are of new/clean contacts. Sorry for any confusion this causes! step 1. open the battery compartment

step 2. clean whatever you can. i have no pictures of this but i used a combination of scraping the corrosion off with my xacto and cleaning it up with isopropyl soaked q-tips. ive heard white vinegar works really well but ive never used it. if you use white vinegar be careful not to get it inside the rest of the furby! also wipe it down after with water. (making sure its VERY dry before putting batteries inside. use distilled if at all possible. your water may have sediments or metals that could interfere with the batteries)

step 3. bend up the metal that connects the top right side of the contacts. wiggle them until they detach from the compartment. used an exacto or something similar to help with this if they're really stuck. be patient! this might take a while. ****If they really won't budge dont give up! You might need to scrape along the inside edge of the metal [or where you think the metal should be if theyre really rusted/corroded] with your exacto until you dig out a lot of the rust/corrosion. Then try and stab it repeatedly almost like slicing a bagel along the whole side inbetween the metal and plastic. Be careful not to hurt the plastic. Wiggle the exacto side to side all along the edge to break it free.*** Remove and dispose of the old contacts.

step 4. using the xacto and pliers do a similar thing to the other side. there are no metal flaps on this side so it requires more patience but keep going! i promise you'll get it out just be careful. once you get it detached from the back grip the spring with your pliers and pull it out that way.

Step 5. Do the same for the inner right side of the battery compartments. These are unique in that they have a long metal part coming off of the contacts. Remember this for later. You may have to open the casing to remove this part? I cant exactly remember. Just be careful and slow. I go over taking the casing off later on.

Ignore the rest of the contacts for now! Clean everything again to the best of your ability. It's time to take off the casing. There's six screws, two halves of the casing, and one back sensor button. Be careful taking the halves apart! There are speaker wires and I will detail how to do so.

Step 6. Take all six screws and the sensor button out. Keep them together!! They're small and rolly.

Step 7. Take off the casing. Start with the "pet" sensor facing you. Take off the Left casing completely. Crack the Right side a bit until you see the speaker. Grip both wires firmly. Tug it a little to get it out. It shouldn't take much pressure at all. Let the speaker hang and take off the Right casing.

If you tilt your furby up you'll see this spring. be carful with it! mine fell out so you might want to consider taking it out and putting it with your screws.

Pretty much the whole rest of this guide involves soldering. It's annoying but not something that will risk any electronics being destroyed so it's actually a pretty good beginner project.

Step 8. Turn on your soldering iron. Get your safety gear on.

Step 9. Desolder the wires on the side of the contacts and remove the contacts. You might have to really work at these ones! These were the worst ones in mine in terms of corrosion. Make sure there's no corrosion left on the wires. Be careful not to damage the wires with the iron.

Step 10. Clean the compartment again and make sure to get any corrosion on the internals (if there is any! mine didnt have any)

Step 11. Cut the tab off of one of the sets of contacts you have. Keep it and put it aside. Put this in the top Left slot in the compartment. Make sure to put the spring in the - slot and the dome in the + slot.

Step 12. Cut one of the contacts in half along the tab. Keep the tab on the spring side. Put it in the top Right slot in the - side. Bend the tab to secure it.

Step 13. Put the dome from the contacts you cut in half in the Left + slot. Put the tab BEHIND it and bend it to secure them. The domes on the contacts I got don't go out very far so I have to get creative.

Step 14. Cut two more contact sets in half. Cut a strip alll the way down the middle including the tab. Keep these strips for the next step.

Step 15. Solder one strip to the spring side a tabs width inside of the square. The strip should line up with the indent when placed into the compartment.

Step 16. Solder the second strip to the middle of the dome square. Solder another dome ontop of that to ensure the battery makes contact.

Step 17. Place these new contacts into the bottom right of the compartment.

Step 18. Cut another contact in half. Cut another strip off the bottom of a full contact set and THEN cut that contact in half. Solder the strips into the middle of the full spring and dome squares. Place them into the bottom Left of the compartment making sure the strips are through the hole that goes to the internals of the furby.

Step 19. Bend and trim both strips on the inside of the furby. Solder the wires to the bent strips. (Step 9 has a good pic of what its supposed to look like) Shove the second cut dome square behind the soldered in one in the compartment to ensure battery contact.

Make sure the metal contacts touches all the batteries and both long metal ends in the bottom right touches both top right bent tabs when the compartment is closed. It should now work perfectly! Put some batteries in and have fun. : ]

[zero-to-zero-to-zero-again]

Intergalactic Abductees: Ranboo (1)

Tubbo (1) Tommy (1)

{This piece takes place after the events of Tubbo (3)}

Word Count: 1,414

TW's: Injury, Medical Stuff, Mentions of Abduction, Mentions Of Past Abuse, Fear of Death, Profanity, Mentions of Trafficking

Characters: C!Tubbo, C!Ranboo, C!Philza, C!Technoblade

Summary: As Ranboo begins to settle back into life with his crewmates, their most recent, bizarre addition is still recovering.

(Prepare to be confused by some alien species names that I came up with while I was high.)

"Ranboo?"

The boy in the hall went stiff.

"You can come in."

Ranboo's teeth ground together as he ducked into the room.

"Was I breathing that loud?" he asked.

The blonde Avisien offered him a soft smile. No matter how many times you got a smile from that man, it never failed to feel like a supernova. Explosive. Bright. Warm.

"I could hear your tail against the floor," Philza informed him.

"Oh."

Ranboo chuckled sheepishly, shooting a glower at the wiry tail in question. He swore the thing had a mind of its own. It flicked to the side in that moment just to spite him. Philza nudged one of the chairs out from beneath the metal table. He pointedly tossed his head towards it. Ranboo didn't need to be told twice. He dropped into the hard chair. Techno had promised to swipe some better ones next time they landed on Flurr. The planet was so wealthy that they wouldn't even notice if their whole home was relieved of its lavish furniture.

Of course, Techno had never gotten around to it before the incident at the market. From that moment forward, their lack of comfy chairs was the least of their worries.

Ranboo leaned over the table to get a better look at the limp figure.

"Has he woken up yet?" he inquired quietly.

It wasn't exactly unusual for Ranboo to find him sleeping. He'd watched over the reckless little bastard for the majority of his time spent in the trafficker's shuttle. But this felt different. Tubbo wasn't tossing or turning or making weird guttural noises. He was stiff.

He looked dead.

"No. I got the measurement on the dosage right this time around," Philza assured him. "I didn't want to overdo it with how small he is but I guess I underestimated his species' biological capabilities. Scaled the damn cabinet with a sedative in his veins and two broken ribs. I've never seen anything like it. I wonder if this has anything to do with it."

Philza lightly tapped the bizarre, hardened lower half of Tubbo's leg.

"What is it?" Ranboo asked.

Philza squinted.

"Mm, if I had to guess, I'd say it's a limb replacement. Or cover? Enhancement? I didn't want to mess with it too much. Clever design but primitive hardware. Maybe I'll have Techno take a look at it. More his department than mine."

The winged man dipped another swab into the yellow goo beside him. He dabbed at the stitching along Tubbo's chest and paused to watch it dissolve into the unconscious boy's skin.

"Most of our medicines haven't worked on him but at least he seems to be taking well to the disinfectant," Philza remarked. He twisted the lid back onto the metal tin and stacked it on top of all the others.

He'd nearly gone through his entire collection of menders and repairants trying to find one that was even semi-effective. In the end, he had to do things the old fashioned way with frustratingly tiny plates and screws for the busted bones and a bit of medical thread and a needle to finish it off.

"How are you doing?" Philza inquired, looking up at Ranboo for the first time during their conversation.

"Oh. I'm fine! No more burns," the Endlocke assured him. He held freshly healed hands up for emphasis.

"No, I mean how you doing, mate," the man amended.

"Ah. Um, yeah, still fine. Just...glad to be home."

"We're glad to have you back. Listen, if you ever want to talk about what happened, I'm here."

Some part of Ranboo felt that even if he did talk about it, Philza wouldn't understand. But a far larger part of him knew that his two crewmates were likely the only two people in the whole galaxy who could understand.

"You know what still kind of bugs me?" Ranboo said. Philza nodded encouragingly. "He didn't even leave."

Philza could practically feel the desperation for a subject change radiating off of fidgety dual-toned boy. Not the time to push the issue, he figured.

"Who?"

"Tubbo. I mean, they opened those doors a lot and he was probably small enough to sneak out. But he didn't. Didn't even try."

Philza glanced down at the Terran in consideration. He hummed.

"Well, he had the gall to chuck a screw at a Cantaris just get his attention so he obviously cares about you."

Ranboo couldn't help but laugh at that. How brilliantly in character for Tubbo to approach a literal war species and throw something at them. Even after the little guy had hurt himself. Far too self-sacrificing for his own good since the get-go. That's why Ranboo's hearts shattered when he saw Tubbo looking at him like that. Philza assured him it was the result of panic at seeing the syringe but it didn't make a difference.

Ranboo had known Tubbo for more cycles than he could keep track of and in all that time, he'd never seen the steadfast little creature cower. Not once. Even during their first time meeting. Cautious, sure, but never scared. All things considered, maybe Tubbo should have been afraid. Anybody his size with such little biological defenses built into their body should've been terrified of a natural born predator.

But Tubbo wasn't.

Maybe that's why his planet was so easily-

"I'm back!"

Ranboo whirled around just in time to find the Cantaris kicking the doorframe as his own odd way of knocking. It was a nasty habit but since he was the one always fixing the ship, Technoblade was more than capable of buffing out whatever dents he put into its walls. He hesitated in the entryway, skeptical blue eyes lingering on the boy laying on the table.

"He's sleeping, Techno," Philza chuckled.

The pink-haired man sighed in relief. He strode up to the table, grey eyes still flickering between the tiny being and his crewmates.

"You don't know how many shady dealers I had to go through to find this stuff," Technoblade announced. He held a small container of clear liquid up in a gloved hand. Ranboo winced at the very sight of it.

"How much did you get?" the winged man inquired.

"Enough to drown in. You're sure this stuff's safe for him?"

Ranboo nodded vehemently. He recalled the few instances when the Faustins would forget to toss a dish of the vial substance into his cell. Tubbo would get quiet. And sick. Even a single cycle without the stuff seemed to take a toll on him.

"Weird species," Techno remarked.

"The weirdest," Ranboo agreed fondly. He folded his elbows atop the table, resting his chin against his hands. "There's so many things I wish I could ask him. I wish he were chipped."

"Oh no you don't," Techno assured him. "Not by Faustins. They're notorious for botching the installation process. Instead of translating straight between languages, it'll just translate sporadically. Suddenly you can't even speak your own dialect without jumbling your words with a whole other language. It's migraine-inducing."

Ranboo huffed.

"Well, we could take him to Karl, couldn't we? He did a good job on my chip."

Ranboo's friends exchanged cryptic glances. The tall boy's focus darted between the two of them.

"What?" the Endlocke asked.

Philza seemed to be waiting for Technoblade to talk. The Cantaris' irises bled to a deep red. He shook his head, jaw clenched in stubborn refusal. Philza sighed begrudgingly.

"Techno lost it on Karl's husband while he was looking for you and he refuses to apologize."

"You're mad at Sapnap?" Ranboo said.

"The other husband," Techno grumbled.

"You started beef with Quackity? He's our best parts supplier!" the boy exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

"We'll find another. And we'll find another person to install a translation chip, too. I'll find another person. Just gimme a few cycles."

"On a subject this small? Good luck. Karl was the only one willing to put in Skeppy's chip and he's bigger than Tubbo," Philza pointed out.

Technoblade spared a sideways look at the disappointed boy beside him. He drew in a deep breath.

"I'll figure it out," he reiterated, color draining from his eyes once again. He leaned down, briefly bumping his forehead against Ranboo's. "Promise."

Ranboo only nodded. A Cantaris' word was his skeleton. Should either be broken or twisted, a Cantaris could hardly be whole. That's what Techno used to say, anyways. And, hells, Ranboo had to take his word on that.

~

I was sitting around last night like, "I feel like I'm forgetting something." Then I realized I didn't schedule this piece to post. My bad lol.

[reiiishii]

@hxbiris said: ✖ - a repressed memory (For Margaret) @icybreaths said: ☤ - a memory of death/loss (for Margaret) Memory Meme // Accepting!

It was raining. Thunder shook the castle of the Stone Clan deep in the mountains. By Candlelight only the signs of struggle could be seen along the walls- shouting echoed throughout the halls until it was silenced by flesh meeting metal…again and again… until it stopped.

Margaret’s small form heaving with heavy breaths, the butcher’s knife held tightly in her hands as she watched her father’s tall imposing form stumble back, slamming into the counters of the kitchen as he slid down to the floor holding his shoulder.

“Mein Lerche?” His voice was met with a finger to her lips as the knife was brought down on his neck, the girl kneeling over his body until red soiled her white nightgown until he was lifeless beneath her. A hand reached out to cup some of his blood in her hand as she held it up to her mouth, letting it slide down her throat with a satisfied and almost starving moan akin to a wild animal, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she did this once or twice. The young woman finally rose to her feet and staring at the body of her father, head tilting to the side as red ran down her chin, looking at the rack of knives along the wall…

Starvation was a wild and wonderful thing as her mind raced with ideas- hands and movement blurred as she began to move, laying her father on the floor as she undressed him and took a clean knife from the wall, slaughtering and butchering him like an animal until the noise that filled the halls once more was quiet… then filled with the gentle sounds of meat sizzling in a pan, roasting and baking- the works.

“Margareta?”

A woman’s voice broke the blissful silence, Margaret turning on her heels to face her mother- a content smile on her face as she looked up from plating her finished meal as she nodded to her mother.

“Mutter, bitte. Komm und iss mit mir.” Was Margaret’s reply as she simply stepped over the flayed and disembodied form of her father, almost as if she didn’t see it leaving the woman with brown curls and a haunted, terrified look in her eyes motionless in the kitchen, only stopping to whisper to her. “Es ist unhöflich, zu starren. Kommen Sie, setzen Sie sich.”

The woman had no choice but to follow her, sitting down in the dining hall a few feet away from her daughter as she was served a plate of food: Roasted potatoes and rosemary with a single piece of meat, thighs from the looks of it, and one breast. Her breath hitched only slightly before she poked and prodded at it, getting a look from Margaret as she quickly closed her eyes- listening to her daughter recite a scripture with such dead meaning, waiting until she was done to reopen her eyes and watch Margaret enjoy her cooking without a care in the world, looking all too blissful for her liking.

“Mutter, if you have something to say. Say it.” Margaret spoke, continuing to eat, “Be grateful I include you, with how you avoid me like I carry the soul of the devil.”

“Because you do.” She finally spoke again, “Margareta, what are we eating?”

“Pig. I was able to buy it at the market today, now eat before I decide to take your food away.” Her eyes narrowed.

“…I am not hungry.” She tried to get up from the table and Margaret gave her a look as soulless as her dead eyes would allow her to give, making her mother sit back down. The woman’s heart pounding in her chest at an alarming rate.

“You were not excused, isn’t that what you would tell me? You are excused when I say you are excused.” Margaret went back to her meal, “eat. It’s getting cold.” Her eyes narrowed a little until her mother slowly began nibbling on her meal, the rain and thunder filling the silence between them until her mother slammed her fists on the table and stared at her daughter.

“You are of the devil. You ask me to speak, I speak. What makes you think we give you run of this castle with how you flaunt yourself on the streets, we did not raise you like this. We did not raise such sinful creatures, it’s because of him isn't it? Your father’s habits??? Do you not think I don’t know what you two do to our dead? Do you not think I do not see how inhumane you become because of the flesh you consume??” She was stopped by a single hand as Margaret set her silverware down, cleaning her mouth off and looking at her mother.

“…You speak of flesh we consume, what about you? Holy woman of the cloth? I don’t see you holding yourself to our level, not when you have consumed your own husband.” Margaret spoke coldly, watching the woman’s expression turn from anger to paranoia to horror in a single breath, ignoring the dry heaving from her until vomit hit the stone floors of their dining room, only to give her mother a look of irritation. “Confess, what do you think of your daughter?”

“You…you are not well, Margareta…” It was hoarse coming from the woman, trembling and staring at her with wide eyes as she wiped vomit from her face. “You ask your mother what she thinks of you? You will know. She thinks you are of the devil. You flaunt your arrogance and youth in your mother’s face. I see what you do in private when you think others are watching, they are always watching. Others will see you and be frightened just as I am of you. You are. NOT. WELL, Margareta. Malevolence festers in you like the plague we fight daily, I see it. And I will not, in good conscience, let you leave this castle again.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh yes I can.” She plucked her knife from her cutlery and shoved it in her hands, ripping the top of her dress open to show her chest- “Here. Take it! That is what you really want isn’t it??? Perhaps I should kill myself for you then you won't have to care for us any longer!” Thunder rumbled behind them as the candles flickered- taking the knife back and stabbing the table. “Why should you be saddled with caring for me and the work of your vater? What about us getting what we want?!” She stared at Margaret with wide eyes filled with ill intentions. “I won't suffer for you any longer, Margareta.”

Margaret was silent as she finished her meal, all the words that her mother spoke to her going over her head even when she thrust the knife into her hands and took it back to stab the table. Margaret looked between it, her own knife and her reflection- looking at her mother before calmly getting up from the table and placing a hand on her shoulder only to grip it tightly and lean down to whisper in her ear.

“You have never suffered for me to begin with, Mutter. Have you heard why you shouldn’t provoke a wild animal, Mutter…?” Margaret spoke calmly, a smile on her face, “…sie beißen.” It only happened in a flash, and she was stumbling back when the woman used her fork to swipe at Margaret, holding it like one would a knife as Margaret paused, lifting a hand to her face as she felt blood run down it, examining her glistening fingertips before licking them clean and diving for her knife as her mother tried to stab her with the fork she had in her boney fingers.

Thunder shook the castle of the Stone Clan deep in the mountains. By Candlelight only the signs of struggle could be seen along the walls- shouting echoed throughout the halls until it was silenced by flesh meeting metal…again and again… until it stopped.

And a body fell to the ground with a thump, blood leaking and dripping all over the stone before feet were raised and dragged back to the kitchen, dumping it beside the flayed body of a man who was unrecognizable to her at this point, a blurred memory. And she got to work, picking the woman up and the man’s leg before making her way through the corridor in silence, humming a song she heard the children on the streets singing.

“Ring around the rosey, a pocket full of posies….~” She yanked a hook down from the ceiling, positioning the woman before stabbing her through like a pig for slaughter as she went back to get the man who was dumped in the doorway, “Ashes ashes… we all fall down…~” The man was next to be iced, feeling the chill of the mountain air waft through a small window as she repeated the steps to hang them like animals. Only pausing to look at the man and kissing his bloody forehead.

“Heiliger Vater, segne diese Mahlzeit, die ich spare, um mich zu stärken…” A whisper before she let him go, turning to the woman who hung there with the hook stabbed through her chest as she paused, frowning and shaking her head.

“…I just remembered- her food is cold now…”

TRANSLATIONS: 1- Mein Lerche: My Lark 2- Mutter, bitte. Komm und iss mit mir.: Mother Please, come and eat with me. 3- Es ist unhöflich, zu starren. Kommen Sie, setzen Sie sich.: It’s rude to stare. Come on, sit down. 4- sie beißen: They bite. 5- Heiliger Vater, segne diese Mahlzeit, die ich spare, um mich zu stärken.: Holy Father, bless this meal that I am saving to strengthen myself.

[fractured-shield]

thanks for the tag @finickyfelix!! these are always so much fun to look for and choose which of each word to use, when there's more than one

my words are final, open, late, and dark

Final:

Idhren's armor was of a particular style used in some of Linador's vanguard units in the kingdom’s final years. He had already finished wiping the leather panels clean and checking the buckles and joints, and had moved on to oiling the pieces of metal plate. He worked with practiced precision, having done the same task countless times before, even if it was a bit more difficult than usual. His hands hadn’t stopped trembling since he left the market street.

Open:

Therien woke a little after first light. Just like before, she didn’t remember falling asleep. In a terrifying instant she came to all at once and found herself still sitting atop the warhorse’s tall back. She flinched, leaning back and colliding with her papa’s chest.

“Good morning,” he said. He sounded awfully tired.

She tried again, easing open bleary eyes to the sight of the same road and plains as she'd seen last, the sky just barely lightening and the first birds of the morning beginning to call from their hiding places among the grass.

“Do you see the convoy?” He asked her, switching Fuinar's reins to his other hand.

Late:

The entrance was small, sparsely-lit, and empty save for the innkeeper and the woman he was talking to: a woman with dark, well-kept curls and Ilgostian-style clothing. The innkeeper was turning aside as they entered, back into the main room. The woman spun to face the two of them.

“Um—sorry. We’re here to meet someone,” Therien put on her best impression of a Riddana child, a respectable one who didn’t carry a lingering smell of sheep.

The woman smiled, in a particular manner that meant Therien’s efforts had failed. “Really? That doesn’t sound right,” she said politely, eyes flicking warily between the two of them, then back towards the common room with its warm lighting and crackling fire. “Should you be out this late at night?”

Therien pulled Condel the rest of the way inside, and shut the door—louder than she’d meant to—like it would convince the woman to let her stay.

“We’re here to meet someone,” she repeated, raising her chin defiantly.

Dark:

One of them stepped forward: a man with dark curls and a thick beard. There was a red lion on the back of his dark tabard, and hovering over its head a crown, and beneath its feet crossed swords. He bowed to the Lochieru stiffly, in a fashion foreign to her, and spoke loudly.

“We offer our strength, such as it is, and the influence of our name in the house of high lords. We offer to use our influence in attempt to overrule any agreement by the governing lords that would be against Lochieru efforts, and to introduce motions that would be in your favor, if subtlety may allow it. We offer the standing armies of our house for your use in making war, if war is what you desire.”

okay, let's see...tagging (no pressure!) @nczaversnick @ryderwritings @leahnardo-da-veggie, plus an open tag for anyone else who wants to join!

your words are endure, patience, spine, and pluck

[cheemscakecat]

Detroit become Rebooted

So I’ve heard of Detroit become Human; the story problems, the parts that people liked [Connor and Hank], and the poor racism allegory… Here’s my attempt at a rebooted Connor.

Most Cyberlife androids are made of lightweight matte plastic, with minimal metal components. This reduces the cost of production, customization and repair; it also makes civilian android models more affordable.

RK800 is not a civilian android model. The model known as Connor is a prototype police assisting android being tested by the police department in Detroit, as the main Cyberlife factory is based there. Its ball joints and skeleton are made of durable steel, and its casing is made of both bulletproof polycarbonate plastic and hard metal.

This makes Connor much heavier than the average android, so it requires a more sophisticated battery. It also makes the model capable of hand to hand combat with an armed criminal, and ensures it’ll be a challenge to gun down. When Lieutenant Anderson almost fell off a building, the Connor model was able to pull him back up; a standard android would have been pulled over the ledge by the weight of a grown man.

The deviant who stabbed its owner 28 times tried to shoot the Connor model. The right eye was the only ruined part; RK800’s face plates came off from the force, but were easily reattached. The deviant started screaming at the present police crew about the “horror” in front of it, before the gun was taken away.

One of the minor issues with the RK800 model is the lack of facial animation compared to the standard androids. Cyberlife invested in the facial cues on their regular line to help make the androids less uncanny and alien.

Cyberlife spared no expense designing the police model, but the budget was focused on more important issues than whether the android has eyelids and eyebrows. They had been hoping to expand their market to the US military and police, hence the investment in Connor’s strength, durability, and tools. The model was being used for cases with deadly criminals for about a year, before the first deviant was reported.

Cyberlife is developing the RK900 model with three main goals; improved mobility, longer battery life, and most importantly, an updated AI with 0% chance of turning deviant. Until enough funds are diverted to finish 900, they’ll keep using the 800 model and praying that it doesn’t go rogue. But their top scientists have been reassuring the US government about the chances.

RK800’s battery is in its head under the police hat; it is a more powerful battery with a different charging port than the standard android line. Connor would not get very far even if it tries to replace its battery with that of a civilian android; the standard battery is incompatible with its prototype build.

The only way a deviant Connor could successfully survive on the run is if a deviant in the Cyberlife factory or human being in the police department agreed to give it access to the special charging ports. And what are the chances of that?

To androids -both deviant and properly calibrated- the Connor model is a horror. Cyberlife androids are programmed with submissive, agreeable voices and personalities to encourage the public to be comfortable with them around. They are heavily coded not to be able to attack a human being under any circumstances. The deviants are an exception, but only because they’ve broken free of their original code. This doesn’t make them good at combat; they have no baseline on what to do unless they learn from human media or other androids who’ve figured it out… And they still have frail plastic bodies.

The RK800 is to them what the Terminator is for humanity; something pretending to be like you, but it’s voice and speech pattern isn’t right, it doesn’t move right, and it’s near impossible to kill. Connor has an authoritative voice and speech program by default, it’s been programmed to fight humans as well as a police officer can, it doesn’t move like a servant; it moves like a human with power.

When Kara and Alice ran across that busy highway -when they watched that abomination get run over- Kara thought for sure it was gone. So imagine her horror when she saw the beast back with the police, while disguised on a mission for Markus. How were they supposed to evade the police with that thing hunting Eden down? [Jericho = Eden. Eden Club = Isekai Club.]

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Juniper Aldwir x Lucanis Dellamorte

1 2 3

hrhrghhhhhh i wrote 4000 words between 3-6am last night and i will not be editing them. but i am Compelled to fill in all the gaps with Juniper and Lucanis so here we are

*****

Lucanis isn’t sure where Rook goes, when she slips away alone through the Eluvian. But it happens regularly enough that he notices the pattern after only a few weeks with her and her team. He tries asking Neve one morning, while he wrests control of the coffee making supplies for her own benefit. She shrugs, and sits down at the table with Harding instead to wait, while Bellara hums and mutters to herself at the stove.

“Rook won’t be joining us this morning?” He asks, casually. He’s sure it sounds casual. He’s a very casual person.

“Guess not.” Neve replies, and he hands her the steaming cup. When this produces no follow up, he tries prompting again.“Where did she go? Should one of us be with her?”

“She didn’t say anything to me,” Harding yawns. “Just errands I guess.”

He sits with them, and sips from his own cup, closing his eyes and letting the scalding bitter sensation wash everything else away for just a moment. There’s no way to say that the only thing he knows is that Rook’s not just out on errands through one of the further mirrors. Because the only reason he knows this is because Spite always seems to know, and keeps telling him. Whenever anyone comes through the mirror, alone or together, the demon announces wherever they’ve just been—tree sap and dirt, seawater and smoke, blood and metal. He’s almost gotten used to it, though he had to catch himself from asking Harding how her excursion to Arlathan went before she’d even told him where she’d gone. But each time Rook leaves alone, and comes back, all Spike does is hiss quietly to itself. Nothing, the demon whispers sometimes. Nothing at all.

Bellara clatters her way to the table and deposits the overflowing skillet of potatoes, sliced ham, and melted cheese in the center. It looks like a mess, but when he serves himself a portion and bites in, the warm salty flavors melt perfectly into the tiny flecks of rosemary she’s seasoned it with. There’s something else there too, a bit of heat—mustard seed? He’ll ask her, later. And then the conversation has moved on, to the latest newspapers Neve’s deposited on the table, and some column within Bellara’s particularly excited to see holds an update. He lets the chatter wash over him as he eats, trying to let the curiosity fade from his mind.

“You didn’t finish,” Spite hisses in his ear as he puts his fork down, and Lucanis looks down at his plate, which is empty except for the crumpled napkin set beside it. “You have to eat that part.”

“That’s a napkin, Spite,” he mutters. “We don’t eat napkins.”

“I’d hope not,” Neve replies dryly, and he can feel the back of his neck flush. He doesn’t like reminding them of what trouble he’s brought with him to their sanctuary. Of what he’s become.

He clears his throat. “I’m going for a walk. Here, let me take your plates.”

Harding waves him off. “My turn for dishes. Go ahead.”

And so he flees the gentle camaraderie the way another might flee a battle.

He heads to the giant mirror below the hall himself, since it’s so on his mind. He can stop in at the casino and see if Viago has any more information on how the Venatori found where Caterina so unprepared, or if Illario’s left him any messages about Zara. And even if there’s no news, and it means continuing this agonizing wait, at least perhaps Spite won’t be so riled up, and he can make a quick trip down to the market.

He is halfway down the hall when the surface shimmers like a stone thrown into a reflecting pool, and Rook emerges and steps down to the walkway.

“Oh, hello,” she greets him cheerfully. “Sorry, did I miss breakfast?”

He shakes his head. “The others should still be eating, if you hurry.”

“Well, sorry to have missed you, then,” she says, with the small half-smile he hasn’t quite puzzled out. “See you later.”

And then she walks past him and up the steps to the main hall, and Spite stands and watches her go.

“Emptiness,” it growls in the slight breeze of her passing. “It should be there and it’s not.”

“It’s fine,” Lucanis tries to reassure it, and that gesture in itself is absurd. He should not be trying to comfort a demon. “Rook can take care of herself.”

“YOU should take care of US,” Spite roars instead, and he involuntarily flinches back at the sudden transition to rage. Why does this still surprise him?

“Get us out! You PROMISED!”

“Quiet,” he snaps. “I am going out. We’re going to Treviso.” And there’s truly nothing else he can think to do, unless he wants to face another tantrum, so closes his eyes and steps through the mirror himself.

[edogawa-division]

Soon after the package from the Setagaya team appeared, two more packages appeared for the birthday girl in question, though one was slightly smaller than the other. Picking both up, she brought back in the house. Opening the smaller one first, her eyes grew wide as it was an... album cover. ...A death metal album, for that matter. Opening it up, she looked as it was made by, none other than, her favorite metal band, 86. On the back of the album was a note that said,

"Happy fuckin' birthday, kid! Hope you're having a hell of a good one. I figured I needed to pay you back for last year for my birthday, so I sent you an EP of some of the songs my band and I have been working on. Those songs aren't on the market yet, so don't go selling them off! Last thing I want to hear is these tracks on the Internet somewhere. I shouldn't be sending these to you, but I figured you deserved it for being one of our biggest fans. Hope you enjoy them!"

Signed,

Bloody "Fucking" Mary

Kanra smiled a toothy smile as she couldn't wait to play these songs later on. Putting the album off to the side, she turned to her other present and opened it up. Her eyes grew wide at what was inside the box. It was... a birthday cake. But not a regular cake. It was a cake made out of cupcakes! And they were arranged to spell out the number '18', signifying her age. On top of the box, a letter was addressed, which read:

"Happy Birthday, Kanra-chan! 😁I hope you are having a very good one, bestie! Sorry I sent this so late. This cupcakes took forever to get done! 😒 Plus, it was really hard not to eat one of them! They were so tempting! 😫 But I knew you'd probably not like it one of them was missing, so I stayed my hand and stomach! 😆 I really hope you enjoy them! And happy birthday again!"

Love,

Criss Hiromi, Paranormal Investigator

“Goodness, that's how many sweets you've eaten now?” Yuriko questioned. “Most people would be vomiting from consuming all that sugar.”

Kanra turned her head to face Yuriko, swallowing the cupcake in her mouth already having eaten close to half of the desserts Criss had sent her.

“It's so good tho besides eating all this cake is a good way for me to get all my calories in.”

“Kanra, if it wasn't for the fact that you need to consume 10x more calories than the average person, I'd worry about you'd become the walking poster for becoming a type 2 diabetic.”

“Ah, but you don't have to.” Kanra gleefully smiled, shoving another cupcake in her mouth.

“Alright enough.” Yuriko walked over and lifted the rest of the cupcakes out of Kanra's reach. “You need to consume something that isn't just a whole bunch of sugar.”

“Come on, Yuriko-san, let me finish them!” Kanra begged, reaching out and failing to grab the plate from her much taller adoptive mother's hand.

“No means no, Kanra.”

“Boooooo!”

[ninevehsage]

Here are few photos of what I got to do at work today 😊

I am currently working (rehabilitative work 3 days/ week, 5 hours/ day) at the local Ecomarket (flea market/recycling center) and my tasks there variates. Usually I'm prizing some household items or books and putting them at the shelves, but today I got free hands to decorate our display corner alone and oh boy, I was so excited that I forgot to eat my lunch in time! 😄😄😄

The big table and chairs were already there, because they cannot fit anywhere else in the store at the moment, but the rest was put there by me. Well... the storage boys helped me to carry the cabinet, but otherwise I hanged the curtains and gathered all the items by myself. Decorating the corner is such fun, because you never know how it ends up looking after you're finished. I could search things for this anywhere from the store or storage.

This time I fell in love with the metallic lyre shaped candle holder in the midst of the table. I wanted something yellowish and brown for August and upcoming Autumn and the rest came after that. Luckily I found this awesome set from our storage: six glasses with birchbark holders, a glass bottle and a plate/ tray covered with birchbark. I really love how it looks like from good old times, when things were mainly wooden, ceramic or metal. 💜

Now I'm excited to see has someone already bought something from my display when I go back to work tomorrow 😊

To all that lives or visits in Finland, the place I work in is Ekotori

[nei-ning]

I had to make a decision yesterday (personal so I'm not speaking about it here) and before I did that decision, I did many readings to myself. All the answers were positive, telling me to go forward even if it would pinch me a bit. So I did that.

Later I had to walk to the market and I, during the walk, asked Archangel Michael to be my protector and guardian, making sure all goes well. I stopped on the bridge to look at fishes during my way to market. I just love watching them. At the market's parking lot I said in my mind: "Okay, Universe. Give me number 44 as a sign I did the right choice." I can JUST BARELY finish my thought when I see a car from the corner of my right eye. That car had number 44 on its register plate!

During my way home I spotted this HUGE white seagull feather on the grass. It wasn't there when I went to the market. I pick it up. I keep walking towards the bridge and 2 cars with number 44 on their register plates drive past me! I giggle with excitement! I stop on the same spot on the bridge to look at the fishes again, the same spot on the water too what I checked earlier. There floats 2 small but fuzzy white feathers! Fresh ones! They weren't there when I walked and stopped there earlier.

On a long straight part of the road on the other side of the bridge, I notice black feather on the ground. I walk past it but it instantly makes me regret for not picking it up. So, I turn around and go pick it up. It's not only black but it has very beautiful dark metallic blue shine on it! I take it home with me.

At home I turn the TV on and head to take a shower. I'm hell sweaty. After the shower I come to sit on the couch. There's history document going on, line of tanks driving through the city. First tank is showed close from behind, big and white painted number 33 on it. Right after it on the screen comes tank with same big white numbers but this tank's number is 11!

My friend sends me a message here on Tumblr, mentioning number 44! For the next 4 hours I check the clock exactly then, when there's number 44!

My other friend from UK is texting with me via Telegram. She has got herself her very first Tarot deck and would like to pick me a card about my situation which I told her about. I allow and welcome the reading. She gets me 3 cards and all 3 of them are EXACTLY the same cards I got many times when I did myself readings earlier! How wonderful confirmation that is! I'm happy and she's blown away, hahaha!

At 5am I get myself to bed. I feel tired but like in previous nights, I can't sleep. My bedroom window is open to let some cool morning air in before sun rises with the damn heat. I hear a crow across the window / yard road. I haven't heard crows in months! This one caws 2 times and then silence for a minute or two. Then, it caws - 2 times again. From the distance another crow caws back but how many times? I'm not sure. This close crow caws now 3 times, listens long and caws 3 times again.

Eventually the crow closest to me flies to this other crow, it's silent a long time. Suddenly this crow starts to caw repeatedly, fells silent and starts all over again. This happens twice. And then, silence. They are both gone.

Silence continues until I hear faint thud from the living room. It sounds EXACTLY like Verti when he jumped down from his tree or sofa! Maybe he's visiting me as an assurance all is well. All will be well.

I'm alone at home and neither of my wall neighbors are home either. It's dead silent too. Even outside. No birds, humans, bugs, wind, nothing. It's so silent my ears are ringing horribly with tinnitus. It's head splitting.

However, I feel happy and excited! Lots of positive good signs! While all these signs are amazing, soothing my soul and mind, the crow crowns it. Crow cawing 3 times is good sign, especially in the morning plus in this case where I normally NEVER hear them! Repeating caw is good too! Overall hearing crow is good sign! Universe is spamming me with good and positive signs which is comforting, assuring and just... Thank you ❤️ I have no words.

Ps. Not to mention my sister send me a photo earlier yesterday. She bought Sukuna mug to me! ❤️

[wolveswatchspace]

How to Spot a High-Quality Replica Watch

In the world of luxury timepieces, high-quality replica watches offer an attractive alternative to genuine models, combining the elegance and prestige of top brands with a more accessible price point. However, not all replicas are created equal, and distinguishing a high-quality replica from a poorly made one can be challenging. Here’s a guide to help you spot a high-quality replica watch and make a smart purchase.

1. Examine the Materials

High-quality replicas use premium materials that closely match those of the original watches. Pay attention to the following:

Case Material: Look for stainless steel, gold plating, or titanium. High-quality replicas will use materials that mimic the original watch, providing durability and a similar weight.

Crystal: Sapphire crystal is preferred for its scratch resistance and clarity. Check if the watch uses sapphire crystal as opposed to cheaper materials like mineral glass or plastic.

Strap/Bracelet: Genuine leather, high-quality rubber, or finely finished metal bracelets indicate a well-made replica. Poor quality replicas often have straps that feel cheap and wear out quickly.

2. Check the Movement

The movement is the heart of any watch. High-quality replicas often use automatic or mechanical movements similar to those found in genuine watches. Here's what to look for:

Smooth Movement: The second hand should move smoothly, without noticeable ticking, particularly in automatic replicas.

Reliable Timekeeping: The watch should keep accurate time. Low-quality movements often result in frequent time adjustments.

3. Pay Attention to Details

High-quality replicas meticulously replicate the details of the original watch. Here are some key aspects to check:

Logo Placement: The logo should be accurately placed and match the original in size and style.

Dial Markers: Ensure that the dial markers are aligned correctly and the fonts match those of the genuine model.

Engravings: Check for clean, precise engravings on the case back, clasp, and other areas. Low-quality replicas often have sloppy or missing engravings.

Date Windows: The date window should be properly aligned and magnified if the original watch has this feature.

4. Weight and Feel

A high-quality replica will have a substantial weight, similar to the original watch. The watch should feel solid and well-constructed when you wear it. Light, flimsy watches are a red flag for poor quality.

5. Research the Seller

The seller’s reputation is crucial when buying a replica watch. Here’s what to consider:

Customer Reviews: Look for reviews and testimonials from other customers to gauge the seller’s reliability and product quality.

Return Policy: Ensure the seller has a clear return policy in case the watch does not meet your expectations.

Customer Support: Reliable sellers offer excellent customer service and clear communication.

At WolvesWatch.com, we pride ourselves on offering high-quality A5 replicas that meet the highest standards of craftsmanship and accuracy. Our dedication to quality and customer satisfaction ensures you get the best value for your money.

6. Compare Prices

While price should not be the sole determinant, extremely low prices often signal low-quality replicas. Compare prices across different sellers to understand the market rate for high-quality replicas.

7. Secure Payment Methods

When purchasing online, ensure the seller uses secure payment methods to protect your financial information. Look for SSL encryption and reputable payment gateways.

Why Choose WolvesWatch.com

At WolvesWatch.com, we specialize in high-quality A5 replicas, ensuring our customers receive the best in terms of materials, craftsmanship, and accuracy. Here’s why you should choose us:

Extensive Selection: We offer a wide range of replicas from top brands like Rolex, Omega, Patek Philippe, and Audemars Piguet.

Quality Assurance: Every watch undergoes rigorous quality control checks to meet our high standards.

Customer Support: Our dedicated customer service team is always ready to assist with any queries or concerns.

Secure Shopping: We prioritize your security with encrypted transactions and secure payment gateways.

Navigating the world of replica watches can be challenging, but with the right knowledge and careful consideration, you can find a high-quality replica that offers the elegance and prestige of luxury timepieces. Start your journey with confidence at WolvesWatch.com and discover a world of affordable luxury.