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Teslen and the cliché coffee shop au. :)
Nikola just wanted a blasted cup of coffee. That was all.
He didn't want to wait in lines that were too long for the quality of the coffee, he didn't want to have seasonal flavors shoved into his face. He just wanted a hot drink that contained plenty of caffeine.
He should have made it at home. He would have made it at home, if he hadn't ran out during the long night he had pulled before crashing for a few hours, getting ready, and rushing out.
Nikola turned his back on the bustling over-hyped chain coffee shop and found a smaller one, more...homely looking.
It had the air of a building that had been there for a long time, quietly continuing on despite the bustle around it. But the chalkboard outside stated that it had coffee, tea, and pastry selections.
Nikola pushed open the door and was greeted with the heady scent of coffee, teas, and baked goods, but not in an overwhelming way. Just strong enough to truly entice.
The shop itself was....charming came to mind, but that wasn't quite right.
Dark woods, plenty of cozy spots to sit and drink your beverage, artwork hung on goldish-cream walls, a shelf of books that said 'Take One, Leave One'.
Despite the number of people occupying the shop, it wasn't too loud or too crowded and there wasn't a long line as Nikola walked towards the counter.
Only two people were behind the counter, but the smells drifting from the door that presumably led to the kitchen indicated that there were more people at work there.
The woman was standing at the register when Nikola got there.
"Welcome to The Sanctuary." she greeted in a lilting British accent.
"Coffee, black, largest cup you have. To go." he said, digging in his pocket for money and not looking up.
He didn't care if it was plain and bitter, he just wanted the caffeine at this point.
The woman made a sound at his order and he looked up at her, meeting blue eyes that looked slightly amused, but it was hard to tell.
"What?" he asked.
"I was impressed with you until that order." she answered, picking up a large cup and pulling a marker out of her pocket.
"Because I want it plain?"
"Because you ordered coffee."
Nikola gave her a look.
"You run a coffee shop."
"I run a tea shop that serves coffee." she corrected, the distinction apparently incredibly important from her tone.
"Why do you care? I'm giving you money."
"We're not one of those big chain shops, Mister...?"
She let the question hang, marker poised on the cup, which Nikola noticed was some sort of paper and not plastic.
"Tesla."
She scribbled his name, told him the price, and walked over to the coffee maker that did, indeed, look like an afterthought to the shop and not the main focus of the business.
Nikola dropped his money on the counter and leaned against it to watch her as she pressed some buttons.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We take a bigger interest in our customers than being given money in exchange for below-standard beverages."
"That means you judge their orders?"
"It means we want to give them something they will enjoy, something to brighten their day, not an over-priced shot of caffeine."
Had she read his mind? Nikola just had to stare as the machine kicked into gear and coffee started to fill the empty pot.
She poured it, snapped a lid on, and put a cardboard sleeve around the cup. Nikola wondered why she had written his name when she had been holding it the whole time and he was the only one standing at her end of the counter.
"Careful. It's hot." she said, handing it to him.
Nikola took it, his eyes falling to where a nametag should have been pinned to her apron, but there wasn't one. He stared at this, thinking it was odd, then looked back up to see her smirk and realize that it looked like he had been ogling her chest.
"Helen." she said, making change.
"Well, Helen. Why does a barista care what I drink?"
"Baristas are expresso 'artists' and you won't find them here, Mr. Tesla. And I believe the woman who owns the shop and has a certain intention may care about that intention being carried out."
Nikola just stared at her, the fact that he needed to get to work far in the back of his mind at this point.
She flashed him a smile that he automatically returned, because there was something about it that his brain immediately responded to.
"So, what would you recommend for my enjoyment?"
"One of our black tea blends. Though I'm not certain which one just yet. Perhaps one of the Earl Greys."
"Hmm."
Nikola did enjoy black tea. And he was finding himself intrigued by this woman.
Someone behind Nikola cleared their throat, making him realize that a few people had come in while they had been talking.
"Well." He straightened. "I suppose I'll have to come back later and try your black tea blend."
Helen smiled again, lowering her eyes for a moment as she closed the register and wiped her hands on a cloth.
"I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Tesla." she said, meeting his gaze as she raised her eyes again.
He had the pleasant feeling that she actually meant it.
Nikola gave her one last smile before he took his coffee and headed out of the shop.
On the sidewalk, he studied The Sanctuary for a moment before turning and walking away.
Yes, he would definitely come back and not just for the tea.
#whoa i just ran with this#really enjoyed it though#i really hope this counts as teslen#tinknevertalks#thanks so much for the ask!!!#teslen#helen magnus#nikola tesla#sanctuary#fanfiction#my writing
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like the dawn
part iv- the train and the plane
“i don’t know who sold the homeland, but i know who paid the price” - mahmoud darwish
summary: you lose everything in the span of two weeks, left with nothing at all. not even bodies to bury.
wordcount: 3.8k
warnings: cussing, violence, death, mourning, lack of closure, angst, i cried twice while writing this
a/n: i really hope u guys like this one 🥺 i know the last few haven’t been the most exciting but i promise it’s going somewhere 😩 love u all <3
taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll
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In the distance, you heard a train. The cold air carried the sound of creaking tracks all throughout the mountains, winding through the snow.
Jacque shook his head. “Let’s get going, because they’re moving like the devil.”
Steve stepped up and clamped a hook onto the wire. “We only got about a 10-second window,” he said. “You miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.”
“Mind the gap,” one huffed. You nodded, readying your hook.
“Better get moving, bugs!” Dugan yelled.
And with that, you were off. Gliding through the air and gripping on for dear life as you approached the train.
As soon as the black exterior was within the right distance, you dropped down, clinging to the roof and laying down. Once the coast was clear, you stood and began to shakily make your way to an entrance.
Steve quickly found a ladder and led you and Bucky inside as Gabe kept watch. It was eerily quiet the moment the brunet shut the door behind him, the train car falling silent.
You all stalked forward, the shield, the bow, and the gun, all on edge. After Schmidt, you weren’t sure what horrors you would face.
Steve went ahead to check another room as you and Bucky stayed behind him, watching his six. However, the moment he crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut.
Through the window, you could see a metal suit with weapons that glowed blue confronting Steve. Behind you and your other friend, a handful of guards appeared.
Bucky shot at them as you ducked, cursing your hands as they fumbled for an arrow. The cold had seeped into your fingers, slowing your movement.
As soon as you nocked a particularly sharp arrow, you drew it back and stood back up, waiting until one popped out from behind the shelf. You didn’t hesitate to strike him down, ducking once more as the shooting resumed.
The seemingly endless gunfire echoed around the enclosed space, deafening you and Bucky. The guards stayed safe behind their helmets.
Loud banging erupted from the room behind you, and your mind instantly went to Steve. All he had was a handgun and a shield. A bullet lodging right above your head jolted you back to the fight.
Bucky grabbed his own handgun and rushed across the car to your hiding spot, and you wrapped an arm around him to tug him down. Only one soldier remained, and he was unleashing hell.
The brunet’s gun was out before you knew it, and your arrows were at a disadvantage in the cramped car. You loaded one anyways, both of you shaking as you realized that you were locked in.
Just as you were about to stand up, the door opened. Steve held up a gun and tossed it to Bucky, then nodded to the arrow in your bow. A firecracker, according to Stark.
After years, you understood his plan perfectly. You shot first, driving the guard behind the materials in the center, then Steve ran forward to slam a giant metal pipe at him. The moment the man appeared, he was shot down by Bucky.
“I had him on the ropes,” the latter grumbled.
Steve snarked back. “I know you did.”
You were going to roll your eyes and tell your boys to move along the train, head to the front, and grab the doctor as planned, but fate said otherwise. The man in the machine that Steve had first taken down fired into your train car, and while the blond protected all of you with the shield, it blasted you back.
You slammed into the wall on the far end, groaning as you reoriented yourself. The howling wind was back, and the reason was made clear when you saw the gaping hole in the side of the train.
And Bucky laying dangerously close to the edge.
You saw the scene in slow motion. The guard was aiming for Steve. A direct hit would kill him. As you tried to sit up, your vision blurred.
What happened next would be burned into your mind, haunting you even if the details would be slowly lost.
Bucky rose, shield and gun in hand, firing at the machine. All it took was one blast, and he was thrown outside of the train. With a weak scream and a rush of adrenaline, you ran to the edge as Steve took the man down.
He was clinging onto some rebar, eyes wide and full of fear as his knuckles paled. You reached out with one hand, your stomach dropping at the distance.
“Bucky! Grab my hand!” you yelled, straining as you inched out on the train. Steve joined you, climbing out as well as he screamed for you to be careful, to get you both back to safety.
You grabbed a bar above you, swinging up and much closer to the Sergeant. He was an arm’s reach away, and you held out your bow for him to grab onto.
Your footing slipped, and for a moment, your heart dropped. But then you scrambled back to safety, gasping as your brain caught up to your body.
“Stay there!” Steve yelled, extending a hand. Bucky reached for it, determined as ever. You were so close to being done. Done with your fight. Done with the war.
The rebar creaked, ripping away from the body of the train.
And James Barnes fell.
You weren’t sure if any one of you screamed. Every inch of you was focused on watching your best friend of two decades plummet through the air.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Steve look away.
But you couldn’t.
———————————————————————
To say that you and Steve were in grief would be a disgusting understatement.
For the days after retrieving Zola and returning to base, your grief poured from you. Every waking moment was spent poring over every detail from that damn train.
Steve blamed himself, mostly. Blamed himself for not reaching him. For bringing him along.
And as for you? You didn’t utter a word. You didn’t cry, didn’t scream. You stayed silent long after you got back to camp, handed off the doctor, and returned to a tent.
You stayed silent for the raid, and you stayed silent when you and Steve wandered into a bombed-out bar with a bottle of whiskey.
It was only there, when you two were completely alone, that you spoke after a week and a half.
“It’s not your fault,” you whispered to the Captain. You held up a hand when he tried to rebuff you. “It’s mine, Steve.”
Your eyes finally watered as you sat down next to him, leaning into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you. “He- he never enlisted,” you said, knowing he would pick up your insinuation.
“…He was drafted,” Steve sighed, choking up.
You nodded. “If I’d just… told him to tell you, maybe he could’ve applied for some sort of-“ Your words failed and died as a sob ripped through you.
“He was scared.” Those words seemed to finally break Steve. He buried his head in your shoulder, shaking and feeling smaller than he ever was before the serum.
“He never got a choice.”
As you cried, you reached for the bottle and flung away the cap. You took a swig directly from the bottle, passing it to Steve even though you knew he couldn’t get drunk.
No harm in pretending. No harm in pretending Bucky was still here. No harm in pretending that your only options were now to go home and live in this hell or to die.
One seemed more pleasant.
“It was both of our faults,” Steve mumbled. Maybe deep down, you both knew there wasn’t anything you could’ve done to change the outcome. That the blame didn’t fall on either of you.
Grief didn’t care about logic or reason, though. However, vengeance did.
“We’re going after Schmidt.” His words were decisive. “I’m not gonna stop until all of HYDRA is dead or captured.”
“I’ll let you kill him if I get to put an arrow through his chest first.”
He held up his pinkie. You linked it with yours.
And the absence was heavier than ever.
———————————————————————
“Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse. He thinks he’s a god, and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA.”
You watched with tired eyes from your spot beside Steve as Colonel Phillips gestured to a map. Howard Stark joined the table.
“Schmidt is working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour,” he warned.
Steve set down his paper, exchanging a glance with you.
“How much time we got?” Gabe asked. Phillips’ response was less than ideal. You had less than 24 hours.
A commotion broke out, but Steve’s voice carried. “Where is he now?”
“In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface.”
Morita took the picture. “So what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”
“Why not?” you deadpanned. Heads turned. None of them but Steve had heard you speak since that mission. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
———————————————————————
Steve sped down a trail in the woods on his motorcycle, with you clinging onto his back.
Neither of you said a word when several HYDRA agents on motorcycles began to trail you, you simply drew back your bow and loaded an arrow. At your request, Howard had upped the lethality of your arrows.
You fired into the middle, not flinching as the resulting explosion knocked several agents from their bikes.
Steve swerved as they fired towards you, weaving through the woods. From there, he began to take the remaining agents out one by one.
After eliminating the last guard, you sped toward the HYDRA base, not stopping as a tank fired blue beams of energy toward you. You aimed another arrow at the bottom of the tank, smashing it to bits before diving off the bike.
You ran up the slanted barricade as Steve barreled through the flames and rubble. Shooting down guards from the shadows, you carefully targeted some of them aiming more lethal blows. All you needed was a quick catch-and-release.
He continued to take on as many HYDRA soldiers as he could find. If you noticed the added brutality, you didn’t comment on it. You understood his reasoning. Each shot you fired, you dedicated to Bucky. And every shot connected.
Steve’s abandoned motorcycle crashed into the wall, exploding in a cloud of fire and smoke. When two more of the men in machines appeared, you tensed. They looked similar to the one on the train.
When plumes of fire spouted from the blasters on their arms, surrounding Steve, you grabbed your radio and ran through the trees.
“It’s going to plan,” you whispered into the device. “Are you in position?”
“Ready to give ‘em hell, Agent,” Dugan affirmed. With that, you followed the HYDRA soldiers as they surrounded Steve, leading him into the building.
You snuck through the empty hallways, keeping your distance and shooting down cameras. Silently, you hid, waiting right outside of the main room of the base. You could hear Schmidt talking.
“Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone.” No response followed. “But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”
“He told me you were insane.” You sighed in relief at his sass. He wasn’t hurt too bad if he could still snark back.
The Red Skull heaved a sigh. “He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”
A chuckle. “Nothing,” Steve said. “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” The next thing you heard were punches being thrown and the blond coughing. You refrained from busting into the room, instead resorting to peeking in.
Steve was on his knees, glaring in defiance at the mutilated man. “I can do this all day.”
“Of course you can, of course. But unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule.” The moment he aimed a gun, you stepped out, bow drawn. You smirked at the shock on his face.
“So am I.”
You fired, knocking the gun from his hand as the rest of the Commandos crashed through the windows.
Gunfire ensued, Nazi soldiers dropping almost instantly under the rain of hellfire. Schmidt himself ran, winding through the corridors as you all followed.
The march of footsteps echoed, and you grabbed your radio.
“We’re in! Assault team, go!” you barked. Moments later, alarms rang through the base. Phillips and Peggy led the charge as hundreds of Allied soldiers charged the building.
You followed Steve as he dashed through after Schmidt. The man fired blue beams of energy, but the shield deflected the otherworldly attacks.
The blond threw his shield, which ricocheted and held open the door long enough for you both to slip inside. But between you and the door was another one of the men wielding flamethrowers.
You winced from the heat, but you were soon saved. Peggy Carter unleashed her wrath and dozens of bullets into the suit, nodding to you both as a team followed behind her.
“You’re late,” Steve quipped.
She raised a brow, unimpressed. “Aren’t you supposed to…” She trailed off, gesturing to the hallway.
“Right.” You both ran off, with you ducking under the shield first and Steve ripping it from the door shortly after. With nothing to keep it open, you were locked in. Again.
A massive jet, more sleek and advanced than any you’d ever seen, sat in the hangar. The Valkyrie. Schmidt’s ugly-ass head stood out against the black as he scrambled into the plane. Moments later, the thrusters fired.
Between you and the ship, however, was a war waging between the two sides. Steve took to the air as you snuck through the fighting, ducking and dodging best you could.
Thanks to the serum, your friend was far ahead of you. The sound of a car engine nearby caused you to look up.
Phillips and Peggy were behind the wheel of Schmidt’s very expensive car, speeding down the runway and directly towards you. They slowed down just enough for you to hop in before chasing after Steve.
“You can’t run everywhere!” you yelled as he hopped in.
The Valkyrie was too fast, increasing the distance between it and the car with every second. But not for long. The Colonel pressed a button, and you sped up drastically, wincing from the force.
The Captain stood up as you closed in on the plane, using his shield to block the propeller blades.
“Keep it steady!” he yelled.
You grabbed him. “Wait!” Passing him an arrow, you gave him a weak smile.
“Put it through his chest.” Wrapping your pinkie with his, you pleaded, “But come back to me.”
Steve leaped, and Phillips veered the car, barely stopping you three from falling off the edge. Immediately hopping from the swaying vehicle, you nodded back to the building, where most of the shooting had stopped.
Under the lead of the Howling Commandos the Allied forces had taken out or captured the HYDRA soldiers. As they rounded them up and confiscated weapons, you searched for the command center.
———————————————————————
Meanwhile, Steve was having a horrible time. He’d been thrown from the plane, hijacked an enemy jet, and seen dozens of nukes loaded and ready to blow multiple US cities to hell.
Now, he crept into the main room of the Valkyrie, eyeing the glowing blue device in the middle. He suspected Schmidt was at the helm, but was sorely mistaken when he heard a laser charging behind him.
He barely blocked the shot, and Schmidt clicked his tongue.
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?”
With a loud “Nope!”, he ran at the man, blocking more of those blue bursts of energy. They went punch for punch, blow for blow, tossing each other around the plane before Schmidt was tossed against the controls, causing the plane to careen downwards.
The Nazi managed to turn on autopilot before long, whipping around, gun in hand.
“You could have the power of the gods! Yet you wear a flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations!” he screamed. “I have seen the future, Captain! There are no flags!”
“Not my future,” Steve rebuffed. He threw the shield with all his might, knocking the Red Skull into the bright blue light. The machine whirred and presented the source: a glowing cube.
Dislodged from the machine, it sent out strikes of blue lightning. Schmidt grabbed it.
“What have you done?” he demanded. The cube began to glow brighter, projecting a stunning image of what looked like… Space? And then a scream.
Steve watched in horror as Schmidt’s body began to burn away. In a blinding beam of light, he disappeared, leaving behind the blue cube, which burnt through the floor of the ship.
Clambering into the seat, Steve caught a glimpse of the plane’s destination. New York City. Ahead, golden clouds spanned the horizon.
Back at the HYDRA base, you sat in the control room, anxiously staring at the radio.
“Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”
You sighed in relief. “Steve. Are you alright? What are your coordinates-“
On the other end, he nearly sobbed. He hated to do this to you. “(Y/N), Schmidt’s dead.”
“What about the plane?” you asked, chuckling lightly. “I know you can’t fly one.”
‘No, but I can crash one.’
He bit his tongue. “That’s a bit tougher to explain.”
“Ok, well, give us your coordinates. Peggy can find you a safe landing sight.”
His next words tore through you.
“There’s not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down.”
“No,” you whispered. Shaking your head, you ignored your vision blurring. “We can get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”
“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York.” He paused as the full reality of the situation sunk in. “I got to put her in the water.”
“Steve, no, please. We can work something out, I-“ Choking down a sob, you wiped your eyes furiously. You had cried too much in the past week. “I can’t lose you, too.”
You could hear him choke up on the other end, too.
“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die.”
“(Y/N), this is my choice.”
With that, he pressed the controls forward, stomach dropping as the plane careened from the sky.
“(Y/N)?” He sounded small. Scared.
“I’m here, Stevie.”
“I need you to move on.”
No. You had lived your whole life as part of a trio. You couldn’t go it alone. You didn’t know how.
“Steve, please. I… I can’t lose you and Bucky. Not like this.”
He never tore his eyes away from the approaching ground, even as tears fell. “I know. I’m sorry. I know he is, too.”
You curled in on yourself. “Give him hell for me, okay?”
“I will,” he chuckled. “Can’t let him get away with that-“
The radio cut, and you were left with nothing.
Nothing but the soft crackle of the radio.
———————————————————————
You never went back home. You mailed a letter to Bucky’s sister and ma, and then holed yourself up in the base in New Jersey that became Peggy and Howard’s base of operations.
If losing Bucky was hell, you weren’t sure what this is.
Because for the first time in over two decades, you were completely, utterly alone.
What made matters worse is that you didn’t have bodies to bury. While Howard was looking for The Valkyrie, his efforts were unsuccessful. You couldn’t even lay your boys to rest.
The following week was spent scraping for every memory you had of the two and putting them down on paper. And then, when you filled up three whole journals, you began to write what you wished you’d said.
Particularly that you’d loved them both.
You stored those more personal letters in a lockbox. Dozens of pages of messily scrawled words, tossed and shoved away on a shelf in the barracks.
And around you, life moved on. The world mourned the loss of Captain America and one of the Howling Commandos, but you seemed to be the only one mourning Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.
You wanted to give them a proper funeral. To put names to the heroes.
You weren’t even left with their bodies.
It ate at you, recurring every day and slowly pushing you to the brink.
Until one night.
———————————————————————
You had had enough. The nights of not sleeping. The pitied looks. The crying. The grief that was eating you alive and that you were sure would consume you whole.
So you grabbed your bow and quiver, ran to the runway, and hijacked the first plane you saw.
You knew nothing about flying planes. But you knew how to improvise.
Pulling up the location, you grabbed your map, scanning the Swiss Alps. You knew where Bucky fell.
Everyone was looking for Captain America. No one was looking for him.
It was almost a day of flying before you reached that same train track. The hike from your landing spot and down into the ravine was even worse.
But as you wandered the frozen land, you were on a mission. You pushed through the cold, knowing you had to be close, praying to anything out there that you could receive some piece of mind.
But when you got to a spot in the snow that looked different, all you saw was blood. And lots of it.
There wasn’t a body.
Your heart jumped in your chest. Bucky could be alive. The oppressive cold warned otherwise, but there wasn’t any denying that he’d survived the fall.
The faint trail of red wound further down the path, and as you followed it, you noticed other things. Like tire tracks where the blood stopped.
And footsteps behind you. You whipped around, bow drawn, only to find a small man in a lab coat. The doctor.
You eyed him up and down, frowning.
“How did you get here?” you asked, biting out the words. “Where is Bucky?”
“The Allies decided I was too valuable to kill, Ms. (L/N). And much like me, so was the Sergeant. He’s alive.”
“Then where. Is. He,” you spat, only getting closer.
“Put the bow down,” he proposed. “And I’ll take you to him.”
Well, that was an offer you couldn’t turn down. You obliged, turning to nod down the trail.
“Where are we-“
A sharp prick stabbed into your neck and you hissed, whirling around only to watch the cliffs blur. Your arms weakened, dropping your weapon as you stumbled.
More footsteps sounded from behind you, and two sets of arms grabbed yours.
Zola leaned in, a wicked smirk on his face.
“HYDRA.”
#marvel#marvel x reader#x reader#avengers x reader#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x reader#captain america: the first avenger#captain america x reader#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader angst#bucky x reader angst#bucky x reader#40s stucky
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Lilyi's emergence from the sea put the whole world into full blown paranoia. We thought the terror was over after the fall of the leviathan, but it seemed that the deep still held its secrets. Everyone had been so focused on Melalo, that they didn't bother to look anywhere else. After an entire city was swallowed by Lilyi's slime, no one was taking any chances. The oceans were packed with sensors, subs and sonar, ready to detect the slightest hint of trouble. No country wanted to be caught off guard like that again, as we all saw the price of it. We would have our eyes and ears everywhere, and our guns close by. Though the slaying of the titan and the attempts on the two kaiju cost a lot of resources, humanity showed our frighteningly quick ability to pump out even more weapons of war. Everyone scurried to stock up munitions and have all their war machines locked and loaded. The second another beast reared its head, we would blow it clean off. Though we had wished these preparations had been for naught, that the two would be last of the terrors, our efforts proved successful. Upon another coastline, opposite of where the beast perished, sounds of something big could be heard. It was moving towards land, and we knew what that meant.
Thankfully, it appeared to move at a slow pace, giving the country's forces enough time to mobilize and gather round. We could see where it would make landfall, save for a severe change of course, and had armed this stretch of coastline to the teeth. When it emerged, we would unleash hell upon it. Submarines were already taking shots at it with torpedoes, hopefully weakening it before the big event. These attacks also made sure it stayed its course, so that it would bumble right into our kill zone. The first thing to rise from the waters was a jagged spire, and we almost jumped the gun. Everyone was so nervous, that we nearly unloaded everything into that simple spine. Command was quick to regain control and keep our troops in line, as we could not afford to waste our shots on anything save for vital organs. Eyes, orifices, joints and torso was what we were looking for, weak points that would slow the beast and leave it open to our attacks. When the kaiju fully emerged from the ocean, showing its true form, we were all speechless and confused as hell. The sudden question was: what the hell do we shoot?
The kaiju that would eventually earn the title of "Tculo" was nothing more than a hardened ball of spikes. A giant sphere of holes and spines, almost looking as if it was carved of solid stone. It awkwardly rolled onto land, its twisted, broken spires gouging huge trenches in the earth. Our orders to target weak points left us befuddled for a moment, as what was there to even hit? Eventually the conclusion was the rounded body, as that had to be where all the vital parts lie. The order was given, and the combined forces unleashed everything we had against the bizarre beast. Missiles, shells and mortars pounded and blasted away at the beast, looking to obliterate it before it even realized it was in danger. Hope swelled in our hearts when we saw spikes snap off and the shell crack under the assault. Soon we would expose its vulnerable core and finish it off. Then the wretched thing started to rumble. From the openings, we could see some gelatinous substance quiver and quake, perhaps in fear. Then suddenly a low droning sound came from the goop, sending vibrations through the whole area. Everyone prepared for some kind of sonic attack, perhaps a weaponized quake. But these vibrations did little to our tanks and aircraft, instead it was focused on itself. From our assault, numerous shards of the creature's shell and spikes had fallen off, littering the battlefield. This debris was paid no mind, until it started to feel these vibrations. When the droning struck these shards, they rattled and shook like an out control paint mixer. Just as we took notice of this reaction, they exploded. Suddenly these lost pieces became deadly shrapnel, spraying far across the battlefield and shredding everything in its path. They fragmented into the tiniest slivers, and each of these pieces sliced through flesh and metal like butter. A chunk of our ground forces fell silent and still, as the soldiers and operators were torn to pieces. Tanks ceased firing, as the people inside them were reduced to bloody ribbons. In a moment, the one sided assault was now turning into a losing battle.
Tculo did not wait long after the first explosion, as a portion of its shell opened up and revealed more of its horrid innards. What slithered out were gelatinous tendrils, seemingly made more of slime than flesh and blood. These spiny tentacles hummed and throbbed with that drone, and started lashing out at the remaining forces. Some stuck with merely swatting planes out of the air, or crushing ground troops under its gooey weight. Others started throwing forth more spines and pieces, using their hum to detonate them. Chunks were tossed up into the air, so that their spraying shrapnel could pierce through our jets and copters. Though these explosives were obvious to see, the resulting spines were impossible to avoid. It only took a single sliver to punch a hole through a plane, and that was often enough to doom it. Despite the agility and skill of the pilots, our aircraft started to fall from the sky as fuel lines, electronics and engines were turned into pin cushions. A single shard tore through everything, and that sometimes included the pilots themselves. As our forces scrambled to escape these tendrils and spiny bombs, Tculo took advantage of our waning firepower. The damage to the spines and shell started heal up, erasing our efforts in minutes. Even when our missiles made it into that gooey center mass, the resulting detonation did nothing but spray some crimson goop. Tculo hardly seemed bothered by it. It just generated more of these horrible shards and used its tendrils to direct its hum towards perfectly placed spike bombs, shredding more and more of our forces. Within the hour of our assault, we were in full retreat. Our weapons were failing to do real damage against the regenerative shell, and its terrible spines were tearing through us like paper.
As we fled, we swore we wouldn't let Tculo get the last laugh. With more knowledge on our foe, we figured we could get together a new strategy and best this titan. Surely we had the right tools and weapons to take down this beast, we just had to know how to use them. It never happened. That first skirmish with Tculo remained the only interaction with the entity for a long time. The horrible loss caused many to lose faith in our plans and tactics, and the unity that came from taking down the leviathan was starting to fracture. Countries started to focus on their own survival, unwilling to give up anymore resources that they could use to keep their borders safe. This was three times now that we failed to stop these kaiju, so why would they waste anymore on this failed venture? It wasn't a full blown collapse at this point, but the cracks were starting to show. This doubt and debate caused delays in dealing with Tculo, and more observation of the creature caused more folk to question our "solutions." During all this, Tculo just rolled themself across the land, with no real path or plan in sight. Sometimes it would use its tendrils to drag itself, but still the direction was aimless. Each journey saw its spiny shell shredding the landscape, and any town it happened to bowl over. With no real weakness of Tculo determined yet, it was almost useless to try and stop them. All we could do was evacuate, and hope that some buildings still remained after the entity was gone. Unfortunately, we soon found out that the danger Tculo possessed was not just in their presence.
What was left in their wake proved to be almost as deadly, as the landscape was littered with shards and slivers of its shell. With no drumming song, they would not detonate, but that wasn't their only purpose. This material proved to be impossibly sharp, naturally creating a super fine edge that could slice deep with little pressure. Stepping on a fallen piece was enough to cause these shattered blades to cut right through your boot and into your foot. You couldn't pick one up without the strongest of gloves, or else it would bite into your fingers and palm. These cuts were nasty, but that wasn't the worst of it. This razor material was seemingly had a poisonous property, which seeped into every cut and nick. Even the smallest wound led to some horrible infection, as these toxic shards leeched into the bloodstream. The site of the injury would turn black and crusty, while the veins throbbed and darkened. Small cuts would not lead to death, but it would cause misery for weeks and scars that would last a life time. Those that really sliced up an arm or a leg would probably have to have these limbs amputated, as the infection would threaten to spread to the whole body. With this threat realized, it soon dawned upon us that the Tculo's travels were leaving minefields in its wake. The land would be filled with these shards, and we had no way to properly clean them up. You couldn't get enough people together to scour every inch of the area to collect every piece. Heavy duty operations could possibly break these pieces and make it an even bigger nightmare to clean up. It certainly gave us plenty of samples to study, with the hope of unlocking its secrets and finding an exploit. However, it also raised the question of what would happen if we shattered Tculo's armor and finally killed it. The land where it perished would have to be abandoned, as it would be a wasteland of toxic blades. A troubling thought, but one we should only bother with once we actually figure out how to kill it. So far, we got nothing.
It unfortunately was not until much later when we discovered the source of these mutations: the flesh and blood of the fallen leviathan. Those who fed on or had contact with these substances usually sickened and died, but a rare few had this horrid reaction. The problem was that we had already started demolition on the carcass, spraying mutative juices and pieces everywhere. Not to mention the battle from sea to land that fell this beast, which dumped blood into the ocean and onto the streets. We found that Melalo and Lilyi were scavengers that mutated after feeding on this carcass, but Tculo's origin showed something more terrifying. They had been no simple beast before, instead it appeared that they came from phytoplankton. Researchers guess that they may have been a kind of Coccolithophore, but it is difficult, if not impossible, to truly confirm. The terrifying thing, though, is that phytoplankton are not scavengers, they get their energy through photosynthesis. That means that this organism didn't even eat the pieces of the leviathan to undergo the mutation, they were merely exposed to the bloody waters. Add to the fact that it was this small speck that wound up becoming a titan, and you see the cataclysmic implications. The land and surrounding sea have been infected, and who knows how many organisms have been exposed. How many of them will mutate? How many will die? Of the many that perish, what will feed on them? Bio-accumulation is already a serious problem when it comes to pollutants, but what of this unknown mutagen? It is in the plankton, in the fish and who knows what else? With all the time that has passed before we realized this horrible consequence, how far has this spread? By destroying the carcass and slowly hauling off the pieces, we thought we would be able to contain this outbreak. What we have found here, is that it is not so easy. In fact, it may be already too late.
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Certainly one of the weirder ones out of the bunch!
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Monthly Muppets: The Deranged Glory of Willkins and Wontkins (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)
Welcome back all you happy muppets and a bit of a schedule change as Follow that Bird's been bumped to march, though as a compensation next week you'll be getting TWO bits of monthyl muppet madness. For those just joining us welcome to monthly muppets where I look at muppety madness monthly and thankfully today's replacement is something i've been wanting to talk about since Emma brought it to my attention in the first place. It's also what was pre internet a pretty obscure part of Jim Henson's history: back in college, Jim was still finding his love of puppetry and one way to hone his craft and get some dough, something I can relate to given this is a comission and all, was to do adds. Wilkins Coffee, a now defunct coffee company, asked for some.. and the results were deranged magic that were so succesful it lead to tie in "hand muppets", over 50 skits and work that despite being decades old and only 10 seconds long held up so well it became popular again.
So what are the wilkins coffee ads? Well like a lot of muppet concepts their simple but a lot to unpack: Wlikins, a cheery muppet usually offers wontkins, his gloomy red (though you can't see it in the ads as their black and white) victim a cup of Wilkins Coffee or brings it up. When Wontkins says he dosen't like it... and wilkins gets.. violent. Here's one of the more notable examples
youtube
Yeah and if you think him wiping blood off his blade after presumingly running a man through for not liking wilkins is just a one off, I did my due dillgence and recorded EVERYTHING that happens to poor wontkins over the course of 15 minutes worth of wilkins coffee ads.. over the course of the ones I watched, almost the complete filmography the following was inflicted on this poor muppet:
Wontkins got Blasted with A Canon, shot by some dude offscreen,hit by a club ran over by a bandwagon, blinked out of existiance, dynamited with TNT, threatned with a guiltoine, attacked by an evil dead tree, caked in the face and had hot coffee poured over him, beaned with a hammer, tarred and feathered, shot by an illicit coffee peddling wilkins, pelted with eggs, kicked out of a tree, stabbed to death with a fencing saber with Wilkins having to wipe the blood off, Wilkins making the washington monument fall on him with Telekinesis, hit up for 65 dollars, blown up along with his house!, attacked by a vengeful mr wlikins godlike powers, got his television blown up by wilkins who can apparently appear inside tvs, GIVEN THE ELECTRIC CHAIR, sawed to death with a giant supervillian Buzzsaw, clubbed three times till he spread the word of wilkins, stepped on by mr. wilkins, eaten by a giant fish that was subbing for a whale, shoved off a giant brick wall to his death, told he won't be paid till they sell more wlikins, hammered in some sort of torture machine, given some… weird box, nearly got knives thrown at him blind, nearly ran over by wild horses, married Wilkins, shot in the dick by a cowboy wilkins, drowned in a swimming pool of wilkins coffee, given tiny birds, had the price jacked up, boiled to death in a coffee of wilkins to be eaten by racist sterotypes, conked by a steel can of wilkins, scared by ghosts, given a malfunctioning parachute for a sight gag, thrown out of a hot air ballon, exploded or possibly shot again by wlikins pretending to be a fortune teller, stabbed, forced to be a reindeer, shoved out of a plane, shot with an arrow, shot out of a cannon, clubbed with a giant ball, had a bottle of ginger ale broken over his hair, had the pool of water for a hive dive moved dying by concussion, given a strike in baseball that shockingly wasn't a literal strike, lifted into the air and dropped by a vengeful god, shoved into the sea to uncertain doom, stamped with a checkmark for later extermination, shot AGAIN this time for democracy, clanged inside a bell, tortured with another hammer machine, had it implied his throat was slit, LITERALLY BRANDED WITH AN X, dropped down a sewer, eaten raw coffee, scared by a headless wilkins, RAN OVER BY A STEAMROLLER, left to rot in a tower. dropped off a mountain to his demise, sprayed by a water canon and implied he needs to be brainwashed, lifted up to his death by the hand of fate, had Wilkins cause an auto accident using his car to prove a point, got shot in the face with a camera, punched by a boxing glove, and dropped out of a plane via barrel roll
Just to tabulate all that I looked over those and followed James A Janeses kill count rules, counting how many times Wilkins defintely died from whatever wonkins did, even if we didn't see it, along with my own touch of every time he got assaulted.
So Wilkins got killed a total of TWENTY FIVE TIMES, and with a combind runtime of 14:58, that lead to a kill on average every 1.79 minutes. and he was assaulted about 20 which dosen't get a runtime for this bit.
So you'd think this was a bit too cruel to work... and you'd be wrong. Yeah while obviously it's horrifying as it is hilarious that Wontkins suffered this much abuse it's done quickly and is so over the top, so disprortinate, so cruel.. ti's comedy GOLD. It's a delight to see just what horrible shit Wilkins does yet and honestly the ones where he tortures wontkins are always funnier than the ones with just some sort of sight gag for the most part. Jim Henson was a master of physical comedy and these shorts are some of his best. It's also worth remembering a LOT of muppets humor is built on slapstick cruetly and the trick is it dosen't pile on too much or has the targets be nondiscript enoguh for it to work. I do feel deeply sad for wontkins, but we don't see his pain linger enough for it to last and he's fine next short ready to get pummled, stabbed, shoved to his death or put in some torture device. and the sheer lengths Wilkins goes to are just sadistic. Would I want to hang out with Wlikins? Fuck no, wilkins coffee no longer exists and while he shilled for other brands I can't guarantee he's not rightly locked up in some deep muppet vault for muppet kind's own saftey and won't ask me for wilkins just to murder me and then ironically weekend at burnies my corpse as his own muppet.
But these adds are simple sharp and funny. Henson clearly plays both using a proto-kermit voice (though Kermit already existed by then, if not in his final form) for wilkins and something similar to Rowlf's eventual voice for wontkins. The results are just great. They do offer some logistics such as did Wlikins build a wagon, elaborate torture amchines and several buisnessses just to torment wontkins? The answer.. is probably yes and just adds to it. The fact he goes to lengths and commits enough crimes to get him put away for several life sentences just over coffee is the charm. I may not have nearly as much to say as I thought.. but I encourage you to seek these ads out and watch them.. and watch out for wilkins. If you see him lurking outside your house hide, call the police and for the love of god just offer him what cofffe you have and lie it's wilkins if you value your own life.
Thanks for reading. Next month, we're doing some more early henson as it's the muppet show YAYYYY.. specifically the PILOTS: the muppet valentine's show and the muppets: sex and violence. See you later this week.
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here’s an excerpt from a new thing i’m writing.
X took a deep breath and walked into the super market.
Storefront boredom, hoarded horrors, wars of wares for normal boarders -- stop. Concentrate. X just needed to get... shit, what was it? Coffee. X was out of coffee. The caffeine kick, swift pick up quick, don’t stop in the pit stop licketty-split. And paper towels. Was X just standing in the entryway? How long had X been standing here? Don’t need a cart don’t need a hand basket just here for two things, move. And mouthwash, three things; also could get dinner to avoid cooking: that stovetop magic, love lost tragic, great to create food, rude not acted actually good to do but blast it after the eat creeps dish pile drastic -- c’mon, focus. What aisle was X in? Juice, yeah, got a day and half worth back home might as well, don’t want to be doing this again tomorrow. Damn it, alright, go back for a hand basket.
Coffee got for the coffee pot the allotted stock more than less but less than a lot - a two pound bag. Straight shot to the mouthwash but so much public jumbled like pinball bumpers, so turn down the mostly empty...
... candy aisle? Evil, ah evil, look at the chocolate, largely sourced from plantations utilizing child slaves, so much money pouring in from chocolate companies that while slavery worldwide had dropped dramatically in the last several decades, slave trade in the areas surrounding the chocolate plantations was actually increasing. And here, shelves of chocolate, the labor of children sold into slavery, offered for just the right price in packages requiring designers and machines more costly than the lives bought and sold to work the harvest; can’t sell this bloodied treat in simple brown paper, no, it has to compete with the hundred other chocolate brands, but of course, all those brands were owned by the same three companies. Look, here was one chocolate item wrapped in Wholesome™ packaging proclaiming the chocolate to be not only organic but also sourced from independent cocoa farmers focused on helping women build better lives. But that chocolate company was just a brand name owned and operated by one of the same giant three corporations that bought chocolate harvested by children stolen from mothers and sold into forced labor. All to fill a carefully calculated percentage of shelf space in this pleasant nightmare. These weren’t goods they were selling, if anything they were bads. Hoarded horrors in this war of wares.
People, people, in the way, or was X in their way... a crowd of one not at one with the crowd, mumbled excuse-mes not allowed to be loud, while the silent voice’s noises shouted out! get out! But X still needed dinner and mouthwash.
Past the eggs which X could rarely eat anymore, used to like the ovarary production of the aviary, until the introduction of some drugs or somethin’ made it very hard to savor properly, a flavor like a cemetery, some property industrial,
that’s possibly some commentary on the bigger problem: that our produce, all our meat and dairy’s basically controlled by cash, so have to stay completely wary.
Shit, X had done a whole loop around the store, head full of eggs.
X turned the corner into the next aisle, where meat ranched overcrowded on deforested land was dyed the cartoon color children were raised to expect. Bright red steaks, orangish pink chicken. How was X supposed to buy and eat these things, knowing that not only were the healthy qualities of the foods compromised, not only was the world itself harmed by their industrialized production, but also studies indicated enjoyment of the food, trust in the food, these things effected the very ability of the body to absorb nutrients from the food. When presented with the same ingredients in a form unfamiliar or untrusted versus in a form trusted and enjoyed, the nutritional uptake by the person eating that food was noticeably different. And knowing what X knew, there had not been a meal in years that had been trusted, that had not been tainted by guilt and uncertainty, the subtle aftertaste of evil.
X left the super market shattered and exhausted, halfway home before realizing the mouthwash had never made it into the hand basket.
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All of 'Dem Things
It finally hit me that I should probably create a pinned post so my crackpot of a blog is slightly more navigable. So here you go.
Name is Noria. Pronouns are she/her. I use queer as an umbrella term because it best captures my experience as a biromantic graysexual who's attracted to women, non-binary folx, pretty boys, and G-Dragon (who is technically a pretty boy. But my man is his own category. It is what it is).
Currently watching: Between Us, GAP the Series, My School President, Old Fashion Cupcake
Present obsession: Love in the Air, KinnPorsche
All-time obsession: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Modaozushi), One Piece, Sandman comic, Death (as a concept), RPGs, especially Mass Effect and Dragon Age (Yes. BioWare owns my ass. Corporate fucks!).
Show Reviews/Thoughts
Gap the series: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10, Episode 11, Episode 12
Fanfic (in order of most recent):
Never Have I Ever (Love in the Air) one shot.
Prapai finally apologies for the twink he had draped over him in episode 12. All hail the gremlin king: Saifha!!
31 Days of Wei Wuxian (Mo dao zu shi) 1/31.
It's meant to be a collection of one shots and drabbles, based off the 2021 Mayhem November prompts. I will probably get back to this soon)
The Killing Machine (Shadowhunters) 3/12.
Two separate assassin groups, pair up to kill the fucker who's put a price on their heads and on the heads of those they love. Everybody's an assassin. Except for Luke. And everybody's fucking. My ass hasn't updated this in 4 years. I need to rewatch the show if I plan on continuing this. I probably should. I hate leaving this uncompleted).
Woven in my Soul (Shadowhunters) 1/10.
What if the devil employs the services of an angel, to locate his missing prince of hell? Alec's an angel (because of course he is). Magnus's the prince of hell (duh!). And their union is about to be cataclysmic. Or it would be. If I got my head out of my ass and actually continued writing this. Urgh. I really need to rewatch Shadowhunters this holiday, so I can finish up the two fics.
Spotter (Shadowhunters) one shot.
Jace drags Alec to the gym where he meets very buff, very foine Magnus Bane. Magnus is a babe and he knows it. Honestly this is one of my most closest to life fic experiences. Cuz I did become a gym nut for a short period of time, cuz of a crush and what can I say? No knowledge or experience is ever wasted!
31 Days of Magnus Bane (Shadowhunters) 31/31
A collection of ficlets and drabbles celebrating Magnus Bane in all his magnificent glory. And unlike my Wei Wuxian one, this one is actually complete. I really should finish Wei Wuxian's fic though. Urgh!
And So It Begins (Shadowhunters Universe - TDA) one shot
Domestic fluff that has Max Lightwood-Bane asking a ton of questions, nudging his parents into getting him a sibling. Honestly this is more Shadowhunters universe than the TV show, as neither Max nor Rafa made it to the show, but they are in the books.
It's Time to Lose Your Virginity Brother Dearest (Shadowhunters) 9/9
Magnus is a stripper. Alec's having a birthday. There's some plot in there somewhere. This was actually inspired by a prompt from a tumblr mutual who isn't on here anymore, and was a blast to write.
Happy Birthday, Beautiful (Shadowhunters World Inverted) one shot
Takes place in the world inverted shadowhunters universe. Magnus isn't interested in celebrating his birthday. Alec, his boyfriend, and party planner extraordinaire, disagrees. This was my first fic on AO3 after years of lurking. Still holds a special place in my heart, truth be told.
Ficlets and drabbles
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Unleash Your Inner Hunter: Reviewing the Arcade1Up Big Buck Hunter Pro Deluxe Machine
Calling all outdoorsmen (and women)! Dust off your virtual hunting boots, because the Arcade1Up Big Buck Hunter Pro Deluxe Machine is here to transport you to the thrill of the hunt, right in your living room. We put this nostalgic beast to the test – here's the scoop:
Arcade Action at Home: This isn't your grandma's board game! This 5-foot tall cabinet boasts four classic Big Buck Hunter games – Pro, Open Season, Safari, and Outback – offering hours of buck-chasing fun. Realistic 3D graphics, booming sound effects, and smooth gameplay create an immersive experience that'll have you dodging virtual branches and feeling the wind in your (imaginary) hair.
Pump Up the Excitement: Forget flimsy joysticks! This machine comes equipped with two pump-action rifles, adding a layer of physicality and excitement that zwyk joysticks just can't match. It feels just like raising your rifle and lining up the perfect shot – perfect for reliving childhood arcade memories or creating new ones with friends and family.
Family-Friendly Fun: Whether you're a seasoned sharpshooter or a curious newbie, the Big Buck Hunter Pro Deluxe is easy to pick up and play. Adjustable difficulty levels cater to all skill sets, making it a blast for solo hunting sessions or friendly competitions. Plus, the four different games offer variety, keeping things fresh and exciting.
A Few Things to Consider:
Size Matters: At 5 feet tall, this machine isn't exactly compact. Make sure you have the space to accommodate it comfortably before bringing it home. Price Point: This is a premium arcade experience, and the price tag reflects that. Consider your budget and how much use you'll get out of it before investing. Multiplayer Mayhem: While fun with friends, keep in mind that the machine only has two rifles, so larger groups might require taking turns.
Overall Verdict:
For those seeking a unique and immersive gaming experience, packed with nostalgia and family-friendly fun, the Arcade1Up Big Buck Hunter Pro Deluxe Machine is a sure shot. Just be sure you have the space and budget to accommodate this larger-than-life piece of arcade history.
Have you bagged your virtual bucks with the Big Buck Hunter Pro Deluxe? Share your high scores and hunting memories in the comments!
#arcade1up #game #GameOn #bigbuckhunter #homearcade #arcade #nostalgiablast #familyfun #WorthTheInvestment #productwave
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How Much Does It Cost To Refurbish Alloy Wheels?
Wheels are an essential part of a car. Not only do they affect appearance, but they also play a role in performance.
Over time, wheels can become scratched and dented, which can significantly reduce their value. Fortunately, there is a way to refurbish alloy wheels and bring them back to their former glory.
In this blog post, we will take a closer look at how much it costs to refurbish alloy wheels and what you can expect from the process. Read on for more information!
Why Refurbish Your Alloy Wheels?
There are several reasons why you might want to refurbish your alloy wheels. For starters, it can help to improve the appearance of your car. If your wheels are looking tired and worn, a fresh coat of paint can make a world of difference.
In addition, refurbishing your wheels can also help to protect them from further damage. By fixing any existing damage, you can help to prevent further wear and tear. This can be especially beneficial if you live in an area with a lot of potholes or rough terrain.
Finally, refurbishing your alloy wheels can also add value to your car. If you’re thinking about selling your car, or even if you just want to keep it in top condition, giving your wheels a makeover can be a smart investment.
The Process Of Refurbishing Your Alloy Wheels
There are a few different ways to refurbish your alloy wheels, but the method we use at JR Alloy Wheel Repair is;
Tyre removal
Chemical stripping
Wheel repair and shot blasting
Three-stage powder coating
Oven curing
Re-installation of tyre and balancing
Powder Coating Alloy Wheel Refurbishment
Alloy wheel powder coating is a decorative finish for alloy wheels. It’s sprayed on like traditional paint, however, it settles on the surface dry rather than liquid. It’s not until the coating is heated and treated that the paint “flows out” of the coating and forms a gel over the surface of the wheel.
Here at JR Alloy Wheel Repair, we offer a range of amazing different colours and finishes. From gloss black to candy red! Additionally, if you would like to see the colours we offer, swing by to see our colour range.
Diamond Cut Alloy Wheel Refurbishment
This is an alloy wheel that has been put on a lathe and part of or the entire painted surface of the wheel machined off to leave a shiny alloy finish. A small part of the actual alloy is machined off to create this finish and it is then lacquered over to prevent corrosion.
Diamond cut alloy wheel refurbishment is not suitable for all wheels as this depends on the profile of the face of the wheel, your Wheel Specialist technician will advise you if it is possible.
How Much Does It Cost To Refurbish Alloy Wheels?
The cost of refurbishing alloy wheels will vary depending on several factors, including the severity of the damage, the type of finish you want, and the number of wheels you need to be refurbished.
In general, you can expect to pay anywhere from £50 to £250 per wheel for a basic refurbishment. If you want a more premium finish, such as diamond cut or powder coating, the cost will be higher.
It’s also important to keep in mind that the cost of refurbishing alloy wheels will go up if you need to have multiple wheels done. Most companies offer discounts for bulk orders, but it’s still a good idea to factor in the additional expense when budgeting for the project.
See our alloy wheel refurbishment price list here.
JR Alloy Wheel Repair – For The Best Alloy Wheel Refurbishment In Wembley
Here at JR Alloy Wheel Repair, we pride ourselves on providing high-quality alloy wheel refurbishment in London, at an affordable price.
At JR Alloy Wheel Repair, we have our auto centre in Wembley, London, and we employ highly skilled and experienced specialists who offer expert advice and guidance throughout the process. Our technicians also use manufacturer-recommended finishes and work to their highest standards to offer you quality repair services.
With us as your alloy repair specialists, you can rest assured that there won’t be any compromises when it comes to the wheels’ final finishes – you can expect nothing but professional and excellent results that last!
Get in touch with us today to find out more about how we can help!
Article Source : https://jralloywheelrepair.co.uk/how-much-does-it-cost-to-refurbish-alloy-wheels/
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Shot Blasting Machine Manufacturer | Best Shot Blasting Machine Supplier: Ambica Enterprises
Are you looking for the best-quality shot blasting machines in India? Look no further than Ambica Enterprises! We've got a wide range of blasting machines, including sandblasting, grit blasting, and vacuum blasting, suitable for both industrial and personal use. Reach out to us at +91-965376590 or visit our website https://www.shotblastingmachines.in/ for competitive prices and professional guidance.
#Shot Blasting Machine#Shot Blasting Machine Manufacturer#Shot Blasting Machine Price#Shot Blasting Machine India#Shot Blasting Machine for Sale#Ambica Enterprises
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Ambica Enterprises stands out as a top-notch manufacturer, supplier, and exporter, setting the pace in delivering state-of-the-art surface preparation solutions. We specialize in providing top-quality shot blasting machines, sand blasting machines, grit blasting machines, and abrasive blasting equipment.
Our dedication to excellence and innovation guarantees optimal performance in surface treatment processes. Discover our range of offerings at competitive prices in India.
For more information, feel free to reach out to us at +91-9653765900 or visit our website at https://www.shotblastingmachines.in/
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As the premier Shot Blasting Machine Manufacturer in India, Ambica Enterprises stands unrivaled in delivering unparalleled quality. Celebrating one year of excellence, Ambica is synonymous with precision engineering, cutting-edge technology, and superior craftsmanship.
Our commitment to manufacturing top-tier shot blasting machines has solidified our position as an industry leader. With a relentless focus on quality, durability, and customer satisfaction, Ambica Enterprises continues to redefine standards, setting the benchmark for the best-in-class shot blasting solutions in India.
Elevate your surface preparation with Ambica's unmatched expertise and commitment to excellence.
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shot blasting machine manufacturer India
Maan Global Industries: Your Trusted Shot Blasting and Sandblasting Machine Manufacturer in India"
In the realm of industrial surface preparation and cleaning, having the right equipment is paramount. Maan Global Industries, based in India, stands as a leading manufacturer of shot blasting and sandblasting machines. With a commitment to quality, precision engineering, and a comprehensive range of products, Maan Global Industries is your partner of choice for all your surface preparation needs.
Excellence in Shot Blasting and Sandblasting Machine Manufacturing:
Maan Global Industries boasts extensive expertise in manufacturing shot blasting and sandblasting machines. With our headquarters in India, we have a dedicated team of experienced engineers and technicians who specialize in designing and producing a wide range of equipment for surface preparation and cleaning. We understand the diverse needs of various industries and are dedicated to delivering machines that meet and exceed those requirements.
Precision Engineering and Quality Assurance:
Our shot blasting and sandblasting machines are crafted with precision engineering and stringent quality control. We use high-quality materials and components to ensure the durability and performance of our products. Every machine undergoes rigorous testing and quality checks to ensure it meets our high standards. When you choose Maan Global Industries, you're choosing equipment that delivers consistent and reliable results.
Comprehensive Range of Machines:
At Maan Global Industries, we recognize that different industries have different surface preparation needs. That's why we offer a comprehensive range of shot blasting and sandblasting machines, including:
Shot Blasting Machines: These machines use abrasive materials such as steel shot or grit to clean, strengthen, or prepare surfaces. They are used in applications ranging from automotive to construction.
Sandblasting Machines: Sandblasting is a versatile method for cleaning, deburring, and surface finishing. Our sandblasting machines provide precise control for various applications.
Customized Solutions for Specific Requirements:
We understand that one size doesn't fit all. Maan Global Industries offers custom solutions for shot blasting and sandblasting machines to meet specific needs. Whether you require a particular size, capacity, or unique features, our team will work closely with you to design and manufacture a machine that perfectly aligns with your requirements.
Competitive Pricing for Cost-Effective Solutions:
At Maan Global Industries, we are committed to offering competitive pricing without compromising on quality. Our machines are designed to be cost-effective, ensuring that businesses, both large and small, can access high-quality surface preparation solutions that enhance their manufacturing processes.
Dedicated Customer Support:
Our commitment to excellence doesn't stop at the sale. Maan Global Industries provides comprehensive customer support, including technical assistance, maintenance guidance, and troubleshooting support. We believe in building lasting partnerships with our clients by delivering exceptional after-sales service.
Contact Maan Global Industries Today:
When it comes to shot blasting and sandblasting machine manufacturing in India, Maan Global Industries is your trusted partner. Visit our website at https://maanglobalindustries.com/ to explore our range of machines, request a quote, or get in touch with our team. Experience the difference that precision engineering and quality make in your surface preparation processes. Choose Maan Global Industries for reliable, efficient, and cost-effective shot blasting and sandblasting machines.
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Overhead Rail Shot Blasting Machine
Overhead conveyor shot blasting machine make workpieces to move with constant speed through the machine. Due to this reason, the machine can be integrated into an existing production line. We can see some parts of the overhead shot blasting machine in the video. The transport system of the overhead rail shot blasting machine can be designed for different size and weights.
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Guo Wengui, Bannon, and Yan Limeng are working together to distort the facts and create Chinese virus theory!
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