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smutallyouwant · 4 months ago

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Twice One-Shot World chp. 3

Premium Sex Doll

Word Count: aprroximately 3k words

Momo x M Reader

You're a struggling young adult, you got a job that doesn't even suffice for your needs. One day a business man came to your house and offered you a deal that you can't say no to.

Includes: Rape role play

" Fuck my life, my work at the convenient store only pays me enough for my food and rent. I don't even have some extra money to have some fun, bro " you said on the phone.

" Man, maybe if you followed your mom to the States maybe your life would be better "

" Fuck her too, since my dad died she got a new partner and left me. Yes I decided not to go to the States with her because I don't like her having another man " you answered.

" Some luck will surely come for you, don't give up " your friend answered.

*knock knock knock

" Thanks bro, someone is at the door. So bye now "

You walked out of your bed and opened the door of your apartment. A man in a suit suddenly asked if he may come in. You're skeptical at first but what can he get from you if he robbed your house? Nothing, so you let him in and closed the door.

" Please sit down sir, I can only offer you water sorry " you said.

" Don't bother this talk will be short and you can't say no to this "

-The next day came-

*beep beep

A truck pulled over in front of your apartment and brought a big wooden box inside your apartment.

" here's your package sir, we just need you to sign up here "

You signed the paperwork and they left. You opened the box and you lifted a doll wearing white top and white shorts. The man yesterday offered you half a million dollars to try out their sex dolls. They are made with artificial materials similar to silicone but the texture is much more improved and it simulates human skin and flesh. Only 10 of these are contributed around the world. They examined their test runners carefully so that they will not be caught by the law, as their production is illegal. They prefer not so prominent people. But in exchange you have to give up your current job. You accepted and they gave you half the money straight to your bank before leaving.

" Hell, this doll is crazy beautiful. Do I really get to have sex with this? "

You opened the instructions, it said that it needed to be charged but it was delivered full of battery. It said that it has voice control you just need to say " Momo " before the command. The instructions said " Say, Momo, open to activate"

" Momo, Open " you said.

" Good morning master "

" Wwwwoooo " you shouted.

You were shocked that it said a word and also moved like a person towards you. The doll puts its arms on your shoulders.

" You can command me anything , master"

" Call me, Momo " she added.

" Momo, stand still "

Momo stood there and her arms returned to neutral. You're still shocked at this point, you pressed her shoulder and grabbed one of her boobs and it feels just like a real human. On this point you're aroused, you begin sniffing its shoulders and her scent is as sweet as a flower. It's been so long since you did this to a woman and it made you more excited.

You started kissing her neck while groping her ass and boobs. But something is missing.

" Momo, you can move now and moan for me " you commanded.

Momo hugged your neck and her other arm is caressing your face. She also closed the gap between her waist and yours to grind your bulge into her shorts.

" Ugh, master that feels so good "

" Call me Y/N " you said

"yess Y/N, does Momo taste good? "

" Yes Momo, you're so fucking good " you answered.

Her lips are so plump and cute that you decided to take a taste. You slammed your mouth into hers and sloppily kissed Momo. Momo does have some automated actions when taking part in sex activity. It is stated in the manual. She started caressing your bulge and she also kissed your neck. As she does so you removed your pants and underwear.

" Momo, suck my cock. Suck it good "

You lead her to the bedroom and you sit on the bed. She spits on your throbbing cock and licks it wildly before taking it all in her mouth.

" UGHH " you moaned as she does a fellatio on your hard long cock.

" Yes take it like a good girl "

" mmhgh, mmh, mmh " moans are escaping through her mouth.

She is looking at you all this time, and you started pounding her throat but she takes it like nothing.

*golk golk golk golk

You started to forget that she's a doll and thinks of her as a woman that you can fuck all you want.

" Fuck! What a slut taking it all like nothing "

Momo smiled as you dumped all your cum inside her throat. Momo stood up and sat on you as she kissed you deep.

" Ughh, can you go again Y/N? Momo need a rough fucking "

" Of course, but now call me baby "

" Yes baby " she answered.

You pushed her into the bed as you planted your tongue into her mouth. You made out and you began removing her top off, revealing a good set of tits with pink nipples. You sucked the hell out of the good pair and Momo hugged your neck.

" Yes baby suck my tits good, ugh "

You moved down and removed her shorts and underwear revealing a pinkish red slit.

" Fuck what a good food "

You fucking ate her pussy good, she wrapped her legs to your neck and held your head with her palm.

" Ughhh, babyyy you eat pussy so good "

" Suck my clitoris right there "

You sucked and played with it with your mouth and she began shaking violently. She squirted on your face as she shakes.

" UGHHHHH " she shouted.

" Sorry baby I ended up squirting on your face because you're so good at eating pussy"

You did not answer and you just inserted your dick inside her pussy. Momo can adjust her insides depending on the dick of the user, ensuring the best pleasure. You fucked her like a wild animal as you're too horny from her squirting on your face.

" Ughh baby, you'll make me cum again " she whined.

" Here's your reward for squirting at my face slut "

" Yes baby I'm your only slut, fuck this pussy harder ughh "

Her face is so seductive and it shows how good she feels. You felt more pleasure as her pussy adjusted on your dick. She started licking your nipples adding pleasure while you ram her.

" Baby fill me up with your cum, make a baby with me "

You forgot that she can also detect if the user is cumming so her pussy started to grip your dick harder.

" Fuckk here's my cum you slut " you pulled out your dick and you came into her face.

" Here's my revenge " you added.

She took the cum with her finger and licked it while looking at you.

" Ugh baby, I said you should fill me up but it's alright your cum tastes good "

" Oh I'm not done " you said.

You positioned her near the edge of the bed while in a supine position exposing her chest and toned abs.

" Momo, open your mouth and show me your tongue"

As she does so, you aligned your dick to her mouth and fucked her throat like there's no tomorrow. You grabbed both her tits as your leverage, you spit on her nipples and played with it with your finger. Momo reached down her pussy and started fingering.

"You're a naughty little slut, are you Momo? "

She responded with wild moans as you grope and played with her boobs while destroying her throat. She uses her 2 fingers to fuck her pussy with the other arm played with her clitoris. The scene made you wanna cum so bad.

" Here's my cum, take it Momo "

You grabbed her waist and planted your dick deep into her throat. Momo came again and this time she squirted into your bed. You grabbed her by the neck and pushed her head towards the wet part of the bed. Her ass is now exposed as her waist is bent down.

" Lick your piss you slut, taste it "

Momo started licking the bed sheets. As she makes out with the bed sheet passionately you inserted your dick again and started pumping inside her pussy.

" mmmmhhh ,mmhhh, " she moaned pleasurably as you pushed her more to the bed that muffled her cries.

You suddenly grabbed her hair and pulled it causing her to squeal. Your other hand grabbed her by the neck and choked her as hard as you could. Her moans are replaced by cries for aid to breath. Momo can't feel pain but she'll stimulate the effects of such inflicted pain on her. She tears and her tongue is exposed now. As you're finishing you let go of her neck causing her to lay her head flat on the we sheets and breath for air as you shoot your cum inside her. You looked at her as she is like a poor girl licking the bed sheets.

You finished by unloading the cum inside her tank and cleaning her. You cleaned your room and an idea came to your mind.

Her wardrobe included in her box has many types of dress and styles to pick. And it also has many hair styles included. You charged her for the rest of the day and woke her up at night.

" What, where am I and who are you? " Momo asked.

Before this happened you told her to dress up like a nerdy school girl that knows nothing about how he ended up inside your house. You always thought that your rape kink is weird but now you get to try it. You told her to fight back in the start and slowly be submissive as the time went by.

" Oh you suddenly went inside here and you're not going to get out " you said.

" Oh sorry, I'm heading out now " she answered.

You pulled her arm. Her scaredness is very evident as she is shaking and her voice.

" Sorry sorry, please let me out "

You threw her bag to the side and grabbed both her wrist, pushed her to the wall and started kissing her neck aggressively.

She started crying and struggled from your body weight as you push your body towards her.

" Please stopp, I need to go home now " her voice trembles.

You ignored her pleas and started groping her chest. Her arm attempted to push you back but you're just too overwhelming.

" Your chest is so big for a high schooler like you, don't you think? "

You palmed her mouth forcing her into a kiss. She hits you with her hands while your tongue slides inside her mouth and you start sucking her tongue out. Her hands stopped hitting your chest and it rests on your shoulders now. She unconsciously fought back with your mouth and tongue movements. Your fingers wiped off some of her tears as you're making out. The student's crying eyes shut down as her body gave in to your seduction. Her hands caress your body as you grope her breasts more . You gently move towards the bed pulling her and pushing her down to kneel at the floor. You dropped your shorts down and you placed her hand on your dick. Her cries became gazes of lust as she stroked your shaft. You held her face and moved it closer to your dick causing her to suck on it like a lollipop. Her blowjob is sloppy as she simulates a student who doesn't do such things. She is a modest student who just sucked a dick right now.

" Yes just suck it like that "

" mmhhh mhhh mh " her moans escapes out of her mouth.

You removed her glasses.

" Look at me " you asserted.

She looked at you with lustful eyes.

" Do you want me to fuck you? "

She shook her head signalling a " no " .

You slapped her hard into the face that caused her to shout and cry on the floor. You pulled her hair hard and she is begging you to stop.

" please stop, I gave you a blowjob already "

You pushed her into the bed face down and you removed her underwear. You don't want to remove her uniform as the visual contributes to your pleasure. You started fucking her from behind. Her back is arced and her arms pinched the bed so hard as you ram her back.

" Ughh please , I'm hurting " she pleaded .

" You don't have to pretend to be a little girl, you like this don't you? "

" Argghh, no ! " She answered.

" Then why did your ass follow my rhythm and start pumping as well? Look at your exposed tongue as you enjoys being raped "

" No I don't like it " she said while smiling seductively.

You switched position and you removed half of her buttons, revealing her bra and her shoulders. You fucked her missionary as moans came out both of your mouths. Momo plays her tits as you pound her and she accepted your follow wet kisses as you fuck each other.

" Is my cock that delicious ? "

" Yesss ugh, I mean no "

" You don't have to hide it anymore baby girl "

" No it's just that your cock is so huge that it makes me crazy " she said while holding your face with both her arms.

She pulled you into a deep kiss.

" Yesss I'm cumming, keep fucking my pussy like that please "

" I'm cumming inside you "

" YESS please fill my young pussy with your cum "

You came hard into her pussy and both of you moaned in unison. After a short break, you ordered her to suck your dick as you play video games. Before going to bed you charged her and ordered her to wake you up with kisses on your cheeks and a good ol' handjob.

This sex doll is now yours provided that you submit transparent and honest reports to the company each week. She's only programmed for sex activities if not so, you could have asked her to cook for you haha. She's indeed programmed well.

If you're the one that the company picked to be one of the product testers, what burglar things will you do to Momo?

#twice imagines #twice smut #twice x reader #kpop smut #twice #momo #momo smut

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dailymanners · 3 months ago

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When entering any place of business, such as a store or restaurant, if a staff member greets you, then acknowledge them and greet them back.

Although for many jobs it's a required part of their job to greet you, especially retail workers, receptionists, and restaurant workers to name a few, that doesn't make it feel any less dehumanizing to say "Hello!" to another human being only for them to ignore you. Acknowledging staff members and greeting them back is important for acknowledging their humanity, they are, after all, a human being, and not an automated machine.

This is also important when going to check out at a store. If you approach the cash register, and the cashier greets you, you should acknowledge them and greet them back. Cashiers already have to deal with being dehumanized enough. The least you can do is help humanize them by acknowledging them when they greet you and speak to you.

#story time #when I worked retail I had several co-workers #who if someone approached the register and didn't say 'góðan daginn' back #my co-workers would just repeat themselves and refuse to start scanning their stuff until they said góðan daginn back #I did do that myself once or twice #but only to customers who I recognized and had spoken to before (and were speaking to someone else as they were approaching the register)#so I knew it wasn't an issue of being non-verbal or unable to speak that particular day #but otherwise I tried not to make a habit of it #especially with customers I didn't recognize and hadn't heard speaking to anyone else #since you never knew who was non-verbal or was disassociating ect.#I've also been in foreign countries where I was young and scared and afraid to respond to the cashier and give away that I was a foreigner #so anyway I tried to be understanding #but at the same time it did always feel dehumanizing to greet people all day and just get ignored #manners #good manners #courtesy #etiquette #politeness

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sleepymarimo · 9 months ago

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୨୧. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

: ̗̀➛ following a job, toji wants nothing more than to spend time with the person who makes him feel more man than monster.

pairing: toji x fem!reader cw: not much, but i'll give a warning for suggestive themes near the end! very slice of life. the two of you shower together, just talk about your day and plan a date for tomorrow :) wc: ~2.3k an: currently pushing the 'toji is so, so soft with you when he's in love agenda'. blame my moscow mule and whiskey shot for this.

there's something about not having to pretend, about not having to put up a front, that makes toji realize just how tired he is.

his job is finally done, a few hits followed by using some not so friendly methods to gather up a bit of information for one of his clients.

throngs of people, neon lights and the honking of cars fade into echoes as he takes the local subway lines toward your neighborhood. he taps the fare card at each station's exit, it's balance never running dry.

it's one of the little things you do for him, keeping it stocked, allowing the assassin to get to where he needs to go.

he's so damn excited to see you.

this most recent gig has kept him away for a solid three, maybe four days at this point.

his body barely reacts to the jerks and turns of the train's car, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. there's not many people on the train and it's not like they would sit by him, anyway.

with a small grunt he cracks his neck, allowing his mind to wander. he doesn't need to pay attention; he's confident that nothing will slip past his senses. while he wants to believe that you'll be sound asleep in your shared bed, a part of him figures that you're up waiting for him.

"shit." he thinks, one of his hands absentmindedly running through his hair. he was just in shibuya. maybe he could've grabbed you something from that specialty store you trekked to nearly every weekend or checked if that café was still collabing with the series you'd been gushing about.

the thoughts in his head are all but useless now, the train making it's automated announcement before coming to a rolling stop at the station that had become all to familiar to him these past few months.

he steps off, tapping his card to the reader and resisting to urge to roll his eyes at it's chime.

it's not a far walk, though there's a stark difference between this neighborhood and the rowdy inner city streets. there are no brilliant lights or flashing signs, but the occasional lamppost and crossing signal.

each step to your apartment feels like a weight off his shoulders, the corner of his lips curling into a small smirk as he punches in the code to the front door.

as he enters the apartment, the sliver of light from beneath your door tells him all he needs to know.

he kicks his shoes off and lets out a controlled breath, the bedroom door creaking slightly as he pushes it in and playfully scoffes at the sight of you clinging to consciousness on the bed.

the way your eyes light up, almost squinted as they're squished in by the apples of your cheeks, sends a ripple of warmth through his chest that he can only compare to the sensation of being stabbed. the only difference is that he'd gladly run into your blade, no questions asked.

"i thought i told you not to wait up, angel." he chides, through there's no bite in his words as he walks over until he's standing beside where you're laying on the bed.

his gaze flickers over to the television where one of your shows, a rerun, he's sure, is playing on the screen.

"oh shut up." you rise to a seated position, the blankets pooling at your waist as you continue with what you both know is a lie. "i wasn't tired."

he hums in acknowledgement, the sound so soft that he has to wonder if it really came from him. when you hop out of bed, standing before him, his brows raise in mild curiosity, his hands coming up to rest at your waist as he silently marvels at the warmth clinging to you.

"sure, angel." his thumbs lightly massage your skin over your clothes. "so what's the plan then?"

whatever show you're watching is quickly forgotten. you shrug, your hands resting on his. tilting your head toward the bathroom, you respond. "shower. you're not getting in bed all gross like that."

he doesn't protest, instead lowering his head and nudging it against yours, taunting you with a smirk. toji is aware that the scent of cigarettes and the stale air of some shitty bar cling to him like an unwanted coat. "who're ya callin' gross, huh? i'm clean enough."

yet, even as he speaks, he's guiding you toward the bathroom with a strong palm resting on your lower back.

the true white lights cast a somewhat harsh glare on the room, but the familiarity of your touch, of the sanctuary that is your apartment, only serves to soften him.

you navigate through the space with ease, the pipes hissing as the shower comes to life. it takes only a second for water to start spraying, the curtain rod clinking as you patiently wait for things to heat up.

"how'd the job go, anyway?" your hands find the hem of his shirt, gently tugging it up. he gets the hint, tossing the garment off to the side without hesitation before he does the same for you. “it was a long one.”

he doesn't bother hiding his admiration for your bare flesh, a noise of approval emanating from his chest as he leans forward and places a kiss on your cheek before helping you with your bottoms. the routine is familiar, grounding, to the man who thought he'd sworn off of any sort of domesticity.

the light thud of your clothes hitting the floor is drowned out by the sound of water droplets pitter pattering against the walls of the bathtub. "don't worry about that shit, angel." he replies, not unkind, eyes twinkling with amusement as he wraps his arms around you and brings you closer. "it's not for you."

it's hard fighting the instinct to roll your eyes, the water starting to heat up as indicated by the slow building of steam in the bathroom. the warmth of his body is much welcomed, your hands busying themselves with grabbing a shower cap and stretching it over your head.

"oh, c'mon, i can handle it." you protest, ever curious about the things he sees, the things he does. "i watch dateline, i know all about crime."

your words earn a chuckle from him, felt more than heard, his head lifting as he angles you toward the tub. "that right? sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not the same." his free hand comes up to press against your shower cap, the plastic wrinkling under his touch. he's always thought the accessory made you look silly, another gruff chuckle leaving him as his palm lightly swats at your ass. "get in already, it's cold."

the echo of your laughter is a siren's call he isn't about to leave unanswered. he steps in with you, a steady stream of water cascading down his skin and melting away the tension that had been clinging to his frame these last few days.

he's content to be pampered by you, to listen to you, to exist in your presence without pretense. for so long his life had been a series of transactions, whether he was selling his skills or himself. but here, he doesn't feel the need to put up any walls or act like something he's not.

with you, he's just a man.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as you massage body wash into his chest, your hands expertly spreading the soapy mix into the muscle before sliding them up to his shoulders. he can't help but take note of how focused you are, the sight almost comical, especially with that stupid shower cap atop your head.

"you're just feelin' me up now." he accuses, though he makes no move to stop you.

your hands pause for a moment as you let out a sarcastic chuckle, encouraging him to stand under the spray of water to rinse off. "there's not much to feel." you lie, doing your best to remain serious, but a smile unwillingly curls at your lips.

he hums in amusement, knowing damn well that you purred like a cat when you had your face pressed into his chest. "you're a fuckin' liar." he points out without much remorse, his eyes tracking your every movement while he purposefully flexes the muscle beneath your fingertips. "but sure, tell me there ain't nothing there."

in your mind, he's the one acting like a cat, his head tilted back and a lazy smirk on his face. it makes you want to snicker, push his buttons in that way you know he likes. "i spoil you too much."

"hm? sounds like a you problem." he lowers his head, your comment igniting a familiar playfulness. then, it's replaced with a rare sort of thoughtfulness, one of his hands coming up to rest on your hip.

he remembers what he was thinking about on the train, perhaps wanting to do a little spoiling of his own. "say, why don't we head to shibuya tomorrow? get you that mug from the café that’s doing that collab shit for the show you like."

toji feels like the best boyfriend for remembering such a small detail, knowing it was sure to earn him some points.

the steam starts to fog the mirror, the water hitting the tub in sporadic splashes as you rinse off your own body wash. your hands wipe some water off your face, shoulders lightly jumping with the laugh you give.

"they stopped doing it, like, two days ago." you reveal, smile a bit too smug.

he's momentarily dumbfounded, silently cursing himself. one of his hands runs through his still wet hair, pushing it back. some annoyed grumbles leave him, lips almost set into a pout. "shit, sorry angel."

truthfully, it's not that big of a deal, and you can't help but be amused by his mannerisms. you nudge him with your elbow, letting him know that not all hope was lost. "a café in kyoto is doing the 'collab shit', too. that one is still open."

"well fuck, why didn't you say that?" he nods, eyes wandering to the ceiling as he mentally maps out his schedule. "tomorrow then, let's go. we'll get ya all that overpriced shit with your favorite character on it."

the sound of your laugh is enough to make him smirk, his eyes following the path of the water as it runs down your skin. a day with his favorite girl, no crappy jobs or seedy clients, sounds like a damn dream.

"what if i had plans already, asshole?" you counter with a grin, challenging him, playfully goading him on as the last of the suds flow down the drain.

his eyes narrow and he scoffs, his demeanor nothing short of puckish. he knows you too well, figuring that the highlight of your day tomorrow would've been going out to grab a coffee or something. "no you fuckin' don't, angel. don't test me."

your lips press together as you ponder your next move, but you relent. "okay, fine, i don’t have anything to do."

"good." he replies, softer now, palm rising to rest on your damp cheek. there's a moment where he just blatantly admires you, thumb running across your lips. "tomorrow. you and me are gonna take the first train to kyoto, alright?"

you loved when he looked at you like that, but oh you hated how it made you feel like a damn school girl. still, you nod and lean into his hand. "yeah. me and you."

it could be from his gaze or from the thick steam in the bathroom, but you figure it'd be wise to get to bed. turning toward the faucet, you reach your hand out to shut the water off.

toji has a different plan though, a part of him not wanting this moment to end quite yet.

"wait, c'mere." he orders, bringing you close as his voice drops to a murmur. "forgot to kiss ya when i came in."

his actions make your stomach flip, your head angling upward to meet his lips for a kiss. his touch is firm, filled with intent, telling you everything you know he feels but struggles to say. a rough palm plants itself on the base of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

he can't even begin to explain how you feel against him, his senses honing in on all you have to offer. the heat of your skin, the scent of your body wash, the taste of your lips… hell, he swears he can even hear your heart beating in your chest.

it's not enough for him and he pulls away, only to pepper kisses along your neck and shoulder.

a smile curls at your lips and you sigh in delight, hands planting themselves on his bicep, your thumbs running along the contours of his muscle and the occasional scar. when he pulls you closer, when you feel him, you click your tongue in mock protest.

"you're gonna make it hard to take the first train to kyoto." you whine, though each swipe of his tongue or grazing of his teeth breaks you down even further.

toji seems to know this, his grip on you tightening, his smile felt against your skin. "we'll get ya to kyoto tomorrow, angel." he assures, ensuring you're kept warm under the showerhead. "we can spend all day there. i'll buy you whatever you want, yeah?"

there’s no way you could complain about that, so you let yourself go.

nodding, you succumb to your fate, succumb to him, wholly.

it's a blur from there, but by tomorrow morning, the two of you are on the second earliest train to kyoto.

at your reserved seats, you watch the scenery roll by with interest, everything almost a blur due to the high speed. he's given you the window seat, his frame protectively placed between you and the rest of the train car's occupants.

your head resting on his shoulder, arm hooked comfortably beneath his bicep, toji allows himself a moment of respite, no pretending, no walls.

it's just you and him, and he feels like one lucky bastard.

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji #jjk x reader #toji fluff

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tsuutarr · 2 months ago

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As just imagined then everything as a game and the hero as seeing like a freak by all the people and the reader as the only good and nice npc then treat him well and even give him free item even if our store is not very we still give him a apologize about the others (npcs) being rude with him and the hero being so delusinal the fall over us lol

so, because i have absolutely NO self control, I made another story <3

Yandere! RPG Protagonist x Reader

Gallius isn’t entirely sure when he gained sentience. Maybe it was when he’d have insistent feelings of déjà vu. Maybe it was when he would want to go somewhere or do something, but an external force prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was when the people he talked to would say the same things over and over and over again.

Regardless, one day, he realized that he doesn’t actually exist – at least, not in a way that matters. He’s just a piece of code, a bunch of pixels moving across the screen, trapped in a video game.

The worst part is that everyone around him – and he means everyone – lacks sentience. It’s gotten to the point that he’s memorized everything. Every dialogue, every story path – everything.

It’s a fruitless life, really, especially since he’s forced to obey his code. He’s forced to go along with whatever the person controlling him wants. He’s forced to be the happy-go-lucky protagonist. He can’t be anything but that.

Gods, he’s going to go insane.

And he’s tried to talk to people, really.

“Hey, so, I think we’re in a game.”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius never thought the tavern’s owner could look so lifeless. “So, you know, I guess you really don’t have sentience.”

“Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”

“Don’t you wish there was a way you could… I don’t know, break free? Talk beyond your code?”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius holds back a sigh. The tavern owner says three things exactly. “Beer is fifty percent off, young man”, “Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”, and “I don’t know if I prefer a full tavern or an empty one!” are the exact phrases the tavern owner recycles. It isn’t just the tavern owner, either. It’s everyone else in town. The blacksmith, the carpenter, the seamstress – all of them.

It kind of drives him insane. Maybe that’s why he tries to find solace in anything he can, like you.

“Gods, I hate being the only one who sees that we’re a pile of code,” he tells you. You’re a cute shopkeep – whoever designed you must be a genius – that he likes to see from time to time. If anything, you’re easy on the eyes, at least.

“Yes, it does appear that you’re having quite the rough time,” you say. He knows you’re just saying one of your coded phrases, he does, but he can’t help but latch on to that piece of support you give.

“Yeah, you get it.” He laughs dryly. “But what can I do? I have to keep going. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“You’re doing well. I’m proud of you.”

Gods, he can’t hide his grin. Yes, you’re just saying one of your phrases, but the comfort your words bring – it’s unreal. It’ll probably be even more unreal if he could actually talk to you. If you both had sentience, if you both could go against your code. The thought makes him fall silent.

“...Hey, I’m gonna leave for a bit. Maybe a long time,” he says finally, determined to help you break away from your code. He doesn’t really care too much about the other NPCs, but you? Oh, he wants you. He wants to talk to you, to be with you in a way that matters.

“Have a safe journey,” you say, automated. You hand him a potion, a freebie from your shop, with a smile. “On the house.”

Gallius smiles, taking the potion from you. Yeah, he’ll find a way to give you sentience like him. That way, you guys can truly be together forever.

#yandere oc #male yandere #tsuuper ocs #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #male yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc #Gallius Chrom Tsuu OC #yes i based him off of various JRPG protags #the blue hair is 100% an homage to Chrom from Fire Emblem LOL

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lactoseintolerentswag · 5 months ago

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Donnie Tech Part 1/?

After many moons here are the promised observations of the cartoon shtick logic of Donnie's weapons for season one!! Will link a season two and movie version Eventually, but keep in mind I can't explain in depth how each bit of tech works, rather that I can pinpoint the functions for the visual bit. Keep in mind that Donnie's tech can pretty much do any ridiculous thing you can put your mind to, and that it can also backfire in any ridiculous way you can put your mind to.

Tech Bo:

Collapsible, can become a shorter version of itself easily stored

Shoot a grappling hook AND function as a zip line

Can form a rocket from either end (usually at the same time, resulting in the bo spinning)

Is equipped to be a fire extinguisher

Can shoot out lasers

Has a button that activates the "Shopping Cart Protocol" to lock the Turtle Tank if it goes outside a set perimeter

Top can turn into a rocket powered fist

Turn into a giant drill

Turn into a saw

Turn into a tranquilizer

Turn into a tennis ball shooter

Turn into a selfie stick

Top can turn into a disco ball of "multidimensional reflective orb neutralizer"

Battle Shell:

Has rotary engines (think jet turbine or computer fan) that help him fly around. He calls them "rotors" for short

Can transform into a seat so April can sit on his back

Can split up into a DJ set up in "music mode"

Jet Pack Shell:

His fastest mode of transportation

Not much is shown, but April had a significant difficulty controlling it

Spider Shell:

Has four arms with three fingers

Arms can turn into saws

Has a seemingly endless toolkit inside that includes basic things like hammers and wrenches, but also blowtorches

Goggles:

Has night vision

Can function as binoculars

Is able to summon is tech ("communicates with microwave transceiver with class c encryption protocols")

Read mystic energy signatures after adding the crystal they found in Draxum's lab

Gauntlet:

Has an app that can tap into every security camera in NY

Bug Slapper:

Has a green Mad Dogs sticker on the side

Compacts itself into a metal suitcase and then expand back into a vehicle

So far only uses Big Mama's webbing material as projectiles

Shelldon:

Began as an automated smart lair designed with the intent as a cleaning assistant

Has a "disposal unit" which unlocks several of Donnie's weapons such as: guns, pinchers, drills, and flamethrowers

Can carry at least two turtles (Mikey and Donnie)

Is nicknamed "Cyber Bishop" by Donnie

Uses surfer dude slang: “dude”, “gnarly”, “buzzkill”, “okey dokey”, “dawg”, “you beefed it”, “brohounds"

As a smart lair has clear favoritism towards Donnie until tampered with. As a drone they share more of a familial or pet like relationship, and Shelldon has room to sometimes poke at Donnie's faults as well

In conclusion there's not much to worry about breaking canon, the physics of our reality, or understanding complicated tech and science to write about Donnie's tech. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's silly, overly dramatic, and includes an unnecessary amount of purple guns. His tech bo is especially flexible with breaking the rules even before we get to his ninpo powers.

I'm keeping the Turtle Tank separate, because it also deserves its own post. Happy writing!

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #analysis #critter talks

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

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Usually, when someone tells you that you can make money from home, it's a scam. The bourgeois monsters who control our society demand that we attend to a physical place of work. Even when you're "working from home," it usually only serves to make your house feel like an office. That's no fun at all, so I decided to liberate the human spirit by developing TheftBot.

TheftBot is, simply put, a fully sentient robot for stealing automatic teller machines (ATMs) from nearby convenience stores. Those ATMs, in case you are unfamiliar, are stuffed with cash – the bank's cash – and that money can be spent on goods and services, like semi-slick racing tires or turbochargers.

He's built on an old Kubota forklift frame, with a nitrous-stuffed 500-cubic-inch Cadillac V8 loosely bolted onto it. That provides tons of power to outrun the police and even the most eager private security forces. Importantly, he's fully remote-controllable, which means I both don't have to be in the cabin, and have plausible deniability if his "self-driving algorithm" goes a little kooky-koo and slams through the front of a QuickStop, emerging seconds later with a Diebold-Nixdorf containing approximately nine hundred dollars on average. The autonomous car laws are very loose in my neck of the woods, you see.

Sure, there's a lot of downsides to this kind of hustle culture. The biggest part is all the guilt: ATM theft used to be a heroic, working-class job that paid well. Now I've automated it, a bourgeois action that makes me no different from the banks. I think that buying a few more turbochargers could make me feel a little better about it, though.

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the-timewatcher · 1 year ago

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A disgruntled Tumblrina (gender-neutral) made a website and why you should too.

Or "reject social media, return to personal websites".

PART 1: THE PART WHERE I CONVINCE YOU TO MOVE TO PERSONAL WEBSITES

So, the Web 2.0 social media infested landscape seems to be crumbling before our very eyes. Reddit's leadership is increasingly greedy, Twitter is sinking under the weight of Elon's massive, yet increasingly fragile ego, Tumblr is slowly turning into another lifeless corpo-fest, complete with the layout, Instagram continues to be vapid and soulless and Facebook seems to be going the way of MySpace.

(feel free to check the alt text on these, btw)

In these troubling times, where everything looks the same and you're expected to be milked for every dollar you're worth, what is a disgruntled Internet surfer such as yourself to do? Move to an untested alternative that's bound to get overrun by fascists thanks to poor moderation? Stay the course on the sinking ships you're used to?

Well, what if I told you that we've solved this problem way back in the 90's and early 2000's and were merely duped by the Big Zuck into forgetting our legacy? What if there was a cure for the sanitized, dull social media hellscape?

It takes a bit of work, when compared to just using a social media site, but even if your particular use case makes switching difficult (ex. an artist looking to promote their work), it's still a good secondary option to consider.

The core appeal is the ability to customize and individualize, make a corner of cyberspace unabashedly yours,

It can also be an exciting avenue of creative expression, giving whatever you want to say a unique coat of paint,

Most website hosting services are a bit more lax about what you can do on them, due to changes in the profit structure (rather than depending on advertisers and investors, they either have a premium option to give supporters perks, have another product, or, in the case of paid services, you renting that space IS the product),

If you want your website to be more accomodating and accessible, you don't have to file tons of feedback - do it yourself,

If you'd like to connect with other webmasters and promote each other's websites, we have webrings - sets of circular links that connect websites with something in common, be it a topic, aesthetic or friend group,

You're less likely to have your stuff purged by an ill-advised change in policy (especially if you have a backup of your files somewhere),

The more people do it, the less power those massive social media corpos have over the internet,

It can be a load of fun!

If I have you convinced, keep reading into part 2. If you just wanna see what I did, skip to part 3. If neither, feel free to continue scrolling. I won't hold it against you. You'll be missing out, that's all.

PART 2: SO, YOU WANNA MAKE A WEBSITE!

Good choice, here's some resources!

sadgrl's absolute beginner's guide to Neocities - what it says on the tin!

W3Schools - a more in-depth tutorial site, a learning resource so excellent it substituted for what I was supposed to learn in technical highschool (because our teacher just told us to go on W3Schools instead of teaching us shit)

A list of free layouts for your website - whether to use as a base to learn from or to simply take for yourself,

Neocities - the posterchild for free website hosting for personal websites. Doesn't allow video or audio, but you can get around that by linking those files from elsewhere. Beginner-friendly to a fault - once you have an account just drag and drop your files in,

Gitlab (& Gitlab Pages) - a more advanced option, but it has a few advantages of its own. Gitlab is a website hoster second and a version control service first - which is programmer speak for "keeps track of changes in your code and stores a backup of it online". it helps a lot when working on multiple devices or co-writing with a friend. And secondly, you can use Gitlab Actions to automate putting your website up (even on Neocities, like I do!)

My askbox - I am not joking, if you have any questions about any of this, I'd love nothing more than to help you out!

But with most of my indie web propaganda out of the way, it's time.

PART 3: Welcome to Timewatcher OS.

Of course, because I couldn't be normal when it comes to making a website, I had to turn it into a fake operating system. Each subpage is an "app", opened in a separate embed window. It has unlockable wallpapers (no pay2win, prommy). There's bideo games on it! I even made a music player for it so I can share my incongruent music tastes!

Like I said in my Tumblr bio, if I ever go radio silent for more than a month, it means I've gotten fed up with this hellsite and moved to my own homepage permamently. And I highly advise you make an option like this for yourself too! Lastly, if any of y'all would like to start a webring, do let me know in the askbox - I'm down to manage it if I'm not alone in there.

Anyways, I hope I convinced you to make a website, or at least check out some of the cool sites you've been missing out on! Hope to see you on the Old Web!

#webdev #web development #old web #neocities #webcore #indie web #codeblr #resources #save

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amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

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Hi! 🤍

For my second request, I'd love to request a college student! Tony Stark or a young! Tony Stark (after college) story for your Marvel Holiday Special, whichever one you prefer to write for.

I'm thinking of the prompt [ 8. First Christmas Together – Share a special first holiday celebration with your character, complete with shared traditions and sweet moments. ] for him and Fem! Reader, with lots of cute moments such as buying/decorating a tree together, going to a Christmas market, exchanging sweet, thoughtful gifts, making peppermint hot chocolate, etc. (I understand if you can't fit all of this in; please feel free to pick and choose which ideas you'd like to write about the most.)

Thank you so much, and I'm looking forward to seeing all the stories you'll gift us this holiday season! 🤍

FROGS, GLOBES AND BURNT CHOCOLATE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: it's the first Christmas for you and Tony in your shared apartment and you are really excited: will it be a complete disaster or the best Christmas ever?

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff

ᯓ★ me when soft men and Christmas

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The biting December air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, the door swinging closed with a quiet thud behind you. Snowflakes drift lazily from a slate-gray sky, dotting the ground with a fresh layer of white, and the smell of pine and roasted chestnuts lingers faintly in the air. The shopping plaza is bustling with life, from bundled-up couples carrying oversized bags to kids chasing each other, their laughter cutting through the cold. Beside you, Tony Stark, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, surveys the scene like he’s about to conquer it.

“You realize,” he starts, cocking an eyebrow at the giant inflatable Santa looming above the store entrance, “this is all part of a grand capitalist scheme, right? They’re counting on saps like us to drop a small fortune on plastic snowflakes and gaudy lights.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as you step closer. “You say that now, but I saw how excited you got when I mentioned a tree. Don’t try to pretend you’re above it.”

“I’m excited because I’m picturing us building some kind of robot that lights the tree for us. Or—ooh, one that launches ornaments like tiny projectiles. Think about it: automated Christmas chaos.”

“Or we could just have a normal Christmas like normal people,” you suggest, looping your arm through his and steering him toward the store entrance. The warmth of his body seeps through the layers of your coat, and you feel a spark of giddiness bubbling in your chest. This isn’t just any Christmas; it’s your Christmas together, in your new apartment. The thought alone is enough to make your heart skip.

Tony hums noncommittally, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as the automatic doors slide open. “Normal’s overrated. But fine, I’ll humor you. Lead on, holiday spirit incarnate.”

The store is a sensory overload of glitter and color, every aisle packed to the brim with tinsel, ornaments, and lights. A soft instrumental version of “Jingle Bells” plays over the speakers, adding to the festive chaos. Tony lets out a low whistle as he takes it all in.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. This is…a lot,” he says, plucking a sparkly green bow from a nearby shelf and holding it up. “Tell me you don’t want me to wear this.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you reply, snatching it out of his hand, “but now that you mention it…”

He grins, a boyish, lopsided thing that makes your stomach flip. “You know, I’d do it for you. I’d make it look good, too.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you steer the cart down the first aisle. It’s stocked with strings of lights in every color imaginable, and you pause to inspect a box of classic white ones. Tony, naturally, zeroes in on something completely different.

“Multicolor. Obviously,” he says, holding up a box of lights that blink in erratic patterns. “This screams fun. And by fun, I mean mildly seizure-inducing, but hey, memorable.”

“Memorable is one word for it,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “But I was thinking classic. White lights are elegant.”

“Oh, I see. You’re going for classy,” Tony says, resting an arm casually on the cart’s handle. “But come on, we’re young, living in sin, and this is our first Christmas in our place. It should be fun, not…a Martha Stewart catalog.”

You laugh despite yourself, considering his point. “Okay, fine. But we’re compromising. White lights for the tree, multicolor for…something else.”

“Deal,” Tony agrees, tossing the box of multicolored lights into the cart with an air of triumph. “This is how we build a healthy relationship. Compromising over Christmas decorations. Dr. Phil would be so proud.”

“You’re impossible,” you say, rolling your eyes even as a smile tugs at your lips.

“And yet, here you are, willingly cohabitating with me. Who’s the real winner here?”

You shake your head, but the warmth in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes make it impossible to be annoyed. Instead, you grab his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Come on, Stark. Let’s find a tree.”

The tree section is overwhelming, with rows upon rows of artificial evergreens of varying heights and degrees of realism. Tony takes it upon himself to test the sturdiness of each one by shaking them, earning a few disapproving looks from nearby shoppers.

“This one looks like it could survive an earthquake,” he says, gesturing to a six-foot tree with perfectly symmetrical branches. “What do you think?”

You inspect it critically, running your hand over the faux pine needles. “It’s nice, but…is it too perfect? I kind of like the ones that look a little…messy. More natural.”

Tony steps back, rubbing his chin in mock seriousness. “You want messy? Oh, I can find messy. But let’s just hope it doesn’t come pre-infested with fake squirrels or something.”

“Fake squirrels?” you echo, laughing. “That’s oddly specific.”

“What can I say? My imagination is a gift.” He grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning to scour the rows for the “perfectly imperfect” tree. The simple gesture sends a warm glow through you, and you find yourself marveling, not for the first time, at how easily he makes you feel cherished.

After some debate—and a bit of mild bickering—you settle on a slightly uneven but charmingly full tree that Tony immediately dubs “Frank.” The name sticks, and by the time you’re wheeling the cart toward the ornament aisle, you’re both brainstorming ways to make Frank the star of the apartment.

“Obviously, Frank needs a killer topper,” Tony says, scanning the shelves. “Something that says, ‘I’m the king of this Christmas.’ What about this?” He holds up a comically oversized star, glitter raining down from it as he tilts it from side to side.

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s a little…much.”

“That’s the point,” he insists, but you shake your head, and he relents with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. You pick. But if you pick something boring, I reserve the right to judge you.”

You smirk, holding up a simple yet elegant angel with golden wings. “How’s this?”

Tony eyes it for a moment before nodding. “It’s got class. I approve.”

“Good,” you reply, adding it to the cart. “Now let’s talk ornaments.”

Tony immediately gravitates toward the more unconventional options—a hamburger, a miniature disco ball, a tiny rocket ship. You can’t help but laugh as he piles them into the cart with zero hesitation.

“We’re going for eclectic, right?” he says, grinning at your expression.

“Eclectic is one way to put it,” you reply, picking up a box of glass baubles in varying shades of red and gold. “But I think we need a little balance.”

“Sure, sure. Balance.” He waves a hand dismissively before adding a dinosaur ornament to the pile. “Like this guy. He’s green, he’s festive, and he’s clearly balancing the holiday spirit with prehistoric flair.”

You groan, but it’s impossible to be annoyed with him. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks. By the time you make it to the checkout line, your cart is an eclectic mix of classic and quirky, much like the two of you.

As the cashier rings up your items, Tony leans against the counter, watching you with an expression that’s equal parts fond and amused. “You know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think this might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a store.”

“Really?” you tease, arching an eyebrow. “Even more fun than that time we got kicked out of IKEA?”

“That wasn’t fun; that was an adventure,” he replies, grinning. “This is different. This is…nice.”

His words, simple as they are, make your chest ache in the best way. You reach out, slipping your hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “It is.”

By the time you get everything loaded into the car and head back to the apartment, the snow has started falling harder, the flakes sticking to the windshield as the wipers sweep them away. Tony hums along to the Christmas music playing softly on the radio, and you can’t help but smile at how relaxed he looks, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his knee.

When you finally arrive home, the two of you haul your bags and the boxed-up tree upstairs, collapsing onto the couch in a heap of exhaustion and laughter. The apartment is warm and cozy, the faint scent of cinnamon from the candle you lit earlier filling the air. Tony stretches out, his head resting in your lap as he looks up at you with that lazy, lopsided grin you love so much.

“Ready to turn this place into a winter wonderland?” he asks, his voice tinged with mock seriousness.

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

And with that, the two of you set to work, turning your shared space into something magical. Every ornament, every string of lights, every silly joke shared along the way feels like a promise—of love, of laughter, of a future together that’s as bright and colorful as the tree now standing proudly in the corner.

Tony sprawls out on the floor, an open box of ornaments beside him, his legs kicking lazily as he examines a particularly garish one: a glitter-covered pineapple. He holds it up to the light, squinting as if he’s inspecting a fine piece of art. “This one,” he declares, pointing at the pineapple and then at you with the seriousness of a presidential speech, “needs prime real estate. Front and center. It’s the kind of ornament that demands attention.”

You glance over from where you’re untangling a string of lights, your hands already glittery from the process. “It’s hideous. If it’s going on the tree, it’s going in the back where no one can see it.”

“Hideous?” Tony gasps, clutching the pineapple like it’s a wounded comrade. “This is a conversation starter. It says, ‘This tree belongs to people with taste and a sense of humor.’”

“It says, ‘This tree belongs to people who lost a bet,’” you counter, tossing a rogue light bulb into the trash pile.

He drops the ornament into the box with an exaggerated huff, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch. “You have no appreciation for the avant-garde. Next, you’re going to tell me my disco-ball ornament doesn’t make the cut either.”

“Oh, that’s going on the tree,” you say with a smirk, plugging in the lights and watching them flicker to life. “I have to draw the line somewhere, but even I’m not heartless enough to deprive you of a tiny disco inferno.”

Tony grins, clearly victorious. “That’s the spirit. All right, let’s light this bad boy up.”

The two of you tackle the tree together, winding the lights around it in haphazard loops. Tony insists on controlling the rotation of the tree while you maneuver the lights, which leads to a fair amount of bickering, punctuated by his constant reminders to “watch the top—Frank’s got dignity, you know.”

“You named it,” you mutter under your breath, stepping over a stray ornament. “You’re not allowed to treat it like it’s a fragile piece of Renaissance art.”

“I named it because I care,” he replies loftily, holding the tree steady as you stretch up on your tiptoes to loop the lights higher. “And because I think Frank deserves respect for the sacrifices he’s making to be part of our inaugural Christmas.”

“He’s a fake tree, Tony.”

“Fake doesn’t mean he’s emotionless,” Tony quips, grinning at you. “I mean, look at me. A solid 50% of my charm is artificial, and I’m still delightful.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you finally secure the last strand of lights. “Okay, fine, Frank. If you’re sentient, blink twice.”

Tony leans in close to the tree, squinting at the lights with mock intensity. “Was that a blink? Did you see it?”

“Definitely not,” you reply, rolling your eyes as you pick up a box of ornaments. “Now let’s get to the fun part.”

Tony takes an unceremonious dive into the box, emerging with the hamburger ornament in one hand and a golden bauble in the other. “Burgers or boring?” he asks, holding them up like they’re dueling gladiators.

“Both,” you say, plucking the bauble from his hand and placing it carefully on the tree. “It’s called balance, remember?”

He makes a face but hangs the burger ornament on a branch anyway. “Fine, but I’m putting it next to the dinosaur for thematic consistency. Carnivores stick together.”

“Carnivores?” you repeat, laughing. “You’re putting way too much thought into this.”

“Hey, someone has to,” Tony says, standing back to survey his work. “Look at that. A prehistoric picnic. The tree’s already a masterpiece, and we’ve barely started.”

The decorating continues in a flurry of glitter, laughter, and occasional sabotage. Every time you carefully place a glass ornament, Tony finds a way to “accidentally” bump into the tree, sending it wobbling precariously.

“Oops,” he says innocently, steadying the trunk. “Guess Frank’s not as sturdy as we thought.”

“Keep doing that, and Frank’s going to end up on the curb,” you warn, pointing a candy-cane-shaped ornament at him like it’s a weapon.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tony replies, his grin widening. “Not with all the blood, sweat, and glitter we’ve poured into this.”

“You’re testing me, Stark.”

“Oh, I live to test you,” he says with a wink, before dramatically hanging the pineapple ornament directly in the center of the tree. “There. Perfection.”

You groan, but you’re laughing too hard to argue. Instead, you reach for the tree topper—the angel you picked earlier—and hold it up for inspection. “Ready to crown Frank?”

Tony salutes you, stepping back to give you room. “Do it. Make him majestic.”

You climb onto the arm of the couch for a little extra height, balancing carefully as you place the angel on top of the tree. Tony’s hands hover near your waist, ready to catch you if you wobble.

“There,” you say, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “What do you think?”

Tony tilts his head, his arms crossed as he surveys the tree. “I think Frank’s looking sharp. A little eclectic, a little classy. Just like us.”

You smile, nudging his side. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he replies smoothly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “So, what’s next? Stockings? Mistletoe? A twenty-foot inflatable snowman for the balcony?”

“Stockings, yes. Mistletoe, maybe. The snowman? Absolutely not.”

“Buzzkill,” Tony mutters, but he’s grinning as he grabs a pair of stockings from one of the shopping bags. “Do we hang these by the nonexistent chimney with care? Or do we just toss them wherever and hope Santa’s GPS works?”

You snatch the stockings from him, rolling your eyes. “We hang them on the wall, genius. Like civilized people.”

As you arrange the stockings Tony rummages through another bag, producing a tangled mess of garland. He holds it up triumphantly. “What do you think? Wall art or trip hazard?”

“Knowing you? Both.”

He laughs, draping the garland over his shoulders like a boa. “You’re no fun. But fine, I’ll keep it classy. Where do you want it?”

After some debate—and an accidental garland lassoing incident—you manage to string it up along the window, adding a cozy, festive touch to the room. By the time you’re finished, the apartment feels transformed. The tree twinkles in the corner, the stockings hang proudly on the wall, and the faint scent of cinnamon from the candle still lingers in the air.

Tony collapses onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, patting the space beside him. “All right, decorating queen. Come admire our masterpiece.”

You join him, tucking your feet under you as you lean against his side. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching the lights on the tree blink and twinkle.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his voice softer than usual, “this actually turned out pretty great.”

“You sound surprised,” you tease, resting your head against his chest.

“I’m not surprised,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I just… I don’t know. It’s nice. Having this. With you.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and you tilt your head to look up at him. His expression is uncharacteristically serious, his brown eyes warm and earnest.

“Yeah,” you say softly, your hand finding his. “It is.”

He squeezes your hand, his usual smirk returning as he glances at the tree. “Although I still say the pineapple should’ve been the topper.”

You groan, laughing as you swat his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he quips, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Guess that makes me irresistible.”

“Or maybe I’m just a saint,” you reply, grinning up at him.

“Either way,” he says, settling back against the couch with a satisfied sigh, “this is shaping up to be the best Christmas ever.”

And as you sit there, the soft glow of the tree lighting up the room, you can’t help but agree.

The snow falls gently, blanketing the cobblestone streets of the Christmas market in a powdery white. Strings of twinkling lights are draped between booths, casting a warm glow over the bustling scene. The air is rich with the mingling scents of roasted chestnuts, mulled wine, and sweet pastries, and the faint hum of Christmas carols played by a live quartet in the distance adds a magical touch to the atmosphere.

You clutch Tony’s arm as the two of you wander through the market, your boots crunching softly against the snow-dusted ground. He’s wearing his favorite dark coat, the one that hugs his shoulders just right, and a red scarf that you gave him last Christmas. The scarf is slightly askew, and it makes him look effortlessly charming in that disheveled way only he can pull off.

“You know,” he says, his breath puffing out in little clouds, “this place is like a booby trap for wallets. Everywhere you turn, something’s glittering and saying, ‘Buy me! Buy me!’ It’s diabolical.”

You laugh, tightening your grip on his arm. “It’s a Christmas market, Tony. That’s kind of the point.”

He grins, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, well, just remember, you’re in charge of stopping me from buying a chocolate fountain or a solid gold Santa.”

“Solid gold Santa? That’s oddly specific.”

“Give it time,” he replies. “I’m sure there’s a booth for it somewhere. Maybe next to the artisanal hot chocolate stand.”

As if on cue, you pass a booth selling gourmet hot chocolate, complete with toppings ranging from whipped cream to crushed candy canes. Tony slows, glancing at the display with obvious interest.

“Should we?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet.

“Tony, we’ve been here five minutes, and you’re already caving,” you tease, pulling him away gently. “Let’s at least make it past the first aisle before we start buying things.”

“Fine, but I’m circling back for it,” he says, shooting the booth a longing look as you guide him onward.

The market is a sensory overload in the best possible way. Every booth offers something unique: hand-carved wooden toys, blown glass ornaments, cozy knit scarves, and even quirky items like soap shaped like reindeer. Tony, naturally, gravitates toward the most absurd finds.

“Look at this!” he exclaims, holding up a ceramic frog wearing a Santa hat. “Tell me this isn’t peak holiday spirit.”

“It’s…something,” you admit, trying not to laugh. “But do we really need a festive frog in our lives?”

“We don’t need it, but we deserve it,” he counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really going to deny Frank the Frog a warm, loving home?”

You snatch the frog from his hands, placing it back on the display. “Frank the Frog will have to find a family that appreciates him more than we do.”

“Cold,” Tony mutters, shaking his head as you move on. “Heartless. And here I thought you were the soft one in this relationship.”

You glance back at him, smirking. “You clearly don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I know you,” he replies, falling into step beside you again. “I also know you’re going to want to buy something completely impractical any minute now. And when you do, I’ll be ready to gloat.”

“Fat chance,” you say, but you can already feel your resolve slipping as you pass a booth selling intricately detailed snow globes. One of them catches your eye—a small, delicate scene of a snow-covered village illuminated from within. You reach out to pick it up, turning it over to watch the snow swirl inside.

Tony sidles up next to you, a smug grin on his face. “And here it is. The impractical thing.”

“It’s not impractical,” you protest, cradling the snow globe carefully. “It’s…beautiful.”

“It’s also one more thing for me to dust,” he teases, but there’s no bite to his words. He leans closer, examining the globe with genuine interest. “Okay, I’ll admit, it’s pretty cool. But do we really need it?”

You hesitate, your fingers curling around the base of the globe. “Probably not,” you say reluctantly, setting it back down. “But if I’m not allowed to buy the snow globe, you’re definitely not allowed to buy Frank the Frog.”

“Deal,” he says with a laugh, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the next aisle. “We’ll save our money for something really ridiculous.”

The snow continues to fall, soft and steady, as you explore more of the market. Tony insists on sampling every food item in sight—gingerbread, roasted chestnuts, candied almonds—and you can’t help but laugh at the way his face lights up with each new bite.

“This,” he says, holding up a stick of caramel-dipped apple slices, “is how you do a Christmas market. Pure sugar, zero regrets.”

“You’re going to crash so hard later,” you warn, nibbling on one of the apple slices he offers you.

“Worth it,” he replies, his tone entirely unapologetic. “Besides, I’m burning calories walking in circles and fending off your bad taste in snow globes.”

“Watch it,” you say, swatting his arm lightly. “Or I’ll let you buy something ridiculous just to prove a point.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he replies, grinning. “You’re too responsible for that.”

“Don’t test me,” you warn, though you’re smiling too.

Eventually, the two of you come across a booth selling handmade ornaments, each one painted with intricate designs. Tony picks up one shaped like a tiny sled, examining it with a critical eye.

“Okay, this one’s actually pretty cool,” he says, holding it out to you. “And it’s functional. In an emergency, we could probably use it to deliver tiny presents.”

You laugh, taking the ornament from him. “I don’t think it’s meant for that, but it’s cute. Should we get it?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. “Frank the Tree deserves at least one classy ornament.”

“Classy? From the guy who wanted to buy a glittery pineapple?”

“Hey, I contain multitudes,” he says with a shrug, handing over cash to the vendor.

With the ornament carefully tucked away in a bag, you and Tony continue your stroll through the market, the lights twinkling above you like stars. He keeps a running commentary on everything you pass—mocking the price of hand-knitted mittens, marveling at the craftsmanship of a miniature nativity scene, and cracking jokes about a booth selling gourmet dog treats.

“Do you think they’d let us try one?” he asks, holding up a bone-shaped biscuit labeled ‘peanut butter delight.’

“Tony, no,” you say, laughing as you drag him away.

By the time you reach the end of the market, your hands are full of small treasures—a bag of candied almonds, the sled ornament, and a knit scarf that Tony insisted would “complete your winter aesthetic.” The snow has begun to stick to your hair and his, and the cold is starting to nip at your cheeks.

“This was a good call,” Tony says, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as you head back toward the entrance. “Although I’m still not sure how we managed to resist buying the frog.”

“Self-control,” you reply, leaning into him. “A concept you’re not usually familiar with.”

“Hey, I’ve got self-control,” he says, feigning offense. “I just choose to apply it sparingly.”

You laugh, your breath puffing out in the cold air. “Well, I’m proud of us. We didn’t blow our entire budget on useless stuff.”

“Not entirely useless,” he corrects. “The sled ornament is both decorative and practical, remember?”

“Right,” you say, grinning up at him. “It’s a critical investment.”

He smirks, brushing a snowflake from your cheek. “Exactly. And anyway, the best part of the market wasn’t the stuff we bought. It was spending the evening with you.”

Your chest warms at his words, and you pause for a moment, looking up at him as the snow falls softly around you. The twinkling lights of the market reflect in his eyes, and the grin on his face softens into something more sincere.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, though your voice is full of affection.

“Only for you,” he replies, leaning down to kiss you gently, the cold of his lips quickly warming against yours.

The two of you stand there for a moment, surrounded by the magic of the market, the snow falling around you like a scene from a movie. It’s one of those moments you’ll tuck away and remember years from now—simple, sweet, and perfect in its own way.

As you pull apart, Tony grins, slipping his hand into yours. “Come on, let’s go find that hot chocolate stand. I’m not leaving here without it.”

“Hot chocolate sounds perfect,” you agree, your fingers lacing through his as you head back toward the market, ready to end the evening on a sweet note.

The smell of something burning wafts through the apartment as you step out of the bedroom, pulling on your favorite fuzzy socks. It's a warm, cozy kind of Christmas Eve, with snow falling softly outside and the apartment glowing with fairy lights. Except for one thing—the scent hanging in the air doesn’t scream “cozy Christmas.” It screams, “Tony Stark’s been unsupervised in the kitchen.”

“Tony?” you call, heading toward the source of the smell. “What’s going on in there?”

“No need to panic!” his voice answers, though it’s far from reassuring. “Everything’s under control.”

You round the corner into the kitchen to find him standing at the stove, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. There’s a pot on the burner, filled with what can only be described as a charred, lumpy mess, and a thin haze of smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling.

“Under control?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Is this your definition of control?”

Tony glances at the pot and then back at you, his face a mix of sheepishness and determination. “It’s a minor setback. I was…experimenting.”

“With what? Kitchen sabotage?”

He scoffs, leaning against the counter as though the mess behind him doesn’t exist. “For your information, I was attempting to make homemade peppermint hot chocolate. Thought I’d surprise you. But apparently, chocolate has a vendetta against me.”

Your lips twitch as you try to suppress a smile. “Let me guess. You burned it?”

“Burned is a strong word,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’d say it’s more… caramelized.”

You peer into the pot, wrinkling your nose. “Tony, this isn’t caramelized. It’s cremated.”

“Details,” he replies breezily, but you can see the frustration behind his teasing tone.

You sigh, stepping closer and nudging him aside gently. “Okay, chef, move over. Let’s salvage this disaster.”

Tony steps back, his arms raised in surrender, watching as you turn off the burner and grab a fresh pot. “You’re really just going to take over? No faith in my culinary prowess?”

“I have faith in many of your skills,” you reply, dumping the ruined chocolate into the trash. “Cooking? Not one of them.”

“Fair,” he admits with a grin, hopping up to sit on the counter. “But in my defense, it’s chocolate. You melt it, you stir it, you drink it. How hard can it be?”

You grab a bar of good-quality chocolate from the pantry and start breaking it into pieces, throwing him a look. “Clearly harder than you thought.”

Tony chuckles, watching you work. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? My moment of weakness.”

“A little,” you admit, your lips curving into a smile as you measure out milk and pour it into the pot. “But mostly I’m wondering how you managed to mess it up so badly. Did you even melt the chocolate?”

“Define ‘melt,’” he says, his grin widening.

You groan, shaking your head as you stir the milk over low heat. “Okay, new rule: You’re not allowed near the stove unless I’m supervising.”

“Oh, come on,” he protests, hopping down from the counter and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his breath tickles your ear. “I was trying to do something nice for you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Your heart softens, and you turn your head slightly to meet his gaze. “It does,” you say, your voice gentle. “But maybe next time, start with something less…flammable?”

“Duly noted,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “All right, teach me, master chef. How do we make the perfect peppermint hot chocolate?”

You laugh, handing him the whisk. “First, you don’t burn the chocolate. Now, stir the milk gently while I add the chocolate pieces.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, adopting a mock-serious tone as he starts whisking. His movements are a little overdramatic, and the milk splashes slightly, but it’s endearing.

“Gentle, Tony,” you say, biting back a smile as you add the chocolate. “This isn’t an arm workout.”

“Sorry, force of habit,” he quips, his grin unapologetic. “I’ve only got one speed: full throttle.”

The chocolate begins to melt, turning the milk a rich, velvety brown. Tony leans in closer, his expression a mix of curiosity and concentration. “Okay, this part’s kind of fun. It’s like alchemy.”

“Sure,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “The alchemy of not burning things.”

As the hot chocolate comes together, you grab a bottle of peppermint extract and hold it up. “Now for the magic ingredient. Just a couple of drops.”

Tony watches as you add the peppermint, the warm, sweet aroma filling the air. “Smells amazing,” he says, his tone genuine. “Almost makes up for the fact that I nearly burned down the apartment.”

“Almost,” you agree, giving the mixture one last stir before grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

As you pour the hot chocolate, Tony wanders over to the counter, his movements casual—but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. Before you can question it, he points upward.

You follow his gaze and spot a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. “When did you—?”

“Earlier,” he says, his grin widening. “Figured it might come in handy.”

You shake your head, setting the mugs down and stepping closer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you love me,” he replies, his voice softening as he leans in.

You meet him halfway, his lips warm against yours despite the cold air outside. It’s a sweet, lingering kiss, and when you pull back, his eyes are brighter than the Christmas lights strung around the room.

“Mistletoe is definitely your best idea today,” you say, your voice teasing but full of affection.

“Better than cremated chocolate?” he asks, feigning surprise.

“Much better,” you reply, laughing as you hand him his mug. “Now, let’s see if this is worth the trouble.”

The two of you settle on the couch, blankets draped over your legs as you sip the hot chocolate. It’s rich and creamy, with just the right hint of peppermint, and you can’t help but sigh in contentment.

“This is perfect,” you say, leaning your head against his shoulder. “See what happens when you let me help?”

He nudges you playfully, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Okay, okay, I admit it. You’re the hot chocolate queen. But next year, I’m making it on my own. No supervision.”

“You’re never living this down, Tony,” you reply, grinning up at him. “But nice try.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Merry Christmas, troublemaker.”

“Merry Christmas,” you reply softly, the snow falling outside and the warmth of his arms making it the perfect end to the day.

The apartment is quiet save for the crackling of the fireplace video looping on the TV and the faint hum of Christmas music in the background. The room is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the tree lights, the perfect backdrop for the growing pile of wrapping paper at your feet. It's Christmas morning, and for the past half-hour, you and Tony have been exchanging gifts, both of you trying (and mostly failing) to keep your emotions in check.

Tony’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing the pajamas you picked out for him—flannel pants and a red shirt that says “Official Cookie Tester.” His hair is a mess from sleep, and he looks so boyishly excited every time he hands you a new box that you can’t help but fall a little more in love with him.

Your own pile of gifts so far includes a pair of earrings that match the necklace he got you last year, a first edition of your favorite book, and a framed photo of the two of you from your first vacation together, one of his rare sweet gestures that never fail to make your heart swell.

“Okay, your turn,” you say, handing him a flat, rectangular box with a silver bow.

He narrows his eyes at it playfully, shaking it gently. “Feels suspiciously light. Did you get me socks?”

“I’d never waste good wrapping paper on socks,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Just open it.”

He flashes you a grin before tearing into the paper, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees what’s inside. It’s a custom leather-bound notebook embossed with his initials—a thoughtful, elegant gift you’d spent weeks planning.

“I know you’ve been sketching a lot lately,” you explain, watching his face closely. “I figured you could use something a little more…official.”

Tony runs his fingers over the cover, and for a moment, he’s completely silent. Then he looks up at you, his expression soft and unguarded. “It’s perfect,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “Seriously. Thank you.”

You smile, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

He clears his throat, a telltale sign he’s feeling emotional, and sets the notebook carefully aside before grabbing a box from behind him. “All right, your turn,” he says, handing it to you with a slightly smug expression. “Let’s see if I can top that.”

You laugh, untying the ribbon and lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in velvet, is a delicate bracelet inlaid with tiny gemstones, each one sparkling in the light. It’s understated but stunning—classic Tony.

Your breath catches as you lift it out of the box, and you glance up at him. “Tony, this is—”

“—just a little something,” he interrupts, brushing off your awe with a wave of his hand. “Figured you could use more jewelry to match your impeccable taste.”

You set the bracelet down carefully and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love it.”

He hugs you back, his hand warm against your back. “Love you more,” he murmurs, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just the two of you.

When you pull back, you swipe at your eyes, laughing softly. “Okay, before I cry and ruin the moment, I think it’s time for the last gifts.”

“Ah, the pièce de résistance,” Tony says, his grin returning as he reaches for a small, sloppily wrapped box on the coffee table. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

You hand him a box of your own, equally poorly wrapped, and exchange a knowing look. “You first,” you say, gesturing to his gift.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He rips into the paper with an enthusiasm usually reserved for high-stakes projects, and when he finally pulls out the contents, he freezes. His hand lifts the small ceramic frog in a Santa hat—the one you’d teased him about at the Christmas market.

“No way,” he says, his voice full of disbelief.

“Way,” you reply, biting back a grin. “I couldn’t let Frank the Frog end up in someone else’s house. He belongs with us.”

Tony stares at the frog, and for a moment, you think he might actually tear up. Then he looks at you, shaking his head with a mix of laughter and affection. “You are ridiculous,” he says, but his voice is thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you bought this.”

“Well, I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

He sets the frog carefully on the coffee table, like it’s a priceless artifact, and then leans over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering. “You’re the best,” he whispers. “Seriously. This might be the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you reply, though your cheeks flush at his words.

“Your turn,” he says, gesturing to the box in your lap. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

You laugh, unwrapping the box, and the moment you see what’s inside, your laughter turns to a choked gasp. It’s the snow globe from the Christmas market—the one with the tiny snow-covered village you couldn’t stop staring at.

“You didn’t,” you say, your voice wavering.

“I did,” he replies, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Figured if I couldn’t have Frank the Frog, the least I could do was make sure you got this.”

You lift the globe out of the box, turning it over to watch the snow swirl inside. It’s just as beautiful as you remembered, and the thoughtfulness of his gesture makes your chest ache in the best possible way.

“Tony…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“Don’t start crying,” he warns, though his own eyes are suspiciously bright. “You’re gonna set me off.”

You laugh wetly, shaking your head as you set the snow globe on the coffee table next to the frog. “I can’t believe we both bought the stupid things.”

He laughs too, leaning back against the couch with an incredulous shake of his head. “We’re a mess.”

“A perfect mess,” you correct, leaning against him.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Agreed. And now Frank and the snow globe can live happily ever after. A Christmas miracle.”

You snort, burying your face in his shoulder. “You’re such a sap.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replies, his voice smug but affectionate.

You glance up at him, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, I do.”

He leans down, kissing you softly, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. When he pulls back, he grins. “Best Christmas ever?”

“Best Christmas ever,” you agree, snuggling into his side as the snow falls softly outside, and the room fills with laughter and love.

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rocautomation · 1 year ago

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Revolutionizing Industrial Automation with the Allen-Bradley 2198-S130-ERS3 and Kinetix 5700 Integrated Motion System

In the ever-evolving landscape of industrial automation, precision and efficiency are paramount. To meet these demands, industry professionals turn to cutting-edge technologies and components that deliver unparalleled performance. One such innovation is the Allen-Bradley 2198-S130-ERS3 Integrated Motion System, in conjunction with the Kinetix 5700 servo drive platform, a dynamic duo that's transforming the industrial automation sector. In this blog, we'll explore the key features and benefits of these solutions, as well as their integration with Allen-Bradley's IO-Link technology.

The Allen-Bradley 2198-S130-ERS3 Integrated Motion System

The Allen-Bradley 2198-S130-ERS3 is at the forefront of integrated motion control systems, designed to streamline processes, enhance productivity, and reduce downtime. This advanced system combines a high-performance servo drive, a motor, and an integrated safety module into a single compact package. Here's what sets it apart:

a. Performance: With its high-speed, high-precision motion control capabilities, the 2198-S130-ERS3 can handle even the most demanding industrial applications. Its advanced algorithms ensure smooth and precise motion, contributing to improved product quality.

b. Compact Design: The integration of multiple components into a single unit results in a more compact footprint, saving valuable space in industrial setups. This design also simplifies installation and reduces wiring complexity.

c. Safety: Safety is paramount in industrial environments. The integrated safety module in the 2198-S130-ERS3 provides advanced safety features, including safe torque-off functionality, to protect both personnel and equipment. 2. The Kinetix 5700 Servo Drive Platform

The Kinetix 5700 servo drive platform is designed to complement the 2198-S130-ERS3, providing precise and reliable motor control. Key features and benefits include:

a. Scalability: The Kinetix 5700 platform offers scalability, making it suitable for a wide range of applications. It can be configured to meet the specific needs of your automation system, whether you're running a single machine or an entire production line.

Advanced Diagnostics: With built-in diagnostics and predictive maintenance capabilities, the Kinetix 5700 helps reduce downtime by identifying potential issues before they lead to failures. This proactive approach enhances overall system reliability.

c. Energy Efficiency: The platform's energy-efficient design ensures that you're getting the most out of your motor control systems while minimizing energy consumption and costs.

Integration with Allen-Bradley IO-Link Technology

To further enhance connectivity and data exchange capabilities, both the 2198-S130-ERS3 and the Kinetix 5700 are compatible with Allen Bradley IO link technology. IO-Link is an open standard that facilitates communication between industrial sensors, actuators, and controllers. Here's how it benefits your automation system:

a. Real-Time Data: IO-Link allows for real-time data exchange, enabling operators and maintenance personnel to monitor the health and performance of connected devices. This data can be used to optimize processes, reduce downtime, and improve overall efficiency.

b. Remote Configuration: IO-Link devices can be configured remotely, saving time and effort during setup and maintenance. Changes and adjustments can be made without physical access to the devices.

c. Seamless Integration: IO-Link is designed to seamlessly integrate with existing industrial networks, including EtherNet/IP and PROFINET, ensuring compatibility with your automation infrastructure.

Conclusion

The Allen-Bradley 2198-S130-ERS3 Integrated Motion System and the Kinetix 5700 servo drive platform represent a significant leap forward in industrial automation technology. Their performance, compact design, safety features, and compatibility with IO-Link technology make them invaluable assets for industries seeking to optimize their automation processes.

As automation continues to play a crucial role in increasing productivity and maintaining competitive advantages, these advanced solutions from Allen-Bradley are poised to revolutionize the way industrial processes are controlled and monitored. Whether you're looking to enhance precision, improve efficiency, or reduce downtime, the 2198-S130-ERS3 and Kinetix 5700 Integrated Motion System, along with IO-Link technology, offer a comprehensive and innovative solution to meet your needs.

Get more information of ROC Automation

#automation parts store #Roc Automation #allen bradley #Kinetix5700

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wildemaven · 2 years ago

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bloom : one | joel miller

→ pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

→ WC: 2494

→ warnings: meet cute vibes, reader is single mom, small injury at work, Joel to the rescue using nontraditional techniques to help (I don't want to give it away), daughter is a teen and bleeds sarcasm, fluff and more fluff, mention of divorce and adoption.

→ a/n: some of you are probably like “wait, what is happening?!” i started this series on another account that i was using to take a break from this one. I had plans to finish this series out over there and then just abandon the account and move back here. but i love this series and want it to live here with my other work. so, im getting things set up so i can post part two later this week and move back to this account for good. also, this is series is a TLOU AU, so I've fudged all timelines and relationships to make it work for me. Ihope you like it, am very nervous to share it with you all.

two | series masterlist | main masterlist

You’re staring.

It would feel less awkward if it were somewhere else, anywhere but where you are right now. Like sitting a table away at a packed restaurant, enough people crowded around to lessen your obvious ogling of a handsome stranger, eyes locked on his profile as you hide behind the empty glass you’re pretending to sip from. The crossing of paths in a grocery store would also feel less awkward, a quick glance back over your shoulder after your carts squeeze through the nearly claustrophobic aisle, your gaze on him as he stares at the shelves filled with sugary snacks— he most definitely would have a wicked sweet tooth you think.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, it’s just you and him, alone in the store front of the floral shop— your floral shop.

He’d walked by the front window, stopping instantly to read the shop’s name in gold letters above the entrance, then hands cupped over his eyes and face pressed close to the glass contemplating the shop’s worthiness of his time.

It’s a corner spot, sitting at the crossroads of two of the town’s busiest shopping streets— prime location. Bold was a chance you took with painting the exterior black, even with the apprehension of the city council deeming it too “gothic” for the town's rather conservative appeal. The dark exterior paired with black and white striped awning over the door was the perfect balance of moody and romantic.

It was worthy enough, pushing the front door open he stepped inside, the automated bell signaling through the shop. The heaviness of his boots scuff across the wood floor a few steps, his broad body stopping in front of one of the cold displays that held an array of dramatic arrangements. His hands tucked securely into his pockets as he looks around aimlessly, it’s evident this isn’t a regular occurrence for him.

“Welcome to Wilder Floral. Is there anything I can help you with today?” You greet him from your workbench.

Your hands busily work to trim the ends and dethorn the stems of a bundle of antique mauve roses, one of your best sellers, then trimming off the lower leaves before placing them in a bucket of water.

“Not really sure at the moment. Just browsin’ for now.” His deep voice sounds through the small space, the raspy tone sending a tingle down your spine.

“Okay. Well, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.” He nods to you, catching the way his gaze doesn’t immediately break from you, he gives you a half smile then continues to look over everything again.

You’re staring.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of only this handsome stranger, quietly watching him over the now full bucket of cleaned roses.

You note the way his hip cocks out to the side as he stands with his large hands secure against his small waist. His eyebrows pinch together briefly, a look of deep thought painted over his face accentuating the little crinkles around his eyes. After a moment, his beautiful face relaxes into a calmer expression.

You can make out every muscle that runs the length of his arms, the weight of the arrangement he’s now holding provoking the defined musculature. His arms lifting and turning the vase with ease, examining every detail of the floral design you created.

You’re still staring. You can’t help it though. Actually, you can, but your brain convinces you that you are just admiring, so that makes it more than okay— right?

“You know, if you take a picture it lasts longer!” A hushed voice pops up from behind you.

“Ouch!! God dammit, Ellie! Why do you do that?!” You yelp, tossing the rose stem you were holding onto the table.

“It’s too easy! You were lost in la la land over some grumpy guy looking at flowers. I saw an opportunity, so I took it.” She laughs, pushing your buttons brings her a weird satisfaction.

There’s a throbbing pain coming from your hand. Looking down you see part of a thorn had broken off and was now embedded deep into the pad of your finger— a rookie mistake at this point in your career. You wrap your other hand around the base of your fingers, hoping some pressure will elevate the pain.

“I’m glad you enjoyed this. Can you just go grab the first aid kit in the back, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try not to fall for him too hard while I’m gone— don’t think you have enough bandages to fix that mess.” She sulks away into the back room.

“Shit!” You hiss, the pain getting more intense and now radiating through your entire finger.

“You okay ma’am?” The handsome customer asks you, stealthy in his approach to where you’re standing, still clutching your hand.

He places the floral arrangement he was holding down on your work table, his feet still moving in an urgent manner until he is standing in front of you.

“Yeah— actually, no… The thorn broke off and it’s in there real good. It hurts and I’m trying really hard to not be a baby about it. Someone’s getting a first aid kit out of the back for me.” You hold your pained finger up to him.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” His hands slowly reach out, your lips parted and ready to speak but words fail you, only managing to nod a response.

Your mind briefly wonders what Ellie is up to, but the thought vanishes instantly once his hands wrap around your wrist and he brings your injured finger closer to his face.

“My name is Joel.” He looks over to you, heat pricks over your cheeks as he holds your gaze. It’s a cosmic thing, his touch activating warmth you’ve longed for. A corner of his mouth lifts, you can’t help but fixate on the dimple that forms resulting in a barrage of flutters erupting in your chest.

“Hi Joel.” Giving him yours in return, his smile growing louder as he repeats it back to you softly, like he couldn’t wait to say it out loud.

He refocuses back on your injury. A pinched expression, similar to the one he wore earlier, is even more adorable up close— zeroing in on the small wound that was tormenting you.

Joel’s movements are dizzying, an unbridled enthusiasm that elicits a sudden burst of desire you hadn’t experienced in ages, but he senses you trust him at your willingness to let him take control of the situation. Bringing your finger to his mouth, he wraps his pillowy lips around the tip of your finger and sucks with a gentle pressure. You watch him unabashedly, completely mesmerized by the way he jumped into action, how his cheeks draw in from the suction.

Your eyes lock when he looks up from your hand, sensing your eyes already on him, his thumbs drawing circles over your wrist, soothing over your racing pulse, as he continues to suck at the fleshy pad of your finger. It feels nearly overwhelming, the fierceness of his warm brown eyes has an inebriating feeling blooming inside you.

A gasp shoots through your throat at the feeling of his tongue slightly flicks over the part of your finger that is in his mouth, pressing the back of your other hand against your lips, embarrassed by your reaction to the erogenous sensation.

The whole thing is over as quickly as it began. Joel is pulling your finger from his lips, his grip still holding on to your wrist as he lowers your arm down to your side. You watch as the tip of his tongue breaches his lips, his pointer finger and thumb picking at the small little thorn that was once lodged into your skin, now resting on his tongue. He rubs his lips together almost nervously, the weight of the whole situation kind of sinking in.

“Got it!” He rasps, holding the annoying culprit up between his fingers.

“How did you know that would work? I usually have to dig those out with tweezers. That was— wow, thank you.”

“I get splinters regularly— I’m a carpenter. Sometimes when I’m out on the job, gotta use what you have. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just knew it needed to come out— the last thing you want is an infected finger.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t over step in anyway.

“No! Not uncomfortable in the slightest!! Thank you, seriously. Rose thorns can cause a mean infection too. I appreciate it—“

“I leave for two minutes and you’ve already moved onto second base with the guy?!” Ellie announces her reemergence, holding the first aid kit in her hands and a grossed out look on her face.

“Ellie!” Your body runs cold, completely mortified, ready to crawl into the nearest hole.

“He had your finger in his mouth— probably more like rounding to third if I’m being honest.”

You grab the kit from her hands, setting it on the counter, turning to see Joel still rooted in the same spot with his hands tucked into his front pockets and a tinge of red across his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry! Sometimes I think my daughter forgets she has a filter and that she can actively choose to use it before she speaks.” You try to make sure he isn’t the one who feels uncomfortable now.

“Adopted daughter, actually.” You roll your eyes at her need for technicalities. Adopted, yes, but daughter nonetheless. “Also, in case you were wondering, cause I’m sure you are, she’s single.”

“Ellie!” You look back at her with a sternness in your voice, eyes blown wide in hopes she picks up that she can stop at any point in time. Turning back to Joel, you mouth an ‘I’m sorry’, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

There’s an awkward silence that settles over the three of you. Joel looks like he doesn’t really seem to know how to diffuse the awkwardness at hand, Ellie has a shit eating grin she wears proudly when she knows she’s embarrassed you just enough, and you simply would like to evaporate into thin air.

“So, this is the part where you give your relationship status to her— makes this whole ‘her finger in your mouth’ thing feel a little less weird for all of us.” She has a point. You had been wondering that very thing, but how were you supposed to bring it up when he’s sucking a thorn out of your finger with his gorgeous mouth.

“Single— very much single.” He laughs at how forward she is, knowing she’s just looking out for you. “I do have a daughter, probably about your age too.”

“What, your wife die or something?” Ellie asks with zero hesitation.

“No. Just an ole fashion divorce. Anythin’ else you wanna to know?” He looks to Ellie, ready for whatever comes next.

She studies Joel for a beat, “Nope, that’s all.”

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful to what ever greater power decided to switch Ellie’s filter back on.

Ellie turns to head to the back room, where she had previously been working on her homework, but turns on her heels in the process to look back at Joel and you.

“One last thing, she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.” Then she's gone before you can say anything else.

The awkwardness creeps back into the room, you’re not really sure how to come back from all of that. You open the first aid box, rifling through the contents for a cleaning pad and small bandage.

“She seems like a fun kid.” Joel decides to take the lead, watching you swipe the alcohol pad over your finger.

“She is— she definitely keeps me on my toes at all times. But, she’s got a big heart under all her sarcasm.” You tell him. You grab for the bandage, but Joel beats you to it, snagging it off the table and ripping it open before you get the chance.

You hold your finger out in front of you, ready for him to wrap it up properly for you, but instead of sticking gauze, your wounded finger is met with his plush lips for a few seconds.

“Obviously, a kiss to make it better.” He smiles again and you melt, biting at your lower lip as he wraps the dressing around your finger.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Speaking of daughters— mine is the reason I came here in the first place. I was wanting to get this arrangement for her. She passed a test she’d been stressin’ about. Thought I’d get her a little something to celebrate her.” Joel points to the flowers on the cash stand that he had been holding earlier, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out his credit card ready to pay.

“They’re on the house today.” You tell him as you walk up to your computer, imputing the information to zero out the sale.

“No— no, I can’t let you do that. Lemme pay for them please. Least I can do for all your time and talent you put in.” Holding his card out to you, insisting he pay in full.

“You practically saved my life,” A slight exaggeration, but he laughs anyway. “How about you come here for all your flowers in the future, instead of my competitors, and we’ll call it even.”

“I can do that. I might just have a need for flowers soon then, I’m sure I can find an excuse to come back for more— you think you can handle that?”

“Yeah— I can handle that.” Handing him the vase of flowers, hoping he does find an excuse to come back and tell you how much his daughter enjoyed them.

Joel walks a few feet in the direction of the door then stops, turning back to see you’re already busily back to work with a handful of flowers. He says your name, falling from his lips like sweet honey, and you don’t think you could ever get tired of him saying it the way he does. “I’ll be seein’ you around. Try to be safe until then, m’kay?”

“See you around Joel. I’ll keep the injuries to a minimum until then.”

“I’d prefer no injuries at all, actually.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You exchange goodbyes, watching him cross the street and get settled into his truck from the store front window. You’re not sure why you miss him, having only just met, but there’s a longing that’s started to burn inside your heart.

Joel’s truck merges onto the road, he takes one last glance in your direction, his hand thrown out the window waving at you as he drives off, planning his next visit so he can see you again.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #bloom series #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou au #pedrostories

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blueikeproductions · 2 months ago

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How a Transformer Transforms was never really nailed down before, but TFONE reintroduces a semi obscure concept in that Transformation is controlled by a Cog, and without it, one can’t Transform.

How a Transformer changes form in older material was never really clear, and frankly the cartoon writers didn’t particularly care. They’re space robots that turn into cars, animals and objects, how much more complicated can you make it?

Most instances regarding how a robot Transforms in the 80’s cartoon referred to loose ideas about special circuits, or quirky by products of Transformation such as “Dinosaur Transform Static” unique to dinosaur type Transformers, but otherwise nothing too specific. The cartoon would later on make a point that the Autobots’ ancestors invented Transforming as a stealth tactic during one of the various prehistoric wars prior to Megatron’s time, though there was no mention of specific inventions to do so.

Cogs were brought up as a plot device post movie, … but there was a catch. The original T-Cogs were limited to Metroplex and Trypticon, special gizmos that allowed THEM to Transform to Robot Mode, with a few episodes devoted to both factions stealing the other MetroTitan’s Cog to get a leg up in a fight. Unicron also required the Cog of one of the giants to facilitate his recreation, implying he too needed one to Transform. The cartoon seems to suggest the Cogs were unique to the giant Transformers, but that the Cogs weren’t entirely cross compatible, leaving Metroplex and Trypticon stuck in half way modes if they used each other’s.

Action Masters famously robbed Transformers of the ability to change, as the miracle fuel Nucleon changed their “Figure Alteration Systems” into “Energy Storage Reactors”. No mention of Cogs yet again, but retroactively it could mean a Cog is mutated by Nucleon into a tank to store Nucleon.

How Transforming was controlled was revisited in Beast Wars, where Maximals and Predacons used onboard computers to automate the process. Beast Machines would return to the idea of Transforming being a process that is learned, with the now Techno-Organic Maximals devoid of onboard computers needed to find a meditation still point to convert from Beast to Robot.

Presumably, thinking of it retroactively again, techno organic Maximals have no Cogs, while Vehicons likely still do. They’re shown to still have onboard computers anyway. Coincidentally, earlier Japanese media would also mirror Beast Machines, where young Transformers that migrated to Planet Master hadn’t learned to Transform yet, and through rigorous training and technological advancement, learned and evolved a new way to Transform in Headmaster technology to adapt to Master’s harsh terrain.

Indeed most media was content to ignore Cogs being a component, as the older stuff never really used it anyway on regular Transformers. James Roberts’ Proto-MTMTE fan fiction would introduce a separate concept called a “Morph Core”, a cluster of nerves connected to the brain module that controlled Transforming, and while the IDW comics would recycle the name, it still referred to the Cog in the end. It wasn’t until Aligned that concepts started getting streamlined, with the idea of a Cog controlling conversion being revisited there.

Today, via Aligned, all Transformers require Cogs to change form. As part of an initiative to make Transformers into more obvious living organism like us, rather than just space robots, the Cog is … somewhat confusingly referred to as a biological organ rather than a piece of machinery. How that differs from other body parts that are implied to be mechanical in nature anyway I have no idea, but the point is the Cogs are treated as special, they control Transformation and the ability to Scan new Vehicle or Beast Modes, and can’t simply be rebuilt from scratch if lost or damaged. If a Transformer looses one, another Transformer has to donate theirs like a human would donate a kidney to another. TFP would famously depict this where Bumblebee and Starscream would loose their Cogs as part of a scheme by the human terrorist organization MECH, who required a Cog to build their own Transformer. T-Cogs, as a biological component, mean that all Transformers’ genetic code constrains the schematics for a T-Cog, as Starscream would learn when his Clones all could still Transform when he couldn’t. Starscream would later harvest a Cog from a dead Clone to replace his own, though with how often Megatron bragged about Decepticon science, I imagine they had the power to build a functional Cog from scratch anyway.

MTMTE era IDW would have their own spin on the matter, where Cogs had a religious and political bent, being connected to religious figures in Amalgamous Prime and Adaptus, but also many Action Master type TFs, now “Monoformers” would reject their Cogs for political reasons due to Functionism. A one off Decepticon was so repulsed by Transforming, he was whittled down into a base form lacking kibble, and made other Transformers wear mode locks so they wouldn’t compulsively Transform in front of him.

As an aside, there’s moments like this that makes me wonder if Roberts genuinely hated Transforming. So much lore centered around how intrinsic Transforming is to Cybertron culturally, and yet hardly anyone Transformed on his stories that it was routinely used as a running gag… You can’t tell me that’s not a little unusual for a Transformer fan.

RBA would also introduce an off shoot of the Cog, a Mul-T-Cog that allows the wearer to assume three Vehicle Modes, but not all at once, as the user needed to make a wise choice on which form to use on a mission. Japanese media also has the “Super Transform Cog”, but as of writing, we don’t know exactly what that is.

TFONE would mostly go back to the mechanical nature of the Cogs, no real mention of biology, but retain that all Transformers have them upon activation. The Miner class had theirs removed before becoming online, creating a simple to understand Cogless vs Cog social structure where those who can’t Transform not having many rights or job opportunities under Sentinel, mirroring IDW and obscure Aligned concepts.

Also kind of ironically mirroring IDW, Sentinel, despite The Fallen’s Cog, never actually Transforms into Vehicle Mode, going back to that clunky idea of Transforming being intrinsic but having some who don’t even try.

Orion, Elita, D-16, and B-127 all got Cogs of Primes, donated by Alpha Trion from Prima, Alchemist, Onyx and Micronus, and later on Megatronus, with Cogs being restored to the Miners by Optimus. Where these Cogs come from isn’t clear, though my assumption is Sentinel kept the Cogs of the Miners in storage for some reason, and they came out of storage to their rightful owners once the Matrix was restored. There’s a popular theory the four having ancient Prime Cogs might give them special powers, though nothing has been officially stated. It’s said in TFONE in particular that the Cogs unlock the built in potential of a Transformer, which we see with how Optimus and Megatron evolve as they gained their Vehicle Modes, though at the same time, upon getting Megatronus’ Cog, Megatron does appear to evolve further, so it’s a bit unclear if this is his genetic potential or if Megatronus Prime’s influence took over. Optimus similarly only displays certain attributes like his Axe when he gets Zeta’s Matrix, so we’ll have to wait and see if this gets played up at all in story or in toy form. I still say a better Mini-Con like version of the Prime Master gimmick would be cool for a further TFONE toy line. Like an Onyx Prime Cog that unlocks a Dragon Cannon on Megatron’s arm for example or Optimus sprouting Prima’s sword when Prima Prime’s Cog is plugged in. Admittedly I’m kinda surprised Action Masters haven’t been revived through the Cogless in toys, like having a drill accessory that becomes a dinosaur buddy for Orion or a jet pack that becomes Laserbeak for D-16. Hint, hint, Hasbro.

There are complaints off and on how relying on a single Cog for Transforming is limiting and kinda stupid, but Transformers is inherently nothing but dumb fun so it still kinda works! They’re still robots at the end of the day so having a gizmo that directly controls it makes sense. It’s just funny to me that it took largely until recently to come up with that based on an obscure plot device from the cartoon for Metroplex.

#blueike productions #blueike #transformers #maccadam #transformers one #t cog #transformation cogs

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britt-kageryuu · 1 month ago

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Leo and Donnie are playing Minecraft together. Though the audience is watching Leo's POV.

Their models are in casual graphic shirts, flannel button downs and bandanas. Leo's shirt has a space unicorn, and Donnies shirt has a softshell turtle holding a knife with 'I'm Harmless, I swear".

"So, with Thanksgiving, and Black Friday coming up, I regret to inform you. That I am banned from going out to shop in person. They say smugly." Donnie says, for some reason proud of himself.

Leo just shakes his head, "Dee almost became known as a crazy shopper. Thankfully they were with Red, and purposefully kept away from the more crazy areas."

Leo is seen flying while pulling a couple Villagers in a boat, before landing near where Donnie is setting up a villager farm.

Around the area is multiple farms, both automated and not. With also a large Turtle Sanctuary along the nearby river.

"Bring those two over to the office building. Now the true reason I am not allowed to go out, is because someone attempted to take what I had obtained. So I may have pulled a taser out and lightly threatened anyone who got near me." Donnie explains while bouncing around the redstone and rails that make up the mechanics for their farm.

"Be glad that the security working that day were understandably very I don't give a-" Leo stops before he says what was likely not PG-13, "Even though by technically I could say the phrase, but some people don't like us using 'foul language'. Like I haven't been cursing under my breath in like 5 different languages."

"That can count as an Easter Egg, try to find which vods Blue is using foul Language. There isn't a prize, except bragging rights." Donnie announces while sprinting past Leo and smaking him with a neatherite shovel.

Leo who is very used to this just fires an arrow at Donnie in retaliation. Just barely missing an Iron Golem that his twin purposefully ran close too.

"Anywhozzle! Yeah, some of the security was just so done, they didn't bother with Dee. Just told him to check out and get out. Dee isn't banned from the store either, just told to leave." Leo says while shaking his head.

The two of them get the villagers into the 'Office Building' that will be their Villager Trading Center. Double checking that they can't get out of the building.

The two spend a good bit of time finishing the redstone, while replying to notifications, and occasionally getting a small startle from sound redemptions.

They were being asked about other reasons they can't go out on Black Friday, at least part of the answer was, "Buying things online is just slightly more convenient. Though there are a couple places that don't do deliveries, that we send April to pick up for us."

Then the conversation switched to Thanksgiving, and the spread Mikey was going to be making along side the family friends who are going to join them.

----------------------

Masterpost

I wanted to mention that they don't really do Black Friday aka the weirdest huge discount days of the year, because of economic reasons.

And Donnies cain instinct is at least part of why they don't.

Though the visual of the Turtles in baggy clothes fighting off random people for the most random deals, is pretty darn funny.

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b7ngt4n · 1 year ago

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The Last Remaining | Part 01

-> South Korea was left abandoned after a 'zombie' virus sweeps the nation. Left to save themselves, Y/N and a group of seven men, who she's found safety in, rely on each other to stay alive as they travel south of the country for a rumoured 'z-free' haven. But nothing is ever easy. Especially when they find it's not only just zombies they need to watch their backs for.

-> A female reader x BTS zombie apocalypse AU

-> Genre: Post-apocalyptic, action

-> Warnings for Part 1: Violence, gore, swearing

-> Word count: 2,071 words

-> Interactions are greatly appreciated xoxo 💖

Part 01: A Month Ago 🧟

A month ago, the nation of South Korea fell to its knees. A deadly virus swept through the country, killing every human it came in contact with and mutating them into flesh-fiending, viciously-violent creatures, fictionally known as zombies.

The outbreak spread fast through Seoul, turning half of the civilians here into zombies within 24 hours. Rumours were that outbreaks happened in Busan, Gwangju, and Daegu before the Seoul outbreak even started. Everything happened within a matter of hours. Nobody had any time to react, you had to fight for your life within the blink of an eye. Even the government was left dumbfounded.

They deployed military power to try and control the outbreaks. However, the number of zombies soon outnumbered the number of military personnel. Eventually, there was no stopping the virus as it just grew out of control.

It was too late for the government to issue martial law. They knew there was no use putting up a fight they knew they couldn't win. Instead they moved onto plan B: evacuation. Your TV was only able to play a singular automated voice message that repeated, 'All of South Korea is currently being affected by the 'Zombie' virus. The government advises you to stay indoors and wait for evacuation processes to be initiated.' And by evacuation, you heard they evacuated the entire Blue House, the closest schools, and the closest retirement villages. You watched choppers fly from Incheon, none of which you saw ever once stopped to evacuate other buildings. That's when you knew the government was absolute bullshit. They didn't bother to try save anyone else. They didn't want to risk it.

You heard the evacuation camp was set up somewhere in Incheon, which made sense because of the helicopters. But you later heard the camp was overridden by the virus only three days later. You never heard choppers flying around ever again. With no government left to guide you, all hope for survival was lost. A week later, the power in your complex stopped running. Matter of fact, you're sure the power for the entire city stopped. Phones stopped working a day after the outbreak so you couldn't call for help. And with food in your apartment running low, you knew your survival rate was plummeting lower by the day.

You were lucky that you only lived on the 5th floor. You had been watching the streets closely the past month. It used to be very busy with screams, growls, tyre screeches, and running footsteps. You even used to be able to hear zombie groans at night. But recently you noticed how quiet it has been. You see a zombie slowly roaming around every now and then but you haven't seen many alive humans. You wonder if everyone else had just left while they could. The more you think about leaving, the more you think 'fuck it, let's do it'. Could it be worse out there? Absolutely. But would you rather die from starvation or die trying to survive?

There was a convenience store just a street down. If you were lucky, you could make it there and hopefully there would be food waiting for you. You just had to be quick. You could do that. You used to be in the track team in high school and a regular gym goer. You can be quick.

"This should be a piece of cake," you encouraged yourself, but the entire time you were screaming at yourself 'what the fuck are you doing?' Only you were hunger-driven enough to go out into a bloody zombie apocalypse to get cup noodles.

You changed into a zip up hoodie and a pair of gym tights, tying your hair into a low ponytail and lacing up in running shoes. You put on your old elbow pads and knee pads from when you were in your rollerblading phase for protection. You also tucked away a pocket knife in your bra. As you were sliding your backpack on, you started having second thoughts. Was this really worth it? Would you really risk dying out there rather than safely at the comfort of your own home? Your life was in your hands but it seemed that any choice you would make could have you dead. You had to at least try. You believed in yourself, you believed you could get there if you tried hard enough. Gripping a baseball bat in one hand and the door knob in the other, you took a deep breath. Carefully unlocking the door, you opened it a small inch, enough for you to peek an eye out into the lobby. It was empty to your relief. You didn't hesitate to make a move, locking your apartment and bidding it a sad farewell.

You jumped to find a zombie lurking around the elevator lobby. It turned around the moment it heard your footsteps, snarling loudly at you. You recognised it to be Mrs Lim, a sweet elderly woman who lived next door to you. You would watch her cats for her whenever she went out of town to visit her daughter. Your heart broke to see her once-white skin drained of colour, her eyes not the usual dark brown but a mustard yellow, and her teeth was covered in dry blood. You didn't have any time to decide what to do about her as she came charging toward you.

"Why does the first zombie I come across have to be you Mrs Lim!" you protested as you held the baseball bat horizontally, keeping a distance between you and her. She was strong for an old lady, well half old lady half zombie, but strong enough to have you sliding back on the tiles. You noticed down the lobby on the other side of the complex were a couple other zombies. They had already noticed you and were rushing towards you.

"Shit!" you cursed, "sorry Mrs Lim," you quickly apologised before kicking her as hard as you could in the stomach. She groaned, stumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet, and falling to the ground. You didn't waste time, opening the door to the stairwell and making sure to lock it behind you.

There were no zombies in the staircase. Though the apartment did feel different without the lights on. You couldn't imagine how much of a struggle it'd be to do this at night without the power working. You had to make sure you were back home at least before the sun set.

A few zombies filled the entrance lobby. You instantly recognised one of them to be another resident who you saw around often and another one of them to be a security guard. You noticed a taser in his holster, something you deemed could be useful to you. They all turned around the moment you opened the door and came rushing towards you. You hit them in the heads with the bat as hard as you could, occasionally using your foot to kick them back whenever they got too close. They all fell to the floor after a good fight from you. You mutter a sorry to them and took the opportunity to steal the security guard's taser and tuck it safely away in your bag, whispering your extra apologies to him.

You hadn't been outside in a month. It felt weird to be back all of a sudden at a place you used to come through everyday. Blood that was smeared on the glass doors made you cringe. You checked the coast. All you could see was the apartment's front garden and the street through the gates. So far, everything was zombie-free. But you don't let your guard down just yet.

Drops of old blood stained the pavement. What was once a nice garden now looks outgrown and somewhat sat on. You could smell the faint stench of dried blood and what you assumed was the smell of dead flesh. The entrance water fountain you thought was so pretty was no longer squirting out water and the water was coloured red. 'Gross' you thought to yourself.

The street was nothing different. Cars were littered all over the place, some had actually looked like they crashed into poles, some were also open. You wondered for a second if you could check the ones that were open out but you also did fear it was only a matter of time before a zombie found you. One car you passed had crashed into a light pole and inside laid a dead rotten woman in the drivers seat. You would have never seen stuff like this before the outbreak. You feel sad for that lady. Who knows how long she had been sitting there? And who knows how much longer she'll be left like that?

Loud snarls made you stop in your tracks. You pressed your back against the concrete wall and peeked slowly around the corner. A quick count of at least 7 zombies were within a 20 metre radius. They blocked the entrance to the convenience store. There were bound to be more too, ones that were hidden in your blind spots. There was no way you could take on all of them.

You noticed a half empty water bottle lying on the floor. Then you had an idea. You snatched it up, crawling behind cars to get closer to the herd without getting spotted. The sounds of their groans terrified you as it grew louder the closer you got. You chucked the water bottle the opposite way as far as you could. It landed on the bumper of a car, sounding its alarm. The loud horn attracted the zombies instantly. They turned around, racing to the source of the sound snarling loudly at it. It was loud enough to probably attract every zombie within a 100 metre radius which would definitely be more zombies than you can handle. But at least you got them distracted. As soon as the coast was clear, you dashed towards the convenience store. Luckily it was unlocked.

The store was a mess. Products littered the ground but the store would was at least half filled. You guess the store could've been looted a couple of times but it's likely this mess was caused the day of the outbreak. You noticed it was also quiet. No snarls, no groans. That was a good sign. You felt a little at ease.

Canned soup, instant noodles, granola bars, biscuits, water bottles. All the foods you have been craving were here in this very room. You have been longing for this moment. You shoved whatever wasn't expired and would likely last a long time into your bag. You noticed your favourite flavour of Doritos 'Sweet Thai Chilli' sitting on the shelf, untouched and not expired yet. You didn't wait to eat these back at home and decided to open one now, your stomach grumbling at the sight. You walked down the aisles like you used to late at night before. It felt wrong to be looting and in a way stealing. You were friends with the owners, a nice old couple ran the store with the occasional help from their daughter. It felt wrong to steal from them. But then again, it was the apocalypse.

Just as you turned down into the end aisle alongside all the freezers of frozen food and cold drinks, a zombie jumped out from the corner, taking you by surprise.

You yelped, flinging the Doritos out your hands by accident. Just in time, you managed to wedge the baseball bat between its teeth, keeping it from biting you. But it was way stronger than you, quickly trapping you between a freezer and itself. You tried to kick your feet at it but it was difficult in the position you were in. The more you tried, the more stronger it pushed against your bat, closing the threatening distance between you both.

You heard the stabbing sound before the zombie stopped moving. A knife had been plunged through the back of its head. The sharp tip stuck out through its forehead, nearly knocking you in the process. You heaved its heavy body off of you to reveal a muscular, middle-aged, man standing behind it. Behind him was a skinnier but taller and younger man. You assumed the two to be friends.

"Thank you" you breathed out, all your energy gone as you lean against the freezer to catch your breath.

The middle-aged man chuckled, an eerie smile that gave you chills appearing on his face, "Anytime sweetheart."

His smile was the last thing you saw before you felt a bash to the head and your world went dark.

(a/n: forgive me ik! "no bts in the first chapter?" "what a shit fucking story!" i know i know 😔😔 i promise it’s development 🙏🙏 appearances begin in the nxt chapter)

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