#coaster mechanics

[hyper-coasters]

An up-close reminder of why NOT to have your phone out on roller coasters. This is a whole CHUNK taken out of the lower wheel from Cheetah Hunt, caused by a cellphone that had been dropped on the track. Not only do you destroy your phone, but you can do some serious damage to the coaster itself! Damage like this requires the whole train to come off the track and be at least partially, if not entirely, disassembled. Cheetah Hunts maintenance is done in-house annually and as needed by Busch Gardens mechanics. Super grateful for what they do!

[meilia-stims]

May i request a sidesplitter stimboard it's @ballpitbee 's oc, can it have a mechanical theme with gifs of the smiler (the roller coaster) and black and yellow spirals and other things that give off sidesplitter's vibe, please and thank you

Sidesplitter (@ballpitbee) stimboard for @12-oz-joy with mechanical themes, smiler and spiral stims

🌀 🔧 🌀

🔧 🌀 🔧

🌀 🔧 🌀

[nat-stimmy]

Lightning Rod (SOURCE)

[showyoumyfavoriteobsession]

One of my favorite Youtubers, Marcel Vos, has a series where he's beating every scenario in Rollercoaster Tycoon, usually focusing on just making a nice-looking park. For today's video, he based all the color schemes for the rides and decorations on different pride flags, and it’s unbearably cute. Mutuals we are meeting at the nonbinary pirate ship ride <3

[quixot1sm]

Hear me out: N and Hilbert going back to the ferris wheel with their kid

this is very very sweet (and i most certainly will be doodling something about this at some point) but i think, when their kid's grown enough to ask why they're so sentimental about the old thing, the following conversation would be pretty funny to overhear. well this is where your father rejected me<3

[farttherapy]

*boogley laughter*

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[episbep]

rehab day nineteen (I think? I’m starting to lose track)

my safe space, my sad view, the place I am crying and learning and feeling and healing ❤️‍🩹 fuck this is hard. my mentality has shifted from wanting to use and missing the “good times*” to being absolutely petrified of going back to that mental place and causing even more harm and damage than I already have. There is so much uncertainty surrounding the impact/consequences of my behaviour and actions and I want to make it all ok right now (typical addict ffs) but until I am in a better headspace I will only continue to cause harm to those that I love and take more than I am able to give back. The euphoric recall has turned to seeing it for what it really was - sitting alone in my room, putting shards above everything important in my life. I have faith that I can build a beautiful life once more but I absolutely must surrender to the program and put my recovery first.

I’ve been searching for Buddhist affirmations or prayers to start the day with and I’m going to start with the one up there👆 I can always switch it up if/when I find others that resonate with me but for now, that’s perfect. My intention is to start each day by reciting my daily affirmations and prayer, attend The Buddhist Centre 7:30 online meditation (Monday to Saturday- recovery meditation recordings on Sundays) and complete my gratitude list and goals for tomorrow each evening. The affirmations I’ve chosen are from the list that we all pick from each morning in treatment, I’ve just narrowed it down to the ones that work for me:

“I am a worthwhile person. I am enough. I am a unique and precious human being, always doing and being the best that I can, always growing in wisdom and love. I am in charge of my life, and am responsible for my feelings and behaviours. I am capable of changing; there is no fixed self. My emotional well-being is primarily dependent on how I treat and love myself. I do not need to prove myself to anyone , I need only express myself as openly and honestly as I am capable. I am not alone for I am one with the universe. I deserve to be loved by myself and others. I live one day at a time and do one thing at a time (keep it simple!)”

*they were not good times. they were fucking up my life times and hurting everyone I hold close to my heart times. They were fucking dark times when I felt that using was my only choice. I am incredibly grateful to be in treatment and to be being helped onto a path where there is light at the end of the tunnel.

[yaoischolar]

if anyone cares im actually very good at rhythm games to the point im learning how to git gud at osu because Im Just A Crazy Bitch

[bricksxbooks]

I support this product idea on LEGO Ideas, and you should, too!

[eiralunaire]

Damian rode a ride with his girlfriend only to see her pass out on the way down.

The amusement park was full of lights and bustle, and Damian Wayne walked with a serene expression next to his girlfriend, who seemed much more excited than he was. Although at first glance Damian didn't seem like the type of person who would enjoy a park, he had agreed to accompany her, convinced that it would be an... interesting experience.

“Are you sure you don't want to wait here?” she said, pointing to the mechanical game that stood in front of them. It was one of those where the passengers were launched up and then fell suddenly, only to be launched again on an adrenaline-fueled roller coaster.

Damian smiled slightly, with that gesture that he considered confident and that, in his eyes, made it clear that he was not afraid. “Do you think I'm going to let you go up by yourself?” he joked. “Besides, I'm a Wayne. A little game is nothing to me.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly, and they both joined the line. When their turn came, they settled into their seats and fastened their seatbelts, and Damian looked around, assessing the safety system as if it were a strategic project.

“Relax, Damian. It’s designed for this,” she whispered to him.

“Who said I’m not?” he replied, but she noticed his hands tightening on the armrests with a slight tension. It was almost adorable to see Damian trying to remain stoic.

The countdown began, and Damian felt a knot in his stomach as he heard the machinery start up. And suddenly, the ride launched into the sky at breakneck speed. The wind whipped their faces, and in an instant, they felt as if they were flying… and then they were falling at full speed. His girlfriend screamed with excitement, while Damian barely managed to suppress the urge to grab the bar in front of him.

However, on the second fall, Damian heard silence beside him. He glanced over quickly and noticed that she had closed her eyes, her head tilted to the side. She seemed completely relaxed, more so than anyone would be in such an intense game.

“Hey!” Damian nudged her slightly with his elbow, calling her name, but got no response. His calm expression turned to concern, then to barely contained panic. The game kept throwing them up and down, and he tried somehow to steady her, but it was nearly impossible. “Did you pass out…?”

The game finally slowed down, and when it came to a complete stop, Damian was already in action. She quickly freed herself from the harness, and before the operator could even react, Damian had stepped out of his seat and was untying her.

“Are you okay?” The softness in his voice was unusual, almost inaudible. The concern was evident, though he tried to hide it.

Slowly, she blinked, her eyes half-closed as she tried to come to. “What… what happened?”

Damian breathed a sigh of relief, but seeing her dazed state, worry crept back into him. “You fainted,” he explained, helping her to her feet. He was trying to sound neutral, but there was something in his tone that betrayed the fright he had felt.

“Oh… that explains the ringing in my head,” she said, smiling weakly. But noticing his worried expression, she tried to reassure him. “I’m fine, really. It was just… more than I expected.”

Damian shook his head, an incredulous smile playing on his lips. “I knew it was a bad idea, but no, you had to convince me it would be ‘fun,’” he imitated her in a slightly mocking tone.

She laughed, though the laugh turned into a small cough, and Damian gave her a warning look. “Okay, Bruce Wayne Jr., I’m not getting on anything like that with you again. You look more scared than I am.”

Damian watched her closely, his eyes shining with relief and something else. Finally, he smiled and murmured, “Only you could pass out in one of these games… and make me worry like an idiot.”

[darsynia]

Forgiven (CEO Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Part II

Summary: Since dropping out of school to care for your sister, your daydream has been that a rich, handsome man will save you from drowning in debt. Until then (read: never), you’ll work hard at your new receptionist job and try not to ogle the impossibly hot construction guy working in the foyer…

Words/Warnings: 2,855 | none

As 5/7 of my Ro Roll birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, forGIVEn is a fluffy meet cute between CEO Steve and f!Freader. Gif is by @ashilesun.

Excerpt:

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

FORGIVEN

“Thank God for the internship last summer!” your sister says (again).

“I do, I do,” you promise, looking at yourself critically in the grubby bathroom mirror. She doesn’t have to know you pick a new deity to mentally ‘thank’ every time. Today it’s Thor, because you need to bring electricity to your first day on the job. 

You’re hoping to look professional but approachable for this customer-facing position, and it looks like the months of clothes thrifting before your internship last year are really paying off. Do you wish you could work in your field of choice? Sure, but working in the same company as a receptionist means you have both in-field and company knowledge. Once Jennie is back on her feet, you hope to be back on yours, too.

You step into the kitchen to check that everything is set up for your sister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back at lunch?”

“No mother hen-ing, you promised! I’ll be fine, and you’ll need your own lunch!”

Your watch beeps that it’s time to start walking to work, so you slip into your sturdy dress shoes and give the room a final once-over. Jennie’s cooler of food is near the couch, she’s got all of the remotes, and her walker is within reach. You’ve even put a pair of crutches in the umbrella stand and lashed the damned thing to the couch so she can’t knock it over. Her charger is at hand, the blinds are down, and the end table has her morning coffee on a coaster.

“Get out or I’ll start throwing things at you and you’ll be late from having to clean them up!” your sister teases.

“I love when you nag,” you tell her, shutting the door before she can retort.

Star Industries is honestly your dream workplace, even after pausing your mechanical engineering degree to take care of Jennie. After Tony Stark and his company spun it off as a subsidiary, Star really came into its own. The company has an inspiring mission: to ensure safe, affordable prosthetics for the people who really need them. Many customers are war veterans, just like the two men in charge. The COO even has one himself.

You’d filled out your paperwork after hours, so when you walk into the building, it’s a nice surprise to see how the morning light floods the lobby. The atrium of the building is made up of a multi-storey open space lit by tall windows, with the company’s logo laid out in the tile floor right as you come in the doors. The A in the word ‘STAR’ is, of course, a star, but it’s the missing ‘K’ from its parent company that catches the eye. Instead of upright, the K is laid on its ‘back.’ One stick figure’s front leg and another stick figure’s back leg make up the angled lines from the K--and they’re both wearing prosthetics.

The name badge you’re given has a smaller version of the same logo, and you can’t help but hope this isn’t the only time you’ll be representing the company. You fix it to your lapel and sit nervously at the desk beside the woman who will train you. It’s an hour before you come up for air long enough to notice there’s some renovation work going on nearby. 

Honestly, ‘notice’ is embarrassingly underselling it.

The windows in the lobby are clearly designed to encourage shafts of sunlight that flood a particular area with a cheerful glow. You’ve managed to look over right when one such beam illuminates a man wearing rough work clothes, his head tipped back to drink out of a water bottle. He’s handsome as hell, with a face like Adonis and powerful muscles straining his sweat-damp t-shirt. The sunlight turns him into a golden statue, and you sure as hell would visit museums more often if the art looked like that!

Your phone rings and you answer promptly, tearing your eyes away from the construction worker just as he smiles at someone. The stammered greeting you offer to the caller could be chalked up to it being your first day, but that isn’t the reason at all.

Your first week on the job is equal parts satisfying and stressful. Satisfying because it turns out you’re a natural at taking zero shit with maximum politeness. Your stress comes from the renovations.

The work isn’t loud, and it’s not like you’re worried about safety or anything. Technically, your job isn’t affected at all… well, not because of your assigned work, that is. No, you’re the one affected, and it’s thanks to the man who seems to be in charge.

After that first day, the tarp that separated their construction from the rest of the lobby had been removed, meaning you could just look over and see him at any point throughout your day.

You’ve been rationing those glimpses for your own sanity.

Despite this, there are still details you’ve noted. One, he’s definitely the foreman. Everyone defers to the guy, but his leadership style seems to rely on trust and respect. Two, he has the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. Paired with his looks, it’s a disastrous combination, especially given Reason Number Three: he’s an utter beast. More than once you’ve seen him moving things with ease that would take multiple other men to lift.

Today is Monday and the men were all at work before you arrive. Their project is taking shape; it appears to be a café with low counters, maybe a wheelchair-friendly gathering space? It would be on brand for the company, and certainly explains why you’ve been brought on as a second receptionist. The usual population in the lobby will certainly go up once it’s completed.

Before you sit down, you take stock of the wide welcome desk. Would anyone notice if you nudged one of the large flower pots to the left to mostly block your view of the café area? You decide to risk it. Foreman Eye Candy is a Distraction with a capital D, and you already love this job.

The morning goes smoothly--but by lunch you’re fairly certain you’ve memorized the pattern on the side of that damned pot, for as often as you’ve looked over at it.

When you come back from your break, the pot is back where it was before.

Your hands shake a little bit as you log back into your computer. Did a cleaning crew come through and adjust it? You’re not brave enough to ask the senior receptionist for fear she’ll question why it was moved in the first place. It’s probably a fluke, you decide.

Without your makeshift barrier, you find yourself looking over at the Foreman way too many times before you’re done for the day, but he’s smiled at least twice in your direction, so that’s something.

On Tuesday morning, you choose discretion as the better part of valor and scoot the pot over to obscure your view again, even taking the time to nudge its closest neighbor a little, to even up the spacing.

After lunch on Tuesday, both pots are moved back, and Eye Candy is smiling. You doubt the two are related.

On Wednesday you bring in one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with permission from your coworker at the desk. It’s altruistic, distracting the children when their parents show up to ask questions. Because your area is recessed a bit, you risk setting the item on a little paper sorter to make it level with the visitors’ side. Completely incidentally, that placement blocks some of your view of the café under construction.

You come back from lunch to find the shelf moved to the other side of your computer monitor.

It’s so disconcerting that you stand there staring at it in shock for a long moment, long enough to attract attention.

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.  

Chanting ‘it’s Wednesday, that’s called ‘hump day,’ there’s nothing that implies you’ve been thinking impure thoughts, pull it together!’ in your head, you answer something non-committal and continue with dinner.

That night you have a dream that Sir Eye Candy walks over and smiles at you, illuminated by one of those rays of light straight from heaven.

On Thursday you arrive at work to find the pots have all been moved farther back along the decorative part of the receptionist’s desk, much too far to move any of them without notice.

As if he’d been waiting for you to see the change, you make brief eye contact with Sir Eye Candy. He does a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to move the large sign for the café. By himself.

“Am I awake?” you whisper to yourself, unable to look away from how effortlessly he moves under heavy strain.

“Keep staring at the boss like that and the rest of his crew will never let you hear the end of it!” your front desk coworker Marcia jokes.

Your cognitive function flatlines as you try to process the word ‘boss’ while at the same time watching the man in question wipe sweat off of his brow. “It’s obvious he’s the foreman,” you mumble, dropping your phone so you have to look away to pick it up. If the screen cracks, you deserve it.

“Oh, honey, this is his side gig. Pet project. Maybe even a vacation, knowing Rogers,” Marcia chuckles.

The name ‘Rogers’ finally gets through to you, in context to ‘the boss.’ Steve Rogers.

Sir Eye Candy is CEO Eye Candy.

“Wait…”

“There it is!” Your coworker gives you the kind of look only busybody aunts and elder coworkers can pull off. “Word is his gym is closed for a few weeks, so he pulled some strings to move this project up. Nice way to start a new job, yeah?”

You’ve been ogling the CEO. “Should I put in my two weeks’ notice?” you whisper. Dismay doesn’t even cover it. You’re practically mortifie--

“I’d advise your manager not to accept,” a nearby voice says. “If anything, I probably ought to call myself into an HR meeting. I’ve been quite distracted this past week.”

It’s CEO Eye Can-- Rogers. All you can do is mutely look up at him, watching the amused look on his face turn into a stern one.

“Have you been messing with my plant display?”

It’s not at all what you were expecting him to say, and you’re still befuddled by the idea he was distracted by you, so you stammer out an admission that yes, you did move his pots.

The phone rings, and after a subtle gesture from Rogers, Marcia takes the call.

“Sir,” you begin, noting the way his posture straightens on hearing the title. You lick your lips in nervousness, and god, his eyes go straight there. HR would be having kittens.

“Go on?” Rogers’ voice is resonant. Everything about this feels like a rom-com, and you are totally worried you’ll screw it up.

“Forgive me for staring?” you offer. You’d meant to say something less obvious, but it’s too late now.

“Yes, well. I’d like to go over your conduct at a lunch meeting, if, that is, you--” he breaks off, lifts his chin, and clears his throat. “In a half hour.”

“I-- Of course--” You’ve answered too late, he’s already walking away and calling out to the crew. Stunned, you look over at Marcia. She’s grinning, but doesn’t look up, and you decide to take your cues from her.

Fifteen minutes later, the work crew wraps up. You see them file out in your peripheral vision, but if Rogers is going to play the Principal’s Office card, you’re going to play at being an obedient student.

This sends your mind on a complete irresponsible rampage, and you’re still tamping down the mental images when a gentleman in a suit walks up to the front of the desk.

Your welcoming smile is already in place when you lift your head to greet him, but it widens into surprised happiness to see that it’s Rogers. At the very last minute you stop yourself from acting like he’s picking you up for a date, even though you very much hope that’s what this is, HR be damned. Every fairytale has a villain, after all, and villains are made to be thwarted.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The word choice is deliberate.

“You can. Marcia, do you usually cover for lunch?”

“I do.”

“Good. We’ll be prompt,” he says firmly, tapping the flat of his palm on the desk with finality. You take the cue, getting up and slinging your purse over your shoulder, but inwardly your stomach is a riot of sawdust. 

Are you reading this wrong? All of your teenage aspirations to be swept off of your feet by a rich, handsome man feel like lead weights at the bottom of your shoes. Steve Rogers’ reputation is sterling, and despite your less-than-angelic daydreams, you don’t want to come across like a gold-digger. Even if you are strapped for cash.

Rogers opens the door for you. The front door. The front door of his business. It’s heady and confusing, even more confusing when a slick silver car pulls up and a valet hands him the keys.

“You look like you either need sunglasses or smelling salts,” he says gently.

“A neck brace,” you quip. “For the whiplash.”

His smile is sheepish as he opens the car door for you. “That’s fair.”

The car is cinematically nice inside, and you suppress the desperate desire to pinch yourself until you wake up as he gets in and adjusts the seat for his height. He doesn’t look over at you, which your adrenaline-drunk mind can’t decide is good or bad.

Then he does, and all you can do is smile back at him.

“A confession: I cribbed some of those lines.” Rogers eases the car out into traffic and lets out a long breath. “From Bu-- a friend of mine. Advice on how to be in charge and ask out a subordinate at the same time.” He stops at a red light and shoots a look over at you. “How’d I do?”

You kind of want that neck brace, but despite the trappings, you’re really enjoying who this man is turning out to be. “That depends. Do you want me to be turned upside down and sideways?”

That earns you a look akin to the one he sent you when you’d called him ‘sir.’ You shiver, and he notices. “I don’t think you want to know what his advice might be on the answer to that question! How about ‘maybe?’”

“Maybe is good,” you manage.

“Glad to hear it. What would you like? Italian? Deli?” Rogers looks over and catches his breath like he’d forgotten his wallet. “An invite to lunch without your employment on the line? I’m sorry about that. I got--” He looks back at the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. “--carried away.”

His candid mix of charm and command are sweeping you completely off your feet, tarnished halo and all. “I don’t think I have time to phone a friend for a better answer, but is ‘maybe’ still good?”

Your sister would walk her ass to the car to smack you if she knew you’d just told the CEO of your new company you’re a ‘maybe’ for a one-on-one ‘maybe’ date with him. You suspect his friend would be facepalming, too.

“Your job isn’t on the line, I promise. I’d never misuse power like that--” He breaks off from his serious tone, looks down at his suit and the fancy car you’re both sitting in, and chuckles. “All evidence to the contrary.”

The whole situation is absurd, unrealistic, completely romantic, and everything you’ve always wanted.

You’re going to wake up any minute now.

Rogers looks over and raises his eyebrows. You realize with embarrassment that he wants you to either tell him where he can stuff his lunch invitation, or where the two of you can go eat.

“I got carried away too,” you rush to say. “Yes to lunch. No maybes in sight.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiles.

Part 2

[hyper-coasters]

If you have never been on a roller coaster during an evacuation, you may wonder how it's done. Well, on Cobra's Curse the trains have 8 electronic locks which are located on the lower back of each train. There are several ways to unlock the lap bars in case of an emergency, but the most commonly used option is a 25 volt battery pack. The pack plugs into the ports pictured above and with a dial located on the battery pack, you turn to unlock and release the lap bars. If for any reason the battery pack is not available, there is a pump system that can be used to manually pry the seats open. The final option, which does not work on all the trains as some are newer, is with a giant butter knife. No, I'm not kidding. It is called a harness release key, and it is a long silver pole that comes to a flat, rounded end. To unlock the trains that allow this option, it is essentially jabbed into the marked spot on the train located near the edge where you place your foot to get on.

[a-method-in-it]

I was going to make a joke that actually the log flumes are fine and it's your track that's sideways, but that wouldn't fix it either huh

why my log flumes sideways

[queenie435]

THE WORLD'S FIRST ELECTRIC ROLLER COASTER

Granville T. Woods (April 23, 1856 – January 30, 1910) introduced the “Figure Eight,” the world's first electric roller coaster, in 1892 at Coney Island Amusement Park in New York. Woods patented the invention in 1893, and in 1901, he sold it to General Electric.

Woods was an American inventor who held more than 50 patents in the United States. He was the first African American mechanical and electrical engineer after the Civil War. Self-taught, he concentrated most of his work on trains and streetcars.

In 1884, Woods received his first patent, for a steam boiler furnace, and in 1885, Woods patented an apparatus that was a combination of a telephone and a telegraph. The device, which he called "telegraphony", would allow a telegraph station to send voice and telegraph messages through Morse code over a single wire. He sold the rights to this device to the American Bell Telephone Company.

In 1887, he patented the Synchronous Multiplex Railway Telegraph, which allowed communications between train stations from moving trains by creating a magnetic field around a coiled wire under the train. Woods caught smallpox prior to patenting the technology, and Lucius Phelps patented it in 1884. In 1887, Woods used notes, sketches, and a working model of the invention to secure the patent. The invention was so successful that Woods began the Woods Electric Company in Cincinnati, Ohio, to market and sell his patents. However, the company quickly became devoted to invention creation until it was dissolved in 1893.

Woods often had difficulties in enjoying his success as other inventors made claims to his devices. Thomas Edison later filed a claim to the ownership of this patent, stating that he had first created a similar telegraph and that he was entitled to the patent for the device. Woods was twice successful in defending himself, proving that there were no other devices upon which he could have depended or relied upon to make his device. After Thomas Edison's second defeat, he decided to offer Granville Woods a position with the Edison Company, but Woods declined.

In 1888, Woods manufactured a system of overhead electric conducting lines for railroads modeled after the system pioneered by Charles van Depoele, a famed inventor who had by then installed his electric railway system in thirteen United States cities.

Following the Great Blizzard of 1888, New York City Mayor Hugh J. Grant declared that all wires, many of which powered the above-ground rail system, had to be removed and buried, emphasizing the need for an underground system. Woods's patent built upon previous third rail systems, which were used for light rails, and increased the power for use on underground trains. His system relied on wire brushes to make connections with metallic terminal heads without exposing wires by installing electrical contactor rails. Once the train car had passed over, the wires were no longer live, reducing the risk of injury. It was successfully tested in February 1892 in Coney Island on the Figure Eight Roller Coaster.

In 1896, Woods created a system for controlling electrical lights in theaters, known as the "safety dimmer", which was economical, safe, and efficient, saving 40% of electricity use.

Woods is also sometimes credited with the invention of the air brake for trains in 1904; however, George Westinghouse patented the air brake almost 40 years prior, making Woods's contribution an improvement to the invention.

Woods died of a cerebral hemorrhage at Harlem Hospital in New York City on January 30, 1910, having sold a number of his devices to such companies as Westinghouse, General Electric, and American Engineering. Until 1975, his resting place was an unmarked grave, but historian M.A. Harris helped raise funds, persuading several of the corporations that used Woods's inventions to donate money to purchase a headstone. It was erected at St. Michael's Cemetery in Elmhurst, Queens.

LEGACY

▪Baltimore City Community College established the Granville T. Woods scholarship in memory of the inventor.

▪In 2004, the New York City Transit Authority organized an exhibition on Woods that utilized bus and train depots and an issue of four million MetroCards commemorating the inventor's achievements in pioneering the third rail.

▪In 2006, Woods was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame.

▪In April 2008, the corner of Stillwell and Mermaid Avenues in Coney Island was named Granville T. Woods Way.

[vilsoo]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ⌇WILLIAM AFTON

william afton x fem!reader || WC: 4,172

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. as the new intern for fazbear’s entertainment, you seemed to have grabbed william’s attention. but when an innocent work crush becomes a dark and twisted obsession, the only way he can have you is by corrupting you...

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] This is a high speed roller coaster with sudden stops and drops! All riders must store loose items inside of a locker. This ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and content warnings posted. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

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Your innocence drives William Afton insane.

He remembered the first day he hired you. You were just a young woman in university looking forward to this internship with a good hourly wage. And as time progressed, you were always this sweet and tender being for him. He loves to watch you doing your own thing, his movements furtive and unnoticed as he easily blends in with the shadowy corners of the pizzeria. He was intrigued about the fascination you have for his animatronics and their quirky mechanics. Perhaps you were just as gullible as his other child victims who were too late to realize his creations were actually killer machines.

However, William’s thirsty murder drive wasn’t as insatiable for you compared to the mindless little children in his pizzeria. Your curiosity was just too adorable to him that it makes him sexually enraged sometimes. There was something about an alluring woman like you that crawled under his skin, riling him up to corrupt the dark depths of your mind. Make him own you, use you, and just ruin you as his precious little whore.

And that’s when he designed the Vanny mask. A special mask created with the augumented glitchtrap virus that mind controls and corrupts whoever wears it. Just thinking about you being completely under his control, your sharp-witted brain clouded with desire and devotion for him, and only him, made him lose his mind.

It was closing time and all the guests were gone for the night. You were powering off all the beloved animatronics in the parts and service room, ready to go home and finish your assignments. But it wasn’t until William’s shadow overtook your peripheral vision, noticing him leaning against the doorframe with a gentle, nurturing smile on his face.

“Working late again?” he coaxed, the husk in his voice sending a shiver coursing down your spine. You must admit, Mr. Afton is a very fine man for his age despite the huge age gap. Your eyes furtively glide up his arms from his rolled up purple dress shirt, taking in his firm biceps and his entire muscle structure almost visible. Attractive, veiny arms and elegant, clean hands with long, slender fingers— you had to quickly glance away before you got caught staring.

“Sorry. You know how much I love to spend time with the animatronics. Especially Foxy and Bonnie,” you beamed.

“And for that, you’ve been doing such a good job so far. Such a smart girl, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Mr. Afton,” you chuckled nervously, feeling your heart race erratically from his enticing compliment.

William waits for you as you pack up your things for the night to clock out and close the pizzeria with him. But deep down, he couldn’t control himself around you, his gaze growing darker from the morbid thought of physically digging through that pretty brain of yours and rewiring it like how he designs his killer animatronics and their broken little souls to obey him and only him. He had this gripping addiction for you, surrounding him with this madness to fucking chain up your innocence and corrupt you.

He couldn’t wait to reveal the beautiful surprise he has for you in his office.

You finally have your stuff, ready to go home for the night. “Alright, Mr. Afton. I’ll be on my way now. You have a goodnight!”

“Oh, wait—!” he suddenly sputtered, catching up to you before opening the door and escaping him. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I have something cool I need to show you in my office, if you don’t mind. It’s a nice surprise just for being my favorite intern here.”

The way you raised your brows and widened your eyes was so oddly adorable to him. “A surprise? Aw, you didn’t have to!”

“No, no. For your wonderful service, I felt inclined to reward you with something cool. You go on right ahead into my office and take a peak. Apologies for, uh, making you stay a little longer just as you were about to leave.”

You couldn’t help but oblige, falling right into William’s trap just like that. An innocent surprise, just how could you resist that from your boss that you were secretly crushing on? As you sauntered down the dimly lit checkered hallway into his office, you slowly open the door and noticed a white rabbit mask laying right in the middle of his mahogany desk.

It all felt so odd at first. As if something was amiss. Usually his computer and paperwork would be disorganized right on this desk, but his office was entirely cleaned out. Were you in the right room? You were sure that this was his office, the same office where he conducted your interview and got you started with your onboarding when you got hired. The same office that he invited you in for coffee and discussing about your career and pursuing your major. Frazzled with confusion and slightly perplexed of the changes and the way the air felt ever so slightly thicker and ominous, you couldn’t help but feel drawn into the mask.

There was a purple glow coming from the eyes of the rabbit mask, prompted to reach out to it and run your finger down the mask. Something about it was reeling you in, luring you into a trance that you dropped your backpack onto the floor. No matter what, your gaze couldn’t leave the mask as you stared into its eyes, utterly hypnotizing you. Then you slowly picked it up and turned it around, suddenly wincing in pain when you see the wicked purple glowing code, the cryptic symbols, and foreign arcane patterns.

Ensnared by the hypnotic patterns, it feels as if you completely lost your sense of self and became increasingly disconnected from this reality, transpiring around you. You inch the rabbit mask closer to you, the hypnotic and corrupt coding overwriting your willpower and invading you tremendously like a virus. And once the mask settles into your face, you were no longer yourself.

New user detected.

Pairing occipital transponder.

Stay calm.

This won’t hurt a bit.

You let out a yelp from a dull throb as you were helplessly consumed by this malicious coding, this malware literally brainwashing you like cables and wires attaching to your occipital lobe. At first your visual perception and your visuospatial processing were completely altered until the malware spread into other regions of your brain, specifically your hypothalamus ansa lenticularis and pallidum; where your sexual desire is mediated. It was like a vise tightening around your temples, each squeeze sending waves of sharp, pulsing pain through your fragile skull. Your coherence became fragmented. Your agony was also amplified. But these invasive commands from the virus seared into your consciousness, suffocating you with this tremendous amount of lust pooling in your brain.

William was standing by the doorframe again, watching you with a wicked smirk as you tried to rip the Vanny mask off your face, stumbling on some thick wires on the floor and falling when your balance and coordination faltered. You started screaming in terror, begging for somebody to help get this device off of you. But William couldn’t help but get turned on, and watching you scream and cry for mercy as the glitchtrap virus, the malware he programmed and created himself, corrupted you so beautifully to become his precious possession and own you forever.

When you managed to get back on your feet, William roughly grabs you by the neck from behind and snatches the mask off of you, forcing you in place when you tried to run. You panted heavily, your fear provoking the man wis=th a rush of arousal shooting inside him. He loved hearing your squeals and your cries, muffled by his large hands. It was just too precious; you, an unsullied young woman, playing right into his hands.

“Where do you think you’re going, my sweet?” he taunted in your ears, having to hold onto you tighter and suffocate you the more you squirmed. “You know that you’re under my control now, right? You can’t think for yourself anymore. You only obey.”

Your head still throbbed in pain from the virus spreading into your brain, trying to grasp onto your coherence and the ability to get ahold of yourself before it was too late. Fear, misery, and agony kept flinching inside you. You were in no position to defend yourself even if you had the physical strength to fight for your life. But the betrayal— the utter betrayal of your boss, Mr. William Afton, a man you admired for so long as your mentor, shattered you completely.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to have you like this,” his breathless voice fills your ears. “No one would ever take a smart woman like you seriously here. No one except me. Don’t you realize I was the only person that was fond of you? Nobody would even talk to you.”

With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape William’s grasp, but your struggle was to no avail. “Please— please,“ you choked out, “don’t do this— I swear, I won’t tell—“

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you.” He slapped his hand over your mouth, subtly growling when he felt his cock grow harder from the fear and terror overtaking you that it brought you to tears. “You’re all mine to do with as I desire now, you understand? You’ll be my precious fucktoy from now on.”

How he loved hearing your muffled squeals, your pleads, and your cries for the first time, echoing off the walls of the pizzeria just like the rest of the kids he murdered right in this office not that long ago. But it was not his plan to kill you specifically tonight.

Because once that virus engraves in your brain permanently, you’ll belong to him forever.

There was still fear seizing within you that you started drowning in your own insanity. But soon it was invaded with an odd feeling of arousal— This painful grasp he had on you started to bloom an irresistible throbbing in your cunt, waking your body into a new sensation you’ve never endured in your life. As if the virus was rousing your soul, sedating you with pleasure, burning like acid. The way William was able to taunt you and torture you emotionally and physically had you succumbing to him, right at his command, taking every twisted thing he ever said and rewiring your brain to take it as a good thing.

“Aw, look at you. Did your sensitivity increase when I hold you like this?” The way he shamelessly cups your breasts, massaging them ever so gently had you trapped in this menacing ecstasy. A consuming, yet flagrant wrath that overflowed you. He violated your brain and you had no control of your coherence. You can’t decide what was right or wrong for you anymore; only William can do that.

Obsession. Obedience. Something so incessant, like this maddening hunger and desire, filled your body to the brim. You felt filthy. Nasty. Like a lost little rabbit caught in the woods by a big bad wolf, you were the prey. There was this erratic pounding in your cunt the more his hands roamed about your sensitive body— it was enough to make you limp like a toy for him to play with. He grabs your uniform and rips it open to expose your breasts, your nipples more tender as he plays with them.

“Look at you. It didn’t take long for the effects to kick in,” he chuckles. “Do you wanna know what’s happening to your body? My Glitchtrap virus not only brainwashed you, but rendered parts of your brain with aphrodisiac.”

Your eyes started to sulk, unable to speak properly but only whimper and moan softly from the way he toys with your body. “You’re gonna be my pretty, obedient little whore from now on,” the man continued. “Your memories will be wiped. You can’t make decisions for yourself anymore. You’re only useful to me when I fuck you in this office…”

“…and when I use you to kill more kids for me.”

He abruptly forces you down onto his desk, pressing your face against the wooden surface while taking your limp hands and bounding you behind your back with his belt so swiftly. Usually you’d be afraid. Usually you would be struck by terror from the way he handled you so aggressively in a helpless, futile state. But this virus, this aphrodisiac, rather, had you turned on so much that you couldn’t see straight. It felt like the inner whore in you awakened, and your poor aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing from how needy and slutty you really are for him.

His pants were undone while yours was pulled down just below your ass. William felt his cock stirring from the way you arched your back so perfectly for him, showing your ass off for him to toy with and slap. Your mind couldn’t stop screaming, internally begging for him to be inside your cunt already; and immediately he could tell how desperate you became kust from how you backed your ass up onto him to feel the tip of his cock. How you were so needy for friction, for the sensation, that a whine escapes your lips it urged him to slap your ass again.

“Use your words, pretty whore,” he snarked. “Before you were just my innocent little intern and now you’re my greedy little bitch who’s good for nothing but a fuck. Might have to fuck you extra hard just to see your limit with that virus.”

“Mm— please fuck me, Mr. Afton,” you slurred, almost drooling on his desk as he kept your head pinned down. “Please fuck me… like your pretty little whore.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming for you to say that, darling.”

This wild ecstasy was fulfilling William, like an insatiable hunger and frenzy slowly growing to its peak. He slides his cock deep into your soppy cunt, letting out a low grunt from the way your walls clenched so tight on him. You let out a loud cry; he was so big that it was too painful. But how merciful of him to let you adjust for awhile, right before he pulls out and slams into you again. It was so sloppy, so filthy, and so messy as he starts to pick up his speed, grunting with each thrust that your pain warred with pleasure.

No rational thought formed in your head; only unintelligent and pathetic moans from the way your boss was fucking you so hard and rough on his desk with your hands bound behind your back. Though you struggled to accommodate to his size, the virus was strong enough to make you succumb to the pleasure. His strokes were so rough, so savage, that you were already reduced to a wreck. You couldn’t get enough of this mind-numbing pleasure, it’s like you could see stars fly past your eyes. And not only did William bask in the beautiful sight of corrupting you like this— oh, he fucking loved the way your cunt felt. It was so perfect; molding it to the shape of his cock for him to use.

“Dripping all over my cock now, huh? Beg me to make you come. I need to hear you,” he taunts, his voice so terse it made your cunt throb involuntary.

“I— I wanna come all over your cock, sir,” you whined, eyes welling with blissful tears. “Please make me come. Use me all you want. I’m yours.”

“Fuck.” William threw his head back and gave a guttural groan, fucking into you much faster and that your body and mind spiked with pleasure. “I love when my pretty slut knows her place.”

Your turmoil has spiraled into shameless arousal, taking every harsh thrust of his cock hitting your g-spot so good that not only did it stimulate your cunt, but your brain. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes and face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension. You loved it. You fucking enthralled in it. His rough hands on you, his savage strokes, his cruelty to you. How he managed to uncover your salacity, your forbidden desire of being bound and fucked this way like a nymphomaniac.

The thought of him brainwashing you as his free use fuckslut and his experiment, his prodigy just to kill innocent people for him… your brain became number and number, as if your orgasm completely sedated you. You let out a scream, clutching your fists for your dear life and squirming in his grip as you came so hard on his desk, your pussy erratically pounding and squeezing on his cock that it made William come inside you, pumping every load into you. You’ve lost the feeling in your thighs, trembling with every harsh smack of his hips against your ass as he fills you. Hard, deep thrusts that nudges right up against that spongey, sensitive spot inside. Your brain falls so foggy as you were at your limit, but you knew deep down that he wasn’t done with you.

William pulls out slow, eyes never leaving your pussy just to see it flexing over nothing like you were yearning for that feeling of fullness again, seeing ropes of his cum leaking out. This is all he wanted for so long— fucking you until you reach your limit and filling you with his cum all the way to the brim— all while brainwashing you to obey every command of his and doing most of his dirty work for him.

“I have been dreaming of having you like this the moment I hired you,” he spoke ominously, grabbing the mask just to abruptly shove it back onto your face as if he was downing you with a drug. “It was so fascinating to see; how I managed to control you by a virus I made. I can just taste the fear in you, and I turned that fear into pleasure…”

“…You belong to me now. I will never let you go.”

It’s a shame, how you’ll never be the same person you were before. How you’re reduced as nothing but William’s pet, having no control over your own life and using you for his entertainment, pleasure, and satisfaction. Sure, you’ll be able to live a normal life as if nothing happened; going back home to friends and family with no memory of what happened, until the corrupted emails with malware that William sends to you fucks with your brain, which was heavily prone to his psychological tortures and manipulations.

Some coworkers noticed. Some coworkers didn’t care. The difference in your personality, your attitude, your demeanor. How you’re exhibiting these vacant, yet glazed expressions at work, and the way how you spoke was either monotonous or overly compliant. But the moment William calls you into his office after hours, all that turmoil and agitation suddenly becomes your pleasure.

A few months later, missing children reports were spreading like wildfire. And though the police couldn’t find any evidence against William Afton or within every inch of the pizzeria, it was all you; hiding in your handmade white rabbit suit with patches and stitches all over, made of patterned fabrics of grey and black. How you easily lured kids into the parts and service room, murdering them either one by one or altogether in a group.

Vanny was now your new identity. Your new life.

A life you would not give anything else in the world for, as long as William rewards you.

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[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. The nearest exit will be on your left. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. will be cross- posted on my ao3 soon.

𖤐 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @isuckatmakingusernamess @lik0 @shintax-error @alittletiredcry @imkrul @ggukiespace @writtenbyawoman @bigg1ow @slutforaz @dorkszn @unknown-borealis @doestalker @ghostlvmi @deftoneslut004 @yongi-lee @onyxxtheghost @mostamazingpersonevr @theslashofafton83 @isfleur @satxoru @noisydelusionlove

[genshin-impact-updates]

August New Products Released in Genshin Impact's Official Amazon Merchandise Store!

Hello, Traveler!

A variety of new Genshin Impact merchandise is now available in our official Amazon store!

The new products include practical products such as the Xiao Impression Apparel Series Messenger Bag, "Fragrance in Thaw" Hu Tao Themed Mechanical Keyboard, and more character versions of the Day of Destiny Series Coasters and Bordered Posters.

The "Fragrance in Thaw" Hu Tao 1/7 Scale Figure and Dress-Up Dreams Themed Chibi Series Figures are also officially available for pre-order.

Also, special promotion discounts will be available for selected items. Don't miss out!

Visit the store to find out more products and promotion details.

〓Promotion Duration〓

08/23/2024 00:00:00 – 08/31/2024 23:59:59 (PST)