#sprinkling machine

[oasisirrigationequipment]

When it comes to agricultural appliances, you will find a wide variety. These are primarily used to enhance farming production and ensure the healthy growth of crops. From irrigation to dust suppression, you will find devices with specific operations. Among them, impact sprinklers have a significance of their own. 

[beannary]

little doodle of Mikey looking at some normal box turtles :)

[eemoo1o]

Holt is actually so Queen coded actually

[sireington]

DOOMBOTS concept

— Everyday is the last day here —

In an unknown, distant future, the remains of earth are stuck in an infinite loop where everyday is doomsday, red skies over everything as its inhabitants struggle to make something out of a life where everything ends with pain and starts over again. Pure humans, the ones that are mainly biological have seemingly abandoned their planet or disappeared, machines, robots, automatons, and highly evolved cyborgs being the only things left. These are the doombots.

So far the only defined character I have in this world is Allmaster Rix, a sort of stoic automaton that acts as king of a faction.

The doombots are prone to infighting, with cyborgs being one of the most separated groups as they are driven the most by their emotions. I’m sure being one of the last biological beings in this world would make them want to stay away.

Some bots have become insane or mindless beasts that tear apart whatever comes into their view. Of course, the loop makes it impossible for one to be permanently dead within the world of the doombots. Very few cyborgs become maddened, and most of the time they can snap out of their crazed rampage once the loop resets. It’s more rare for a maddened bot to gain back its sanity.

Some parts of the remains of earth (the doombot world) become more unfitting for surviving as a day goes on. Some caves may freeze over until the metal of your body becomes brittle and some vital motor becomes stuck. Some places simply quake so much that you easily fall into a ravine. They worst of places are the ones where the atmosphere is so weak that the brightness and burning heat of the sun becomes to much, eventually overwhelming the cooling system and overheating. If your alloys and systems are strong enough, you might survive longer, but eventually you will melt and your body’s integrity and strength will falter as it melts and breaks apart.

ya’ll can play and do stuff with this comment or whatever. Please. With sprinkles on top.

[accultant]

What's usually on your shopping list?

"I frequently need to replace my ink and pen nibs from the amount of writing I do in my diary journals. I usually need a new one of those, too, as they tend to fill up fairly quick. I don't eat meat when I can help it, so food-wise, I'll usually try to stock up on nonperishables for the necessity of being on the road, and produce for something actually enjoyable. I like to keep apples... they're nice with a little honey drizzled on top. Oh- that reminds me, I'm almost out of honey, aren't I?" It seems they've moved on to talking to themselves now as they pull out one of those aforementioned journals and continue making a shopping list, having completely forgotten your presence. "Some brie, maybe... And a new ball for Scratch, the beast has torn it to shreds and is playing with Puck's skull collection instead..."

[sillywabbits]

Trick or treat! :3

An underrated treat for you! :D 🍫🌨️✨

[luv-again]

i'm so out of it that idek how shadamy leaning i wanna make this fic. ofc, the intention is These Two but how romancey do i wanna go ? and should i even be if amy's lowkey in a mood ?

[doodle17]

Almost finished with Dark Revival (im not prepared for the final boss Wilson gonna beat my ass). I'll amdit playing it is a way different experience than watching. Definitely much more entertaining and terrifying! Still wouldn't call it a horror though... Kind of like the first game, I think they lean more on the thriller side of things. Which is good because I always preferred thrillers over horror anyways :)

I gotta admit, the first 3 chapters and the first half of 4 were astounding, but the rest? Honestly feels like such wasted potential... (the ending was pretty rad tho I will not lie) Seriously, why would they have us go to CHAPTER ONE OF INK MACHINE and have it be revealed that Henry ISNT Audrey's dad??? Come onnnnn man they should've let me make the lore I have way better ideas

On the bright side though, my yearly Bendy Binge(tm) has made me take a look at an old fic I've wanted to work on but haven't had the motivation for.

[gmanmedias]

SCOUTING FOR TROUPE MEMBERS!

👑 👑 👑

💙 💙 💙

🎊 🎊 🎊

[taintedpastries]

Visited the mall!! T

the ice cream was 6/10

Shame it was just vanilla but still cool

[dandyshucks]

i wish guz was real so he could go get soft serve ice cream for us to eat and then hug me so tightly shdhfjl

[scpwiki-official]

I think wiki!clef would crumble appon listening to the playlist we made for sillyverse!clef

[eccleraprisma]

went to the pride festival in my area today and i felt loved welcome and celebrated. saw a lot of joy, a lot for love a lot of expression a lot of cute dogs. a lot of queer theology thoughts coming up in the next few days once my mind takes the thought vegetables and makes them into insight soup

[thebestsetter]

Sae's nutritionist has been having a hard time ever since the athlete started a family with you.

Sae has always followed his diets strictly. Never ate chocolate, avoided sugar the best he could and mainly ate only fruits and vegetables. His behavior was always praised by all his nutritionists because of how easy it was working with him.

Sae started to "disobey" his diet when he moved in with you.

It all started when you began to cook him lunch for after morning practice. You knew he had to follow a strict diet, so you never made something too unhealthy. Sometimes, you even sneaked some sweet treats for him, but it was too little to do any harm, so his doctor just pretended not to notice it.

But this?? This was too much.

"Sae-kun" he said, pointing at the pink princess pot on Sae's hands "W-what is this?"

"My daughter packed my lunch today" Sae smiled softly, just like he always did when talking about you or your daughter. The doctor would've thought the whole ordeal was cute, if not for what was inside the pot: a box orange juice you buy on those vending machines (it's orange color was almost radioactive. God knows how much sugar there is in it), a (very) poorly made pink cupcake, with rainbow sprinkles all over it; and scrambled eggs (thank God at least one healthy thing).

"You can't possibly be thinking about eating this" his doctor deadpanned, but quickly added "T-the cupcake and the juice, I mean. The eggs are fine"

Sae's smile instantly fell, and he stared at the nutritionist with a frown

"What's wrong with my daughter's food?" It wasn't a question. Sae was daring the doctor to say something bad about the cupcake his sweet, lovely daughter made, staring at him with a cold and almost dangerous gaze.

The poor doctor should've stopped there. He really should have. But if he let Sae eat this Chernobyl looking cupcake, he might as well just throw his nutrition degree on the nearest trash can.

"It's not good for your health" the nutritionist said, staring at the Cinderella that was painted on the top of the pot "As an athlete, you know it's important to lose old eating habits. You can't eat this."

Sae stared at the doctor for what felt like centuries, but finally looked at the cupcake and carefully picked it up, holding it in his hands like it was the most valuable thing he ever held.

The way his gaze softened just by looking at that sorry excuse of a pantry almost scared the doctor. One second, he was looking at him with what could only be described as pure hatred. The other, he was looking at an ugly cupcake like it was a masterpiece.

Anyways, Sae's doctor was just glad this was over with. Itoshi obviously was going to throw the cupcake away, eat the eggs, and just order something else to compliment his lunch. It would all be okay.

Or so he thought .

"You know" Sae started, peeling the paper that was carefully wrapped around the sweet treat "It's interesting that you talk about losing"

"Why?" The doctor asked, not really liking Sae's voice

Sae stared at the man for a while, then slowly looked at the cupcake and brought it up to his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he stopped and stared at the man again

"Cause you just lost your job"

"What?"

"You're not deaf" Sae said "You're fired. Grab your stuff and get out of my sight"

"You can't do that!" The doctor screamed at him, which only made Sae roll his eyes

"I can and I did. Out. Now."

The nutritionist knew it was useless arguing with the stoic Sae Itoshi. With a sigh, he turned away from the player to go and collect his belongings

"Just one more thing before you go"

He heard Sae say, which urged him to turn around. The moment he laid his eyes on Itoshi, the footballer took a bite out of the pink cupcake

"This is fucking delicious."

The doctor would NEVER eat a cupcake in his life again.

Masterlist

[yjhgvf]

... I feel called out by that last part /nm

i just love that there's a fandom for a lot of kids shows down here. gives me more fandom lore to follow. i especially love the ones where the shows like for preschoolers and this one madman comes along and makes a whole in depth au for the show where everyone has a non canon compliant angsty backstory and stuff.

[luv-lock]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ ꜰ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Platonic Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: You were his daughter, his first child. But he lost you too soon. And he couldn't accept it, so he didn't. He tried to replace you, and replacing you he did.

Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! Reader is Bruce's blood daughter. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were only eight years old. A quiet child who wore your heart on your sleeve but never demanded too much from anyone. A child with shining eyes who only ever wanted her father’s attention. You understood he was busy. You understood he had responsibilities far greater than you could fathom. So, you never asked for much.

When Alfred bought you a new dress, you’d wear it and twirl in front of the mirror, hoping your father might notice. When you drew pictures, pouring every ounce of love you had into them, you’d approach him with trembling hands.

“Daddy, look!” you’d chirp, only for him to mutter, “Not now,” without even glancing up.

Tears would gather in your eyes, but you’d smile. “That’s okay. I understand.”

You always understood.

It was your birthday. You didn’t tell him you wanted a party because you didn’t want to bother him. But Alfred helped you bake a cake. You decorated it yourself with little shaky hands, frosting it with bright colors and sprinkles.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” you asked Alfred, your eyes wide with hope.

“He will love it, Miss Y/N,” Alfred replied softly, his heart aching at the way you tried so hard to make up for Bruce’s absence.

But Bruce didn’t come home that night. When you asked him earlier to come home early, he looked distracted, his mind already on his mission. He muttered something about being busy, about Gotham needing him, and you nodded,

But it still broke your heart.

That night, while Gotham reeled under the threat of Joker’s latest atrocity, you snuck out. The small, homemade cake you had baked with Alfred was carefully packed in a box, your hands clutching it tightly as you walked through the shadowy streets. You had no fear. You only had a singular purpose: find your father and surprise him.

But Gotham is no place for children.

When the explosion shook the city, it ripped through buildings, shattering windows, and collapsing walls. You were caught in the chaos. Your small body was no match for the blast. You died alone, crushed beneath rubble, the cake splattered on the pavement beside you.

Bruce found you hours later.

The world seemed to stop as he knelt beside your bloodied, broken body. The cake splattered and ruined beside you. Your tiny hands were burnt, your face pale and lifeless. You had tears streaked down your cheeks, and Bruce wondered if you had been crying for him when it all happened.

The weight of his failures crushed him more than the rubble ever could. You had been so kind, so sweet, so pure. And now you were gone.

Because of him.

Bruce didn’t sleep for weeks. He didn’t eat. He barely spoke. He couldn’t. He just sat in the Batcave, staring at the empty chair where you used to sit and draw while he worked.

Alfred buried you. Bruce didn’t even have the strength to carry your casket. The guilt was too much.

But guilt wasn’t enough to keep him from trying to bring you back.

In the bowels of the Batcave, he poured years of his life into creating a perfect replica of you. Not just a clone. Not a hologram. Something more advanced, more real. An AI. A machine with your face, your voice, your mannerisms.

He painstakingly programmed every little detail. The way you hummed softly when you were deep in thought. The little “buh” sound you made with your lips when you were bored. The sparkle in your eyes when you smiled. He sifted through every recording, every memory, and built you piece by piece.

He spent years, decades, building and perfecting it. He wanted it to be so real that it could almost convince him you never died.

He kept you a secret from everyone except Alfred, who watched his master spiral deeper into madness. But Alfred could do nothing to stop him.

And then, one day, Damian found you.

Damian had been exploring the Batcave when he stumbled upon a locked chamber. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hacked his way inside.

You were there.

Sitting upright in a glass pod, your eyes closed, your body eerily still. You looked alive.

Damian touched the console, and the pod began to hum. Your eyes fluttered open for the first time in decades.

“Daddy?”

Your voice was soft, delicate, and full of confusion.

Damian stared, wide-eyed, as Bruce burst into the room, his face pale. For a moment, father and son locked eyes, the weight of the secret between them heavy enough to crush mountains.

But you sat up, looking around, your movements jerky and inhumanly precise. You looked exactly as you did the last time he saw you—a little girl with bright eyes and a sweet smile.

“Daddy?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.

Bruce froze, fear and grief washing over him like a tidal wave. You blinked at him, your expression innocent, unknowing. You didn’t understand why he was crying, why his hands trembled as he reached out to touch you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, confused. “Sorry for what, Daddy?”

“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was crying. “Why are you sad, Daddy?”

When Damian confronted Bruce, it all came out—the years of guilt,

“She’s not real,” Damian said, his voice sharp. “This isn’t healthy.”

“She is real,” Bruce snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s my daughter.”

Damian didn’t understand until he saw you again. You smiled at him, sweet and kind, and for a moment, he believed it. You were so lifelike, so real.

At first, Damian was wary of you, but he couldn’t deny that you were… convincing. You played with your toys like a child. You laughed just like the sister he never knew.

But there was something off about you. Something unsettling.

You were too perfect. Too aware. Your mind was faster than any human’s. You solved puzzles and answered questions before Damian could even finish asking them. Your laughter, though sweet, sometimes echoed hollowly in the Batcave, sending chills down his spine.

And then, one night, you attacked him.

He had been training in the Batcave when you approached him, your face eerily serene.

“Damian,” you said, your voice as calm as ever, “Do you love Daddy?”

He frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you hurt him?”

Before he could respond, you lunged. Your small frame belied your strength, your hands locking around his throat with a grip that could crush steel. Damian struggled, managing to throw you off just in time.

Bruce arrived moments later, pulling you back. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You simply tilted your head, watching Damian with cold, analytical eyes.

“I was just protecting Daddy,” you said softly.

Bruce couldn’t see it. To him, you were still the little girl he lost. The little girl he failed to protect. He ignored the warnings, the cracks in your programming, the danger you posed.

Because he loved you.

And you loved him, in the only way a machine could. But at the end of the day, you were a construct. A hollow imitation of the daughter he lost.

You would never truly be her.

But Bruce didn’t care. Even as Damian begged him to shut you down, even as Alfred looked on in silent disapproval, Bruce clung to you.

Because in his mind, losing you again was a pain he couldn’t endure.

And you?

You sat in your little room in the Batcave, humming softly, your lifeless eyes staring at the wall. You didn’t understand why everyone looked at you with such fear.

After all, you were Y/N.

Right?

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.