#Capsule Counter Machine

[adinathinternationalindia]

Semi Automatic Capsule Counter Machine

Semi-automatic capsule counter machine counts and fills pre-measured capsules into bottles, jars, and pouches. It also has a semi-automatic capsule counter. Various counts for varying capsule sizes can be provided based on the specific needs of each user. It’s interesting to note that this capsule counting machine can fill and count tablets with an extra disc in the same machine. This machine is also known as a semi-automatic tablet counter machine for this reason.

The capsule counter and filling machine is a disc-based device that conforms with cGMP regulations because the disk is made of food-grade materials. The likelihood of contamination is quite low. A specially made vibrator assembly is available in a dish to fully settle capsules into the disc’s holes. It’s interesting that the machine has both an auto and a foot pedal-operated manual mode for multitasking. With its cutting-edge technology, robust construction, and affordable costs, Adinath is among the top producers of capsule counter machines in India.

[seekingthestars]

i went to this anime/video game store today and they had the Pokemon Fantasy Closet kuji (this one) and i decided on a whim to get a ticket (literally as i was checking out). i was thinking i'd pull like...a keychain or one of the G/H level prizes bc i don't usually win drawings like that lol and there's a much slimmer chance of winning the top prizes anyway.

so i paid then went over and stuck my hand in the box and pulled a ticket outta the middle of the ticket pile and opened it up and IT WAS AN A PRIZE TICKET?? i pulled the TOP PRIZE!!!! look him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my beautiful soft squishy huggable laying down pika baby with the cute wink and the bow on his tail :'DDDD i LOVE him 🥺

anyway i cannot BELIEVE i won top prize when i just bought a ticket on a whim. i went in with absolutely zero expectations and walked out with such a cute new friend, i'm happyyyyy 🥹🫶

[schakira]

@aultaine exactly!!! while it's relatively harmless compared to other drugs, it's just weird to me to be so dependent on consuming it day in and day out. think of the money you spend on coffee! and imagine one day you can't get it anymore! you're gonna be feeling terrible headaches, mood swings and sluggishness on top of everything else. you're letting your life be mildly dictated by a brown drink... think about it! release yourself!!

the older i get, the more i am surrounded by people with a caffeine addiction and it's honestly so crazy. some of y'all really cannot function without coffee for a day... that's not normal!

[heich0e]

Inquiring minds would like to know the circumstances behind Endo meeting his son twice 🎤

the first time, you begged yamato to meet kosuke.

part of you hoped—foolishly, naively—that maybe this would be the opportunity to change things. that maybe seeing that sweet little baby—who looks so much like him, with the same mop of curly hair, the same nose, and the same dark, wispy eyelashes—might be the thing that convinced him that this (that you, and kosuke, and your life together) was all worth it.

endo shows up to the coffee shop you'd asked him to meet you at more than half an hour late. kosuke has fallen asleep in his pram after fussing for a bit since you'd gotten dangerously close to his usual nap time. the ice in the drink you'd ordered when you first arrived has mostly melted in the afternoon sun, though the beverage is still largely untouched.

yamato doesn't apologize. doesn't offer any excuse for his tardiness either. he asks if you're going to finish your drink, and when you say no he starts slurping it back.

he seems hungover—you've seen it enough times to tell. his hair is tousled in a way that tells you he only just rolled out of bed even though it's past midday, and you don't doubt he's dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before. you try not to focus on the lovebite you can see at the base of his throat.

he barely casts a glance at the infant dozing peacefully in the stroller next to you—his eyes focusing primarily on the neckline of your shirt and the post-partum swell of your chest. he slumps back in his seat as he chews idly on the straw of your drink, the quintessential image of a man who finds all of this a chore rather than an opportunity.

the two of you don't say much in the brief meeting, but it's enough to tell you everything you need to know.

he doesn't once hold his son. never so much as touches him.

the second time yamato meets him is an unfortunate accident.

kosuke spent the afternoon at your parents house since you had to work late. your mother picked him up from preschool, and you went to your childhood home to collect him once you were finally done your work for the day.

your parents had already taken care of feeding kosuke dinner, all you'd need to do once you arrive home is get him into his pyjamas and tuck him into bed, but you hadn't had the chance to eat all day and figured a quick trip to the convenience store wouldn't be too off course on your way home with your son.

you pick up a few simple, easy things for dinner from the refrigerated section and a carton of milk for kosuke's breakfast the next morning. at your side in the checkout line, kosuke holds your hand that's not toting the plastic shopping basket, telling you little bits of his day at school—while occasionally glancing longingly at the capsule toy machine by the door in a way that you're sure he thinks you don't notice.

"ume-sensei said that the sunfowlers will be opened up next week," kosuke says, his little fingers squeezing yours excitedly. the way he mispronounces flowers makes your heart flutter fondly. "he even said i can bring one home for you, mama, but that i gotta keep it secret."

you trap a giggle in your throat and squeeze your little boy's hand twice.

"i can't wait to see it."

"they're reallllly tall too! not as tall as ume-sensei though..." kosuke trails off thoughtfully as he reflects upon the garden and the young man who tends to it so diligently.

"well, umemiya sensei is pretty tall himself," you note, and from the corner of your eye you see the customer in front of you take their shopping bag of purchases and move towards the exit. you take a step towards the register. "it's no surprise that—"

before you can place your shopping basket on the counter, a figure cuts in front of you in line. at your side, kosuke bumps face-first into your leg, not expecting your sudden stop—you glance down immediately, checking to make sure he's all right. he seems fine, though a little stunned, and you immediately look towards the back of the man who cut in front of you so rudely.

"add a pack of mevius super lights, too."

the sound of the man in front of you's voice makes your stomach plummet and your grip on kosuke's little hand tighten.

the cashier behind the counter is clearly shocked by how rudely the man had stepped in front of you, and hesitates even after hearing the customer's abrasive request. the boy in the polyester uniform vest is young, probably no older than 20, and he looks at you apologetically from the other side of the till. irritated by the cashier's delay, the customer standing between you turns around to follow his gaze.

yamato's eyes meet yours for the first time in three years, and for a moment it's like everything stops.

"oh," he says after a moment, an uncharacteristic look of surprise on his (still infuriatingly handsome) face. that momentary expression melts into something more familiar, more befittingly smug. "long time no see."

your lips, teeth and tongue are suddenly mutinous—refusing to give shape to any words. your brain isn't offering any particular defence to this uprising, anyway: words are utterly beyond you as you stare at him blankly.

kosuke crowds closer to your legs, shifting slightly behind you in the way he tends to around people he doesn't recognize, and the familiar weight and warmth of his little body clinging to you grounds you in that moment. you're suddenly snapped out of your stupor.

you turn away from endo, crouching down to your son's level.

"kosuke," you say softly, brushing some of his dark curls back from his eyes. you fish a couple of 100 yen coins out from your coat pocket and press them into your son's little palm. "why don't you go see if you can get that toy you've been trying for from the capsule machine while mama checks out?"

kosuke's eyes go wide as he stares down at the money and he nods, hesitating only for a moment before he skitters over to the vending machine near the doors—his rain boots pitter-pattering against the convenience store's tiled floors as he goes.

"shit, he got big," yamato remarks casually as kosuke walks away, and your eyes snap back to the man standing above you. he's got his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket, slouchy and hanging off one shoulder. his eyes are on kosuke as your little boy surveys the various capsule options carefully, but soon his gaze slides back to you.

you stand, returning to your full height. "he's small for his age, actually."

"how old is he now?" the comment slices at your fraying tolerance.

"four."

the least he could do is have the decency to remember when his own son was born, but you've long given up on any hopes of yamato being decent.

the cashier behind the counter seems to sense the tension between the two of you and busies himself retrieving the pack of cigarettes endo had requested. he still smokes the same brand, but that doesn't surprise you—endo yamato is unchanging in all the worst ways.

the cashier scans the the blue cigarette packet and adds it to his other purchase on the counter.

a box of condoms.

your eyes meet yamato's again.

"learned my lesson," he says to you with a blithe smile before tossing a couple of bills towards the cashier to pay for his spoils.

your teeth set on edge, anger boiling over in your core. it's not just the indignity of any implication that his benefit came at your expense that bothers you; it's the fact that your son doesn't deserve be reduced to something like a lesson for someone like him to learn from.

"charming," you hiss derisively.

yamato pockets his change and turns to you with an eyebrow quirked curiously at your tone. you can't remember ever speaking to him like that—the person he knew didn't have the nerve to. but you're not that girl anymore.

you expect him to leave now that his purchases are paid for, but that would be too easy. too kind. he lingers instead as you pay for your purchases, fishing his packet of cigarettes out from his plastic bag as you exchange brief, polite smalltalk with the cashier—who you can't help but think looks concerned for you as he looks furtively at yamato every so often. you smile at him when he hands you your shopping bag and receipt in an attempt to assuage the poor kid's apprehension, but it's as strained as the smalltalk had been.

kosuke is still mulling over his options at the capsule machines, blissfully unaware of your turmoil.

yamato uses his teeth to bite into the plastic packaging wrapped around his cigarette, peeling off the easy-tear strip once he's broken through the casing with his canine. he tears away the rest of the plastic, and it crinkles as he balls it up in his fist. you watch as he tosses it in the direction of the trashcan nearby—no more than a step or two away from where he stands—but it falls short and lands on the floor. he makes no move to pick it up, and you fight the urge to do it for him.

you were always left cleaning up yamato's messes.

but not anymore.

that's a lesson you've learned, now.

"kosuke, it's time to go," you call to your son, holding out the hand not gripping your shopping bag for dear life. your little boy looks at you with wide eyes, and then back towards the capsule machine in front of him. you watch as he hastily sticks his two shiny 100 yen coins in the machine and turns the dial, a brightly coloured plastic ball popping out of the dispenser at the bottom as you approach him.

he plucks it out from the bottom and holds it up to his face excitedly.

"is it the one you wanted?" you ask him with a smile.

kosuke peeks up at you through his lashes, and though he endeavours not to let it show you can tell he's disappointed. glancing down at the capsule in his hand you recognize a little character figurine he already has at home.

"no, but that's okay," he says, holding the plastic sphere in both his hands. "i'll bring this one to school tomorrow for ume-sensei."

"i think that's a great idea," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "you two can match."

kosuke brightens up noticeably at that suggestion and he nods, more to himself than anything, with a newfound assurance.

"that not the one the kid wanted or something?"

you freeze when you feel yamato's presence behind you, peering down to where you and kosuke are crouched in front of the capsule toy machines. kosuke shrinks into you, tucked up against your side with his toy cradled to his chest. he looks up at the man he doesn't recognize nervously.

"lemme see it." yamato holds out his hand towards kosuke, and your son buries his face into your shoulder shyly.

you sigh, a sudden ache throbbing between your ears. you scoop kosuke up into your arm, balancing him on your hip as you return to your feet. kosuke is still sticking close to you, but you can see him peeking at endo from the corner of his eye.

"doesn't he know how to talk yet?" yamato asks you, his brow furrowed slightly.

"of course he does," you say, your tone sharp even as you endeavour to keep it civil in front of your son. "kosuke's just a little... shy. especially around strangers."

"so your name's kosuke, huh?" yamato muses, another slash of that dull blade against the final threads of your patience. he didn't even remember the name of his own son. he softens his tone, his expression, his gaze—everything about him suddenly a bit gentler than it had been before, in a way that makes you feel nauseated. "can i see what toy you got there, kosuke?"

your son thinks about it for a moment, but then his little hand pops out from underneath his chest where he'd been hiding the plastic capsule against your shoulder. he offers it hesitantly to yamato, who you can tell is fighting back a self-satisfied grin. he plucks the toy from kosuke's grip, appraising the toy inside for a moment.

"hey, this is pretty cool," yamato remarks as he examines the cheap figure. "you don't want this one?"

"i've already got that one at home," kosuke replies, still notably (and rightfully) wary of the man before him.

"can i have it then?" yamato asks.

your lips part in surprise, mortified by the suggestion, but before you can argue, yamato sticks his hand into the pocket of his coat. he roots around for a moment, whatever he has in his pocket jingling noisily, before pulling out a 2,000 yen note.

"don't have any change to trade you, but you can buy yourself a couple more of these with this if you want." he holds the money out towards kosuke who seems a bit confused by the offer.

your son peeks up at you.

"can i, mama?"

you're not sure whether he's asking if what this strange man is saying is true (having little, if any, grasp on the values of goods, services, and the exchange of monetary denominations considering he's only four) or if he's asking for permission to accept the offer. you look at yamato with your eyes narrowed mistrustfully, and then back to the boy in your arms.

"weren't you gonna give what one to umemiya sensei?" you try to reason with him, inexplicably off-put by the idea of yamato giving anything to your son.

"can't i buy more with that?"

unfortunately, he has a point.

"you can buy lots more with this," yamato answers before you get the chance to—wiggling the note in his hand enticingly. "and even candy too."

kosuke's eyes widen in amazement. he hesitates for another moment, looking at you again once more, and then he reaches his little hand out for the money.

yamato can't hide his grin now. or he makes no effort to, at least.

kosuke stares at the 2,000 yen in amazement.

"thank you, mister," he says, quietly awestruck. he smiles at the man in front of him.

yamato laughs—loud and uncannily genuine in a way that makes you squirm. he reaches out and ruffles kosuke's hair in a too-familiar way, but your son is still so giddy with his riches that he doesn't even flinch.

"no problem, kid," yamato says flippantly, stuffing the cheap capsule toy into his pocket. you watch as he fishes out his cigarette pack and plucks one out, tucking it behind his ear as he pivots on his heel towards the exit. the doors slide open to let him out, and he looks over his shoulder at you just before he leaves.

you hold kosuke a bit closer to your side instinctively.

yamato smirks, his eyes crinkling up into crescents.

"see ya around!"

and the worst part is, you can tell he means it.

[chocochipsushi]

𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭?

SFW

🌸Word count: 600 words

🌸AU: your soulmate wore your Hello Kitty shirt by accident and now he doesn't want to return it

🌸Pairing: Toji x reader, SatoSugu

🌸A/N: I got the idea from this fan art that I saw and I just HAD to write this scenario!!! While writing it I thought it would act so well as an epilogue for the soulmate au!Toji piece so I decided to make it a series-ish.

<< Prequel, Part 1

“Who’s that?” Toji grumbles into your hair. 

The doorbell rings once more. You nudge his arm that is around you and mumble sleepily, “Toji, you go.”

The doorbell rings again. Groaning, Toji reluctantly gets up, extracting his arms from around you. You hear him pick up a shirt as he leaves the room. 

You’re about to fall back to sleep when you hear a screeching laughter and a bang. You’re jolted awake, so suddenly that you force yourself to get up out of bed. You stumble upon the closest clothing apparel and wear it, letting it engulf you. You leave your room haphazardly, wearing a shirt that is definitely not yours. 

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and notice belatedly that you have guests streaming into your apartment, namely Satoru and Suguru. They’re doubling over in laughter, almost falling to their knees as they take their shoes off. 

You’re listless as you watch them guffawing and crying, wondering what on earth they’re on about, until Toji shuts the door and turns around scratching the back of his head. The tight shirt he is wearing rides up and shows off his abs, catching you off guard. You blink again and scan your eyes slowly over his body, noticing how the sleeves of his top cling to his biceps. Not to forget the stretched out Hello Kitty face on the fabric. 

Once again, it takes you a while to realise that he is wearing your pajama top. It doesn’t help that the two of you had worn a matching set of pink Hello Kitty PJ bottoms you’d bought so Toji literally has on a full complete outfit. 

You clap your hand over your mouth to try to hide your smile. Toji narrows his eyes on you. He stares down at his pecs and starts pulling on the shirt. When he realises what the cause of Satoru’s and Suguru’s laughing fit was, he lets out the loudest, most defeated groan. You giggle behind your palm. 

“I’d thought I was getting bigger,” he grumbles. 

This only throws Satoru and Suguru into another bout of laughter. They’re even rolling on the ground. Toji, surprisingly, doesn't even take the shirt off as he steps over his friends and walks to the kitchen to make some coffee. You can see his midriff from how small the top is. 

Going over to him, you look up at him focusing on making coffee. “Wanna switch, Toji?”

“Hmm?” he hums lazily. 

He places a cup under the drip of the machine and pops the capsule in. Finally, while his coffee is being prepared, he leans his hip against the counter and turns to you. He eyes you up and down, taking in the image of his usually body-hugging t-shirt loose on you, making you look so small and soft and safe. 

He turns the corners of his scarred lips down and shakes his head. “Nah. I like this shirt.”

You give him a look as you try to fight off your laughter. “My Hello Kitty shirt?”

Toji gives you another once over. Messy bed hair, sleepy eyes, pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, and his oversized black t-shirt. “Yep,” he confirms. “You can have my shirt.”

You chuckle and place your hands on his exposed stomach, sliding your palms up his abs slightly as you move slightly closer. You tip your toes and murmur cheekily, “You look so sexy, Toji. You should wear crop tops more often.”

Toji suddenly grabs a fistful of your shirt and pulls you against him, causing you to gasp in shock. Your eyes are wide in surprise as you gape at him. Then you receive a smack to your ass. He leans down so his lips are by your ear and says, “Now you know why I can’t keep my hands off you for more than a minute.” 

You feel your face flushing with embarrassment and you know he can feel the heat radiating off you because he turns and gives you a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. He moans when he gives you a squeeze to your ass, always enjoying the feel of your tender flesh in his hands. As he moves away with his hand still fondling to your bum, his other one picks up his ready cup of coffee. He stares at you over the rim of his cup as he takes a sip. 

“Want me to make you some tea, baby?” he asks gruffly. 

You shake your head shyly. He hums and leans in to leave a chaste, coffee-scented kiss on your forehead before he stops touching you to go over to the kitchen island. He rests his cup and palms on the marble top as he peers over the other side to watch his friends lying on the ground, no longer laughing, now catching their breaths. 

“Coffee?” 

At Toji’s voice, the two men look up at him, only to drop their gazes to his ridiculous shirt, and they are sent into another endless loop of laughing and chortling. 

“Get out,” Toji finally snaps, having had enough of their mockery. 

<< Prequel, Part 1

-

© chocochipsushi 2024 all works are mine, please do not rewrite/plagiarise

[sweetchestnutdaydreams]

◤Burnt Toast◢

Character: Spencer Reid Genre: Humor, Fluff Word Count: 1,479 words Warnings: None, just light humor and fluff Summary: You’re determined to make Spencer breakfast in bed, but things don’t exactly go as planned. Chaos ensues in the kitchen, but Spencer finds it all ridiculously endearing.

The morning starts gently. Sunbeams filter through the curtains, slipping timidly into the room, while the comforting warmth of Spencer’s familiar body is pressed against yours — a rare luxury, with his unpredictable schedule. You stay there, silently watching him, fascinated by every detail of his face. His features are soft yet deeply masculine, a perfect balance. His brows furrow slightly in his sleep, and you can’t help but smile as his lips whisper words only his dreams can understand.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you want to burn into your memory to hold onto until the next time. A less dramatic option would be to grab your phone and take a picture, but you’re too scared to wake him. You slip carefully out of bed, pausing at every creak of the floorboards, holding your breath. Any louder breath from Spencer makes you flinch. After what feels like an eternity, you finally reach the kitchen.

With your hands on your hips, you glance around the room, thinking about what you could prepare for your boyfriend for breakfast. And not just any breakfast—breakfast in bed. Because you woke up before him, he had a long week, and he deserves a treat for that—though, really, he always deserves a treat, but this time you have the perfect excuse to make sure he doesn’t feel bad about it.

You’re not the best cook, but it can’t be that hard to whip up a perfect—edible—meal for your love, right?

You start by rummaging through the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon before grabbing the bread and setting everything on the counter. Each movement is deliberate, like you’re walking on eggshells, afraid of waking Spencer by accident. Everything is going so well.

It’s when you get to the coffee—the simplest thing in the world, really—that things start to go wrong.

You put Spencer’s favorite capsule into the machine, place the coffee cup, and press the features. The button blinks as usual, so you turn your attention back to the eggs sizzling in the pan.

The spatula slides under one of the eggs, the yolk wobbling dangerously, and you flip it over awkwardly. The pride you feel at your successful maneuver is cut short by a shrill noise. You jump, eyes wide, and rush toward the coffee machine. You frantically press all the buttons, none of which you understand, but nothing stops the noise. Finally, you yank the cord from the wall, the motion so abrupt that the cup dislodges.

Crouching, breath caught in your throat, you blink dumbly before pressing the curse object to your forehead and muttering another obscenity. You glance at the hallway, straining your ears, but there’s no sign that Spencer’s been disturbed. A sigh of relief escapes you as you set the cup back.

Your gaze falls again on the stupid coffee machine, and you decide to abandon that part of the plan. After one last murderous glare at the thing, you open the bag of bread with a resigned sigh and slip two slices into the toaster. You set the dial to the middle, push down the lever, and this time, you stand your ground, arms crossed.

Go ahead, try me, you think, glaring intensely at the toaster as if daring it to fail.

The crackling of the eggs in the pan, followed by the unmistakable smell of burning, snaps you back to reality. You hastily turn off the burner and grab the pan. But your grip slips, and you catch it just in time, but too late: the burned eggs slide off the edge and splat onto the floor in a defeated thud.

“Seriously?” You mutter with a click of your tongue, exasperated. The universe clearly decided you would never make breakfast for Spencer.

You head to the sink to wash the pan, then wipe the edges a bit too aggressively. On your way back, you, of course, slip on the eggs you forgot to clean up.

A surprised yelp escapes you as you fall hard on your butt, the pan clutched against your chest in an absurd reflex. A sharp pain shoots through your back, and as you try to get up, your knee lands right in the sticky mess of egg white and yolk. You grimace, frustrated, before heading back to grab something to clean up the disaster.

This is why you hate cooking, you tell yourself as you kneel (carefully) to clean up the mess. The kitchen itself seems out to get you. Once the floor is clean again, you try to ignore the gross, sticky feeling on your arms and pajama pants, debating whether or not to cook more eggs for Spencer.

That’s when the smell of burnt toast hits your nose. The smoke reaches you just before the alarm goes off. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you act on instinct, grabbing a towel to wave away the smoke from the detector. It takes just a few swipes, a couple of quick beeps, and you still cling to the vain hope that you haven’t woken Spencer.

You run a hand through your hair, stopping when you feel your strands stick to your fingers. A groan escapes you. Of course, you forgot to wash your hands, and now you have egg in your hair.

“My love?”

Spencer stands in the doorway, his voice thick with sleep as he rubs his eyes. He still seems half-asleep, not fully registering the chaos. You offer him a guilty smile and a nervous laugh.

“I hope I didn’t wake you…?” you mumble, hoping the disaster is less obvious than it looks.

He hums as his gaze sweeps across the mess—from your clothes to the floor, to the counter, and finally to the stove. His eyes linger a little too long on your hair, and you can see the corner of his lips twitching.

“Don’t laugh!” you threaten, pointing a finger at him, but his lips are already trembling, barely able to contain his laughter.

Spencer presses his lips together, but he utterly fails to suppress his chuckle. He steps closer, and though you cross your arms in a pout, it takes everything in you not to melt as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“What is all this?” he asks, his hands rubbing your back.

“… Surprise?” Spencer laughs again, squeezing you a little tighter as you sway gently, side to side. You give up your pouting, burying your face in his chest, and wrap your arms around him. “I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Oh?”

“In bed, " you clarify.

Spencer murmurs a soft "I see," and holds you close, as if this moment is all he needs. The chaos in the kitchen, the egg-stained pajamas, it all seems to disappear. You stay there, unmoving, savoring the simple warmth of being together until he finally pulls away, letting out an exaggerated sigh, as if giving up an internal battle.

“Thank you for the surprise, sweetheart,” Spencer smiles at you, cupping your face in his hands before giving you a soft kiss.

You frown, but another kiss is enough to smooth your expression. “I messed everything up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I woke you up,” you continue, frustrated by his indifference.

“So?” His long fingers find their way to the back of your head, gently tilting it until your eyes meet. His hands massage your scalp tenderly, making it hard to concentrate on your words.

“It’s—um,” you stammer, struggling to find your words. His gaze is gentle yet intense, and his soothing caresses make it difficult to focus. “It’s rare that you get to sleep in.”

Spencer kisses you again, more firmly this time. It makes you melt, like it always does. He sighs into your mouth, content, as you relax, your shoulders easing and your hands naturally finding their way around his neck. His arms move down to your lower back, pulling you even closer.

When you finally part, breathless, Spencer presses his nose against yours. He trails small kisses along the curve of your cheek, making his way down to your jaw. He lingers softly before murmuring into your ear:

“Thank you for the surprise, Angel.”

“You’re w-welcome,” you murmur, still dazed.

Seemingly satisfied, Spencer plants one last kiss on your temple before pulling you toward the bathroom. You blink, following him obediently, a little lost.

“Spencer?”

“Let’s start with a shower, okay?” He throws you a playful, teasing look over his shoulder, and you suddenly remember the egg still stuck in your hair. “Afterward, we can take breakfast in bed. Together.”

How could you possibly say no to that?

[poisonlove]

a macchiato, please | j.o

Y/n, working in the quiet café in Turin, is having a normal day until Jenna Ortega, a famous actress, walks into her establishment. This unexpected event will change Y/n's routine and lead to a series of events that will transform her life.

Immersed in the quiet routine of an afternoon in the small café in Turin, I focused on cleaning the cups and glasses.

The atmosphere here was always enveloped in a calm aura, so different from the chaos of daily life. The café, furnished with simplicity and charm, exuded a welcoming atmosphere. Wooden tables were neatly arranged, with comfortable chairs framing the central area. The walls were adorned with paintings by local artists, creating a lively and artistic ambiance.

"Hey, y/n," I turned at the sound of the voice and noticed Mrs. Rossi, my boss, emerging from the kitchen with a gentle yet concerned expression.

With a friendly smile, I approached. "Is everything okay, Mrs. Rossi?"

"Yes, everything's fine. You can call me Maria, you know that, right?" she replied with a sigh. "I have to go for an unexpected medical check-up. Will you be able to close the café tonight?"

"Of course, no problem," I assured, trying to reassure her. "I'll take care of everything. Have a good check-up." Mrs. Rossi smiled at me. "Thank you, Y/n. If you need anything, call me. Goodbye!" she said, putting on her jacket and leaving the premises.

With a wave goodbye, Mrs. Rossi left, leaving me alone in the small yet cozy café.

The sweet melody of Leave Me Lonely by Ariana Grande filled the air of the café through the speakers. "Dangerous love, you're no good for me, darling," I sang with a smile, feeling captivated by the music as I grabbed the coffee capsules for the machine.

I moved my hips slightly, letting the song's rhythm envelop me.

The tinkling of the bell at the entrance made me look up. "Welcome to Caffetteria Rossi! How can I assist you?" I murmured with a warm expression.

My eyes gazed with curiosity at the girl who looked around cautiously and with interest. She wore a huge black cloak, sunglasses, an elegant hat, and a scarf that wrapped around her neck.

I blinked in confusion, considering that the weather in Turin wasn't as cold as her attire might suggest. Perhaps she came from a much colder place, I thought, or she simply loved the mysterious and incognito style.

"Do you speak English?" the girl asked with curiosity, her voice muffled by the scarf.

"Uhm, yeah," I replied, confused.

I glanced around and realized I hadn't put on the shop's apron yet. I turned and took it, tying it around my waist.

"Of course. What can I get you?" I asked absentmindedly, still facing away.

"Uhm... a macchiato, please," she smiled. I realized her voice was clearer now, probably because she had removed the scarf.

A smile crept on my lips at the peculiar pronunciation of macchiato but of course, I wouldn't judge. I focused on the coffee machine, carefully starting to prepare her order. The reassuring sound of capsules entering the machine filled the air as I worked.

The girl approached the counter, pushing her sunglasses slightly down, revealing a lively and curious gaze. "Mi scuso per il mio italiano, è... non è molto buono" she said with a slightly embarrassed expression. She removed her sunglasses, placing them on top of her head.

"Don't worry, you..." I stopped abruptly, surprised, seeing her brown eyes clearly. Penetrating coffee-colored eyes, a delightful smile, and several freckles around her nose.

"You're doing fine," I replied timidly, almost embarrassed and excited by her presence.

What was Jenna Ortega doing in our café?

Jenna seemed slightly tense, as if she feared the worst, even having to escape if recognized. The atmosphere suddenly became more intense, and I could sense her nervousness. "You... do you know who I am, right?" she murmured with a disheartened tone.

I gave a slight side smile, nodding.

"Don't worry, I'm not like the other fans," I said, smiling.

I picked up the coffee cup and offered it to Jenna. "What are you trying to say?" Jenna asked curiously, looking at me seriously.

In the meantime, Jenna had taken off her coat, placing it over the armrest of a chair.

"I respect your privacy... oh god... I adore you, you're amazing and beautiful..." I confessed, my cheeks reddening. "But I can't imagine how it feels to be recognized by everyone," I murmured absentmindedly.

Jenna seemed taken aback by a sweet surprise, as if those unexpected words had positively impacted her. "Thank you, really," she replied with a sincere smile.

"And you're right, it can be a bit overwhelming. But meeting genuine people like you makes it all more enjoyable." Jenna tilted her head to the side, reading my name tag, smiling playfully "y/n..." she whispered softly "y/n, you're beautiful too," she said in a light tone.

I felt myself blush immediately, caught off guard. Jenna had joked about me calling her beautiful, and now the compliment directed at me made me feel a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you," I replied shyly, with a timid smile.

Jenna gracefully took the coffee cup, thanking me again with a warm look. Then, with elegance, those coffee-colored eyes were now free to survey the world around, revealing a depth and intensity that captured my attention.

"Can I ask you something?" Jenna asked kindly, sipping her coffee.

"Of course," I replied, intrigued by her interest.

"Tell me about this café? It has such a welcoming atmosphere, it seems like a special place."

"Sure," I said with a smile, beginning to tell the story of the café.

"This little oasis was born many years ago, founded by a couple passionate about coffee and art. They wanted to create a place where people could escape from their daily routine, enjoying great coffee in a cozy and stimulating atmosphere." Jenna listened attentively, interested in the narrative.

"And the tradition continued over time," I continued, "maintaining the authentic and friendly atmosphere that is the heart of this place. Now it's a beloved spot for many, not only for the coffee but also for the sense of community that is felt here."

As I spoke, I noticed Jenna was fascinated by the story of the café. It was nice to share a piece of that magic with her, who had brought a bit of light and curiosity to that quiet working day.

"And what are you doing in Turin? It doesn't seem like the kind of place someone like you would want to visit," I murmured curiously, leaning on the table.

"Someone like me?" Jenna finished her coffee and gently placed it on the counter. "Sorry, but Turin doesn't seem like your kind of place," I confessed, picking up the cup and placing it in the sink.

"I have an interview, and we'll probably be around here for the new season of Wednesday. Tim fell in love with this city after seeing the exhibition dedicated to him months ago," she confessed, and I smiled at her honesty.

"I loved that series," I admitted quickly. "The way you act is impressive, you can tell you love your job," I nervously bit my lower lip. "But personally, I also loved Scream... Tara is so mysterious... I swear I thought she was the ghostface" I chuckle "then the scream you make... wow!" I murmured absentmindedly.

"Thank you..." she chuckled softly.

"Do you want something else? A brioche?" I asked gently, and she nodded slowly.

"Cream, chocolate... pistachio, or plain?" I asked with a small smile on my lips.

"I prefer cream," she murmured lightly.

Jenna looked around curiously, and I couldn't ignore her beauty. Her dark and silky hair fell gracefully on her shoulders.

Her face had delicate features and penetrating coffee-colored eyes that expressed vivacity and determination. Her smile was radiant, illuminating the entire café. The thin lips added grace to her face. Jenna exuded elegance in every gesture and movement.

"Can we take a picture? I swear I won't post it," I asked nervously.

Jenna chuckled, "It doesn't matter, you can post it if you want," she said with a smile.

"Sorry... after, I'll give you the brioche, but I really want this photo," I admitted, picking up my phone from the counter.

I walked around and approached Jenna, smiling at the height difference. Jenna stood next to me, and we both smiled at the camera.

Jenna's arm gently wrapped around my waist, and I shivered at her touch. Her scent, a mix of fresh and light notes, filled my nostrils as I tried to maintain my nervous smile for the photo.

My heart was racing, almost deafening, feeling Jenna's breath against my cheek. The moment seemed suspended, an eternity compressed into that simple instant.

I looked at the camera, trying to focus on the shot, but it was difficult to ignore Jenna's proximity. It was as if everything else faded away, leaving space only for the two of us in that small fragment of time.

And then, the click of the camera broke the spell. It was over, but that brief moment would remain etched in my memory, like a pure and authentic emotion. I smiled in satisfaction and quickly went back behind the counter, wanting to fulfill Jenna's request.

"Here..." I handed her the brioche, and Jenna smiled sincerely.

"How old are you?" she asked with curiosity, taking a bite of her brioche.

"20," I replied, taken aback.

Jenna nodded, listening with interest. It was pleasant to converse with her, as if there was a natural harmony between us, despite the obvious differences in our life paths.

Shortly after, Jenna's phone chimed, announcing an incoming call. She pulled the phone out of her bag and checked the screen.

"Sorry, I have to take this, it's my agent," she said, slightly rising from the stool.

"Go ahead," I replied, smiling understandingly.

Jenna moved slightly away from the counter, answering the call with a professional yet polite tone. I could perceive her determination in the way she spoke with her agent. Despite the distance, I could catch snippets of the conversation, discussing work commitments and future projects.

As I waited, I looked at the paintings on the walls, letting the café's music lull me into a quiet serenity.

"Sorry, but I have to go," Jenna murmured with a clearly disappointed expression. "The brioche is excellent," she confessed, and I smiled gently.

"How much do I owe you?" she murmured softly, flustered. "It's on the house," I confessed, and Jenna gave me a huge smile.

"Thanks" She quickly says

"No worries, have a good day," I replied, feeling a hint of sadness.

Jenna picked up her coat and put it on, putting on her sunglasses. "It was a pleasure to meet you, y/n," she confessed as she put on her scarf.

"The pleasure was mine," I murmured with a small smile.

"See you soon," Jenna said, opening the door and turning in my direction with a smile.

I didn't reply and watched as she left the café, glancing at the sign with curiosity. Jenna approached the street and raised her hand, catching the attention of a black SUV that had come to pick her up.

I sighed, looking at the clock and realizing that I would soon have to close the café.

"Yes, it's time to go home," I murmured, allowing a wave of nostalgia to wash over me.

I approached the door and hung the "We're closed" sign with a sigh of satisfaction. Next, I dedicated myself to arranging a few things in the café, sweeping the floor and cleaning the cup Jenna had used. It was a way to bring order and close a day that had turned out to be much more interesting than expected.

I sighed audibly, letting the weariness and excitement of the day blend inside me.

A notification on my phone caught my attention, and I approached the counter with slow steps. I picked it up and widened my eyes seeing two notifications on Instagram:

Jennaortega started following caffetteria_Rossi.

Jennaortega started following you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Break-In 2

Character: God the Bounty Hunter

Warnings: this drabble includes elements which may be dark. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

Another morning has you groggy, your feet heavy and clumsy as you rub your eyes and stagger through the early dim. Your body goes into autopilot as your brain is still half-asleep. You put a new pod in the coffee maker but knock over another used capsule as you go to open the cupboard. You catch it before it can roll off the counter. It’s still warm. 

You stare as you hold onto the little plastic cup full of wet coffee grounds. You perk up as your ears prick at the thrum through the walls. How hadn’t you noticed the running shower? You set the pod down and back away from the counter. 

You tiptoe down the hall and put your ear to the bathroom door. You live alone... 

You recoil as your mind returns to that night you were certain was a walking nightmare or at the very least some distorted episode of sleep paralysis. This is very much real. Like before, there’s just enough doubt to disturb you. 

You retreat and check the balcony door at the opposite end of the front room. It’s locked. Your foot hits a pair of boots just beside the door and you look down at the dark heap, laces tucked into the top. Holy shit. 

You run back across the apartment. The shower cranks and the pipes still. As you come to the bathroom door, it opens in a plume of smoke. You stop short and stare, waiting for the intruder to appear. What are you doing? You need something. A knife or a frying pan. Anything. 

You creep forward and peek around the door frame as the humidity seeps out into the hall. It’s that same man. He has a towel around his waist as he uses a travel toothbrush and growls at himself in the mirror. You pull back and press your shoulders to the wall. 

It’s him. That spectre who haunted your couch only to disappear with the daylight. You take a step to the side and the sink shuts off as the man spits into the porcelain. Another step and he clears his throat. 

“I’m almost done,” he calls out. 

You freeze and gape towards the rectangle of light that shines onto the wall. His silhouette blots it out and he leans forward just enough for you to glimpse his profile. You don’t know what to say or do. 

“You don’t want to get hurt.” 

You think he’s asking but you can’t tell. 

He sighs, “well neither do I.” 

He goes back into the bathroom as you linger in ominous fog of his words. You stand straight and turn to face the hallway, wavering in indecision. Last time he left without issue. There wasn’t a single sign of him left, so much so that you’d really believed he was just a hallucination. It gives you hope that this time will be the same. 

He emerges as he zips up his pants, his shirt over his arms, the harness with the large knife dangling next to it. He shuts off the light, casting himself in darkness, and closes in on you as you scramble backwards. He has you on your heels as you veer and dodge him as you back up into the kitchen. He passes without a glance. 

“Money,” he reaches over the counter that divides the kitchen from the front room and places something on the ledge, “for the coffee and laundry.” 

You squint as he continues on through the darkness. You hesitate then inch towards the coffee machine. You take down a mug and place it under the spout. You need caffeine before you can deal with this. 

[shaw-ni]

Steadyhands AU, post Edizzy divorce where after some therapy, an intervention from their friends and a break from each other which lasted a few weeks, Ed and Izzy’s relationships is firmly in the “ it’s complicated” option on Facebook (Izzy is a Facebook mum and does post pointed passive aggressive rants on his page daily). Ed starts bringing Izzy coffee during their lunch break, a large haf-caf cappuccino with coconut milk and one sugar (haf-caf because he needs some caffeine to keep himself awake but not enough to keep him trapped to the toilet seat). Ed has a new concoction every day, always with 7 pumps of what ever syrup they have on option, and coconut milk as well (which he gets to let Izzy have a taste, and even though it tastes like a headache and the cream is never dairy free, Izzy always tries at least one sip, he’s trying too, okay?). Thing is, the coffee might just be the best coffee he’s ever tasted, the first time Izzy tasted it (trying not to look into Ed’s big brown hopeful eyes) he almost moaned in bliss, but settled for a slight nod and a muttered “it’s good”, which might as well have been a Hollywood handshake coming from Izzy.

The coffee cups are damn adorable too, with little illustrated pirate ships and the ocean filled with sea creatures on the sides (and some weird swirly writing as well, probably the barista writing the order? Not sure what the hearts are about, who cares, cursive is beyond him). The coffee shop is called ‘the revenge’ which seems an odd name, but their Tattoo parlour is called ‘Queen Annie’, so who is he to judge (said Izzy never). There’s only one problem, however, every time Ed comes back from the coffee shop, he practically skips into the studio, smile dimpling his cheeks like he just ate something sugary sweet. And Izzy knows that smile, even though it’s been years since it’s been aimed at him, it’s almost enough to put him off his coffee (almost, it’s fucking good coffee, right!).

Anywho, this goes on for a couple of weeks, with Izzy gritting his teeth every time Ed prances through the Parlour doors, until one day Ed’s not here to give him his daily coffee fix ( he told Ed going clubbing with Jack was a bad idea, but what’s does he know? He’s only been on the wrong end of Jacks generous pours since before he was legally allowed to drink, but whatever). Beforehand, Izzy would of just used their shop owned coffee machine in the kitchen, but perhaps he’s been a tiny but spoiled these past few weeks because their Nespresso coffee capsule doesn’t sounds appealing at all (that, and he’s not sure when it was last cleaned). He eventually decides, fuck it, and grabs his coat to head out side. It doesn’t take him long to find ‘the Revenge’, the place has a distinctly 16th century feel to it, in that it looks like it’s came right of the set of a period drama. The outside of the shop resembling the front of a ship, equipped with a unicorn figurehead, intricate wood carvings and what appears to be several hand made flags (including the trans flag, which, fuck yeah).

Inside, the place is bustling with customers and live music, the pirate theme seems to continue with the interior and there is a relaxing low light illuminating the shop. The live music, a tall but awkward man playing sea shanties on stage, seems to be the reason for the large number of people in the shop, and fortunately the line behind the counter seems to be relatively short. He makes a beeline for the line and repeats his coffee order in his head (it pays to be prepared). After five minutes, the line has annoyingly, not budged an inch; at this rate he’ll end up late for his next appointment. Izzy stretches his head to peer over the few heads in front of him and notices a tall, blonde twat babbling away to the frazzled barista. Fucking twat.

“Oye, quit holding up the line, some of us have places to be,” Izzy yells over to said twat. Startled, the man turns towards Izzy, and oh shit, assholes shouldn’t be allowed to be pretty, Jesus Christ. Shit. The asshole looks directly at Izzy, his eyes seem to drift and then linger on his chest, before moving slowly back to his face. Shit. He must be feeling the effects of a caffeine withdrawal, the only explanation to why he suddenly feels so flushed.

“One moment, sir. We’re quite in the middle of something.” With that the twat turns back to the barista, picking up their conversation.

Never mind, the only thing he’s feeling now is pissed.

“Mate, I doubt this guy wants to listen to your sad attempt at flirting, just order your damn coffee and go.”

The blonde asshole splutters angrily? Embarrassedly? And turns his full body towards Izzy (Jesus, those shoulders don’t deserve this guy, not fucking fair).

“My attempts at flirting are not sad! You angry little man! And I’m not flirting, that would be unprofessional, considering I am attempting to converse with my own staff!” The man speaks in a way that emphasises the unspoken exclamation points in his speech without actually increasing the volume of his voice, his accent is familiar in the way a 5 year old might play Mary had a little lamb on the piano. And wait… did he just say his staff?

He scoffs. “ Your staff?.”

The asshole raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Mine.”

Izzy raises his own bushy eyebrow. “Well if I was you, I’d—”

“Oh, hey Izzy, didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Izzy turns too see his ex husband turned current best friend and forever love of his life weaving quickly through the crowd, suspiciously springy for someone who was supposed to be ‘too sick to work’ hungover.

Ed finally makes it through the cluster of people, and swings an arm around Izzy’s shoulder. He grins at Izzy and then weirdly enough at the blonde asshole Izzy was in the middle of arguing with. “I see you’ve met Stede!” He cups his hand to his mouth and mock whispers to the blonde twat, of course he’d have a pretentious name like Stede. “Man, Izzy here loves your cappuccinos, won’t drink it from anywhere else, he even said they were ‘not shit’ which coming from Izzy, is a five star review!”

Wait, what?

“He makes the cof—”

“He drinks the cappuccino?!?”

Izzy looks to the blonde prick, who seems to be turning an amusing shade of pink and oh… suddenly the hearts on the coffee cups make a lot more sense. Shit. Well isn’t this fucking fantastic.

[adinathinternationalindia]

Capsule Counting Machine

Capsule Counting Machine uses for counting and Filling capsules in poly bags and rigid containers. Each disc is custom designed and manufactured to meet specific customer requirements. Dust Extractor (optional) is provided to remove dust particles from the passage to the container, thus dust free tablets and capsules could be filled. Capsule Counting Machine can count & fill 1 to 1000 capsules into containers/bags. Machine having wide usage in R&D laboratories, Research Institutions, Herbal & Nutraceutical preparations, Unani & Ayurvedic medicines, Pilot batch productions etc.

We are having two versions of Capsule Counting available: One is Disc type Counting Machine and another is PLC based Digital Capsule Counting Machine.

[kimmie2me]

A Little Warmth in the Cold

It’s a late, snowy Friday evening, and campus is finally winding down for winter break. Bakugou insisted on walking you to your dorm, even though he’d rather faceplant into a pillow after back-to-back exams. His hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders tense against the cold, but he’s keeping up with your lighter, excited steps. You’re rambling, barely noticing his sharp exhale every time the wind bites. As you get closer to the Height's Alliance building, you stop, eyes lighting up at the little convenience store just outside the school. Through the frosted windows, you spot a small Sanrio gacha machine by the counter, each little capsule promising a random character charm. You can’t help it—you smile and pull him toward it with a little tug of his sleeve. Bakugou grumbles, “Aren’t you gonna freeze out here?” But he doesn’t move an inch from where you’re tugging him, his eyes trailing over the machine. You pull out a few coins and turn the crank, your face scrunched in concentration. When the capsule pops out, you gasp: it’s the little Cinnamoroll charm you wanted. Bakugou just gives you a look as you hold it up, triumphant. “Dunno why you’re so excited,” he mutters, but then quietly asks, “They got any more of those?” You raise a brow, holding up your prize. “You want one too?” He scoffs, heat prickling his cheeks. “Not f'me, dumbass,” he grumbles, practically snatching the coins you offer. The machine spits out another capsule. He rolls it in his hand, giving it a quick, unreadable look before slipping it deep into his coat pocket. For a second, you almost ask what he got, but he’s already started walking again, muttering about finally getting you somewhere warm. Little do you know, the next time you open your backpack, the charm will be dangling from the zipper.

The exact one he pulled from the machine that night.

[jjoongsdiamond]

In the Quiet of the Cafe☕️

Chapter One - Homecoming

(Present – Hongjoong’s POV)

The train ride home felt foreign. He hasn’t stepped foot in the town in over six years, and yet the station still smelled like burnt coffee and diesel. Still had that creaky vending machine he used to kick in frustration when it stole his coins.

Opting to take the train rather than have a driver bring him, like KQ had insisted, he adjusted his mask and cap before walking through the terminal. It wasn’t likely anyone here would recognize him, but he couldn’t risk it. His world had changed. Their world had stayed still.

He didn’t come back for the nostalgia. Not really.

He came back because something had been tugging at him for months now—a strange ache that even music couldn’t numb.

Hongjoong was excited to see his family again, catch up on everything he had missed or what his brother, Bumjoong, hadn’t updated him on. And of course, he aimed to see his old school friends during this time.

Minseok, his best friend from high school, had texted, “Let’s catch up. It’s been too long.” And Hongjoong agreed, not knowing what he was really hoping to find.

Wandering the streets, his steps took him somewhere he didn’t plan to go.

The café was still there.

His chest tightened.

It looked almost untouched—same wooden frame, soft gold lettering above the door: “Halmeoni’s Place.”

He opened the door.

The bell chimed softly and he stepped in, instantly hit by the scent of cinnamon, espresso, and memory. The place looked the same. Maybe the chairs were newer, maybe the walls a different shade — but the bones were there.

His eyes drifted to the back corner booth. Their booth.

The one where he, her, and their friends: Minseok, Jisoo and Hyunwoo used to cram into after school, textbooks forgotten, music blasting from someone’s phone as they dreamed up futures that felt too big for a town this small.

Where he and her would sit and dream of creating music together. Or he would sit alone, headphones on, writing lyrics while she brought him hot cinnamon tea and kissed his forehead when no one was looking.

He could almost hear Jisoo groaning over calculus while Minseok stole fries from Hyunwoo’s plate. Her laughter had always floated above the rest — soft but sure, like it grounded them.

It felt like standing in a time capsule.

And then he saw her.

And time crashed forward all at once.

Behind the counter stood her. Yoon Hana, bent slightly over a tray of fresh lemon scones. Her hair was longer now, tucked behind her ears. There was a steadiness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before. She moved like she belonged to this place. Like it belonged to her.

She looked up, and her eyes met his. Brown, steady, sparkling, wide with recognition and disbelief.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

”Hi,” he managed. Voice rough, like the words had been buried too long.

She whispered, “Hongjoong?”

He said nothing, only nodded, barely breathing.

For a moment, it felt like they were 18 again.

But then—

“Eomma!”

A small girl bounded into the room, hair bouncing in curls, arms stretched wide. She collided with Hana’s legs and beamed up at her with so much joy it made Hongjoong’s stomach twist.

The child turned toward him, a dimpled grin on her face.

And in that moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Because she had his eyes.

“Hi! I’m Areum!”

Something inside him cracked.

[inmymagnetoera]

A little fic with David 8 & Charles Xavier (future relationship maybe?) because I love that little xenomorph-loving android.

David didn't choose his name, he didn't choose his tastes and he definitely didn't choose this too light hair color. David just has to make his creator understand this.

_________________

A heart of metal and cables

David got up at 6.05 a.m like every day. He opened the capsule where he closed himself for the night in order to recharge his batteries and after putting on some slippers (he didn't feel cold, but his creator had said that humans did) and went to the kitchen to prepare some coffee for the professor.

He prepared it as he prepared it every day: Three quarters of a cup, a teaspoon of sugar and a little bit of milk, because the professor always complained that the coffee tasted too bitter. He went to his creator's room, already knowing he wouldn't find him there but doing so out of habit, heading into the laboratory almost immediately afterwards. When he opened the door, he saw the professor hunched over his desk examining some documents. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“David, my friend, you are a blessing!” The professor exclaimed, getting up from his chair and taking his coffee. The smoke from the cup fogged his glasses and he immediately withdrew his mouth when he felt the excessive heat.

"Were you awake all night again, Professor?" David asked, remaining rigid in his position as he always did.

“You have to call me Charles, David, how many times do I have to tell you?” He continued to blow on the steaming liquid as he sat back down.

“More times than eight, as I never learned in my previous seven releases, Professor.”

"I didn't remember programming you with sarcasm, my friend." His creator said without looking at him but with a small smile.

"Do you need anything else?" When the professor responded negatively, he left the room and continued with his day's tasks. He watered the flowers on the porch, fed the professor's turtles, cleaned the floors and windows, and finally began preparing dinner.

David hated this.

He didn't hate the professor, no, he could never hate his creator, he didn't even hate the turtles for that matter, but David needed freedom. If he did something outside of his program or without the professor's permission, his systems would short out and the professor would have to reactivate him, a very long and tedious process for both of them. David wanted to change. He wanted lighter eyes, darker hair, he wanted to wear something different from this horrible gray jacket and above all he wanted to be more human, but how could he tell the professor? Would he be scared? Would he turn David off forever?

“I can hear you thinking, my friend.” His creator said coming up behind him.

"I can't think, professor, I'm a machine." David said turning to face the other person. Charles looked at him and put his hands on his hips.

"If I had wanted you to be just a machine, David, I wouldn't have given you a name. You can think and you know it. You are much more than just an android." The professor smiled at him and, after taking a pen from the counter, was about to leave before David stopped him.

"If I... If I'm not a machine, then what am i? I'm not a person if i can't have free will. Wouldn't it be right to give it to me?" He asked almost hesitantly, his stiff tone of voice gone.

"Well, when I programmed you I made sure you always had to have the OK from me but now I know you, I know you wouldn't hurt a fly. But why so all of a sudden?" The professor leaned against the marble counter. David was silent for a few moments.

"I... I don't like the color of my hair." David said staring at the professor who now had a confused face.

"Excuse me?" Charles asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't like the color of my hair. And my eyes. And my clothes. And my name. And..."

"Ok ok, easy David, I get it, you don't like a lot of things." The professor seemed almost amused.

“It's just… I want to be myself, but I can't do that if everything has already been decided for me.” David looked at the floor and his black fabric covered slippers.

"All right." The professor nodded.

"Okay? Really?" David asked looking into the other's eyes.

"I guess it's fair that an individual wants to have particular characteristics for themselves so yes, I can reprogram you. We could start now, do you want to change something? You said you didn't like the name David." David thought about it for a few seconds.

"Erik." He said

"I want to be called Erik." He repeated with a hint of a smile.

“Great, Erik, tomorrow we can think about the more complicated aspects of your reprogramming.” The professor picked up his pen again and left the room.

"Thank you, Charles." Erik said almost in a whisper, a strange sensation he had never felt before blooming right where his generator was positioned in the center of his chest.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

STARBS MY BRAIN HAS BLESSED ME WITH A THOUGHT AND I MUST SHARE WITH YOU

so imagine a toy vending machine that dispenses small gadgets

You go up to the toy vending machine and use it for old times sake and you turn the nob and hear the clicking and ratcheting of small gears and cogs turning and out pops a Springtrap figure that's surprisingly well made and painted

And you take it home pop it out of its capsule and set it on your shelf and head to bed

The next day you wake up it's gone you look around and it's nowhere to be seen you shrug it off as a dream and head to the kitchen to make some breakfast and see the Mini Springtrap trying to remove a knife from the knife holder only for him to fail since tiny then notice you and fumble and fall from the counter and popping his arm out of socket

That is all my brain gave me I disappear now

*vanishes*

This sounds like something Fazbear Entertainment would do (in the best way possible pls. I'd totally be the dumbass to buy a tiny Springtrap figure and let it roam around my house despite the dangers of it).

LIKE. IMAGINE. HE'S SO TINY HE CAN'T DO ANYTHING AND IT'S SO PATHETIC KASDJAESKLDNQW

[applesapp]

picnic date.! hanjisungxreader

Part two! The first part is above^^^ :)

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Y/N wakes up around 9:00 am the next morning, as she had no work in the morning. Her curtains were slightly open and a small beam of sunlight peers through the crack onto her face, waking her up. She stretches with a big yawn and her arms above her head and pointing her feet as far as they can go. Y/N rolls over to her side facing her bedside table. She picks up her phone and starts checking notifications. She sees one from Jisung. Y/N’s face lights up with joy from remembering the sweet boy she had met. The message reads…

“Hey! I’m not sure if you’re still sleeping yet but, wanna hang out again soon? You seem like a really cool person and I want to get to know you better :)” Sent 7:39am

Y/N jitters in excitement. She’s so happy he’s also interested in her, though she doesn't know if it's the same way or not. She’s not too sure herself if that’s how she feels about him either. She only met him the day before, but she wants to know where this will lead. 

“Hi! Yeah uhh, I just woke up haha. I don’t work on the weekends bc the store isn’t open. We can totally hangout! When are you available?” She replies back to him.

Waiting for a response, Y/N pulls herself out of her bed and heads into her tiny kitchen. She pulls out the bread from her pantry and takes out two slices and puts them into the toaster. She gives the toaster a couple hits to get it to start working. Her parents gave it to her when she moved out. She then makes her way over to her coffee machine and pops in a coffee capsule and starts her coffee. Y/N leans up against the counter, waking herself up. She gets startled by the pop of the toast coming out of the toaster. She grabs a clean plate out of the dishwasher and puts the toast onto the plate. She grabs butter out of the fridge and starts spreading it around the freshly toasted bread. She then grabs her coffee cup from the machine, puts some creamer into it and heads onto the couch to eat breakfast. As soon as she sits down, Jisung sends her a text back.

“Ahah no problem, I have to go to rehearsal today at 11 and it ends 30 min later, it’s not a super important one so it’s short. I can do anything after that though!”

“Oh cool! I’m down to hangout then, what do you want to do?”

“Uhhhhhhhh, we can go to the park downtown if you’d like?”

“Oh sure! That sounds fun, see you at 12.?”

“Yea that works! See you then :)”

Y/N gets butterflies in her stomach. She barely even knows him but wants to spend all her time with him already.

Soon enough, 11:00 rolls around. She gets up off the couch and puts her dirty dishes away. She heads to the bathroom and starts the shower. Y/N takes a long shower, making sure she is ready to meet him. She gets out and starts to dry her beautiful (Y/H). After she blows out her hair, she applies a little bit of makeup, not a lot, he wants a light coverage, only to accentuate her features. Y/N goes into her bedroom and chooses an outfit, she wants to look as flattering as possible.

She chooses a white, knee length, flowy summer dress with lavender colored flowers on it. She pairs it with a pair of sunglasses on her head, a simple gold necklace with matching earrings. She’s also wearing matching bracelets and anklets. Her anklets go perfectly with her tan sandals. She just got both sets of nails done for summer, and wants to show off what a beautiful job the nail tech did. She sprays on expensive perfume and grabs her bag. The clock reads 11:45. She shoots Jisung a quick text.

“I’m leaving my apartment now, see you soon!” 

Y/N grabs her keys and heads out the door, making sure to lock it behind her. She walks down the busy street of San Francisco enjoying the sun shining down on her. She finally makes it over to the park at 11:57. She looks at her phone to see a text from Jisung.

“Hey I’m here, I’m sitting at a bench at the left of the huge fountain.”

Y/N gets a huge smile on her face and texts back.

“Coming!!”

She hustles over there and looks around for him. She finally lays her eyes on him. His legs are crossed and his left elbow is on his leg with his hand holding his head up. His hair falls over his eyes, but she knows it’s him just by his stature. She runs over to him.

“Hi Jisung!” She says looking down to him waving.

He looks up from his phone confused, but once he realizes it’s her, he smiles and stands up.

“Hey Y/N, how are you?” He asks.

“I’m good, you?”

“I’m great! It’s really nice to see you again I uh- you look really great.” He says with a smile and faint blushing that Y/N notices.

“Hehe, thank you! You look great too.”

“Heh.. wanna walk around the park for a little bit?” He asks 

Y/N agrees and they start taking the path around. It’s a little awkward at first but Jisung speaks up

“Soo.. what did you have for breakfast haha”

“I had coffee and some toast with butter as usual, nothing special, you?”

“I had tea and a protein bar, not super exciting, but I did wake up late to get ready so I didn’t have much time to make food.”

They giggle and continue walking. As they walk they talk about random memories and funny stories they have that they think would entertain each other. They find a seat under a large tree creating shade. They continue talking and laughing. Before they know it, they both start getting hungry. Y/N looks at her phone for the time

“Oh boy, it’s 2:00 already! Ughh I’m kinda hungry too..”

“Me too! Want to go get something to eat?” Jisung asks politely. 

“I’d love to! I just.. I really don’t have the money for that.”

“Huh? That’s okay! I can pay for you!”

“What? No Jisung that’s too much really, I don’t need you to do that.”

“No really it’s okay! It’s my treat to you for spending time with me!’

Y/N reluctantly agrees and they head to a sandwich shop down the road from the park. Suddenly, Jisung stops and kneels to the ground. He stands back up with a flower in his hand.

“Y/N look! I found a flower that looks just like the ones on your dress, see?”

She turns around and puts her hand on her chest. She blushes and giggles.

“Oh yea! You’re right!” 

“Here-”

He walks over to Y/N and brushes her hair behind one of her ears and puts the flower behind it.

“It fits your outfit perfectly! I’m so good at this kinda stuff obviously!” He laughs and puts his hands on his hips proudly.

Y/N is shocked and amused. She is really falling for this boy. She looks into his glistening brown eyes and smiles.

“It really does, thank you.” She gives him a sweet smile and he gives her one back. They both start walking towards the sandwich shop again.

Y/N POV: 

Oh my gosh.. He’s so sweet! He makes me feel so special! Ugh I just can’t wait to get to know him better..

They make it to the entrance of the sandwich shop and walk in. 

[kitchentrendsguide]

Creating a Coffee Station in Your Kitchen

For coffee lovers, a dedicated coffee station transforms the kitchen into a more organised and enjoyable space. Whether you prefer a quick espresso before work or a slow weekend pour-over, having everything in one place streamlines your routine while adding a stylish feature to your kitchen. A well-designed coffee station combines smart storage, practical appliance integration, and aesthetic touches to create the perfect caffeine hub.

Why a Dedicated Coffee Station?

A coffee station keeps everything you need—coffee beans, mugs, and brewing equipment—within easy reach. It reduces countertop clutter and makes your morning routine smoother. Instead of rummaging through cabinets or moving appliances around, a dedicated space ensures an efficient and enjoyable coffee-making experience.

Beyond its functionality, a coffee station is also a design feature. Whether a built-in nook or a simple countertop setup adds character to your kitchen while showcasing your love for coffee or tea.

Choosing the Perfect Location

Finding the perfect area for your coffee station depends on your kitchen layout and daily routine. Consider these placement ideas:

Built-In Cabinet Nook: A recessed area within cabinetry provides a streamlined look, keeping appliances and accessories neatly tucked away.

Corner Countertop Setup: Utilising an unused corner maximises space while ensuring easy access to your coffee essentials.

Freestanding Coffee Cart: A moveable cart offers flexibility, making it easy to reposition your station as needed.

Pantry Coffee Station: If space allows, converting a small section of your pantry into a coffee station keeps everything organised without taking up kitchen counter space.

Smart Storage Solutions

An organised coffee station is key to maintaining a tidy kitchen. Incorporate storage that suits your setup:

Pull-Out Drawers for Coffee Pods and Beans: Shallow drawers with dividers keep coffee capsules, ground coffee, and beans in order.

Floating Shelves for Mugs and Accessories: Open shelving provides easy access while adding a decorative element to your station.

Hidden Cabinet Storage: Keep less frequently used items, such as extra filters or speciality syrups, neatly behind closed doors.

Dedicated Drawer for Tea and Extras: If you enjoy tea, a separate section for tea bags, loose-leaf blends, and infusers keeps your station versatile.

Appliance Integration for a Seamless Look

A well-integrated coffee station ensures that appliances fit within the space without creating clutter. Consider:

Built-In Coffee Machines: Integrated espresso machines or plumbed-in coffee makers provide a seamless, high-end look.

Compact Coffee Makers: Opt for sleek, space-saving appliances that fit neatly within cabinetry or on countertops for smaller spaces.

Under-Cabinet Outlets: Electrical outlets within cabinets or near shelving are installed to keep power cords hidden and maintain a tidy appearance.

Milk Frother & Grinder Placement: Position your grinder and milk frother in a designated space to avoid unnecessary movement during coffee-making.

Designing for Style and Functionality

A coffee station should be both practical and visually appealing. Consider these styling tips:

Cohesive Colour Scheme: Match the station’s finishes with your kitchen design for a unified look. Dark wood and brass create a classic café feel, while minimalist white and glass keep things modern.

Decorative Canisters: To enhance the aesthetic, store sugar, coffee beans, and tea leaves in stylish, labelled canisters.

Accent Lighting: Under-shelf LED lighting adds warmth and highlights the coffee station as a feature in your kitchen.

Chalkboard or Menu Board: A small chalkboard listing coffee types or a framed café-style menu adds a fun, personal touch.

Creating a Clutter-Free Setup

Keeping your coffee station organised ensures it remains a convenient part of your kitchen:

Use Stackable Storage: Stackable coffee, tea, and accessories containers maximise space.

Rotate Seasonal Mugs: Store excess mugs elsewhere and rotate them seasonally to keep the station from feeling overcrowded.

Wipe Down Regularly: Coffee grounds and spills accumulate quickly—keep a small cloth or napkin nearby for easy clean-up.

Making Your Coffee Station Work for You

Every coffee drinker has different habits, so customising your station to suit your routine makes all the difference. If you prefer a quick morning brew, prioritise easy access to essentials. If you enjoy making speciality drinks, invest in storage for syrups, frothing tools, and different coffee-making methods.

For households with multiple coffee drinkers, a well-organised station ensures everyone finds what they need without disrupting the kitchen's flow.

The Perfect Addition to Any Kitchen

A dedicated coffee station is a simple yet impactful addition to any kitchen. By combining smart storage, integrated appliances, and stylish design, you can create a space that makes your coffee ritual more enjoyable while keeping your kitchen organised. Whether you opt for a built-in nook or a compact counter setup, the right design ensures a seamless blend of function and style.

FAQs

What’s the best way to keep a coffee station organised?

Use labelled canisters for beans and sugar, install drawer dividers for small accessories, and keep only the essentials on display to prevent clutter.

Can I create a coffee station in a small kitchen?

Yes, compact solutions like wall-mounted shelves, under-cabinet storage, or a slim rolling cart help create a functional station without taking up too much space.

Do I need plumbing for a built-in coffee machine?

Not necessarily. While plumbed-in machines offer convenience, non-plumbed models work just as well with a refillable water reservoir.

© K&I Kitchens