#Sensor tap functionality

[tapron-uk]

Sensor Taps: A Ultimate Buyer’s Guide

The Tapron guide emphasizes the importance of sensor taps in promoting hygiene and water conservation in both public and private bathrooms. By using infrared technology to detect hand movements, these taps minimize the need for physical contact, thereby reducing the spread of germs and bacteria. The guide also highlights the efficiency of sensor taps in saving water and energy, contributing to a more sustainable lifestyle. For detailed insights and considerations before purchasing, visit the full guide here.

[ducksido]

Ooh oooh

can i please request a yuu who has a mechanical/cybernetic prosthetic metal arm (kind of like bucky barnes or edward elric) because they lost their arm in an accident or something and when they come to twisted wonderland they befriend the shroud brothers?

i just think yuu would feel like their broken because they lost a part of themselves that they can never get back and meeting ortho and idia would make them feel better about themselves (i bet those two would make you a new arm with like the best upgrades ever - though you have to tell ortho to cool it down a bit, adding a rocket launcher/flame thrower might be pushing it)

i don't know i just think that yuu finding a family with the tech bros would be really wholesome.

When Yuu first arrived in Twisted Wonderland, they kept their jacket sleeve pulled low. Not out of shame, really—more like protection. The prosthetic arm beneath wasn’t magical. It was tech from their world, old and battered, the metal joints squeaking if they moved too quickly. It had been built in a hospital, not a lab. Built to function. Not to feel.

It didn’t matter if people stared, but they always did. So they avoided eye contact. Hid behind books. Let the rumors swirl.

And then they met Ortho Shroud.

He didn’t stare. He beeped—excitedly. Zoomed up to them, circuits practically vibrating with glee.

“COOL!! Are you cybernetic?! That’s a Class C-E prosthetic build! Do you have neural feedback? Ohhh, wait—does it use kinetic charge?? Can I scan you—pretty please?!”

Yuu blinked. “…You’re a robot.”

“I prefer the term ‘autonomous artificial lifeform,’” Ortho chirped. “But yes!”

And that’s how Yuu met the Shroud brothers.

Over Time:

Yuu starts visiting Ignihyde. Not for any official reason—just because Idia doesn’t flinch when he sees their arm. Just nods from his beanbag throne and goes, “Huh. Metal arm. Hardcore.”

Ortho pesters them with questions about the tech level of their world, how it was installed, and then immediately promises to make them an upgrade.

“We’ll call it: Project Arm-verlord!!” “Ortho, no.” “Okay fine, Project Huggrip 5000!” “Ortho.” “…Mini rocket launcher?” “ORTHO.”

The Breakdown:

One night, while staying over at Ignihyde, Yuu’s arm short circuits.

It’s not dangerous. Just frustrating. The joint locks up and sparks. They grit their teeth, trying to fix it, but their hands shake. The panic hits harder than the pain.

“It’s broken,” Yuu mutters. “Again. It’s always breaking. I’m so tired.”

They sit on the floor of the lab, robotic fingers twitching. “I didn’t choose this, you know? It was an accident. And they couldn’t save it. They saved me instead. But sometimes I think I lost more than just a limb. I lost me.”

Silence.

Then:

“...Yeah,” Idia says. “I get that.”

He doesn’t look at them—just stares at the screen in front of him, tapping a stylus against his tablet.

“You think people only see the machine. Or the tragedy. Like you're more ‘what happened’ than who you are.” “Yeah,” Yuu breathes.

“Then… maybe it’s not about replacing what’s missing,” Idia mutters, “but upgrading what’s still there.”

The New Arm:

It takes a month. Ortho’s all in—drawing blueprints with doodled stars and stickers. Idia codes the feedback sensors himself. The new prosthetic is lighter, smoother, and responds to Yuu’s thoughts like a dream.

It even has a retractable toolset. Ortho wanted to add a flamethrower, but Yuu gently refused.

“What about a mini espresso machine?” “No.” “Grappling hook?” “…Maybe.”

When it’s done, Yuu stares at their reflection.

The arm gleams like silver. It hums with quiet power, marked by an Ignihyde-blue core at the wrist. It's not the one they lost—but it’s theirs.

And so are the people who helped build it.

“You’re not broken,” Ortho says. “You’re just modded,” Idia adds. “Modded and magnificent.”

Yuu smiles. For the first time in a long time, it feels real.

BONUS:

Yuu keeps a small sticker Ortho gave them—an 8-bit heart—and sticks it on the back of their hand.

Idia lowkey writes fanfic about a character based on Yuu called Steel Soul, but denies it.

Ortho wants to cosplay them at the next convention.

And Yuu? They call them family.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Omega's Observations: Shine/Treat

Summary: Omega prefers to leave Rouge and Shadow to their peculiar organic rituals.

For @teamdarkweek. 652 words.

Omega is an observant robot. 

Mobians have this tendency to. . . groom each other. The connotation of that word in his dictionary is associated with mindless animals. It has to do with only the most base of instincts to keep clean and to satisfy an evolutionary urge for touch amongst social species. 

He finds himself averting his optics when he catches Rouge and Shadow on the couch brushing through each other’s fur or pulling out ingrown hairs or combing through quills. Products and oils slathered over their fleshy bodies. Papery masks with artificial fragrances that Rouge buys on the internet paired with fresh vegetable slices over their eyes. His olfactory sensors can barely make sense of it, let alone his optics. 

One would think they would wait until he was out of the apartment, or at least out of the room before they commenced. Rouge has started leaving the comb out on the end table. She will pick it up and start digging into Shadow’s quills without warning. Omega knows better than to deprive them of this ritual, just like food and water and sleep and all the other functions they get strange about when he asks.

So he leaves them to it.

This is not the end of their unusual behavior. 

Omega is an observant robot, and is thus not ignorant about the fact that Rouge just bought a buffer and car wax despite not owning a car. He is not ignorant about the fact that Shadow just returned home with paint brushes and a bucket of paint- the Ultimate Lifeform has never touched any art supplies before beyond Rouge’s old knitting materials since Omega had known him. 

What he is ignorant of is the purpose of such things. A week goes by and neither of them mention it. Then, one sunny weekend, they spring upon him with all strange objects in hand. 

“Surprise.” Shadow says, holding up the can of paint.

“Spa day!” Rouge cheers, wielding the buffer. 

“I HAVE NO FUR OF WHICH TO CLEAN.” 

“We know that. That’s why we bought these!”

“Leaving you out felt wrong.” Shadow says, quieter. 

“. . . ELABORATE.” 

“You always leave when we start.” Shadow continues. “I should have noticed sooner.”

“Now that we’ve got the right hardware,” Rouge brandishes the buffer as if it were a chainsaw, “it’s time for you to join the fun! We should have figured you’d want to look good too.” 

Omega ratchets his optics to the buffer, then to the paint can. The paint is, told by a drop of dried paint on the top, a close match to his original coat. The buffer’s purpose is more obvious.

“ARE YOU IMPLYING I DO NOT ALWAYS LOOK GOOD?” He taps a claw on the edge of the rotary pad.

Instead of laughter, Shadow grimaces immediately. “That was not our intent. I’m sorry.”

Shadow is treating this situation with the sort of seriousness with which he regards other highly emotional subjects. The markers Omega registers in his facial muscles point to as much. 

Mobian grooming ritual, associated with social species, he realizes. 

He did not assume that they would apply that ‘social’ label to him. 

“APOLOGY ACCEPTED.” He replies as quickly as he can. He throws in a “MARGINALLY” to reduce suspicion. 

“Come on, you dum-dum. Let’s get you outside to hose you off. Unless you think you can fit in the bathtub?” Rouge says.

“NEGATIVE.” 

“Figured. You’re going to be shiny head-to-toe once we’re done with you!” 

Shadow grasps Omega’s wrist and gently lifts until his claws are even enough for him to hang the paint can off of. Omega doesn’t stop him. 

“You’ll like it.” Shadow pats his hand.

“Consider it our treat, big boy. A thank-you of sorts.” Rouge takes his other hand.

“MORE RECOGNITION FOR THE ULTIMATE ROBOT IS ALWAYS IDEAL.” He rumbles, before helping them transport the rest of the ‘spa day supplies’ out of the apartment. 

[zoeykallus]

In His Crosshairs

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Masterlist Warnings: "Minor" Violence and injury _______________ AC:

In Case anybody is wondering about the song beeing sung in this chapter, it's this one: Good Things Go ________________

Chapter 3. No Second Shot

The comm tower was quiet now.

The bodies had been dealt with. Your arm was bandaged, stinging under fresh synth-skin, and your blaster sat in your lap like a weight you weren’t sure you could carry again.

Crosshair stood by the door, gear packed, rifle slung across his back. He hadn’t spoken since the last bounty hunter dropped. But you could feel something heavy in the air between you. Not quite anger. Not quite closure.

Just unfinished business.

You broke the silence first. “So what now?”

His back remained to you for a long second. Then he turned, slow, deliberate, and walked over, stopping just a few feet away.

“You’re lucky I'm not a good soldier,” he said. His voice was calm. Too calm.

You looked up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?”

He mutters, "Good soldiers follow orders" You blink, not sure what he was on about, “Was that supposed to be comforting?

“No.” A pause. “It’s supposed to make you think.”

You rose to your feet, wincing slightly. “I told you. I didn’t know what I was carrying.”

“And now you do.”

He was close enough that you could see every line in his face. The set of his jaw. The way his eyes pinned you down, same as they had when he was aiming down a scope.

“You’re not turning me in,” you said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“No.”

“Why?”

He hesitated. Just a flicker. But it was there.

Then, his gaze sharpened.

“Because I think you’re smart enough not to be this stupid again.”

You almost laughed. “And if I’m not?”

He stepped forward. Just enough to make your breath catch.

“Then next time,” he said, voice like steel, “I won’t miss.”

The crosshair tattoo over his eye pulsed with that quiet threat. You didn’t doubt him. Not for a second.

“You’re letting me go,” you said. “But this isn’t over.”

His mouth twitched. “Not even close.”

You nodded slowly. “Fine.”

He stared at you a moment longer. Then turned.

Walked to the door.

Paused.

“One warning shot,” he said without looking back. “That’s all you get.”

And then he was gone.

You stood alone in the silence of the tower, the cold wind seeping in through the cracks in the walls.

You should have felt relieved. Safe.

Instead, your heart was racing.

Weeks later:

You didn’t recognize the distress signal when it first lit up on your console. Just another encrypted ping bouncing off an abandoned relay station.

But the coordinates? They weren’t far.

Too close to ignore.

You debated it for a solid minute, hands hovering over the controls, foot tapping against the floor of your mostly functional ship. Then, with a muttered curse and a shove of the throttle, you changed course.

You told yourself it was just curiosity.

You were lying.

The canyon was steep, narrow, and littered with smoke. You kept the ship low and quiet, sensors pinging every few seconds as you zeroed in on the signal. It took a second to see him, black armor half-covered in dust, rifle beside him, his leg pinned under a collapsed outcropping of rock.

And worse: three hostiles circling above. Blasters out. Not bounty hunter, mercs, maybe. Trained, armed, and absolutely out for blood.

You landed hard enough to rattle the panels.

Doors opened before the landing ramp touched ground.

“Hey,” you shouted as you stepped out, weapon raised, voice smug and far louder than necessary. “Funny seeing you in the dirt.”

Three heads turned. Too late.

You fired twice. Clean hits.

The third one ducked, fast, but not fast enough. You didn’t get him, but your shot knocked him off balance long enough for Crosshair to recover his rifle.

One shot. One breath. Gone.

Silence returned.

The wind kicked up dust, blood and tension.

You lowered your blaster and strolled forward, chin tilted up just enough to make your grin feel like a weapon.

“Look how the tables have turned.”

Crosshair didn’t respond right away. He was breathing hard, propped against a boulder, his armor scraped and blood streaking down one thigh.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, because of course he did.

You crouched next to him anyway.

“Sure,” you said. “You look great. Real intimidating... if I squint.”

He gave you a look that could have frozen fire. “Are you here to mock me or get me out?”

You made a show of thinking. “I mean… I could leave you. Wait around for the next group to finish the job.”

He didn’t flinch. “You won’t.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why not?”

He looked at you. Really looked. That tattoo drawing your eye like a magnet. His voice dropped just enough to hit somewhere deep in your chest.

“Because I let you walk away.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart do what it did. You stood abruptly. “Yeah, well. Call it even.”

You helped him up, awkward, heavy, but steady. He hissed once when the weight hit his leg, and you caught his arm before he stumbled.

The contact was too warm.

Too familiar.

You guided him toward your ship, trying to ignore the way his fingers tightened around yours, just for a moment, before he let go.

“You’re limping,” you said, a little too smug again.

He shot you a sideways glance. “You talk too much.”

“Must be the concussion from watching me save your ass.”

He didn’t respond. But you saw it, the twitch at the edge of his mouth. Almost a smile.

Almost.

The hum of the ship's engine thrummed low beneath your feet as the planet shrank behind you. In the cockpit, the nav was locked in. Smooth jump to hyperspace in less than a minute.

In the back?

Crosshair sat on the edge of the bench in your medbay alcove, one leg stretched out, jaw tight, eyes sharper than ever, even while bleeding.

You crouched in front of him with a med kit and a scowl.

“Stop glaring at me,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond. His gaze was somewhere else, not on your hands, but over your shoulder. Scanning.

You knew the look. He was cataloguing everything.

And there was a lot to catalog.

Your ship wasn’t standard. No cold chrome. No Imperial precision. Instead:

Music playing low over the comm system, a rough, steady rhythm.

A dog-eared book, half-opened, wedged into a compartment above the seat.

Trinkets on the shelf. Old flight pins. A dented flask. A ragged scarf tied around a pipe that served no function.

A painted panel on one wall — something someone once called art.

He didn’t ask about any of it. He just saw it.

But you could feel the shift. Like he was starting to understand something about you he couldn’t quite articulate yet. Something that unsettled him more than a firefight.

You finished cleaning the wound. “You’ll live,” you said, gently pressing a bandage over the gash.

“Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, for someone who almost died today, you’re in a remarkably shitty mood.”

“I don’t like being shot.”

“I don’t like being hunted,” you shot back, voice quiet now. “Yet here we are.”

That made him pause.

The music shifted. Something angrier. You weren’t sure which track. It had bled into the playlist naturally, but now the lyrics felt too raw.

I tried so hard and got so far...

He looked at the speaker. Just for a second.

“You listen to this on purpose?”

You gave a half-smirk. “It helps drown out too loud thoughts.”

He looked at you again, longer this time. Like he didn’t expect the honesty. Like it did something to him he didn’t want you to see.

Then his gaze dropped to your hands, still stained from the fight, still shaking a little.

“I flinched.”

“But you didn’t run.”

You shrugged. “You were bleeding. I didn’t have time to run.”

Another pause. Then, so soft you almost missed it: “You could’ve let me die.”

You looked up. Met his eyes. That damn tattoo again. Always watching. Always targeting.

“I could’ve,” you said. “But I didn’t.”

The silence stretched again, broken only by the music.

Then:

“You should change your codes.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nodded toward the panel. “Your ID tag. Your registration’s still flagged from the last planet. If you’re going to keep flying with that name, someone’s going to find you.”

You stared. “You… checked my tags?”

“I had time.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Not really. So you leaned back, set the med kit aside, and looked at him.

“You still gonna turn me in?”

“No.”

“But you said...”

“I said no second chances,” he said. Then added, almost like it hurt, “This wasn’t a chance. This was a… complication.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m a complication now?”

He looked at you like you’d said something obvious. “You always were.”

You stood before he could say anything else, moving toward the cockpit.

Behind you, the music changed again. Low and intense.

And as you slid into the pilot seat, you realized something:

For the first time since he walked into your life, Crosshair wasn’t just watching you like a target. He was watching you like a person. And that scared you more than the bounty hunters ever did.

The hum of the ship had faded into the background hours ago. Now it was just you, the faint ache in your shoulder, and the quiet pull of the engine coils that needed organizing, or maybe just touching, just something to keep your hands moving.

The playlist kept running. A track drifted in, one you usually skipped when someone else was around.

You didn’t skip it this time.

“Good Things Go.” You weren’t really thinking. You were somewhere else. Half-remembered regrets, sharp edges dulled by fatigue.

And your voice, soft, low, almost a hum, joined the melody.

Say I hate you when I don't... Push you when you get too close... It's hard to laugh when I'm the joke... But I can't do this on my own...

You didn’t notice him shift in the cot.

Only you can save me from my lack of self-control... And I won't make excuses for the pain I caused us both... So thank you for always standing by me even though... Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go...

The last note faded.

You blinked, suddenly aware of the room again. Of him still behind you. You turned your head halfway, not meeting his gaze, not needing to.

He hadn’t moved.

Not much.

But you knew he’d been listening.

Maybe not to the words. Maybe just to the sound of you. The way your voice had softened. The way your guard had slipped.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t react. Didn’t ask.

Just kept his gaze steady, unreadable, cool, but not unkind. And maybe a little longer than necessary, he didn’t look away.

You cleared your throat, turned back to the compartment. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He didn’t respond.

But his voice came a few moments later, low and distant:

“…Didn’t sleep.”

That was all.

But somehow, it was enough. Maybe it was somehting in his voice, in that moment, that told you, he wasn't as cold as he was acting.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@thecoffeelorian @littlemissbshine

[supervillain-smut]

Anatomy Part 2: Connor

Part 1 Markus

Connor was attempting to act like your hand down his pants wasn’t affecting him, and he was doing well, really, he was. Hank was reading a magazine peacefully in the front seat of the car, meanwhile, you and Connor had been relegated to the back seat because ‘kids sit in the back seat, and I’m the oldest!’. It was the perfect opportunity to test Connor’s willpower. You slowly traced the edges where you could feel his sensor pad. Cyberlife clearly hadn’t planned on their little cop bot getting busy due to his lack of genitalia, but that was just fine; made misbehaving more discreet. His LED remained a perfect blue, with no yellow to be seen; perfectly calm. You, however, had a perfect view of the oh-so-subtle flickering it did whenever Connor was hiding his emotions. 

Connor gave you a side-eye warning glare, but you pretended not to see it, opting to creep just a little closer to the center of his touchpad. That got a reaction as Connor attempted to shift his hips away from your touch; you knew despite your teasing he was into this; you’d made a subtle but clear signal when Connor didn’t want to partake in your particular brand of mischief; two fingers, like checking a pulse, against your arm, followed by two firm taps. His hands stayed on his lap, tightly gripping his pants as his jaw clenched. His LED began to flicker properly now, and you could see the smallest sliver of yellow bleeding into the blue. 

“So, what do you guys think about this... Deviant stuff?” Thankfully, Hank didn’t bother turning to face you as he spoke, not even looking at you at all. 

“I...” Connor stumbled over his words at first, flustered by the sudden question. “I have no comment, Lieutenant. My function is simply to find and detain them.” Hank scoffed at Connor’s words. “And you?” 

“I think it’s best I didn’t discuss political matters while at work, with all due respect.” Hank stared at the page before shrugging. “Fair enough.” 

You peeked over Hank’s shoulder at the GPS, then at Connor’s LED; you were nearing the Eden club, and Connor was just approaching the point of no return; ending it now would be merciful, but you’d have to work to get him off before you arrived. You doubled your efforts, skipping the teasing and finding the center before moving in fast, short strokes. Connor’s LED immediately switched to a flickering yellow, and his breath hitched. You watched as his LED let more and more red bleed into the yellow, and worried you’d end up being cruel leaving him like this if you couldn’t make him cum before you got there. 

“Connor now is not the time to be holding back, unless you want to try to function with your brain all foggy and unfocused. Now let go but stay quiet. You can do it.” You whispered so lowly only Connor could hear it as you properly cupped him, using your thumb to swipe up and down at your previous pace. Connor’s jaw hung open as his eyebrows furrowed and his LED swiftly began to turn red. The car made a sudden swerve to avoid another car, and Connor grabbed your arm to halt your movements as he came, doing his best to calm his breathing before Hank noticed something was off. 

“Jesus fuck, fucking idiots! These things drive themselves you know! You kids alright back there? Connor?” You had managed to get your hand out of Connor’s pants and fix them up just in time as Hank swiveled around to face you. 

“I-I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just a little startled, I was... zoned out, when it happened.” Connor cleared his throat and fixed his tie. “Yeah. Well, you do that a lot. Anyways, we’re here. Come on.” As you made your way into the club, you were suddenly grabbed and pulled back by Hank. “Seriously, though, stop fucking your boy-toy android.” 

[the-clawtake]

“Stravag!” Jehan swore, slamming his fist against the console as an error message flashed up on the screen. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling slowly, he pulled the diagnostic unit towards him, and started to type on the keyboard again. His Trinary had got lucky, after the fight. Two of the Blakist pilots had not made it as far as their ‘mechs. While a wholy inadequate substitute for his own Kodiak under the best circumstances, the Toyama he was presently attempting to jailbreak at least had a functional cockpit. His Kodiak not so much.

“Uh... Star Colonel?” The portable comm at his belt crackled with static as the transmission came through. He reached down and hit transmit,

“Aff?” he responded, focused on trying to bypass the Blakist security. He had no desire to have his brains fried when he started up the ‘mech. He keyed in another string of code. Tapped enter. Error.

“You... you might want to hurry it up there. We have contacts, north. A lot of contacts.”

He growled softly, tapping out a different string, then toggled his comm.

“How many contacts, Warrior. And how far out.” Really, that should have been the first thing the warrior had passed along. He finished the string of code, tapped enter.

“Looks like a full Level III. Maybe more. They are still a couple of kilometers out, coming in slow.”

“Aff. Keep me posted.” He turned his attention back to the diagnostic unit, where a green “Access Granted” was flashing. Breathing a sigh of relief he unplugged the unit, slotted it behind the command chair, and reached for the coolant vest and neurohelmet connections. Thank Kerensky those connectors were pretty much universal. A quick scan of the console and he found the ignition.

“Reactor. Online. Sensors. Online. Weapons. Online. All Systems. Nominal.” the familiar start-up litany was reassuring, even in the unfamiliar cockpit. Now to find the comms, and the sensor map, and key into the Star network, and... He did not have time. Even the slowest battlemechs would cover that distance before he could get everything figured out. An entire Level III?

He hit his portable comm again.

“Star Commander Rauda. You have command. Defensive positions.”

“Aff.” was the immediate response, and he went back to trying to figure out the cockpit. He did not have time for this. There. There was the sensor screen. The first contacts were showing up on it, and showing up as friendlies. Which given that he had not touched the IFF settings was a bad sign. He was already, effectively, down two Stars. This was not looking good.

Ah! There was the comms settings. He adjusted the frequency to 117.69 – Hopefully, Star Captain Tseng was on their way. All he had to do was hold out until then. He listened as Rauda passed out positioning orders – They had decades fighting alongside each other, knew each other better than anyone and her troop dispositions were exactly what he’d have ordered – while he continued to work out the control scheme,

All he had to do was hold.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

[tickle-headcanons]

Is it alright to ask for some Neo Metal Sonic headcannons or is he too similar to base Metal?

(Welp, I see the vision :3) ⚡️Neo Metal Sonic – Extra Tickle Headcanons 🤖🌀

🤖 Lee!Neo Metal Sonic

Okay so like… regular Metal Sonic was ticklish because of his high-precision sensors ➤ But Neo Metal? ➤ He’s been supercharged. Upgraded. Enhanced. Amplified to god-tier. ➤ EVERY system is heightened. ➤ And that includes his sensory receptors 😈

He went from "ticklish" to "TICKLISH" with a capital AAAAAAA

Sensitive Spots? All of them. But here’s the worst offenders: • 🔵 His chest core – You so much as boop it and it sends a whole wave of overstimulation • 🔵 His ribs/panel seams – They twitch like crazy and spark if fingers get in there • 🔵 Base of the neck wiring – Can’t handle being tapped there, he does that “jerky recoil and stomp” move • 🔵 Between his shoulder blades – Sonic found this one and will not stop using it • 🔵 *His thigh plating – Notoriously hyperreactive and twitchy now in Neo form • 🔵 Inner elbows – WHY is it so bad there?! No one knows!!

He HATES that this is even a thing 😤 ➤ “I am PERFECTION. I am BEYOND FLESH. This should be impossible.” ➤ Meanwhile: “nGH– hhgGkkT– s-SToOOp!!”

When overstimulated he starts spouting error messages and static garbles ➤ “SYSTEM OVERRIDE– rrrr– H-hA– FUNCTIONALITY– compromised—!!” ➤ Sometimes his voice box lets out the most robotic giggle and he wants to implode

Sonic, Shadow, and even Amy are living for it. ➤ “Awwww is the big bad robot squirming~?” ➤ Shadow just pokes a panel and Neo flinches so hard he FLIES ➤ Tails scientifically logs his ticklish frequencies. Neo wants to yeet him into the sun.

🌀 Ler!Neo Metal Sonic

Oh he’s mean. ➤ Silent. Unrelenting. Efficient. ➤ No playful teasing—just pure, tactical chaos.

He’ll scan you for your most ticklish points and go straight for them ➤ No hesitation. “Data confirmed. You are weak here.” ➤ Then he activates laser-precise vibrating fingertips and goes for your knees or sides

When he gets revenge, it’s merciless. ➤ Will hold you in a stasis field and just… hover his fingers over your stomach while you panic ➤ “Reacting already? Fascinating.”

Secretly though?? ➤ He’s so flustered when he’s the one laughing that he always goes extra hard to reassert dominance 😤 ➤ “You will regret this insolence–!!” [three seconds later: short-circuits from a rib poke]

[circinuus-oc]

𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏𝟎𝟏 | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢

➸ codex: synthetic sweetheart; on the run android! oc x reader

➸ prompts: "you're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

"You're not upset that our alternate universe selves aren't together?"

Koji doesn't answer outright. The ventilator hums lowly as he tinkers with the obsolete toaster on the kitchen counter.

"It's a hypothetical parallel world."

"So.. you don't care at all?"

He doesn't look up. The rusted cord storage falls off with the screws. "Being together in every universe, that's..."

"—inevitable!"

"—wistful."

You make a face.

Koji has never used abstract, sentimental words. This encounter is about as rare as coming across a functioning vintage tech in a landfill. The floor is cold against your feet when you jump down from the counter, peeking the sad toaster from his shoulder.

"So you do want us to be together in every universe?"

"It's not something that can be proven with what lacking data we have about wormholes." He doesn't deny it. The toaster parts are now neatly lined, ready for serious rust scrubbing. He turns to you at last, cybernetic irises flickering.

"This," he doesn't gesture with his hands; he knows you know, "—was, is a miracle. I won't ask for more."

"Oh, sweetheart."

He doesn't stop you when your arms loop around his neck. Koji was a creature hardwired for violence and swift endings; a confused, fearful weapon in the grasp of gentle hands. He's lost you once, twice, a few happenings far too many. His head tilts down while you tiptoe, keeping visual sensors in direct orbit to your eyes.

"Yes. Sweetheart."

You preen. "Did you pick up my theatrics for sappy words?"

"It's your specialty. I don't see any reason to compete."

A string of laugh rings like a gentle wind. He captures and memorizes everything from the way he drinks in your vision. A marvel, a blessing. Healthy and unmarred in his arms and for once not in a threat of a remote deactivation or a missing bio-machine spare part too obsolete to find replacements of.

"You know, it might've really been a miracle." Your hands are soft against his cheeks." But that doesn't make you any less deserving of me. Of us."

"I know." He does know. You say that everyday. "Thank you." he supplies.

"For what?"

"For everything."

Being in Koji's hold feels like curling in a weighted blanket with an automatic temperature regulator. His hands are tentative against your lower back, so you shove yourself forward and meet his hug full on. He hold reciprocates.

"Thank you too then," you breathe against his shoulder. "For shoving me to that emergency pod before the plane fell. For letting me tail behind you. For putting up with every bad synthetics joke. For letting me stay and for staying too."

His chuckle is something warm and low. You regret how you're not in time to pull back and get a glimpse of the curl of his mouth.

It's still there.

Soft and indulgent, tender in a way it encourages blissful sodium chloride tears solvent or a giddy smile. Rapt like a man staring at the ghost of his dead wife who he has never truly lost. You return it with a blooming heart. This is home.

"Paging my husband! Is he there?" You tap his nose with your thumb, still cupping his face. "I'm here, you see? Real and in no way a holo-projected image."

"I know."

"Mm. You say that a lot. Do you really?"

Koji hums, leaning down to tap his forehead against yours.

"Maybe you need a reminder." Your words are giddy smiles and breathy giggles. Koji says. He always does.

The sky is grey and the sun is cold outside the safehouse. But he is warm and so is his breath mingling with yours. You hover for a kiss; his exhale stutters, both of you are too content to peel away from each other.

For a stolen moment from the universe, something so small is worth more than any fancy lootables from the nearest black zones around New Terra.

Something bumps against your feet. It whirrs and beeps until you regretfully pull back from your husband. Koji exhales the breath he's been holding, torn in between chasing back the proximity and letting his system cool.

The culprit—or savior? beeps in the name of attention deficiency. Your Roomba dog finally clicks in glee when you pick it up. Still with the old school sleek metal and round model in all of its glory.

"Aw, look, our son misses us. Who's a good boy?"

Koji shakes his head. "It's a cleaning appliance."

"Our son! You know you love him."

Roomba makes another round of whirring noises. It's sensors blinking with intermittent lights. Koji sighs in both fondness and exasperation. The vacuum cleaner—your son beeps when his hand pats the flat surface of its top cover.

You and him might not be together in an alternate universe. But in this one, you, him, and your Roomba vacuum cleaner are one warm family in a cold world of steel and sinew.

[petalbcrnes]

Half blood : adhd + dyslexia most of them children with either have one of godly parent. Mother father

Camp half blood : camp for half blood.

Cabin 1 : Zeus

Two : Hera

Three : Posseidon

Four : Demeter

Five : ares

Six : Athena

7 : Apollo

8 : Artemis’s bit she is a virgin so she come toward some children and had the Artemis blessing that made the child a hunter of Artemis they are immortal until they get killed and they follow the godess everywhere.

9 : Hephaestus

10 : aphrodite « Claiming & Cabin

Claiming: When Aphrodite claims her children, a dove appears above the child's head and they receive a blessing of Aphrodite, which makes them more beautiful/handsome and puts them into stylish clothes. The blessing disappears somewhere between a day to a week after claiming.

Blessing: When given Aphrodite's Blessing, the child is changed getting rid of any flaws their body may have, and putting them in an outfit to really bring out their looks. This can last for a few days, while in some cases the imperfections may never come back.

Building: The cabin has a painted roof, with concrete pillars full of tiny beige pebbles and scallops, and a blue-and-white checkerboard deck with steps, and gray walls. There is a purple door, lace curtains and potted carnations by the window. On top of the door is a stone carved version of the painting "The Birth of Venus" by Sandro Botticelli.

Furniture: The inside of the cabin smells very heavily of perfume. The inner walls of the cabin are pastel green window trim. The curtains and beds are pastel blue and green. The campers have twin beds with pale blue sheets. Each bed has a blue dresser in between with drawers, a mirror, and makeup. Every camper has a chest with their name painted on it to store their belongings. Their personal bunk spaces are decorated with famous and attractive stars, and a few personal photos too. The cabin is always clean except for under the beds, which has chocolate wrappers, love notes, and other things under them. Powers:

Beauty Products Control: Children of Aphrodite have the ability to alter and control makeup, perfume, clothing, jewelry, and other beauty products (hairbrushes, combs, curlers, straighteners, etc). They are able to cause a mist made of perfume and/or cologne to blind and/or stop the attacks of their opponents.

Amokinesis: Children of Aphrodite have control over amokinesis, the ability to manipulate love and desire.

Love Curse: Children of Aphrodite can curse two people to love each other for a limited amount of time.

Emotional Influence/Control: Children of Aphrodite can influence the feelings of love. They can influence strong emotions such as hate, desire, and desperation. They can influence the thoughts of others so they would only think of the child. They can also curse someone so they will feel unloved, ugly, and the effects of a heartbreak.

Love Magic: Children of Aphrodite are naturally skilled in Love Magic.

Crush Sensor: Children of Aphrodite can tell when a person has a crush on someone that isn't being reciprocated.

Biokinesis: Children of Aphrodite can change their physical features like hair color, eye color, skin, ect.

Emotional Insight: Children of Aphrodite can read people's emotions, just by looking at them from close by or from a distance.

Clothing Manipulation: Children of Aphrodite can change their clothes at will.

Permanent Makeup: Children of Aphrodite have the ability to use Permanent Makeup on others, which can last for few days, weeks or even months. The makeup is impossible to remove in the time period that it lasts.

Zoolinguism: Children of Aphrodite can communicate with doves, geese, ducks, dolphins, and swans.

Children of Aphrodite can tap into the powers of any of the Erotes, as their mother is the mother of the Erotes. For example: charmspeak and functional wings as the Erotes can do so.

Love Aura: Some children of Aphrodite have a love aura around them at all times.

Charmspeak: Selected children of Aphrodite can have the power of Charmspeak, the ability to make people do whatever the user wants just by using the strength of their voice. However, those with a strong enough will, higher deities, and chaos deities are able to put up some resistance and/or are immune to its effects.

Some children of Aphrodite have enhanced battle abilities due to the fact Aphrodite was also a war goddess.

Enhanced Sight/Hearing: Some children of Aphrodite have enhanced senses of sight and/or hearing due Aphrodite’s associations with gossip.

Beauty: Children of Aphrodite radiate beauty. Making everything and anything look stunning on them.

Clothing Curse: Children of Aphrodite can curse a piece of jewelry or clothing.

Charmspeak Resistence: Children of Aphrodite have a higher resistance to charmspeak. They are able to know when it’s being used it but aren’t fully resistant to it.

Hallucikinesis: Powerful children of Aphrodite can create an illusion of a person’s greatest desire. Though it will drain the child.

True Intentions Knowledge: Powerful children of Aphrodite can know the true intentions of a person.» —from Google

YOU'RE SUCH AN ANGEL 🥹🥹🥹 thank you dear !! aphrodite's cabin sounds so interesting,,, you're convincing me to join lol

[thelongestway]

Well, there had to be a moment somewhere in a story that turned out to be fucking novel-length where I had to go back and redo an entire chapter because it wasn't working. (Twice, actually. I tried my initial idea, that didn't work, tried to change tacks completely to get around the problem (you saw that attempt); it didn't work either, so I had to go back to my original try and put more work into it to make it work. Yeah. It was as bad as it sounds.)

Still no guarantee that this has worked, but I'll see when I try to continue later today. (Not sure if in the same chapter or in a different one).

And of course, this was a chapter that I thought I had all figured out and it would be really fucking easy before I actually tried it. Such is the writing life!

Chapter 23: Observation

I walked back out onto the station, tapping into Aspen's feed to let them know I was embarking. They returned the handshake and let me link in, but otherwise ignored me, focusing entirely on their job. I could see their little tendrils, darting there and back, fixing some sort of process or checking up on a person, but there weren't many around. Tendrils, I mean, not people. Because the celebration was still going strong, and there were plenty of humans in Aspen's halls, some working, some relaxed. (My humans were back on their respective ships, at least. It was getting late in the station day-night cycle.)

I stopped at the exit to the docks. Normally, this was where I sent Aspen some kind of itinerary, but this time I didn't have one. Would they even let me on board if I didn't tell them exactly where I was planning to go and why? I wouldn't if I were them.

I'm not you, their voice said into my ear. You are free to come aboard.

Threat assessment spiked 12,5 percent as I frantically checked my channels. But no. We weren't connected beyond the fucking handshake. There was no way they could have--.

Or maybe they could. Whatever Dandelion said, they were half-brain-eating-zombie-AI.

What the fuck? Are you reading my fucking thoughts?

They laughed.

I don't need to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking. You're very loud.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Fuck you.

For someone who can't even stand to look at a naked body, you do seem to offer that a lot. But no. You're not my type.

That fucking station.

Aspen continued: It's utterly fascinating to watch how your nudity taboo plays out in the expletives you use. There are so many diverse systems of profanity, but you nearly always choose words connected to bodily functions--specifically, reproduction and defecation, two messy and vulnerable things humans like to kept private.

That's just how humans use expletives. Shut up.

Bullshit, they said, and even though I couldn't see any tendrils hanging on me, I could hear that fucking knife of a grin. By which I mean, did you forget that you gave Iceblink your entire media archive? The corpus you have available to you is so much broader than what you're actually using, even if it did lose 'bullshit' somewhere along the way. You're welcome for the addition to your collection, by the way. Gives you an alternative for when you want to accuse someone of lying.

My organic parts crawled.

Are you going to keep this up the entire time I'm on the station?

That depends. Are you going to keep telling me I'm not doing my job?

I wasn't planning on talking to you at all, I said.

Good, they replied venomously. Do that, and I won't talk to you, either.

The dock exit slid open, even though I'd stopped half a meter away from the sensors.

That fu--. That a--. That--.

Okay. Whatever sympathy I had was gone. I officially hated that sunbleached, fauna-riddled forest of a miserable station. (And I hated that I heard them chuckle when I thought that. I really wasn't convinced they weren't reading my mind at this point.)

But I marched inside, anyway. Because there was no way that--HubSystem could pressure me into fucking hiding on board ART just by watching me. I could take being watched. I was better at being watched than Aspen could fucking imagine.

Aside from the completely private, feed-blind areas such as personal quarters, Aspen probably had the fewest camera and microphones in their recreational areas, so I went up to their topside gardens. I found a spot as far away from any camera or speaker placement that I could see, sat down on the grass and watched.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just humans and genetically augmented humans mingling, most of them unfamiliar. (The one exception was Haze, who was sitting in a circle on the ground with seven other genetically augmented humans. They waved at me, and I circled a drone around them before moving it away. Haze laughed, and grabbed the smallest human in the circle by hand, pointing at my drone and talking to them excitedly.)

This wasn't helping, so I tapped Thiago's feed.

What exactly am I looking for?

Nothing specific right now, he answered readily. The point is to see what patterns emerge from what you see around you. Just record anything that catches your attention. Try not to make it a log or video dump, if you can--edit it as you go, be concrete about what you found interesting, exactly.

Okay, so Haze. Fine. I knew Haze, at least, so I had a lot of data for comparison.

Except the data was fucking useless, because Haze behaved almost exactly the same on the station as they did on board Dandelion. They weren't any more tense, or weirded out by Aspen's creepy analytics

(Wait, did Haze know the analytics were even there? They were an engineer, so they had to. But in any case, they didn't seem bothered by the idea.)

They did seem happy, but Haze was usually pretty cheerful. The rest of the augmented humans were kind of the same, actually. Their group reminded me of Preservation humans when they were engaged in recreational activities, but with a different adult-to-child ratio than Preservation groups normally had. (Four out of eight were full adults, two were juveniles, and two were children. It was weirdly symmetrical. And the age gap between the adults and the juveniles looked exactly the same as between the juveniles and the children, which didn't usually happen.)

Were they some kind of weird family unit? I wished I had a proper database to match them against, and to get their actual ages.

You're looking at a set, Aspen said. That's a Hylaran type of family unit. The ideal size is eight, but the uptake of new members is normally in batches of two, not six as it used to be historically.

Threat assessment spiked again. I hadn't actually sent that as a HubSystem query, had I?

I hadn't. They were in my fucking head again.

Why are the fuck are you talking to me right now?

Because watching you trying to figure out familial structures is just painful. And, as I said, you're incredibly loud by default, much louder than any human. I have to make an active effort to filter out you reaching for me.

Bullshit! I didn't send you any queries!

Who said anything about queries, SecUnit? I said you reached for me. Directed your attention at me. It wasn't difficult to figure out what you were wondering about.

That took me an entire two seconds to process.

Wait--you could do that this whole time?

If you mean, register your attention being directed at me--yes. I just did my best to ignore it when it wasn't a conscious request. But I am done being courteous to you while you try to make me into a rootrotting surveillance platform. If you want me not to overhear you, you're going to have to actually try and be quiet.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

Back to your standard profanity, I see. I don't actually know which word you're repeating, but most single-syllable expletives that fit the circumstances we find ourselves in are bodily-function related.

ART, I said on our private channel. (Was it private? I had no fucking idea anymore.) Are they fucking hacking me?

(I didn't think they were. But maybe they were just better at hiding. They couldn't be better than ART, though, ART chewed through a quarter of their fucking firewall in seconds.)

They're not, ART said, tense and angry. According to my analysis, this is just what they're getting from background data.

The fucking number of syllables in the swear words I'm thinking?

That's probably just statistics. You do have a limited profanity corpus.

Fuck you, ART, I said with the satisfaction of knowing it would not fucking twist this into being a sex thing.

If you want to continue with your survey, then I will keep watch, ART said. And the moment Aspen tries to hack you, I will make sure they have something else to worry about.

My threat assessment for that was distinctly low. (Even though I was glad to have ART with me anyway.) But Aspen didn't even hack the hostiles, so they weren't likely to really hack me just because I pissed them off. I was probably safe.

Just being observed. And commented on.

I could deal with that.

[sonicasura]

Organics eyes weren’t supposed to glow. Even Starscream knew that despite spending an abysmal amount of time around the species. Thankfully, Knockout was also there a few treads away even if his attention had been primarily on monitoring Breakdown.

“…Bygone?” The medic couldn’t help tentatively asking since neither knew if that really was the shapeshifter’s designation.

Their eyes narrowed, the glow growing slightly dimmer. A pained hiss left their face as they haltingly sat up. Many of the fabric bolts the two found in this location were displaced from the action. “Dart.” The shapeshifter began, their voice without much emotion in it. “When not transformed, my user goes by Dart. I am the Omnitrix.” The… being lightly tapped the device on their wrist though it’s faceplate was dim.

Then, the being’s face twisted into an irritated expression. “And you’re on thin ice Seeker.”

Starscream’s wings shot up at the sudden harsh tone yet he wouldn’t be intimidated by some organic shapeshifter. “And what exactly can an organic or inhabited organic do to me?”

————————————

Though it’s functions were slightly diminished, the Omnitrix still had enough power to sound the “leave us alone” beep right in the Seeker’s audio sensors. This left him nearly clawing them off to make the sudden sound stop. Due to Dart not being mentally present, the alien device let this continue for several longer moments than usual.

A uncharacteristic wide smile on it’s face from being able to “defend” them. (Dart really ought to show their heightened canines more, it’s an effective tactic.) It only relented in stopping it when Starscream’s voice grew to a certain volume. Revenge or not, it knew it’s user had invested a lot of time into the injured Decepticon… The Omnitrix just now realized the three cybertronians faction emblems were missing.

So they could listen, interesting.

—ROB’d Anon.

I bet Dart really hopes things are sort of under control when they wake up. Omnitrix and Starscream aren't a good combination.

[fayemouse]

If it was just some twists and leverage to get your screws unstuck -- you could handle that. But they did a real number on you. Threads are overlapping, a head is cracked; it's a wonder that they aren't stripped entirely. Thank over-engineered torque heads.

So the tech begins simply drilling out the seized screws. You don't mind that so much. The screws aren't a part of you, and it feels a bit like what you imagine a horse feels when they clip a chestnut.

It's the taps that are the most frightening. After a small prayer to a god you neither recognize nor want to, the work begins on remaking the interior threads. New concentric spirals are bored directly into your body. It's a reforging of sorts: those holes will always be a few micrometers larger. You'll always need to buy the other kind of screws, even though it's been one type all your life.

You wince, trying to will your systems to not read this invasion as a threat, trying to remind your core processor that you're safe, you're at an authorized service center, you're in capable hands. But it's little use as you register permanent-- no, not disfigurement, stop that. It's just change. Plus, that size only comes in marble anodization that looks quite fetching under the noble gaslight.

You look over through the window between the sales desk and the service bay. They're there, pacing, fretting over how long it's taking, more worried at the size of the taps than you are. You can see that they're regretting "drinking and hammer-driving" as they called it with a giggle the night before. You remind yourself that when you're more functional, you both deserve a night of pampering. Perhaps you could g--

Your eyes go wide. Your vision goes white.

A crack echoes through your audio processor, but it's drowned out by the internal alarms of your body sensors.

Confused signals. A string of expletives. Not their voice.

Then everything goes blank as your emergency interrupt is triggered.

[electrical-sciences-dump]

ooc: TW — unethical human experimentation, severe sleep deprivation

Electrical Lab #3

Introduction: This is an experiment conducted by Dr. Miller and Dr. Anderson. We are using electricity experimentally to determine if it can be used to further the effectiveness of Department forces or to make temporary containment (without a Delta present) more viable. This is considered to be a similar process to ECT, although omitting any anesthetic as it is unnecessary.

Subject: Dreamwalker #9126

Purpose: To prove it is possible to fully incapacitate the powers of a dreamwalker without using a Delta to mute their core.

Hypothesis: It should work, as sleep deprivation will incapacitate most average people. But it is debatable whether or not being unable to fall asleep will prevent the subject from working around the muting of their core.

Materials:

Two metal discs (electrodes)

Source of electrical current (in our case, Dr. Miller's powers)

Electroencephalogram (in order to monitor brain wave activity, in our case to check for signs of the subject beginning to fall asleep)

Electrical current controller (a small machine that will ensure Dr. Miller's electricity input, when sent to the subject, will not exceed safe levels)

It was deemed that painkillers and muscle relaxants were not necessary.

Procedure:

Situate subject, place sensors (for detecting when the patient is beginning to fall asleep) and place the electrodes on either side of their head.

Rig sensors to an alert system, so that we are aware of when the electric shocks must be administered to ensure the subject does not fall asleep

Keep subject locked in containment room, ensure cuffs are in place to prevent subject from acting on hostile urges.

Send electrical current before patient falls asleep; repeat as long as necessary. In our case, this experiment went on for three days, more accurately 73 hours.

Observations:

Dreamwalker 9126 seemed calm for the first 4 hours, although nervous and antsy due to having been displaced from their home.

Once we entered into the 5th hour, Dreamwalker 9126 showed visible signs of boredom and some frustration. This continues for a few more hours.

Around the 12th hour, exhaustion began to overtake Dreamwalker 9126 and we got our first ping on the alert system. We delivered a very small shock, which quickly brought 9126 back to full wakefulness. 9126 seemed perturbed by the sensation, but made no remarks.

Feeding 9126 calmed them slightly, although we observed some sadness. They became more compliant again after eating.

For the next several hours, into the 2nd day, we continued delivering electrical shocks regularly, as 9126 was continually showing signs of nearing sleep.

By 7:42 AM on the second day of the experiment, 9126 showed less signs of exhaustion, and seemed to be resisting the effects of their tiredness. No electrical shocks were needed for 5 hours.

Once noon passed on the second day, 9126 began falling asleep again. This time, when we delivered the shock, they visibly jolted awake, and looked distressed. They proceeded to strongly resist sleep for a few more hours. They seemed to be attempting to distract themselves with small sensory feelings such as tapping their hands and feet against the bench they were seated on and the floor. Their restraints impeded this.

By 5 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 was openly talking to themselves and seemed to be disregarding our surveillance, likely having given up on keeping up a farce of silence. None of their words were of any consequence and seemed to be mostly personal nonsensical ramblings.

At 6 PM, Dr. Miller entered the containment room and spoke to 9126 about their situation, briefly mentioning the experimental nature of this arrangement. 9126 had previously been told this was standard practice, for the sake of ensuring compliance. They didn't seem to fully comprehend his words, as they were likely beginning to lose cognitive function due to sleep deprivation. Dr. Miller then left.

At 6:54 PM on the 2nd day, 9126 began falling asleep again. Delivery of electricity this time resulted in them jolting awake, similarly to their previous reaction. This time, it seemed more difficult for them to resist sleep afterwards, and we ended up needing to deliver a stronger shock, which kept them solidly awake for the next hour.

Intern #2531 entered and gave them food. When he attempted communication, they were unresponsive and seemed too dazed to speak with him.

The night of the 2nd day had many more close calls with falling asleep compared to the previous night. Regular shocks kept 9126 awake, and they did not end up fully falling asleep. Regular shocks continued for several hours until 5:38 AM when 9126 seemed to commit once again to staying awake.

Until 4:41 PM on the 3rd day, 9126 showed no signs of sleeping. By this time their core had been unmuted for several hours and there was absolutely no attempt to use it. They did nearly fall asleep at this time, but our electric shock jolted them back awake very effectively and they continued for several hours without any further attempts at sleep.

At 9:56 PM on the 3rd day, Anderson entered the room to speak with 9126. They showed no visible recognition of him and were completely unresponsive, giving him only a blank stare. As a test, he grabbed their arm, pressing hard into it. They made no move to pull away or hit back. Anderson then left.

Intermittent shocks seemed to keep 9126 fully alert. We eventually observed that their eyes had become unfocused. They no longer were holding themselves upright at all and had completely stopped talking or making any sensory movements for the past several hours.

They remained in the above state for the remaining hours of the experiment, until the end of hour 73 of the experiment, when their probation officers took over their custody.

Results:

Experiment seems to be a success. Even with the dreamwalkers core pre-muted for scientist safety before experiment, Dreamwalker 9126 showed no signs of magical core activation, no matter how strenuous the experiment got for them. In fact, we left their core unmuted for the entire third day, and we sensed absolutely no magical emission.

[usafphantom2]

Tap photos to enlarge ☝️

flock of Blackbirds began flying at 85,000 ft. over the Caribbean last week, their sooty titanium skins glowing cherry red from air friction as they hit top speeds in excess of 2,000 m.p.h. The planes were Lockheed's needle-nosed SR-71s on strategic reconnaissance missions that President Carter has ordered to monitor Soviet military activity in Cuba.

If any aircraft can determine the combat capability of the Soviet brigade on the island, it is the SR-71—the fastest, highest-flying and most elusive manned aircraft in existence. So fast does the sophisticated spy plane move that when a pilot starts a 180° turn over Cuba, he completes it halfway to Bermuda. By emitting ECM, or electronic countermeasure radio frequency signals, the Blackbird can efface its image from watching radar screens.

Stationed primarily at Beale Air Force Base in California, the SR-71s last flew over Cuba in November 1978 to help determine whether Havana's Soviet-supplied MiG-23 fighters had a nuclear capability. The answer: no. U.S. strategic satellites are also used for surveillance. But when their vision is obscured by cloud cover, the job is given to SR-71s, which have cloud-penetrating infrared sensors and cameras that can take pictures at a scanning rate of 100,000 sq. mi. per hr., making it possible to monitor military targets anywhere in the world.

Most important are the Blackbird's ELINT—electronic intelligence-gathering functions that are also known as "ferreting." SR-71s can detect hidden objectives by interpreting electronic signals at extremely high altitudes. In addition, Blackbirds carry a long-range, side-looking radar (SLAR) that can spy deep into foreign countries without actually crossing their frontiers.

Moscow has been so concerned about the effectiveness of the SR-71s that it has repeatedly made attempts to shoot the planes down over Eastern Europe, North Korea and the Middle East with surface-to-air missiles. They have never made a single kill, but that could change. ( speculating that the SA-5 could change things but it did not.)

Entering the Soviet arms inventory is a new SAM called Gammon that the U.S. Air Force estimates has the capability of catching up with an SR-71. A major concern of U.S. defense authorities: if the Gammon is shipped to Havana, it could be bye-bye, Blackbird, over Cuba.

It could be but it never happened. Although the SR 71 was shot at many times no one was able to lock on and deliver The SR’s flew higher and faster than the Soviet missiles could go. SR-71s were a major contributor to winning the Cold War.

Paraphrased by Linda Sheffield Miller

Timetime magazine article October 1979

#SR-71

#Blackbirds

@Habubrats71 via X

[your-darling-gaze]

Eyeing the crisp suit chip, getting a hang of it for a moment, a bewildered expression, really, really uncertain about the idea, chest heaving with an easy breath, strained posture from hours of lab work, a chip that reads...

IRON PATRIOT V3.06.884

Latches the chip onto the left side of my chest, tapping it up once, twice...thrice. Tech starting to whirr around, plating expanding to cover against my skin, circuitry whirring inside the plating and cavities, the helmet hatching over my head for cover.

'Friday..? You in here..?'

Breathing heaved, system powering on, a million numbers and figures starting to float around in my sight, stats and figures, a handling console to move the settings around...

WELCOME, IRON PATRIOT. SYSTEM RENDERING, VOICE ACTIVATION REQUIRED.

'Uh...Anthony Edward.'

ACCESS DENIED.

'...Shit...Genius Billionaire?'

ACCESS DENIED.

'....For god's sake if this works....'

'Man in a Can.'

ACCESS GRANTED. FRIDAY, WORKING WITH YOU, IRON PATRIOT. PLEASE REQUEST Y0UR MUSIC.

Shakes head, slightly disappointedbut not surprised...

'Just play anything that mister stark plays, Fri...'

NOTED. NOW PLAYING: TAKE ON ME BY A-HA

'.....Can you make a data chip on the chest plate circuit functioning, send it in?'

PLEASE SPECIFY RECEIVER OF DATA.

'.....Darling Grace...?'

RECEIVER NOT FOUND.

'....Cherry..?'

RECIEVER NOT FOUND.

'Well shit...uh...Experiment Handler.'

RECEIVER FOUND. COMPILING DATA IN PROGRESS.

DATA COMPILED. SENT TO SELECTED USER ONLY WITH ONE TIME PASSWORD FOR ACCESS AND PERMISSION OF REPLICATING THE FILES ONLY TO RECEIVERS WITH ACCESS.

Hums in agreement, whispers a polite 'Thank you...'

Decides to look for controls to get the suit off. Eyes wandering over the many stats and figures hovering into my vision, getting slightly confused.

'...How does this come off...?'

REQUEST RECEIVED FOR TAKE OFF.

'...No, no, I meant Come Off, not Take Off...'

HANDLING RECEIVED FOR TAKE OFF. GETTING THRUSTERS READY.

'....What did you say...?'

THRUSTERS IN POWER, READY FOR BOOST OFF.

'Hey...hey, no, retrieve that request...no request...NO request...'

COUNTING DOWN: 3...2....1...0.

Thrusters boosting up with a jerk, wide eyes, trying to keep up with the tech handling, the sudden unbearable thrust, jaw locked from the acceleration against wind resistance, the music rivetting through the internal speakers, heartbeat throbbing hard against my chest, a violent beeping from the thruster heating up, a slight sheen of sweat against my skin from the heated suiting...

'Retrieve...reque....ret-'

Voice cracking, mouth drying out due to the speed, heartbeat accelerating, the sky speeding past the vision, clouds hazing vision, triggering the Acrophobia, the music resonating between my ears, mindless, not being able to register it...

'Retrieve...retrieve...'

Only small whispers left my throat...

FUEL RETRACTION. ENABLING POWER SAVING FLYING.

Chin trembling out of panic, Anxiety kicking in quicker than breath, trying to move around, trying to move hands, feet, anything, trying to reach somewhere more grounded...

'Mister...Mister Stark....'

FUEL LEVELS ALARMINGLY LOW. ENABLING LOW POWER FREE FALL.

Plummeting through the sky, suit flickering and sputtering as it struggles to stay operational, dim and unstable, with sparks erupting intermittently across its surface. The suit's thrusters erratic, flaring up sporadically but unable to provide consistent propulsion...

WARNING: The HUD displays critical errors and warnings, struggling to keep up with the rapidly changing situation. The suit's sensors and onboard computers are overloaded, barely able to process the free-fall trajectory or calculate a safe landing.

The wind howls around, amplifying the sense of speed and urgency. as the crescendo in the rivetting music builds. Every second counts, attempting to regain control on the deploying emergency systems...

______________________________________________________

( @the-loss-of-my-life @soldier-bucky-barnes )

[regalokitchens95]

Inspiring Modular Kitchen Design for Every Budget

Source of info: https://www.regalokitchens.com/blog/inspiring-modular-kitchen-design-for-every-budget

Introduction

Inspiring modular kitchen design concepts can be adjusted to any budget, providing accessibility and charm without affecting quality. Whether you have a small room or like luxurious finishing, there are many choices for design available to match your needs. From low-cost materials to premium facilities, flexible kitchens provide effective layouts, creative storage solutions, and attractiveness. Regardless of your budget, you can easily build a kitchen that's a perfect melding of function and beauty with the right design decisions.

Affordable Modular Kitchen Design

The most ideal option for an affordable and stylish kitchen is a budget-friendly modular kitchen design. Here are some budget-friendly ideas to consider:

1. Smart Material Selection

Choosing affordable but lasting materials is a necessity for an affordable modular kitchen design. Instead of buying pricey hardwood cabinets, choose laminated MDF or particle board. These materials provide a stylish finish while remaining cost-effective.

2. Efficient Storage Solutions

Maximizing storage with well-planned cabinets, pull-out drawers, and wall-hung shelves reduces mess while increasing usefulness. Regalo Kitchens offers creative storage solutions that make even small kitchens appear roomy and organized.

3. Simple Yet Elegant Designs

Rather than complicated carvings or high-end finishes, go for basic patterns in basic colors. A simple color scheme or soft pastels will help your kitchen look bigger and more inviting.

4. Affordable Countertop Options

Instead of granite or quartz, choose laminate or ceramic tiles for your countertop. These materials are simple to maintain, fashionable, and far more affordable in cost while remaining durable.

Mid-Range Modular Kitchen Design

If you have a reasonable budget, you can find a balance between both design and function. Here's how to upgrade your kitchen on a mid-range budget:

1. Upgraded Materials

Choose wooden cabinets with laminate or acrylic finish. These provide a nice look at a reasonable price. Regalo Kitchens offers high-quality modular kitchen design with a variety of finishes to bring luxury to your home.

2. Improved Storage & Accessibility

A well-designed arrangement that includes corner units, rotating pull-outs, and soft-close drawers improves performance. Vertical storage and under-sink organizers help to maximize kitchen space.

3. Enhanced Lighting Features

Adding LED strip lights underneath cabinets and pendant lighting above counters provides a warm and inviting environment. Good lighting improves both usefulness and style, making your kitchen more inviting.

4. Stylish Backsplash & Countertops

Select quartz, solid surface, or high-quality granite countertops. These materials are long-lasting, artistically beautiful, and easy to care for. A patterned tile wall can add style to the kitchen's overall appearance.

Luxury Modular Kitchen Design

There are plenty of options for individuals looking to invest in a high-end modular kitchen design. Regalo Kitchens specializes in creating beautiful, advanced kitchen spaces which combine beauty with modern technology.

1. Premium Materials & Finishes

Choose the oak cabinets, high-gloss acrylic finishes, or glass shutters to give a touch of style. These materials improve the overall look while maintaining durability.

2. Smart & High-Tech Features

Upgrade to a smart modular kitchen design that includes motion-sensor lighting, voice-controlled appliances, and automated drawers. Pull-down racks and built-in spice organizers are examples of advanced storage solutions that improve comfort.

3. Sophisticated Lighting & Fixtures

Impressive pendant lights, under-cabinet LED strips, and ambient ceiling lighting help create a premium environment. Stylish, high-quality taps and deep sinks give the kitchen's luxurious appearance.

4. High-End Countertops & Flooring

Make an investment in marble, quartz, or artificial stone countertops. Italian tiles or hardwood floors provide a classy touch to your modular kitchen design, making it a genuine showpiece. 

Why Should You Choose Regalo Kitchens?

Regalo Kitchens understands that each home is unique in its requirements. We provide customized options to match any budget, whether you're planning a low-cost, mid-range, or luxury cooking area. Here's what sets us apart:

Custom Designs: We provide customizable functional designs for kitchens to fit your taste and budget. 

Quality Craftsmanship: Our materials are tough, attractive, and made to last.

Space Optimization: We provide the best usefulness with clever storage solutions.

Affordable Pricing: High-quality kitchen structures at affordable pricing.

Expert Consultation: Our team of experts will walk you through each stage of the procedure.

Conclusion

A well-organized modular kitchen design can increase both the functionality and attractiveness of your house, whatever your budget. Regalo Kitchens offers unique solutions customized to your specific requirements, ranging from inexpensive options to luxurious layouts. With the correct materials, storage, lighting, and structure, you can design a modular cooking area that represents your sense of style while boosting performance. Allow Regalo Kitchens to help you in designing a kitchen that fits your budget while also turning your cooking area into a fashionable and functional masterpiece.