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electrum01 · 9 months

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A Game Changer in Retail: Convenience Store POS Systems Powered by Electrum

In the dynamic landscape of the retail industry, marked by rapid progress and constant technological breakthroughs, the advent of point of sale (POS) systems has truly revolutionized the way businesses function. These systems have undergone remarkable transformations, integrating various functionalities such as customer relationship management (CRM), inventory management, and loyalty programs. The fusion of these capabilities has ushered in a new era of innovation, with the Electrum-powered POS system emerging as a shining example of this transformative trend, particularly in the realm of convenience stores.

Distinguished by its unrivaled integration, efficiency, and intelligent features, the Electrum-powered POS system stands as a tailored and indispensable solution for convenience store operations. Meticulously crafted to optimize and streamline business processes, this system is a beacon of enhanced customer service and satisfaction, while placing paramount importance on nurturing and fostering enduring customer loyalty. With its comprehensive suite of functionalities, the Electrum-powered POS system empowers convenience store owners to elevate their operations to unprecedented levels, all while establishing a solid foundation for sustained growth and success in a fiercely competitive market.

A Streamlined Business Operation

One of the key advantages of the Electrum-powered POS system is its ability to streamline business operations. Gone are the days of manual record-keeping and laborious inventory tracking. This intelligent POS system provides real-time inventory management, allowing convenience store owners to track stock levels, manage orders, and prevent product shortages or overstocking.

Moreover, with its integrated CRM capabilities, convenience store owners can manage customer data more effectively. They can easily track customer purchasing habits, preferences, and buying frequency. This wealth of data aids in creating personalized marketing campaigns, leading to increased customer engagement.

Enhancing Customer Service

Customer service stands as an indispensable cornerstone for the prosperity of any thriving retail enterprise. However, the Electrum-powered POS (Point of Sale) system propels customer service to unparalleled heights, surpassing conventional norms. Its remarkable capabilities bring about a reduction in checkout times through swift and efficient product scanning and payment processing, thereby resulting in shorter queues and a heightened sense of contentment among customers.

What sets this system apart is its ability to seamlessly and automatically apply discounts and promotions at the precise moment of sale, ensuring that customers consistently receive the most favorable deals available. This automatic application of discounts not only eliminates the potential for human error but also instills a sense of transparency in transactions, ultimately augmenting the overall shopping experience for customers.

By embracing this automated feature, businesses utilizing the Electrum-powered POS system demonstrate a profound commitment to customer satisfaction and strive to exceed their expectations. Through the seamless integration of technology-driven convenience and accuracy, this system not only streamlines operations but also fosters an environment where customers can shop with confidence, knowing that they will consistently enjoy the best possible service and pricing.

Boosting Customer Loyalty

One of the most notable and noteworthy aspects of the Electrum-powered POS (Point of Sale) system lies in its remarkable integrated loyalty program. This advanced system possesses the unique ability to automatically monitor and record customer transactions, subsequently bestowing points to customers based on the total sum spent. By flawlessly combining the loyalty program within the POS system, a seamless and harmonious synergy is achieved, effectively incentivizing repeat purchases and cultivating enduring and mutually beneficial relationships with customers.

Moreover, the system's exceptional data analysis capabilities provide an additional layer of sophistication, enabling the customization of loyalty rewards. By comprehensively comprehending and analyzing the individual buying patterns and behaviors of each customer, owners of convenience stores are empowered to offer personalized rewards that are precisely tailored to align with the specific preferences and tastes of their valued clientele. As a result, this remarkable customization not only augments customer satisfaction but also enhances customer loyalty, fostering a deeper and more profound connection between businesses and their cherished patrons.

Conclusion

The Electrum-powered POS system has revolutionized the way convenience stores operate by introducing a host of groundbreaking features that have elevated their level of service. This sophisticated and highly integrated solution has become a game-changer in the convenience store industry, empowering businesses to streamline their operations, improve customer service, and cultivate strong customer loyalty.

In today's rapidly evolving market, where the customer reigns supreme, it has become essential for convenience stores to embrace innovative technologies in order to maintain a competitive edge. The Electrum-powered POS system presents itself as the ideal solution to achieve this objective. Far surpassing the functionalities of a traditional point-of-sale system, it offers a comprehensive suite of tools that not only simplifies day-to-day operations but also demonstrates a deep understanding of customers' needs and desires.

By harnessing the power of this advanced technology, convenience stores can effectively meet and exceed customer expectations. The system's robust features enable stores to process transactions seamlessly, manage inventory efficiently, and optimize staff productivity, all while providing a seamless and enjoyable shopping experience for customers. This enhanced operational efficiency allows convenience stores to remain agile and responsive in a fast-paced industry, enabling them to stay ahead of the competition.

Furthermore, the Electrum-powered POS system goes beyond the realm of transactional processing by placing a strong emphasis on customer loyalty. By leveraging its sophisticated loyalty program, stores can cultivate lasting relationships with their customer base. The system is designed to track and analyze customer data, providing valuable insights into purchasing patterns and preferences. Armed with this knowledge, convenience stores can tailor their offerings, promotions, and rewards to suit individual customer tastes, thus nurturing a sense of loyalty and fostering repeat business.

In essence, the Electrum-powered POS system represents the future of retail. It is a revolutionary tool that empowers convenience stores to adapt and thrive in a customer-centric landscape. By embracing this comprehensive business solution, stores can unlock a world of opportunities for growth, profitability, and customer satisfaction. With its ability to streamline operations, exceed customer expectations, and foster strong customer loyalty, the Electrum-powered POS system is truly a force to be reckoned with in the convenience store industry.

#Convenience Store POS Systems

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cremedensada · 18 days

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Yandere Filipino Mythical Creature

content warning: physical torture (not sure if it counts as torture , but the character is definitely in pain) , implied character death

It's the afternoon. It wouldn't be until a few more hours now until the sun sets into the horizon, but you're not worried about walking home at night.

Sure, this street was incredibly known as a hotspot of supernatural events, but that was practically all superstitions. Wherever a gigantic balete tree grew, a lot of people immediately decided it would cause hauntings and whatever. You never understood why they feared it - it was just a tree. You've walked down that path time and time again, and nothing weird or crazy happened. Except, perhaps, for the unexplainable feeling of dread, hairs on your skin standing up as a voice in your mind whispered and murmured about the feeling of being watched.

Walking outside the local convenience store, you count the remaining coins you have left after buying a bottle of soda. After quite the stressful day, you definitely deserve to splurge a bit, future you can fuck themselves.

A wrinkled hand grabbing your wrist jolts you out of your reverie, and you look up - gazing right into the haunted eyes of an elderly woman.

"'Gang," she murmured, "I sense the presence of an evil spirit taking an interest on you. You need to be careful."

You blink.

Yes, you never understood why the elders especially believed in the supernatural - everything had an explanation, after all. But perhaps it's because of how they sell the stories - the looks in their faces, the tremor in their hands, and the sheer insistence in their voices. That, perhaps, is what fuels the fear and continued beliefs.

"Po?"

"Kaluy-an ka sa Dios," she says, mournfully, "don't walk by the balete tree down the street. Take a detour."

She points towards the street ahead of you, the gigantic balete tree standing proudly amidst the busy-ness. A few people congregate around the base of the formidable tree; some, you recognize, have started to settle down and drink. Everyday, the drunkards start drinking earlier and earlier.

You turn towards her, and it's clear she's awaiting a response. Her eyes unnerve you - her gaze permanently looks stricken and focused, like she's looking at you and at the same time past you, looking at something incorporeal.

"I'll be fine, po," you reassured politely, giving her a smile that you pray to whatever deity that it looks comforting and not awkward nor fake. "Thank you for your concern."

You hope that was enough to placate her.

It was, kind of. She nodded and relaxed, but the fear remained in her eyes.

"They've been getting even bolder these days," she mutters, turning to rummage through her leather bag, "not many kids your age seem to believe us old folks anymore. Pah!"

You swallowed down the sigh. Yeah, you were wondering when the whole 'kids these days' script would start. You almost expected it now.

The old lady hands you a small bottle, inside it is a clear liquid - it looked a little bit more viscous than water.

"Keep it with you at all times. It'll keep you safe," she instructed, before hobbling off.

You look down at the tiny bottle in your hand before shrugging. You have no clue how this will protect you or whatever, but sure, you suppose. Your mother raised you to not be disrespectful of gifts from the elderlies even if you have no fucking clue how to make use of them.

You continue on walking, crossing the street and towards the pathway passing by the balete tree. It looks bigger up close, it always does. The feeling of dread bubbles up once more, but this time, your hands shake.

Perhaps you were unconsciously affected by the old lady's warning than initially thought.

You pause right in front of the tree. Your heart beating like crazy in your chest, and what was once just mere murmurs in your mind now felt like screaming, a buzz in your ear annoyed you - your instincts told you it was dangerous.

At that moment, you considered heeding the old lady's words. Sure, it'd be quicker to reach home this way, but with how your instincts were acting...

"Hello? Earth to stranger - are you okay?"

You jolted, heart racing. Standing in front of you was a stranger - a man smiling down at you. He seemed amused at your surprised expression.

"Sorry, sorry. I got lost in my mind for a sec," you reasoned with an embarrassed smile.

The stranger laughed lightly, the sound of his voice making your heart flutter unusually. You take a good look at him while he laughs.

His hair was dark and fluffy, too good to be looking that effortlessly natural. His skin could only be described as sun-kissed, glowing beneath the remaining rays of sunlight.

The stranger looked at you once again, his gaze intense as if committing your image to memory. Brown eyes, flickering into gold whenever the light hits just right.

"The name's Kaizer. Just call me Kai." He looked ethereal.

Out of politeness, you give him your name as well. Kaizer smiles.

"I know," he says, "I heard the people here mention it in passing. Want me to walk you home?"

The feeling of dread returned tenfold, the tiny bottle in your hand felt heavy. "It's fine. I'll be on my way—"

"Oh, but I insist," he continues smiling, "come on now, you don't believe in stories about how spooky balete trees are, do you?"

You take a step forward. It feels as though your body is moving on its own.

"I mean, if the tree was so scary, then why are people always hanging out around here?" Kaizer gestures to the few people lounging at the base of the tree. The drunkards you spied from before were still there, laughing and slurring their words as they passed a shot glass filled with beer to each other. A group of women were gathered as well, gossiping mothers and aunts - you presumed - paying you two no attention as if you weren't there.

Before you could respond, you felt the tiny bottle in your hand crack. It broke with a loud shatter, though miraculously your hand remains unharmed as you checked and fussed for damage.

Kaizer flinched at the sound, wincing before schooling his expression back to a smile. "What was that? It smells horrible."

Does it? You bring your hand to your nose and sniffed. Nothing. "I don't smell anything."

"Yeah, I figured," Kaizer retorted.

You have no idea what he means by that, or anything at all. You open your mouth, a question on the tip of your tongue—

Kaizer turns to look at you and beams once more. "Here we are!" He gestures to the black painted gate, the familiar house looming behind it. Your house.

Since when did the two of you arrive here? Not even a second ago you were both still underneath the tree. It usually takes you about five minutes more to get here.

You look up at Kaizer in confusion, and he seems to understand why. He merely smiles, reaches out to graze his fingers against your cheek and barely holds out a shuddering sigh. "Don't go out tonight, yeah?"

With that, he walks away - back to the balete tree. Perhaps he lived nearby the tree, which is why it was there where you met him.

You never thought to ask him how he knew where you lived.

——————

It was midnight. Gloria hobbled down the street. At the back of her mind she prayed that the young individual she spoke to at the front of the convenience store heeded her words.

Never in her seventy-five years of being alive had she sensed the presence of pure evil lingering around a mortal like it did with them. Alas, she wasn't as strong as her ancestors, so the little bottle containing the oil meant to protect them was all she could do.

She turned left and halted. The balete tree stood at the other end of the street, the atmosphere was eerie and cold.

Gloria turned back, retracing her steps. She pulled another bottle of the oil that she keeps for her own protection, and studied it. It was bubbling. A little bit, but it bubbled nonetheless.

The presence of a spirit was around the area.

She continued to hobble away, heart pounding as she kept glancing down the bottle and towards the path in front of her. Left, right, right, left — the balete tree stood at the other end of the street. The oil bubbled violently, like water boiling on the stove.

She turned again, eyes darting from left to right, behind, and forward. Something was after her now. The spirit was stalking her like she was its prey.

Where was she heading? Where should she go? Why was she even out in the streets at this hour?

The moment of clarity hit her the moment she finally reached her destination.

The giant balete tree stood in front of her. Gloria doesn't remember being out here in the first place.

"Are you lost, madam?"

Chills rose through her spine. The oil bubbled violently, before the bottle cracked in her hands. Sharp edges of the broken glass bottle broke through her skin.

Gloria turned to look, and her knees shook. She couldn't describe what she was seeing. The lady let out a choked sob, barely resisting the urge to claw her eyes out.

Kaizer stood in front of the pitiful lady, not a look of concern on his face. He spared her no sympathy as she fell to her knees.

"I gotta hand it to ya, madam, those oils you make to protect yourself from us is powerful," he says, hands in his pockets, "wonder how long it took for you to create something like that to ward off the likes of us. Too bad it doesn't work on me."

"It should have," Gloria refuted despite the despair in her voice, "it should have repelled you, you demon—"

She choked again, clutching at her throat. Something was preventing her from speaking, like someone had her windpipes in its grasp and ever so slowly tightening it.

"Sorry to disappoint," Kaizer approaches Gloria's kneeling form, "actually no, I'm not."

An unseen force pushes Gloria to stand up, up, up, until she can barely feel the ground beneath her feet. The hold on her windpipes continues to tighten.

"It took me so long to create a corporeal form, madame. I wanted to look perfect in their eyes," he spoke reverently, a look of awe on his face as he reminisced the memory he had with you, "I finally got to meet my darling today. Escorted them home like a gentleman would."

Gloria let out a guttural howl, devastated at what he said. Kaizer shoots her an irritated glare in response, and the grip on her throat tightens considerably.

"Mind your manners, madam," he chastised, as if he was not taking the form of an individual much younger than Gloria herself, "did anyone ever tell you not to interrupt people when they're talking?"

Gloria swallowed a sob, afraid of what he'd do to her if she were to say anything.

He looks at her with scrutiny before sighing. "As I was saying," he resumed, the smile once again returning to his face, "it felt like a dream come true. How funny, I bet you didn't think spirits like me are capable of dreams. We're actually capable of a lot of things."

Kaizer snapped his fingers, and the force keeping her afloat dissipated. Gloria slammed back down the ground, groaning in agony as pain flared through her feeble body. She didn't say a word other than letting out sounds of pain and whimpers, afraid to find out if he'd choke her again.

Gloria sobbed as Kaizer – the evil spirit that he truly was – grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head to meet his gaze. Red, gleaming and viscous, like blood.

"Listen here, Gloria," Kaizer hissed, the utterance of her name has her paralyzed with fear, "I will not let anything, and I mean anything get in the way of my beloved and I. Do you understand that?"

He looked at her like anything other than an absolute yes would not be accepted. She nods.

Pleased, Kaizer lets go of her. "Good."

Gloria weeps freely now, shaking and crying out in fear as the demon in front her merely stood and watched her despairing on the ground.

She looked up, meeting his gaze despite the struggle and the pain in her muscles pleading her to stop. At the back of her mind she knew, there was no way she'd get out of here alive. She would die in the demon's hands.

"Why are you doing this?"

Kaizer blinked, pretending to consider her question before smiling. A smile that would probably make someone's heart flutter. A smile that made Gloria's chest fill with dread.

Kaizer settled with a response: "Wouldn't you do anything for love?"

With a blink of an eye, Gloria found herself in the middle of the street. She could barely register the harsh bright headlights of a car speeding towards her before—

—————

It's the afternoon. It wouldn't be until a few more hours now until the sun sets into the horizon, but you're not worried about walking home at night.

Mostly because you make sure to be home before sundown.

You walk out of the convenience store, yawning. Today you had decided to treat yourself to another juice bottle; at the back of your mind you considered to try and not spend more money this week, especially your savings but you were never one to follow through.

You glance towards the street ahead of you, the gigantic balete tree standing proudly amidst the busy-ness. A few people congregate around the base of the formidable tree; some, you recognize, have started to settle down and drink. Typical.

Whatever, you could care less anyway. This would not be the first time you had to pass through the drunkards. At least they're too busy wasting the afternoon away drinking than harass you.

Nevertheless, you grip the strap of your bag tightly, and breezed across the street. You passed to the other side safely, passed by the drinking men without issues, and passed by the balete tree.

You let out a relieved sigh before continuing on your journey. A part of you wonders why you felt as though someone was staring at you - heart pounding in your chest as you willed the feeling to go away. It was probably due to the stress and tiredness that made your mind to conjure up such thoughts.

Back at the balete tree, its inhabitant watches you walk pass, unaware of its presence. Soon, it would show itself to you. A form that you would find pleasing to look at - something that would be able to touch you and approach you and talk to you. Just you wait.

—————

Translations:

'Gang - dear (affectionate term to younger individuals, commonly used by the elderlies)

Kaluy-an ka sa Dios - May God bless you

Honestly at this point I don't care if any of this doesn't make sense I just want to write something lol

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere scenarios #tw yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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bloompompom · 5 months

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A Little Joy

✽ summary: your pregnancy comes as a surprise, but the even bigger surprise comes when you tell your husband on christmas, twelve days later. ✽ content: ~6.4k word count. husband!eren jaeger x fem!reader. modern au, established relationship, reader celebrates christmas, mentions of jean x pieck, light angst, some fertility struggles, pregnancy, morning sickness/emetophobia warning, super soft domestic fluff, smut with big feelings, showering together, slight overstimulation, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content. reader discretion advised. 18+

You found out you were pregnant on a Friday afternoon. You were home alone after finally drumming up the courage to drive to the convenience store. You grabbed a bottle of ginger ale, some crackers, then paced down the personal care aisle at least four times, as any normal, rational person would.

You weren’t exactly trying to get pregnant, but you certainly weren’t preventing it either. Or if you were, you and Eren were doing a shit job at it, if it wasn’t obvious enough already. It was an unspoken agreement between you—‘if it happens, it happens.’ And if it didn’t happen, well, it didn’t matter because you weren’t really trying; no reason to get your hopes up.

When you woke up before sunrise on Thursday morning, it wasn’t because you felt particularly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You were whatever the opposite was—bleary-eyed and droopy-tailed, like one of those dogs in those terribly sad commercials. You lay in bed on your back, hands folded over your stomach, right under your ribs, and told yourself that you didn’t have to vomit. You don’t have to throw up, you definitely don’t have to—

Then you launched out of bed, skittered to the bathroom, and did exactly that. You flushed the toilet, brushed your teeth, and wrote it off as nothing more than a fluke.

When Friday morning rolled around and the process repeated itself, it was no longer a mere fluke. Only then did the thought cross your mind, right as you finished dry heaving into the toilet bowl: it’s happened. Finally.

You stayed quiet about it, slipping back into bed like you had never left. Not getting your hopes up, remember?

You chugged the ginger ale on the drive home, which didn’t help your nausea but ensured you had to pee. You tore open the cardboard box, skimmed over the instructions—you knew the drill, you’ve had scares before—and you followed every step. When the first test came back positive, you had more water, waited it out, then took another. Again, two pink lines, bold pink lines stared back at you. Then you grabbed the second box you purchased, a digital test, and prepared to take that one, too. The conclusion was the same; the third time was the charm for you to finally believe you were pregnant.

You did some quick mental math. If it was Friday, then Christmas Day was twelve days away. Eleven sleeps ‘til Christmas, you thought, like a kid giddily awaiting Santa’s arrival. Could you hold out until Christmas morning? Could you keep quite possibly the biggest secret of all time from your husband for twelve whole days?

It’d be the best present, wouldn’t it? Better than anything money could buy—better than anything you had already bought and wrapped for him. Yes, it was true you weren’t trying to get pregnant, but maybe you had been asking yourself, ‘Is this the month my period would come late?’ only for it to arrive perfectly on time. Again. Maybe you were gushing over cute babies more often and staring at little families at the grocery store for too long—or too longingly. You’d stopped worrying about birth control around a year ago, and he’d stopped bothering to pull out not long after that. So maybe there was a part of you—of both of you, because you could see it on Eren’s face, too—that wondered when, if ever, it would be your turn.

That was why you ultimately decided to keep it a secret. You had to. You wanted to gift him the reason to lose that wistful face he got whenever you’d point out another teensy pair of stupidly adorable baby shoes. The face you would catch every now and again, like that time you helped clean out his parents’ attic.

It was warm at first, nothing but smiles and feel-good memories as the two of you rifled through box after box, deciding what you should take home and what should get donated. Old family photos, forgotten action figures. All the picture books his five-year-old self cherished.

Eren took a few of his favorites home with him, tucked under his arm as you said goodbye to his mother. She was quick to point them out, smiling as she made sure he had Corduroy with him, leaning into you to explain that it used to be his favorite. He said he couldn’t find it, that book you didn’t even know he was searching for.

No, it wasn’t the missing book that had him bothered. You had almost made it out of the house with your fuzzy feelings still alive and intact, his hand almost on the doorknob when she made the comment every parent seemed to love:

‘Does this mean I can expect my first grandchild soon?’

‘We’ll see.’ ‘Who knows?’ ‘Not yet.’ You couldn’t remember what Eren told her, but what you did remember was the look on his face. On that car ride home, you still didn’t talk about it. You didn’t talk about it because you weren’t trying to get pregnant. And if you weren’t trying, then you had no hope to lose in the first place.

Now, you could only imagine the new look on his face—probably an ear-to-ear smile in excitement for your future, your family, and for the longest nine months of your lives as you waited to meet your little one.

He would be so surprised, too. He would never expect you to be able to keep a secret with your big mouth, as he liked to say. It was perfect.

The only thing left to do now was figure out how to present it to him, because twelve-day-old pee sticks sitting lonely in a box would be a pretty sorry sight.

Christmas was ten days away when you realized this was harder than you thought it would be. Not only the secret keeping but finding a creative way to surprise Eren. You had scrolled through countless forums, scoured through every cheesy dad-to-be gift that existed, but nothing felt right.

You had never considered how you would give the announcement before, and never did you think to make a big show of it. You always thought it would be as simple as outrightly saying the words—or even less than that, just running out of the bathroom with the positive test in hand. And you certainly never imagined you would keep it to yourself for longer than a few hours, let alone twelve days.

You decided to call your best friend for ideas. You debated if it was fair to tell her before the father of your child, but you wouldn’t do it without good reason, and this was as good a reason as ever. And technically speaking, you had known her longer, since high school. You were sure that buried somewhere in your friendship pacts was a promise to tell each other first. That was your justification.

You tried to sneak beneath her best friend radar with a coy, “If you were going to reveal a huge secret to Jean on Christmas, how would you go about it?” But who were you kidding? She immediately saw through you.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

You fell to your bed with a flop. Not in defeat but in that dreamy, cloud-nine way. Finally, someone knew. You could hear your smile spilling into your voice even as you warned her, “Please don’t tell Jean.”

Jean was her husband. More than that, he was one of Eren’s good friends. The two of you actually met each other through the happy couple, way back when. Best friends dating (and now married to) best friends. It went without saying that if Jean found out, then you might as well have told Eren yourself.

“I won’t, I won’t,” she assured. But she didn’t offer any more than her word because she, too, was clueless on pregnancy announcements.

Eight days until Christmas. You didn’t want to jinx it, but so far, your only symptom had been waves of nausea. You supposed you felt a bit sleepier than normal, only if you really thought about it.

You believed you had done a good job at pretending nothing was off, but your husband must know you better than that. Either that, or you were just that horrible of an actor.

That morning, you met Eren in the kitchen, greeting him with a big yawn—yeah, definitely more tired than usual. Pot in hand, he offered you some coffee, but the fresh-brewed scent you once loved now made your stomach churn.

You swallowed hard, said a short, “No, thank you,” and opted for toast, just toast, instead.

He gave you this skeptical look. Something must be wrong if you weren’t in the mood for coffee. You were half-tempted to drink it anyway, but then he approached you, slipping his hand around the nape of your neck. He drew you into him, placing a prolonged peck on your forehead like he always did when you were sick—his preferred way to check your temperature. You imagined he’d do the same with your child, too.

You didn’t feel feverish to him. He tossed you one of his usual quips—“Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”—but after you stammered something about dinner not sitting well, he brushed it off just as thoughtlessly as you had at first.

Crisis averted, for now.

Three days out, and you had started to think you might burst. The excitement that stirred in you had only intensified, your nausea now a fifty-fifty split of morning sickness and anticipation. It was to an embarrassing degree, too, like a child let in on a secret, walking around with puffed cheeks as if they’d erupt at any moment.

Not really, but that was what it felt like, only because you had finally thought up the perfect way to tell him.

Since that afternoon spent cleaning the attic was fresh on your mind, you thought to find those childhood books of his. You went searching in a few closets but discovered them sitting lonely in the corner of your spare room—storage room. It was a glorified closet by now, its only purpose was to hide forgotten items and eye sores. Everything, the books included, had collected dust. You’d have to get to cleaning and organizing it in the coming months.

You picked up one of the books, blew the dust off, smearing away the rest with your hand, and flipped through the pages. It was a walk down memory lane as you poked through a couple more books, the ones you remembered from your childhood. Then you thought of Eren—little Eren. Of footie pajamas and cheeks smushed in his hands, leaned into his mother with interest. Not exactly curled up in bed; it was more likely he was rolling around like the fussy thing he supposedly was.

You thought of him, years from now, sat on the edge of the bed—you could already imagine where you’d have it. Your toddler curled up beneath the blankets as Eren read to them. Or, if they would turn out anything like him, they’d be crawling atop him as he could only try to read. You couldn’t wait to learn which they’d be, who they’d be, and all the little joys of parenthood. It’ll look good on him.

That was when it came to you, your light bulb moment. The missing book: Corduroy. It was something special enough, specific enough, that only he’d know the meaning, because he was a sap like that. That was how you’d tell him. Why hadn’t you thought of it sooner?

Considering it was a long-time beloved book, it would be as easy as waltzing to the children’s section of any old bookstore. It would probably be front and center, too.

So that was what you did, and it only took thirty minutes roundtrip. You wrapped it with what leftover paper you could spare, stuck a pretty gold bow on top, and placed it underneath the Christmas tree with the other gifts you’d bought him, now paling in comparison.

Eren was packing the last of the gifts into the car when you snatched one, the important one, from what remained of the pile. You thought you were sly enough, that you had waited until his back was turned, but he caught you as you went to hoard it away.

He stopped, arms full of tinselly boxes, stacked high enough that he kept them steady with his chin rested atop, and curiously asked, “Not bringing that one?”

Over the years, it became a tradition to spend the day at his parents’ house, and somewhere between your late breakfast and four o’clock dinner, you’d open presents together, save the few and not-so-far-between indecent ones his extended family didn’t need to see. Which would explain the knowing eyes he was giving you now; why he didn’t question your quick, ‘It’s for later,’ before you left to hide it in your bedroom closet.

The morning was dipped in molasses. Every hour dribbled on by, every minute tacky and stuck to the next, until you were wading around in the liminal afternoon hours. You weren’t alone in the feeling, though. For as much as you suppressed your restlessness—laughing on cue though your mind might as well have been on another planet, declining a mimosa for the third time and still sounding just as polite as the first—Eren wore his plainly; sat on the edge of his seat but not in the I can’t wait to get the hell away from my family sort of way you would expect.

The impatience was there, yes, but not in the dreadful sense of the word; it was more sanguine than that. An anticipation to return home and settle in for the night, or for the gift awaiting him.

Or, more simply put, an impatience for you. Just you. Perceptible in his touch alone, beneath his touch, when he’d sneak up from behind and pull you into a hug. His hold was desirous—not sensual and needy but innocent, like some innate urge to keep you close. Every kiss pressed into your temple was tinged with benevolence. His palms, weighty with warm devotion, melted you as they curved over your hips and around your stomach.

You could blame it on the holiday spirit, how it tended to coax out such gooey, lovesome feelings. Mix that with the glass of wine he had and it would make perfect sense as to why your love language is physical touch husband was lovey dovey with you. But he had that glass well over an hour ago, and you couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere deep inside, like in his subconscious or id or whatever it was, he knew. Whether he was aware of it or not, some part of him had to know. It radiated from his hands, secure and protective as they always found their way back to you, resting on your thigh beneath the dining table or against the dip in your back as he slid past you in the kitchen. He couldn’t get enough—couldn’t have you close enough.

You assumed that to be the reason you left shortly after dinner, ‘regretfully’ having to skip out on board games tonight, as Eren put it, his hand snuggly at your back with his thumb making small circles you felt through your sweater.

It was dark when you stepped outside, enough that you would have thought it was midnight if you didn’t know better. It had started snowing, with chunky flakes that pitter-pattered against the ground instead of swirling through the air. It stuck, though, and by the time you arrived home, there was a powdered sugar coating across the lawn, shimmering in the streetlight.

You rambled on about your forgotten leftovers as you slipped from your boots. Eren’s hands came to your shoulders, helping you out of your coat sleeves. He hung it in the closet, listening to you recall the pan you had left behind, too. And while you ruffled his hair, picking the fat snowflakes off the top of his head, he assured you he’d grab the pan the next time he visited.

He held you in his arms, your rightful spot for the day, and felt you shiver between his hands.

“Cold?” Eren asked.

You nodded but immediately wished you could retract it. A grin spanned his face as he took it as the go-ahead to slip his hands beneath your sweater, his fingers like icicles against your back. You only responded with a sharp yelp, snatching his wrists and breaking free from his grasp.

After he stopped laughing, Eren made it up to you by running a hot shower, one you could share together. With your clothes reduced to a puddle on the bathroom tile, your December-frozen skin tingled beneath the stream of water. Your neck curled at the sensation, how it traveled to your toes the same way the steaming water trickled down the curve in your back. You rolled your shoulders and unwound from the day, watching as it washed down the drain.

All day, you only focused on what was to come, your mind racing and reeling until the moment you could be alone together—this moment. About as private as it gets. As ephemeral as it would take for the water to run cold. Short-lived and spurred by a collective sigh.

You always enjoyed showering together. Not shower sex, just showering. Not its most benign definition, but more innocent than the innuendo it carried. Though you would argue it was just as intimate, perhaps more. For what was more visceral than confessing you couldn’t stand to be apart, even for the minutes the mundane task would take, so why not do it together?

After all, it was easier that way, wasn’t it? More efficient? Not so much. But you didn’t crave efficiency, you craved him, his embrace, the feeling of skin on slippery skin.

The same hands that smeared away droplets from your face traversed down the expanse of Eren’s back, every divot and every groove of it. You slid them around his torso, his arms raised as he lathered shampoo into his hair. You flattened your palms to his chest, held him close enough that your cheek was smushed against his back.

Your eyes crinkled shut before soap dared to drip into your eye. You spat the acrid taste of it from your mouth, only for a chorus of laughter to follow, his inciting your own. Your dilemma worsened. Enough for him to help you rinse off—for you to be sure he tasted it on your tongue as you swapped kisses back and forth, stolen between splatters.

You’d been clean for some time now, the water was lukewarm, but you remained, content with his hands rubbing your shoulders, his lips intermittently seeking yours, as dutiful as they were doting, leaving you moaning ever so frailly into his mouth; little whiffs of respite as he kneaded out the tight muscles. Your head tipped to the side with this sleepy bend just for him to catch your chin and bring you back to him, your head foggier than the humid bathroom.

You were only towel-dried when Eren reminded you of the gift, probably thinking you’d forgotten about it.

Of course, you hadn’t.

You found him in the bedroom, him wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants, his chest slightly sheened from the shower, and you in just a fluffy towel, pinned beneath your arm. You asked him to wait while you put on a set of pajamas and fetched the gift. But before that, you lit the candle at your bedside, just to really set the mood.

“No peeking!” you called out before disappearing into the closet.

You were giddy to know that, like you, this had been on his mind all day—for different reasons, but that only made the surprise better.

You returned to find him sitting on your bed with his eyes on you, undeniably stealing a peek.

“I said no peeking!” You hid the present behind your back.

“It’s wrapped!” He didn’t take your scold seriously until you pulled a face. Then he closed his eyes. “I already saw it earlier, remember?”

You ignored it, pleasedly telling him, “Hold out your hands.”

He did, and you set the gift into them, prompting him to take a look.

Eren inspected it briefly, then ripped the gilded paper at the corner. The cover poked through, not enough for him to recognize it but enough to fit a finger beneath and widen the tear.

Once the paper was crumpled on the floor, he chuckled lightly. He angled it around in his hand, looking over the cover that was glossier, newer, than the one he remembered.

It was a sweet gift. He appreciated the thought that went into it. How you learned it was missing and clung onto that tiny detail for months for this moment—a trait he loved about you.

“It’s perfect,” he started to say. “It’ll complete the collection for—”

Like it was recorded in slow motion, you watched very second the realization took him by the shoulders and shook him. There was a drop in his expression as he cautiously asked, “Wait. Does this mean…”

Where he left off, you picked up, nodding eagerly as you said, “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

You didn’t know what happened first, whether you had ended your sentence or if your squeal had cut it short as Eren scooped you into his arms. Your feet left the ground as he spun you around in the biggest bear hug you could imagine, this effervescent feeling bubbling from your stomach and escaping you in a fit of giggles.

He plopped back onto the bed and took you down with him, the mattress bobbing beneath your shared weight. You were still in his arms, legs draped over his lap, as he scattered kisses across your face, wherever he could. Even missing a few, with some at your neck and ear.

You took his face between your hands and kissed him straight on the lips, quick. His smile smushed his cheeks in your hands as he asked, “This is for real?” You nodded again, kissed him again. “This is happening?”

“We’re gonna be parents,” you affirmed, letting the reality of it finally sink in.

You traded kisses. Ones that had your fingers knotting in his shirt and his hand venturing to back of your head, keeping each kiss longer than the last until you were making out. You didn’t know when that happened. Somewhere along the way, between roaming hands and sweeping tongues, your touches turned fervorous. You were both so happy and kissing and oblivious to everything but how deeply you needed each other, like it might actually ache if you were to separate.

And while he couldn’t go another second without having you, evident in the way his lips sought out your weak spot on your neck, he laid you on the bed more thoughtfully than he ever had before. The old mattress didn’t trill beneath you; you weren’t splayed against the bed, toppled over, and taken right then but coddled and caressed. You found it endearing, how careful he was, as if right before his eyes, you had suddenly become something that he could easily break. So endearing that you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as your head sank back into the pillows.

Eren propped himself above you, face-to-face, both of you smiley. You were enveloped by him wholly, with his palms planted at either of your sides. You tucked his hair behind his ears to get a better look at his face, still a bit giggly.

“You know how this works, right?” you chaffed, not above some good-natured teasing. “I’m already pregnant.”

He shushed you, closing the gap between you until his grin was pressed against your own. Until you not only heard his laughter but felt it reverberate against yours and tasted their unity on your tongue.

His lips veered to the corner of your mouth. He kissed you there, trailing more down the side of your face. His nose nestled behind your ear, tickling you as he kissed beneath your jawbone, right where you felt the thud-thudding of your pulse against his lips.

His hand caressed the length of your body, smoothing down your hip and grasping the fat of it before sneaking beneath your tank top on his way back up. It tore a faint groan from you, from the very back of your throat.

Those light, airy kisses began to linger. Not lips merely pressed to your skin like a stamp but soft slips of his mouth, his tongue, until he reached the notch between your collarbones.

He tugged the neckline of your top down, exposing your tits and taking the peak of one into his mouth, all in a single, easy motion. He didn’t neglect the other; his hand was gentle as he massaged and explored the swell of your breast, pinching your nipple between his middle and index fingers and rolling until it was perked for him. His tongue, stroking and flicking and licking, had your other in the same state.

It left you breathless, your mouth dumbly agape, parted by gasps. Your vision had gone glossy to everything but Eren, your senses dulled to anything that wasn’t his mouth ravening your tits, his tongue licking the valley separating them, his lips pursed and sucking your nipples until they glistened with his spit.

You perched high on your elbows. Your tanktop pooled at your midriff, its loose straps dangling around your biceps, pathetic and practically begging Eren to strip you of it. And when he did, it looked just as useless on the other side of the bed as it did on you.

You slumped back into the mattress only for your hips to go next, elevated and encouraging his fingers, hooked around both your silken sleep shorts and underwear, to take them off, too. You delighted in it, how your bare body melded with the blanket. You brushed a hand along it, felt your skin glide against it. It was downy and fluffy and tickling you, everywhere.

He wrestled out of the pajamas he’d just put on and sat back on his calves. The sinewy muscles of his chest went taut, his arms raised as he fingered through his hair. He collected it in his fist, then tied it off at the back of his head, getting it out of his way. It was messy; he was unfocused, more attuned to you, his wife, happy and giggly and naked below him. His eyes trailed from the crown of your head to between the legs he split and wedged himself between.

“Beautiful,” he said, not with a lilt but spoken like fact—not to you or him, but like he wanted the cosmos to know it. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

He snaked a hand under your back, lifting you as he leaned in to meet you halfway. You felt him stiffly pressed against your leg first, then his mouth at your chest. He peppered your sternum with kisses. Between them, he told you, “You’re gonna be the hottest mom.”

He laughed first, anticipating your reaction—more once it actually happened, the cute gasp you gave with his name on your inhale. His breath tickled over your delicate skin, and you playfully tried to pry yourself from him. He only held you closer, pulling more giggles from you as he kissed and kissed his way down until his lighthearted lips were laden with hunger, his tongue laving down to your navel in reverence. Then lower on your stomach. He left a few extra kisses there.

Before Eren went any lower, he freed himself from his boxers.

His hands took hold of your inner thighs, sculpted the plush of them around his fingers. He pushed back on them and settled in the space he made between. He brought his thumb to you, pressed it against your clit, and that was all it took. No flicking, no rubbing, it was that alone that had your lower back tightening, the arch of it lifting from the bed.

He hummed a short laugh, satisfied with his work. He was closer to you now. So close that you felt his lips graze your entrance, his hot breath surging through your body as if it could quell every one of your chills, as if he wasn’t the cause of them.

Your hand flung to the pillow, twisting the pillowcase between your fingers in frissons of anticipation, gripping harder when you felt the smooth lick he gave the crease where your leg met your body. He kissed you there, too. He kissed you everywhere he could manage, again and again, except for the spot you wanted—needed him most.

All the while, you could only stare down at him, big-eyed, with kiss-swollen lips sucked between your teeth. You tried to stay still for him, but your hips were unruly. They helplessly wiggled, enjoying his attention but desperate for more of it.

His mouth finally closed over your heat, making your knees buckle and collapse to the bed. Your inhale was sibilant, shaky but the sweetest sound, like a choppy thank you until your voice cut out.

Eren had you languidly, with his face lying comfortably against your thigh. He licked you like he found just as much indulgence in it as you. He lazily spread you with two fingers, even taking a full second to admire you, pretty and puffy and pleading with him—only a second though. That was all he could last before his mouth practically watered for you, raring to taste you again.

Exposed, like this, every swipe of his tongue was like he was licking electricity up your spine, every bolt stronger than the last. Your body flexed as you teetered the line between too much and don’t you dare stop. Somewhere between shying away in reflex and hoping he’d yank you back down to his mouth.

And he would. With arms locked around your thighs, he lifted his head and angled it perfectly, granting him the opportunity to dart his tongue inside you, fucking you with it when he wasn’t encircling your clit.

There was a ravenous side to his tenderness; adoration hidden behind the hunger. The two contrasted only to come together, meeting in the center and knotting themselves tight, tighter. Until it—until you—snapped. You came with a stretch of your back, with white-hot stars flashing behind your eyelids.

Eren’s thumb drew little circles against your thigh soothingly, yet his mouth didn’t leave you, his tongue still slotted inside your heat. He groaned, besotted by the taste of you coming on his tongue, how he could feel every flutter of your pussy on your comedown. He greedily wanted more of you, all of you, and all to himself.

You didn’t know how long you’d been there, just like that. It was easy to lose your sense of time, if you even had it in the first place, what with the way the bedroom hadn’t stopped swimming around you. The bedroom curtains were drawn over the windows, thick enough to keep out the streetlights. The only source of light came from the quick flicker of the candle, its glow rippling across the wall.

Your legs hung limply over his shoulders now. One of your hands had buried itself in his hair while he held the other, your fingers intertwined. His tongue swirled around your clit, as ardent now as it was for your first orgasm.

Eren knew your body by now. He knew it well enough to understand what a squeeze of your hand meant, how you’d pet through his hair reassuringly—a silent ‘keep doing that’ when you didn’t have the breath to speak it aloud. And he’d keep doing that until he knew you had finished.

He’d brought you to three moony orgasms—the drawn-out kind, like you had wandered into a dream—and he was actively working on your fourth.

It was comparable to the slow build of a roller coaster: that foreboding tick tick tick pace, the gentle pressure of his flattened tongue, licking you with broad stripes until you were at your peak. You’d hang there for a second, abloom and upcaught in the delicious current that was just shy of becoming entirely undone. You’d careen the tippy top and wonder when you’d finally plummet.

You would only come once he decided, and after deciding you had been patiently buzzing long enough, he started to lick you faster.

You could barely tell him you were coming because it ripped through you then, sparking low in your pelvis. Your tiny chants of ‘fuck’ melted into one long, sheet-gripping moan as the feeling shot higher, like it was caught in your throat.

Right then, as you were blissfully crashing for him, Eren pushed himself to his hands and took his rightful place on top of you. He replaced his tongue with his cock, pushing inside you to the hilt with an effortless thrust.

Your bodies came together and stayed just like that as the feeling racked through you, both of you, like you shared an electrical current. It lasted a century but only existed for a wink, a whole-body tremble as you suddenly, finally, felt full. Every throb of your orgasm was a tantalizing threat, forcing him to hesitate lest he risked finishing before he’d even started. You wore his expression, and his yours: a subtle drop of the jaw in relief, the very corners of the mouth curled in ecstasy.

Then he began to steadily move his hips, firmly but not fiercely fucking you through your orgasm.

You were sensitive. Every fiber of you was frayed at the edge and rekindled. The luxurious flame erupted higher in your stomach, burning from the crests of your cheeks to your toes, then back up again. The snapping of his hips was punctuated by you bouncing against him, another gasping moan tumbling past your lips. You smothered them, with arms tossed around his neck and your lips devouring his. They became nothing but wet whimpering sounds for him to swallow.

Against your mouth, he mumbled, “You make the prettiest sounds when you come,” and you tasted every syllable.

You felt everything. You flipped through emotions like one flipped through a book or shuffled a deck of cards, one right after the other.

You felt fizzy, the same lightness that comes with a huff of helium, like you could drift away. You felt his leg against yours, how it made every hair on your body stand on end.

You felt safe, bound and anchored by his weight pinning you into the mattress; your nose bumping against his, your fingers tangled in his hair.

You had plunged into one another. Found the deepest parts of each other and weaved yourselves into one, belonging together irrevocably. You felt wanted, and you found yourself wanting. You wanted him so close that it’d be impossible to discern where you ended and he began, as if you weren’t already fit together perfectly with him inside you.

The wanting was mutual. Right now, Eren wanted to offer you everything, to give with a generosity he couldn’t explain. His mind, his body, his heart—even deeper, his soul, if souls even existed; he wasn’t here to argue that. Every gentle caress and every harsh kiss was like the push and pull of the tides, to and fro until they crashed down in a rapturous wave. And like the moon, he could look down and know he was the one to coax it out of you.

That was all he wanted right then. That, and his wanting for your future just past the horizon, spent together with a family of your own.

Flushed from fucking, with sweat rolling down between his shoulders, he cradled the back of your head, tilting it to nip at the lobe of your ear.

“You. This.” His cadence was tense and brilliant, calm while you were in a tempestuous storm. “This is everything I’ve always wanted.”

The words swathed you like a wool blanket, squeezing your chest until you thought it might explode. You were already too full for such feelings—your heart brimmed with them, your own proclamations thick in your throat, his cock still buried inside you.

The world was dreamlike as Eren tipped your chin again to look at him. His pupils were blown, irises darkened sans a thin ring of green. You didn’t speak but what you told him was loud.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It emanated from your eyes; words unspoken were signed and sealed with kisses along his shoulders and up the column of his throat.

He came then with a shudder, with a gruff groan that was warm on the ears and his hips slammed into yours one last time.

He collapsed to his forearms with his heart thumping hard and his chest heaving against yours. You noticed the faint quiver in his biceps, counted his breaths. After the fourth he pulled out of you, his fifth breath sharp through his nose. You felt the wet heat of his cock against your stomach, felt the aftermath—the lewd combination of the two of you—drip from you. He rolled to your side, and you laid there, sticky sheets and all, like lovers do, not parting immediately but bathing in the afterglow.

You were still basking in it, practically sweltering now, when Eren opened his arms for you, ticking his head for you to come his way with a murmur of, “Come here, love.” An invitation you wouldn’t dare deny.

Cloaked beneath his arm, you felt his hand take your chin. He guided your faces together and kissed your forehead.

Just to have you there with him, his cheek rested upon your head, your breath warming his chest; to have you to fall asleep next to, every night, your body puzzle-pieced with his—all of that was enough for him.

And as Eren slipped his arm around your waist, just before he drifted to sleep with his hand over your belly, he couldn’t help but smile. You were so clueless as to how much you meant to him, how much you’d given him. The greatest of all was yet to come, and they would be with you this time next year.

thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #dividers by @/saradika

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if-lost-please-return-to-maliksi · 4 months

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Disclaimer: I do not own Maliksi. Full Credit goes to HC - @ask-emilz-de-philz. Please check out their blog for amazing art and the wonderful world of Planet Puto. All involved characters are adults.

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Happy New Year ebriwan. Sorry ang likot nung isa jan, napaka pabebe ayaw pa magpa pic ng ayos. XDDDD Guys, very short lang to, not a full fic hahaha. just some drabble. UULITIN KO HA, DRABBLE PO ITO kaya maikli hehe, HINDI FIC. HAHAHA.

Maliksi let out a heavy sigh, dead eyes looking at the game he was playing for a couple of hours now. He was upset since his Kuya Makisig canceled on their game night for the second time this week.

He's not gonna complain though, he knows how much his Kuya loves his job and how good he is at it- it's one of the few things he enjoys and Maliksi will not take that away from him.

You look at him, trying to think of a way to cheer him up. Sure, he's a pain in the ass most of the time, yet it pains you to see him sulking like this.

You quietly sat beside him and before you knew it, he was already pulling you into his lap and nuzzling his face into your shoulder and letting out muffled sounds of frustrations. You softly chuckled as you gently run your fingers along his hair to soothe him.

"Wanna go grab some snacks?" You softly asked him. Maliksi looked at you like a pouting kid before finally nodding his head.

Since Maliksi didn't have a harem like his Kuya Makisig's it was easier for the both of you to just casually roam around at the most random times without having to worry about schedules. Usually, Maliksi likes late night strolls so both of you can grab some drinks and some sweets.

Maliksi held your hand while you two walk towards the convenience store, intertwining his fingers against yours. He will not admit it, but dealing with frustrating stuff became a lot easier since you came into his life.

"What kind of chocolate would you like for tonight?" You softly asked as you both stood outside the convenience store.

"Kisses."

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering if you heard him right and if he's asking for kisses.

"Kisses?"

Maliksi nodded and before he can say anything else, you excitedly held his cheeks and started to shower his face with kisses which made him broke out in laughter.

"Y/n! I meant hershey's kisses! But this will do too."

((HAPPY NEWYEAAAARRRRR GUYSSSS pasensya na, ang cravings ko kasi right now ay si Maliksi HAHAHHAA))

AMAZING ART BY @ask-emilz-de-philz

#planet puto #planetputo #philmytcrea #rp tamawo #rp maliksi

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bunni3thebard · 6 months

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Pretty in Pink

Hello loves! Just a little idea that I had stuck in my head. I may do a part 2 just for funsies--maaayyyybe. Let me know if you guys would be interested!

Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: The Battle of the Bands: an unexpectedly convenient dating scene for metalheads in the 80s! While backstage waiting for their set in the battle, Eddie meets a bubblegum girl that rocks his world. He doesn't know if he believes in love at first sight, but she's definitely testing all his doubts.

Warning: fluffy fluffy fluff (just sweet stuff), cursing (cause I'm a sailor), oogling of body parts (what that booty do), making out (oo-la-la), heavy petting (tasteful)

Indianapolis' metal scene wasn't extravagant, but it was large enough that there was a prominent club that catered to metalheads. It was called Scapegoat, and Eddie would go every once and a while when he could make it to the city. Usually he would stop by after he finished shopping for some records or tapes from the bigger music store that had better variety than Hawkins' po-dunk, mainly top pop and country hits, place. This summer, Scapegoat had decided to host a "Battle of the Bands" to help advertise their venue and the winner would headline every weekend there for a month. It was a huge opportunity that Eddie didn't want to miss, so he'd convinced Corroded Coffin to load up and join for the chance at the weekly spot.

And it was there, while sitting backstage with a handful of hopefuls, he saw her. She looked like a bubblegum pink princess with her cupcake pink hair and silver sparkling bows decorating around her ears. Eddie thought she looked like the Barbie topper on a five year old girl's birthday cake.

But there she was, backstage with a bunch of metalheads wearing chains, black shirts, and ripped jeans. She was like a lit candle in the darkness–a shining beacon that Eddie's vision kept gravitating to, no matter how many times he tried to look away.

She was cute.

Beautiful, really.

She had a permanent grin lined with pink gloss on plush lips, and she was bouncing excitedly in her platform pink stilettos. The pink pleated skirt she wore fluttered dangerously with her and teased a peak at the fat of her ass, jiggling with her movements.

Eddie found his mouth was a horrible combination of dry and drooling when he looked at her.

He was jittery with nerves. He kept fidgeting with his rings, carding his hands through his hair, and drumming his fingers against table tops and his knees. Gareth scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned, "Can you just, like, sit still for like two seconds?!" He glared, his own face flushed but his lips pale from a combination of nerves and frustration.

Eddie glowered and grumbled 'be right back' as he escaped to the water cooler. He yanked a cup from the distributor, yelping as seven flung from the force of the spring. He flailed, trying to catch them, but they fell to the floor, rolling under furniture and one hit a bald guy on the back of his head. Sheepishly, Eddie winced and hunched his shoulders in an attempt to appear smaller, filling his cup with some room temperature water. "Smooth moves." A voice giggled behind him.

Spinning, Eddie's eyes bulged when he met the halo of pink that was the mysterious girl he'd been eyeing since they got back stage.

Her grin was playful, eyebrows tilted curiously and he was close enough to see that her right brow was pierced. The apples of her cheeks were decorated with body glitter and some silver stars that looked like the stickers elementary teachers would put on A+ papers. Eddie merely stared, blinking at her while she waited for something. All he could think about was how cute she looked, especially now that he could see her up close.

She bit her lip and nodded her head behind him, "Can I grab some water?" Her voice was soft, curious yet still a touch teasing.

Snapping from his stupor Eddie nodded vigorously, "Yeah–shit–yeah of course, sorry!" He took a huge step to the side and she smiled, her heels clicking on the concrete as she walked. Eddie had to fight everything in himself not to watch the curve of her ass as she bent over to fill her paper cup. Idly twisting so he faced away from the bubblegum pink girl, he studied the other people in the area. She didn't look like she belonged with any of the groups that made up the bands. Eddie wondered if she was a groupie, or if maybe she worked for the club, but was brought out of his thoughts when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. Turning he was met with the Pink Princess once more.

Her smile was more tentative instead of teasing and she tapped her fingers mindlessly against the paper cup. "What's your band's name?" She bit her lip shyly.

The intrusive thoughts on Eddie's brain begged him to suck her bottom lip into his mouth. Shaking his head gently, he rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a demure smile, "Uh, C-Corroded Coffin." He nodded, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder, "We're from out of town–Hawkins, so you probably haven't heard of us."

She shook her head, face pinched in regret. "Sorry. Do you play a lot back home?"

He gave a humorless laugh, "Just Tuesday nights at a dive bar. Nothing to write home about." He shrugged, squishing his paper cup a bit so the water rose and fell. "We're hoping that this could help push our name out there." He felt his cheeks heating up, realizing that it was probably silly to mention since everyone was thinking the same thing.

The announcer for the contest cut through the music that was playing, letting the crowd know the battle was starting. Eddie's eyes widened and he clenched the paper cup, the water overflowing over his hands and onto his jeans. He jumped, cursing under his breath slightly. The gentle peels of the Pink Princess's laughter cut through the nervous fog in his brain and he looked to see her smiling, her thumb rubbing across her bottom lip thoughtfully. Even her nails were painted pink with glitter. Eddie watched the motion of her pink manicured fingers while they smoothed themselves over her plush bottom lip and he felt himself unconsciously tilting more towards her.

"You okay, hun?" Her voice was soft, her eyes falling to his hands holding his crumpled paper cup and the one she had been running across her lips reached out, grasping his ring-clad left hand and giving a gentle comforting squeeze. Eddie's breath caught and he knew his face was quickly turning the color of a tomato, but he couldn't look away from where her smaller hand caressed the knuckles of his. She also wore a few rings: a small opal one set in silver on her pinky and a mood ring on her pointer finger done up in curly silver wire.

God her hands felt good on him.

"Yeah." He muttered mindlessly. He gulped, dry and shuttering as he forced himself through the motion. His eyes found hers again, warm and inviting with the edges crinkled in a smile. God she was gorgeous. "What uh… what about you?" His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he spoke slowly, words weighted down.

"I'm a drummer. My band's name is Raspberry Riot." She chuckled, "Seems like we both have a thing for alliteration."

Eddie blinked, unsure if his brain was just slow or if he'd heard her wrong. She was a member in a band. A metal band.

He found himself studying her once more from feet to head: her platform pink stilettos were strappy and looked uncomfortable to play drums in, her long legs wrapped in the most enticing wide-hole fishnets leading to a pompom pink pleated skirt; her shirt was a large off-the shoulder white tee with the words 'Raspberry Riot' appearing to have been spray painted in pink on the front. He met her eyes once more, she was smirking and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I, uh…" Eddie started but didn't know where to go from there. He didn't want to insult her by saying he never would have pegged her for a drummer, let alone a metalhead. He sucked his lips behind his teeth and hummed worriedly, eyebrows pinching, "Wouldn't have uh, guessed." He finished lamely, rubbing the back of his neck and giving her a chagrined smile.

She laughed, throwing her head back. The sound was filled with mirth, shaking him in a way that snapped him out of his nervousness and his smile turned warm instead of embarrassed. Her laughter petered out to small giggles and she met his eyes once more. "No worries! I get that a lot." She shrugged, "I dress the way I like and listen to what I want, but the normals don't like it cause I look like I listen to Madonna and the metalheads hate it cause I dress like her." She grinned, "But fuck everyone else, I like what I like."

Eddie's smile widened, "Hell yeah! I mean, I think you look metal as fuck! Those shoes are killer, I can't imagine playing drums in them is easy." He shook his head, eyeing the way her feet were arched in the five inch heels and he tried to picture kicking the bass at such an awkward angle.

"Thanks, it's not too hard considering I play barefoot." She laughed, swaying her weight from one foot to the other, her skirt billowing slightly in the breeze she was making. "I just kick 'em off once the show starts and put 'em back on when we're done!" Her grin was adorable, pushing up the apples of her cheeks and causing the glitter she was painted in to sparkle under the low lights.

Eddie hummed knowingly, "That would make it a hell of a lot easier, for sure." He realized they were inches away from each other, having gravitated closer as they spoke. Her hand was still caressing his knuckles, thumb massaging gentle circles on the back of his hand. His smile turned shy, "So, uh, what are–"

"Introducing Raspberry Riot!"

Pink Princess sucked in a breath, eyes widening and her face turning pale, "Oh shit, we're on! I'll be back!" She made to turn around, but Eddie, panicking, grabbed her hand that was slipping off of his and spun her back around so she faced him, her eyebrows furrowed curiously.

"G-good luck!" He mumbled, face flushed and his smile was back to being terribly embarrassed. Why the fuck did I do that? Why the hell did I stop her from leaving to say such a dumb–her smile was dreamy and sweet as she leaned forward, pressing her glossy lips to his cheek in a soft caress that had Eddie's eyes fluttering shut. Hell yeah, good work kid.

"Thanks, Corroded Coffin." She giggled, whispering against his skin before she skipped away. His eyes shot open and he watched her meet up with four other women all dressed in various black outfits decorated with chains, pins, and battle vests. She stuck out from her bandmates too.

Vision in a fog, all he could make out from the haze was his Pink Princess disappearing onto the stage. Shaking his head to clear it, he cursed before chucking his cup into the trash bin close by and skittering to the curtain's edge to watch.

They waved to the crowd, being met with a combination of cheers, wolf whistles, and even a few boos from those hoping for opposing bands to prevail. Sure enough, Eddie watched his Pink Princess unstrap the sides of her heels and kick them to the other side of the drum kit. She grinned, pulling a pair of sticks from the back of her skirt and bouncing into the seat, adjusting it while talking with one of the guitarists (or the bassist, Eddie wasn't really paying attention to them if he was being honest). She tested the kit a bit, since it was one the club was lending for the battle and made a face, cheeks round and lips pouty. Eddie breathed a chuckle, eyes half-lidded as he watched them do a brief warm up before one of the guitarists went to the mic. "What's up ya Fucks?" The crowd roared at the smoky sounding woman insulting them, half of them probably turned on by her abuse. She smirked, licking her lips while she laughed into the mic, "We're Raspberry Riot, eat this!" They started with a bang, throwing themselves into a cover of Black Sabbath's 'Sweet Leaf'. The crowd sang along, the mosh raging and screaming at the vocalist's raw sound. She was good: gravely, but adding a feminine edge that freshened up the song and brought it to a new light. It was a new spin on a fan favorite.

But Eddie's eyes were all on her. His princess.

Her smile was gorgeous, radiant under the stage lights; the glitter on her cheeks caught on the bright lights and turned her into an ethereal fairy, sparkling in an otherworldly glow. She used her whole body while she drummed, it was like a dance as she bounced in her seat and swayed to the beat she kept. Her cymbals crashed and she sang along mindlessly, her cheeks rosy from exertion and excitement. She was a rock goddess, and Eddie was ready to fall to his knees to worship her.

Too soon the song ended and the crowd cheered, more wolf whistles sounded and there was even a confident 'Have my babies' screamed out by a loud male voice.

"Hell no." The lead singer grinned into the mic. "Later nerds." She teased, the crowd loving her and screaming as the women of Raspberry Riot walked off to the opposite side of where Eddie was standing.

He watched his Princess struggle to slip on her shoes, giggling as she leaned against the bassist who rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the woman. The crowd sent a few more 'woooo's and whistles her way while she finished strapping in. She curtseyed to the crowd, the MC moseying to the mic and chuckled. "One more round of applause for Raspberry Riot, and their pretty little Peach." He tipped his head to the Pink Princess who waved as she left, her last gesture to the crowd was her flashing her rock hands into the air, pointer and pinky up, and sticking her tongue out. The crowd screamed.

Eddie's smile faded when he realized that he wouldn't be able to talk to her anymore–or at least until he and his band finished their set–the other side of the stage was cut off from where he was. There was a door that connected the two sides, but it had a big white sign reading 'STAFF ONLY' and he was pretty sure it was also some sort of storage room. He wallowed a bit at the thought.

He had wanted to ask what she was doing after the show, maybe Riot and Coffin could go together some place, grab some pancakes at the 24/hr diner close by. He wanted to get her number–get her name.

His Pink Princess.

They didn't win.

Neither had Raspberry Riot.

The bands that had competed, but not won, had gotten free passes to the club for a month, but it felt like a pitiful prize in comparison to what they could have had.

Gareth groaned and fell back into the bed of Eddie's van. Jeff sighed, nodding in agreement to the dad noises and ducked his head into his knees that he had pulled up to his chest. Dave merely grumbled in the passenger seat, snacking on some granola bars that Eddie had stashed into his glove box for when he ran late to school in the mornings. They were sitting in the back of Eddie's van with the doors opened while they sulked and smoked cigarettes, saving the harder stuff for when they could curl up in bed at their respective houses and feel sorry for themselves.

Eddie took a deep drag, frustrated at the night's events. Like an angry dragon he expelled the smoke through his nose in a quick breath. He turned his head slightly to eye the crowd that exited from the back doors of Scapegoat, hoping that maybe–just maybe–the night didn't have to end in a total bust.

He was dying to see a flash of pink.

But the crowd was monochromatic in their black, whites, and grays. No color or pizzazz to speak of.

Eddie found himself wishing he had worn his red and black flannel under his battle vest so he stood out more.

"Damn this sucks," Jeff sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought maybe we'd even place, but nothing." His voice was soft and sad.

Gareth slammed his hands against the floor of the van a few times, shaking it. Eddie growled and grunted at him to stop, kicking the younger man's shin, finally, to get him to quit.

"They didn't even sound that good!" Gareth ranted, scratching his hands roughly through his crazed locks. "Fucking Midnight Killers! Dumb name, stupid band, rigged contest!" He accentuated each statement by pounding the van floor.

After Gareth's tantrum, Eddie rolled his eyes and thumped his head back against the van wall, lolling his head to the side to keep an eye on the ever shrinking crowd.

Nothing.

Just shades of black.

Sighing, he scrubbed his face, dragging his pointer finger and middle finger against his right temple to put pressure on a growing headache. This does fucking suck. And now we have drive home for two fucking hours.

There was a soft knock on the side of the van–Eddie had forgotten that Dave had convinced everyone to tape up their banner on the side so that "when we win, everyone will know where we are to talk to us". It was beautifully optimistic, and the guys had been all for it at the time, but now Eddie wanted to rip it off his car.

Eddie growled, swinging his legs over the back of the van and glared around the side, "Look man, we–"

"Corroded Coffin Boy!"

The voice was perky and sweet and bells rang in Eddie's ears as his glare quickly morphed into shock.

Pink enveloped his vision, he stepped around to the side of the van and stood in front of the bouncing Pink Princess that was quickly overtaking his thoughts. She no longer wore her heels and was instead holding them in one hand and shuffled her feet in a pair of worn white convers that were covered in sharpie scribbles. He had to look down at her now that she was five inches shorter, but he found a grin creeping onto his face when she waved at him.

"You know, you guys are insanely talented. Like, the way you play is so fucking amazing, I could watch you for hours!" Her smile was infectious. Eddie laughed as she bounced, her eyes glittering in the street lights of the parking lot. “I’m serious!” she whined, shoving his shoulder.

“I believe you!” he grinned, biting his lip as he studied her. She looked flush, like she had been drinking or maybe she had run over to his van from the club doors. He glanced to their feet, seeing her shuffle closer, her toes nearly touching his reeboks. “I’m glad you liked it. Seems like you were the only one.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against his van and crumpling the edge of the banner.

Her face scrunched when she pouted, reminding Eddie of an angry kitten. He giggled at the image while she huffed at him and pushed his shoulder again, making him laugh harder, “Those judges are the worst. They wouldn’t know a good sound if it hit them in the face, several times–with a baseball bat!” She inched closer and Eddies face heated at her compliments, “Besides, you’re amazing. You’re better than this dinky club. You should be in Madison Square with a huge crowd screaming your name.” Her grin was shy, but her voice was steady and sure. It had Eddie melting in his shoes. No one had ever said such nice things to him.

Okay, so maybe Wayne had, but this was different.

Eddie toed his shoes into the pavement, grabbing some of his hair to bashfully hide his smile. “Thanks.” He whispered, his eyes flickering up to glance at her through his lashes, “You were crazy–it was like watching a dance the way you played. It was so fluid and beautiful.” He dropped his hair and edged a little closer to her, daring to reach a hand out tentatively to run his fingers over the knuckles of her hand holding her stilettos.

“What’s your name?” She asked softly and Eddie looked up from where he was rubbing gentle circles on her hand to her half-lidded eyes, decorated with glittery pink eyeshadow and lined in black. She was blushing deeper and it made Eddie smile.

“Eddie.” He offered.

She repeated it and he closed his eyes, feeling his guts churn at hearing her say it so low and breathy, like she was sighing into his ear. It brought some not so PG thoughts to his brain. He fluttered his eyes open and smiled at her, “What’s yours, Princess?”

She grinned, the sound of her shoes dropping to the cement in a clatter. From the small white plastic purse that she had dangling over her shoulder she pulled a marker and grabbed his hand that had been holding hers, pushing the sleeve of his leather jacket up forcefully. He couldn’t help but laugh, giddy and hopeful, as she scribbled something onto his skin. She nodded once, proud of her work as she popped the cap back on the marker before placing it back in her purse. She suddenly lunged forward, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer to her face. He yelped, eyes clenched shut in surprise, but he came to a swift halt before anything could happen.

He felt her breathe against his lips. So close. He thought maybe if he inched forward they would touch. Opening his eyes he could see that he was holding onto her shoulders to steady himself and that she was close enough that her face was starting to blur. “Can I kiss you?” She asked, voice shaking.

Eddie didn’t answer with words.

Grabbing the back of her neck with one hand and cupping her cheek with the other, he pulled her the remainig distance to his lips.

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes and his toes curled in his shoes. He twisted his fingers into her pastel pink hair and tugged her back so his lips slotted deeper against hers. He gave tentative licks to her bottom lip and he felt her angle her body closer, her breasts squished against his chest and he moaned into their kiss. She shoved her hands under his vest and clawed at the material of his shirt. She opened her mouth and he dove on, caressing her tongue with his. He licked fervently inside her mouth and swallowed a pleasurable keen of hers that had his dick twitching in his too-tight jeans.

All too soon they broke apart, panting into each others mouths since they both refused to move too far away. His eyes flickered back and forth to each of hers, a smile stretching his face. He couldn’t have hidden it even if he had wanted to. Kissing her was like a dream.

She giggled drunkenly, eyes half-lidded and face as pink as her hair. “Eddie.” she whispered, almost sounding like she moaned it. Eddie groaned, rolling his forehead agaist hers.

“Princess.” he half-moaned into her ear as well, breath puffing gently against the shell of her ear and causing her to shiver.

“Call me.” She whispered, breaking away from him enough to grab her shoes from the ground. He kept a tight grip on her hand, eyebrows furrowed in a needy frown.

“Wait!” he whined, pulling her back in by her hand and slotting her perfectly against his side. He swallowed her giggles in another heated kiss. The hand holding hers lacing their fingers and his other hand wandering down to squeeze the fat of her hip. With effort, she pulled apart from him and he gave another indignant whine, making her laugh again and nip at his bottom lip, tugging playfully. “Call me.” she urged once more before managing to break away from Eddie’s tight grip and jog back to two women–most likely her band mates–who were waiting next to a silver sedan.

Eddie watched her longingly as she got into the back seat and they drove from the parking lot with a trail of dust behind them. He sighed, feeling her loss immediately in the tingle of his lips and the ghost of her fingers clawing at his chest through his shirt.

Glancing down at his arm, her words finally registered through his lust-addled brain and the grin that slapped to his face was as radiant as the sun.

Peach

850-898-9559

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #original character fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things eddie munson #x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x original character #BunniBumWriting

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acceptccnow · 6 months

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Discussing POS & Merchant Payment Processing

Article by Jonathan Bomser | CEO | Accept-Credit-Cards-Now.com

In the fast-evolving digital landscape of today, the capacity to welcome credit card payments is a paramount necessity for businesses of all sizes. Merchant account processing and payment processing have ushered in a transformation in the world of commercial transactions, reshaping the dynamics of buying and selling goods and services. Let's explore the realm of point of sale (POS) systems and merchant payment processing to comprehend their significance and the array of benefits they offer to your business.

Merchant Account Processing: The Solid Foundation of Success Merchant account processing acts as the bedrock upon which any thriving business is built. This indispensable service empowers businesses to securely accept credit card payments. With the explosive growth of online shopping and the dwindling popularity of cash transactions, having a merchant account has shifted from a choice to a fundamental necessity. These accounts establish a pivotal link between your business and the vast payment processing network, making it possible to accept a wide spectrum of payment methods, including credit cards and debit cards.

The Power of Embracing Credit Cards Opting to embrace credit card payments can be a game-changing decision for your business. It has the potential to expand your customer base significantly, as a considerable number of consumers favor the convenience and security of credit card transactions. Whether you run a physical store, an online shop, or a combination of both, accepting credit cards can be a catalyst for a substantial boost in your sales and can propel your business to newfound heights.

Payment Processing: The Crux of Effortless Transactions Payment processing encapsulates a series of steps, commencing from the moment a customer initiates a purchase to the moment when funds are safely deposited into your bank account. It encompasses transaction authorization, fund capture, and settlement, all while incorporating robust security measures to ensure the safeguarding of customer data. Modern payment processing solutions are engineered to be swift, secure, and hassle-free, ensuring a seamless shopping experience that elevates customer satisfaction and fosters long-term loyalty.

Revealing the Advantages of a POS System A POS system assumes a pivotal role in the realm of merchant payment processing, adeptly managing sales while providing invaluable insights into the dynamics of your business operations. The key advantages of POS systems include enhanced efficiency, streamlined inventory management, data analytics that support well-informed decision-making, and fortified security measures to fortify customer payment data.

youtube

Selecting the Ideal Payment Processing Solution The process of choosing the right payment processing solution demands a comprehensive evaluation of factors such as transaction fees, security features, integration simplicity, and the quality of customer support. The decision should seamlessly align with the nature and requisites of your business, irrespective of whether it operates primarily online, within a physical space, or adopts a hybrid approach.

Merchant account processing ensures the secure embrace of credit card payments, while payment processing simplifies the intricate web of transactions. POS systems inject operational insights and efficiencies, enhancing inventory management and data-informed decision-making. By electing the most fitting payment processing solution, you unlock a realm of benefits and set a strong foundation for long-term success in the fluid and ever-changing landscape of today's marketplace.

#high risk merchant account #merchant processing #payment processing #credit card processing #high risk payment gateway #accept credit cards #high risk payment processing #credit card payment #payment #youtube #Youtube

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mickeyheartian · 10 months

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Ian Galager

I've been looking for fics mentioning Mickey's tattoo of Ian's name, and haven't been able to find many. Also, I love fics mentioning Mickey's relationship with his siblings. So, I wrote this.

How Mickey's family find out about/react to his new tattoo.

Mandy

Mandy stares at Sandy, unsure if she just heard her cousin correctly. They were sat in the Milkovich living room catching up. Mandy had returned home two days ago to an empty house, shocked to see Sandy as the first to show up. They hadn’t seen each other in years, and not just the past year that Mandy had been away.

"Mickey's home?" Mandy asks, looking at her in disbelief. "I thought he was in Mexico?"

"No, released from prison yesterday," Sandy informed her.

“Asshole! Where is he?”

“Gallaghers.”

“Gallaghers? Wait, Ian’s home too?” Sandy nods in confirmation. “The fuck!”

“Bitch you’re the one who fucked off, nobody knew where you were, how were we supposed to update you?” Sandy asked.

“Mick and Ian both had my number.” She seethes, grabbing her purse from the couch and storming out of the house.

The walk to the Gallagher house was only a few blocks, the bitter morning air biting at her exposed arms. She reached the front door and fumbled in the plant pot to the side, looking for the spare key that was kept there years prior. Ian had shown her where it was in case she needed to get away from home for a bit. She felt cold metal at her fingertips. Bingo! Still there.

Walking into the house, it was the same as it always had been. Slightly more run down since she was last here, a few more stains on the floor. But there was a distinct absence of people, the same thing she’d noticed with her own house. She can’t have been gone that long… right?

She slowly climbed up the stairs, and upon reaching the top could hear her brother’s voice instantly. “Your PO ain’t that bad, Red, just suck it up. No one likes their PO.” Mandy followed the sound of her brother’s voice over to the open accordion door, peering in.

Ian’s sat on the bed, frowning over at her brother, who sits smoking on the window. Shirtless. With Ian’s name unmistakably tattooed on his chest. What?

Before she figured out how she was going to play this, Ian spotted her. “Mandy?” He asked, pulling himself up from the bed. “Holy fuck! It is you!” He runs over and envelopes her in a hug. “When did you get back?”

“Ian!” She smiles, returning the hug. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her best friend until he had his arms around her. “When did I get back? The fuck is going on with you. Blowing up a fucking van!” she hits him. She’d read about Ian’s escapades in the newspaper when she’d been working at a small convenience store.

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” Mickey asks from the window.

“What the hell asshole!” she replies, removing herself from Ian and turning to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Mickey shrugs.

“Hold up a second. Firstly, what the fuck I haven’t heard from you in years! You didn’t tell me you were out.”

“Bitch I’ve been in fuckin’ prison, then to Mexico and back in since I last heard from you.” Mickey retorts.

“Secondly,” Mandy continues, “is that Ian’s name on your chest?”

“Who the fuck else’s name would I have on my chest?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure ‘cause it’s not spelt right,” Mandy laughs.

“Already told him,” Ian tells her, laughing along with her and moving back to sit on the bed.

“Oh fuck off, the both of you.”

“Awww Mick!” Mandy smiles. She turns to Ian, joining him on the bed. “Never knew my brother could be such a softie.”

“OK. Fuck off. Time for you to leave.” Mickey grumbles.

Iggy & Colin

“’Ey, look who’s back from Mexico!” Iggy cheers as Mickey enters the Milkovich house.

“The fuck have you been, bro?” Colin asks, taking a sip from his beer. Both of his brothers sat in the dimly lit living room, drinking beer with some action movie on in the background. The house hadn’t changed in the years Mickey had been gone. Still falling apart. Still dirty. Still full of idiots.

“Prison. Mexico. Prison.” Mickey says, slumping down on the sofa next to them. He scrunches his nose. “What stinks?”

“Colin’s decided showering is gay,” Iggy informs him.

“What the fuck?” Mickey shoots Colin a questioning look. Colin is about to explain, but Mickey holds up his hand. “Nevermind. I don’t wanna know.”

“Pro’ly hasn’t showered since you were here last,” Iggy laughs.

“He’s not been gone that long,” Colin says, lighting up a cigarette.

“The fuck?” Mickey asks, looking at his brother in complete disbelief.

“Nah man, he’s been gone a few months,” Iggy says.

“What the fuck! I’ve been gone years shitheads!” Mickey shouts.

“Really? Didn’t notice.” Colin shrugs.

“Too busy gettin’ turned down by every girl at the Alibi,” Iggy laughs.

“Didn’t fuckin’ notice?” Mickey snaps. “Fuckin’ idiots.” He grabs the closest thing to him, the TV remote, and lobs it at Colin’s head.

“Fuckin’ asshole!” Iggy shouts, the remote completely missing Colin and hitting him in the head. He jumps off the sofa, throwing himself on top of Mickey.

Mickey punches him before he can get a good punch in himself, the force causing them both to fall to the floor. They scramble around on the floor like children until Colin steps in.

“You can’t come here and start shit, idiot!” He says, pulling Mickey up by his shirt.

“You’re the fuckin’ idiots!” Mickey retorts, thrashing against Colin. He stops when he notices Colin’s face, idiocy replaced with disbelief and confusion.

“What?”

“Gallagher?” Colin asks.

“What are you talking about?” Mickey asks.

“Ohhh!” Iggy taunts. “Better make sure Pops don’t see that.”

Mickey looks down, noticing his tattoo on show, his vest having slipped when Colin grabbed him.

“Wait. Am I missing something?” Colin asks, letting Mickey back to the floor.

“Gallagher’s his boyfriend.” Iggy shrugs.

“You’re a fag?” Colin asks.

“You didn’t know he was gay?”

“You’re a fag!” Colin laughs. “Oh my god. And you got a guy’s name on your chest. Oh my god!” Colin breaks down into fits of laughter.

“What’s so funny, shitstain? Mickey asks, pulling his shirt back into place.

“You literally did the gayest thing you could do,” Colin gets out between laughs. “Igg’s right, Pop’s is gonna kill you.”

“Not if you don’t fuckin’ tell him!” Mickey knows his brothers are idiots, but he doesn’t think they’re that stupid. “Also I’m sure taking it up the ass is the gayest thing I could do,” Mickey shrugs.

“Ew. Gross! You take it up the ass!” Iggy fake gags.

“Everything you say gets gayer,” Colin laughs.

“But you guys aren’t gonna tell him, right?” Mickey confirms.

“Yeah, yeah, little bro, your funeral,” Colin says, rubbing Mickeys hair like a child.

“How did you not know I’m gay?” Mickey asked.

“That ginger guy was living here for months, dude!” Iggy says, punching Colin in the arm.

“I dunno. He was married.”

“And kissing a dude in the kitchen!”

“Nah he was married to a girl, man.”

Mickey shook his head, walking toward the kitchen in search of food. Idiots.

Terry

“He’s gay Terry. I’m gay. People are gay.” Sandy says, bored of the conversation and getting up from the table where the Milkovich family are filing serial numbers off guns.

“Super gay,” Colin laughs. Mickey shoots him a glare. If he doesn’t shut the fuck up, he’s gonna have to kill him.

“You ain’t marrying a man. Milkovich men marry vaginas. Period!” Terry sneers.

“Not that big of a deal, he’s already got his name on his –” Colin says, Iggy quickly covering his mouth before he can finish.

Mickey covers his face with his hands. He cannot comprehend the stupidity of his brothers right now. What the fuck!

“He’s got what?” Terry asks, unnervingly calmly.

“Nothing.” Colin says quickly.

“Yeah, definitely nothing.” Iggy confirms.

Sandy shoots Mickey a worried glance. He bites the corner of his lip, staying silent, telling himself to keep breathing. Terry doesn’t know anything.

“Got his name where?” Terry asks again slowly, shooting a death glare across the table at Mickey.

“Don’t know what they’re talkin’ about Pops,” Mickey replies, praying that his brothers don’t say anything else stupid. He shoots them both warning glares.

Terry moves to look over at Colin, who goes white. “Nothin’ Pops, he don’t have nothin’ on his chest.”

Mickey stands still in complete disbelief for a second. Before he can react, Terry stands, flipping over the table in anger, causing guns to fall to the floor in a loud crash. He stalks over to Mickey, pulling down his shirt and seeing red.

Mickey shoves him off, and Terry lunges at him, gun still in hand, striking Mickey across the face with it. Mickey sees stars. It’s been a while since this happened. He forgot the pain. Terry’s got him pinned to the floor, unable to escape.

“Fuckin’ fag. I’m gonna kill you!” he shouts, hitting Mickey across the head again.

Suddenly, the weight of Terry is gone, Sandy hanging from his back, Iggy, and Colin each holding one of his arms as he fights against them.

“Run!” Sandy shouts at him.

Ian

Ian’s lying in bed when Mickey gets home, and the second he sees his boyfriend he can’t breathe. “What happened?” he asks, jumping up off the bed to inspect the damage of Mickey’s face. Two black eyes forming, a large gash on the side of his face and a split lip.

“Terry,” Mickey mumbles, peeling off his blood-stained vest.

“You went home?” Ian asks.

“Yeah.”

“Not sure why you keep going back there,” he sighs, pulling his boyfriend toward the bed. They lay down together, Mickey laying on Ian’s shoulder.

“He found out about the tattoo,” Mickey murmurs into Ian’s shoulder.

“What? Mandy told him?”

“No. No. Stupid idiot brothers,” he sighs.

“Your brothers know about it?”

“Yeah.” Mickey offers no explanation.

Ian traces his name across Mickey’s chest. “You know, I love it,” Ian whispers to him.

“I love you,” Mickey mumbles, looking up and meeting Ian’s eyes.

“I love you, too.”

#mickey milkovich #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey's tattoo #shameless us #fanfic #gallavich fanfic

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formosusiniquis · 5 months

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hmm. #22 and ronance perhaps?

Okay so first I feel like you need to know, I open and closed my spotify app three times thinking it would somehow change the song because 21 was Super Trouper and 23 was DANSE MACABRE (off the new duran duran album) BUT 22 is actually 🥁 Rock You Like a Hurricane - Scorpions.

So I can't not at least mention the obvious which is smut fic... it's right there, easy picking.

But that's too obvious, actually, so after staring at the lyrics for fifteen minutes I've landed on something a little more bizarre.

Nancy knew po-dunk small towns, escaped from one to Emerson and never looked back. They're small minded and gossipy, they see a woman with ambition and they force her back into the role she's expected to fill. Reporter turns to advice columnist turns to glorified secretary. She got out and she made the name they tried to deny her. She was from there, knew the kind, so they sent her back. The only reporter on the staff with the experience, practical and professional, to handle the story that was brewing in a town to the west of the Devil’s Backbone.

Nancy knew small towns. Or she thought she did until she got to Devil’s Sting.

Convinced she’s lost, she stops at the first convenience store she stumbles after hours of driving. A sagging wooden cabin sat behind two rusted gas pumps. She parks the ford she rented from the airport beside the pump, a sign taped to a stone attendant to the left of it that reads “Pump your own damn gas, pay inside.” She leaves that for later. She’s been on the road too long, and trusts her map too little. She needs to be sure she’s headed the right way.

The door to the cabin opens into a windchime. Its alarm is sharp, delicate, discordant. The lights of the store are on, but the open expanse of the room is empty except for the shelves of food and miscellaneous roadside repair parts. If she were the type to panic, the type who didn’t keep a Smith & Wesson in her purse, she’d worry that her latest break was about to turn into the opening scene of a horror movie. But she does know better. And over the dull whir of the slowly rotating ceiling fans she hears a voice call out, “It’s your turn, Rob, and if it’s Henderson you can tell him to fuck off.”

“Not my kid to raise, take him to Monongahela so he can play with the radios so he leaves us alone.”

From beside the row of glass front fridges, a door to the back swings open. A lanky woman, all leg and clashing patterns, lopes out. A cloud of dusty blonde hair swirls around her head as she spins to face Nancy, an easy smile frozen on her face as the woman recognizes her as stranger.

“I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

---

“There’s a story here I know it,” Nancy insists. It’s hard to tell if Robin is listening the way she bustles around the general store. She dodges between the shelves and Steve, like she has every time she’s provided a friendly face and a sympathetic ear since Nancy arrived to town. It’s an insular community, she hadn’t been expecting that. How closed off everyone would be compared to the first two that she met.

“You think?” Robin asks, voice raised to be heard from the back of the store.

“Rob, inches,” Steve cuts back. He’s the stranger of the two, Nancy thinks. Runs hot and cold with her, happy to answer certain questions but the second that it feels like she’s caught the trail of something he’ll shut her out. Steal Robin’s attention away to the store, to the banal goings on of the town and not the reappearances of kids who’ve gone missing across the country only to arrive in this backwater little town small enough she had to special order the map. They speak in code, Steve and Robin. A shorthand Nancy isn’t familiar with that belays their familiarity with one another. Half thoughts they trade back and forth over top her head. Keeping her at arms distance.

“You’re one to talk.” It’s the closest to disagreement she’s seen them come, an opening that she’s happy to take advantage of.

She’s seen how Robin looks at her. The kind of looks that might feel discrete in a two stoplight town, a town where everyone knows everyone and you can pass off that sort of glance as gossip. Nancy is metropolitan. The peeks and dragging stares that Robin sends her way when she thinks Nancy is distracted may as well be a billboard.

A hand wraps around Robin’s arm, her fingers closing around a surprisingly firm bicep beneath the layers of flannel and tweed. Never once has Nancy seen her not in motion, this stills her completely. Rigid as the concrete statues out front -- hand carved by Steve, Robin had noted the first time Nancy had noted them -- it’s easy as pie to reel her in closer. “We should talk about this more in private, you could be a real asset, Robin. Could we meet for dinner? If you don’t mind a late night I’d love to pick your brain.”

Robin’s eyes dart to Steve, instinct, but he’s distracted. He’s missed the way Nancy has her nails dug in, literally, they crease the rolled up sleeves of her button down. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” she whispers back.

Perfect. A hum settles at the back of Nancy’s brain, the feeling of a plan, a story, coming together. Almost a purr. “I’m in room 13 when you get off work.”

---

So in my head this is definitely long fic so I'm gonna cut it off here with a couple of vignettes. I'm intentionally misunderstanding the metaphor and playing with the wolf and chase themes. Robin (and Steve, because if it's happened to Robin then it's definitely also happened to Steve) is a werewolf. Or is she? I think this element is definitely played like an X-Files episode and it's talked around and hinted at but never on page confirmed in any significant way.

It probably plays around with some like southern gothic themes too, this outsider vs insider sort of thing coupled with the additional element of the othering nature of the queer identity then making what would be an outsider part of the same outgroup.

#ronance #stranger things #my fic #jj my dearest i have no fucking clue what i have presented to you pls enjoy #i do love this album but like getting the sex song of the album makes it difficult to do anything that isn't smut fic

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someone1348 · 2 years

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I'm starting my Rottmnt fics today!! I'm so excited!

I flipped a coin for which pair went first (Platonic of course they are family!) Andd

The winners are: Ler!Leo and Lee!Mikey woohoo!

All my content is SFW for anyone who is new to my blog and of course platonic! So I hope you all enjoy!

A special thank you to: @aninabanina6969 and @dallyhall for getting me back into the writing groove and for letting me talk about rottmnt! This one's for you two! /p /gen /pos

Tw: fear, other than that none!

With all that being said I hope you all enjoy!

-K :]

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~____________

A monster worse than Gumbus!

Baxter Stock Boy! One of the turtles enemies and one of Mikeys favorite youtube channels!When Baxter was first introduced to the other turtles, in this case Leo, it was because Mikey was freaking out! Baxter decided to post a scary video of the legendary "Gumbus" a ghost who haunts the store after hours!

Mikey believed in the supernatural so naturally he hid in his blanket fort until Leo found him screaming and throwing his phone on the ground. After confronting his youngest brother about it Leo took April and Mikey to the convenient store to prove that ghosts aren't real.

After an eventful encounter at the store and proving his point Leo thought that would be the end of it; Oh how wrong he was.

It only took about a week or so but Mikey waltzed right back into his blanket fort and watched Baxters newest scary video! Shaking while he gripped the blanket that lay comfortably around his head and shoulders for protection he watched his phone closely before falling back into the same routine. He threw his phone down called out for Leo

Mikey had a habit of rushing to the sword welder whenever he felt afraid so when Mikey called, the turtle in blue waisted no time to the youngest's room.

"Mikey!?! Whats wrong I'm here!" Sword up and everything Leo was on the case! That was until he realized that Mikey was in his blanket fort again.

"Leo! The gumbus is after me! WE'VE MADE HIM MAD AND NOW HE'S BACK FOR REVENGE!" Mikey rocked back and forth, gripping Leo's leg from the safety of the ground and the blanket fort as he spoke. Leo sighed getting Mikey off of his leg and sitting on the floor in front of him his voice calm, soothing and sincere.

"Mikey there is no gumbus remember it's just that little kid Baxter whatever his last name was,,,I don't remember,, the point is! No one is after you, you are safe here Mikey I promise" He rubbed Mikeys back/shell as he spoke trying his best to ease his worries but it looks like the turtle in orange wasn't gonna budge anytime soon.

"W-what if Baxter was lying and he did actually summon a spirit to get me! I can feel it Leo! Someone is after me!" He shuddered at the mysterious cold air that only hit him "DID YOU FEEL THAT!?!"

"Feel what? Mikey nothing is coming to get you I promise and if something were coming let's say then you have your brothers here to protect you and back you up all the way! We wouldn't ever let anything happen to you! It's just a silly video ment to freak you out I promise everything is okay"

Mikey calmed down a little bit after that, he was still scared but it was a whole lot less than it previously was thanks to Leo "Y-yeah! You're right thanks Leo!"

Leo smiled as he hugged Mikey "Anytime Hermano!" He got up to leave before Mikey grabbed him again

"Wait! Umm please stay! J-just incase!"

Leo smiled at him and sat back down "of course Mikey I've got you no matter what"

The two stayed in comfortable scilence for a little while until Mikey freaked out over another breeze that only he felt

"L-Leo! Somethings here I'm telling you! It's after me!" He didn't understand why he couldn't shake this fear but Leo decided he was going to make it go away one way or the other!

"Yeah I did feel that actually, woah that was crazy"

"y-you DID?!"

He started off easy but the further Leo got into his role the more terrified Mikey felt!

"Yeah! I think you're right Mikey I think something IS after you!"

Mikey gripped his blanket as he continued

"I hear it!" He dramatically gasped "it's not the gumbus oh no no no this is a monster far worse than any gumbus!"

Mikey gripped his blanket tighter as he looked around the room in fear

"WHO?! WHO IS AFTER ME!"

"It's,,,The,,,Theeee!" He grew closer to his younger brother with every word before he pounced on him wiggling all 6 of his digits into his ticklish sides

"THE TICKLE MONSTER!" Leo made some low growls as he said that, continuing to tickle his youngest brothers sides.

"LEHEHEHEHEOHOHO! NAHAHAHAT FAHAHAIR!"

"Who's Leo? Is that the name of the handsome turtle I've possessed, my names the tickle monster and I've come for you Michaelangelo on behalf of my brother gumbus for his revenge!" Leo continued with the dramatics, moving up to Mikeys underarms

"I KNOHOHOW IHIHIT'S YOU LEHEHEO! STAHAHAP IHIHIT! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!" Mikey slammed his arms down a bright genuine smile plastered and glowed on his face

"Whatever do you mean? it is I! The tickle monster! Do you not take me seriously! I am hurt! Truly!" Leo blew a couple of raspberries into his ribs for that one as he moved away from his underarms.

"AyEEhehe! IHIM sHohoHoRRY I dO tAhAHAKE YOU SEhehEriOusLyEE-! WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

Leo giggled as he moved up to Mikeys neck "Oh? And why not hmmm?~ is someone ticklishhh?~"

"MAHAHAHAYBEHEHE!"

"Maybe? You seem quite ticklish indeed to me! And I should know!" Leo continued to make jokes as he tickled his youngest brother "Tickle Tickle tickleee~"

Mikey squealed and kicked his legs out as his laughter went up an octave from the teasing, Leo giggled before calling it quits and ending this tickly onslaught with a gaint raspberry to his neck! The grand finale!

Leo rubbed the remaining ghost tickles away from Mikey getting off of him and making a dramatic scene by flopping onto the floor and sitting up quickly as if he was actually possessed

"Woah! Mikey what happened?!"

Mikey giggled lightly pushing Leo a bit "the tickle monster got me that's what"

Leo gasped yet again, dramatically "My word! That is crazy!"

Mikey bursted out into laughter hugging Leo once he stopped,

"Thank you Leo, for everything"

He held Mikey close and smiled back "Anytime Mikey Anytime"

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

I loved making this so much! I hope you all enjoyedd!

-K :]

#k writes tk things #rottmnt tickle #rottmnt tickle fic #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles tickle #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles tickle fic #ler!leo #ler!leonardo #lee!mikey #lee!michaelangelo #rise!leo #rise!mikey

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paydevice · 2 months

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Understanding POS Systems: An In-depth Overview

ON THIS PAGE:

What is a POS System?

Functions of a POS System

Advantages of a POS System

The complexity of the POS system

Types of POS Hardware and Software

If you manage a business, you have likely interacted with a Point of Sale (POS) system. POS systems are a critical tool for businesses all over the world, from small, independent shops to large, multinational corporations. But what is a POS system? And why are they so crucial to modern commerce? Let's dive into it.

What is a POS System?

A POS, or Point of Sale system, can be defined as a comprehensive information system specifically designed to instantly capture and relay retail details (like product name, price per unit, quantity sold, date and time of sale, location of sale, buying customer, etc.) during a transaction via automated reading tools such as cash registers. This information is subsequently distributed through communication channels and computer systems to relevant departments for in-depth analysis and implementation, with the main objective being to enhance operational efficiency.

Despite its traditional association with retail, wholesales, and the hospitality sector, POS systems have extended their reach into diverse industries. These include goods and property leasing, equipment repair services, healthcare administration, ticketing offices like cinemas and sports facilities, along with various other sectors where processing monetary transactions, resource scheduling and allocation, tracking service histories and debts, and invoicing are vital functions.

Historically, a shop's POS would encompass a bulky cash register and a ledger for recording buying and selling activities. However, in today's era, we have advanced to more compact, lightweight, and convenient options that automate a wide array of functions ranging from the rudimentary customer transactions to intricate inventory handling.

Six Functions of a POS System

POS systems are among the most intricate software systems, given the various functionalities required by different users. While the specific features vary, six basic functions are universally applicable.

1. Payment Processing: The primary purpose of a POS system is to facilitate transactions, which is why payment functions come to mind first when POS systems are mentioned. These systems can accommodate diverse payment methods including cash, check, debit and credit cards. For physical stores, POS systems can be equipped with traditional magnetic-stripe card readers, upgraded to chip-based card readers for enhanced security, or even include near-field communication (NFC) readers for mobile payment applications like Apple Pay and Google Pay.

2. Transaction management: Efficient transaction management is crucial for an effective POS system, encompassing aspects like a manageable inventory database, receipt issuing, and customer tipping. The POS interface enables employees to quickly fulfill orders during checkout. It should also provide the option of printing or emailing receipts based on customer preferences, and for service-based businesses, offer customers an option to tip.

3. Sales reporting: POS systems act as a key instrument in assessing business performance. These systems can track vital business metrics, providing reports that evaluate financial status and guide business decisions. Utilizing sales data, businesses can streamline operations and plot sustainable routes to profitability.

4. Inventory management: POS systems offer inventory management functionalities, recording real-time updates on purchases, sales, and stock levels. Businesses can use it for inventory checks, restock alerts, and other tasks to prevent overstocking or shortages. The system can also generate valuable reports, assisting merchants in devising effective purchasing and sales strategies.

5. Customer Relationship Management (CRM): Efficient customer management enhances brand loyalty. By recording customer data, POS systems facilitate more personalized customer interactions, reward repeat customers with discounts or loyalty programs, and even allow direct communication via promotional emails, provided the customers opt for it.

6. Employee management: POS systems simplify employee management with automated reporting. Digital check-in and check-out using swipe cards or codes provide precise tracking of hours worked. For commission-based roles, the system can assist in identifying high-performing employees.

Advantages of a POS System

Implementing a POS system in your business comes with several advantages.

- Efficiency: A POS system streamlines business operations, reducing the risk of human error, and thereby saving time.

- Sales Tracking: POS systems make it easy to track sales, providing real-time reports that offer insight into business performance.

- Improved Inventory Management: With a POS system, you can keep accurate, real-time inventory counts and get notified when stock runs low.

The Complexity of the POS System

The intricacy of POS systems arises from the diverse needs and expectations across different industries. Each sector presents specific requirements, particularly when it comes to reporting functions. This complexity is notably evident in the retail/wholesale sector, where businesses necessitate varied features. For example, companies dealing with perishable goods require a system capable of alerting about expiration dates. Retail businesses may demand a credit storage feature for recurring customers, whereas others might need their POS system to double as an all-encompassing inventory management system, providing FIFO (First In First Out) and LIFO (Last In First Out) inventories for accounting and taxation purposes.

The hospitality industry brings forth a distinct set of POS requirements. Restaurants look for features like adaptable item buttons, numerous discount options, service charges, receipt holding, queuing, table services, takeaways, receipt merging and splitting. However, these might not suffice for a spa or a slimming center, which may need an added scheduling window with past customer attendance records and their specific needs.

Hence, a POS system can vary significantly in its usability across diverse business processes. Often, generic, ready-made POS systems fall short in meeting these varied needs, necessitating tailored functionality. This attribute contributes to the overall complexity of POS systems.

Types of POS Hardware and software

POS systems, though sometimes solely software-based for online operations, often require hardware components. Here are a few common components of POS hardware:

1. Readers for Credit and Debit Cards

2. POS Terminals

3. Customer Facing Displays

4. Displays for Kitchen Use

5. Cash Drawers

On the software side, POS systems are categorized into two main types:

1. On-premises POS Software: Often referred to as a legacy system, this software is restricted to the individual POS terminal where it's installed. Its primary role is processing payments, recording sales and labor data, and ideally, synchronizing with accounting software. This option is generally suitable for small businesses primarily focusing on in-store sales with a single POS terminal.

2. Cloud-based POS Software: Syncing information across multiple POS terminals, this software typically offers access through mobile devices and desktops. Known for their flexibility, these systems are more suited to online businesses, mobile businesses, or those with multiple terminals or locations.

Each option has its pros and cons. While many may argue that cloud-based POS systems hold an edge over on-premises ones, businesses need to take into account factors like budget and data security. While cloud systems offer flexibility, data security remains paramount for businesses of any size.

You must choose a POS system best suited to your industry, business size, and specific requirements. For example, for a China-based cash register hardware factory such as ours, we offer high-performance cash registers and smart POS terminals designed to enhance work efficiency, reduce error rates, and streamline any business's inventory management processes.If you are interested in our product, please feel free to contact us. We are always here for you!

Website: https://www.pay-device.com/

Alibaba: https://paydevice.en.alibaba.com/

Now that you understand the essence of POS systems - their functions, advantages, complexities, and types - you are well-equipped to choose the best POS system for your business. Remember, the right POS system can be a game-changer for your business's overall operations and success.

#pos system

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