#pneumatic-tired
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Scissor Lift Tires: A Guide to Choosing the Right Ones for Optimal Performance and Safety
In today's construction and maintenance industries, scissor lifts play a vital role in facilitating safe and efficient work at varying heights. These versatile pieces of equipment allow workers to access elevated areas for tasks like installations, repairs, and cleaning. However, ensuring the smooth and secure operation of scissor lifts heavily relies on a crucial component: scissor lift tires.
The type of scissor lift tyres chosen significantly impacts performance, safety, and overall equipment longevity. Selecting the right scissor lift tires goes beyond just replacing worn-out rubber. Understanding the different options available and considering various factors is essential for making an informed decision.
I. Introduction: The Importance of Scissor Lift Tires
Scissor lifts, also known as aerial work platforms, are mobile elevating work platforms (MEWPs) widely used in various sectors. From construction and industrial settings to warehouses and event venues, these machines provide a stable platform for workers to perform tasks at heights.
However, the effectiveness and safety of scissor lifts depend heavily on several crucial elements and scissor lift tires are undeniably one of them. These specialized tires are designed to withstand the unique demands placed upon them, ensuring the lift operates smoothly, safely, and efficiently across diverse environments.
II. Types of Scissor Lift Tires:
When it comes to scissor lift tires, there are two primary categories to consider:
Solid Non-Marking Tires:
Solid Construction: Unlike traditional pneumatic tires with air chambers, solid non-marking tires are constructed entirely of solid rubber. This eliminates the risk of punctures and flat tires, making them ideal for indoor applications where debris or sharp objects might be present.
Durability and High Load Capacity: Solid rubber construction translates to exceptional durability, enabling these tires to handle the substantial weight of scissor lifts and their payloads effectively. They are well-suited for frequent use and demanding environments.
Minimal Maintenance: Solid non-marking tires require minimal maintenance compared to pneumatic options. Regular visual inspections for wear and tear are recommended, but there's no need to constantly monitor air pressure.
Non-Marking Properties: As the name suggests, these tires leave no marks on surfaces, making them perfect for applications where maintaining clean floors is crucial, such as in warehouses, retail spaces, or polished concrete environments.
Pneumatic Tires:
Enhanced Shock Absorption: Pneumatic tires, filled with compressed air, offer superior shock absorption compared to solid options. This provides a smoother ride on uneven or rough terrain, which can be advantageous for outdoor use on construction sites or other uneven surfaces.
Better Traction: The air-filled nature of pneumatic tires also contributes to improved traction, particularly beneficial for navigating loose gravel, dirt, or muddy conditions.
III. Factors to Consider When Choosing Scissor Lift Tires:
Selecting the most suitable scissor lift tires necessitates careful consideration of several factors:
Application and Environment:
Indoor vs. Outdoor Use: Solid non-marking tires reign supreme for indoor applications due to their puncture resistance, minimal maintenance requirements, and non-marking properties. Pneumatic tires, however, become the preferred choice for outdoor environments with rough or uneven surfaces, where their shock absorption and traction come into play.
Type of Surface: The intended surface where the scissor lift will be primarily used also plays a role. Solid non-marking tires excel on smooth, clean surfaces like polished concrete floors, while pneumatic tires offer better performance on rougher terrain like construction sites or outdoor event venues.
Lift Capacity:
Matching Load Capacity: It's crucial to choose scissor lift tires with a load capacity that meets or exceeds the weight of the scissor lift itself and its maximum platform load capacity. Utilizing tires with insufficient load-bearing capability can compromise stability and pose safety hazards.
Manufacturer Recommendations: Consulting the scissor lift manufacturer's specifications is vital. They will provide the recommended tire load capacity based on the specific model and its lifting capabilities.
Tire Size and Tread Pattern:
Matching Tire Size: Selecting the appropriate tire size is essential for ensuring proper fitment on the scissor lift. Refer to the manufacturer's manual or consult a qualified tire supplier for guidance on the exact size required for your specific scissor lift model.
Tread Pattern Selection: The tread pattern on the tire should be chosen based on the intended application. For primarily indoor use, a smooth tread pattern might suffice. However, for outdoor environments with loose gravel or potential for traction issues, a more aggressive tread pattern designed for better grip is recommended.
IV. Additional Considerations:
Maintenance Tips:
Regular Inspections: Regardless of the tire type chosen, regular visual inspections are crucial for identifying any signs of wear and tear, such as cracks, cuts, or excessive tread depletion. Early detection and replacement of worn-out tires can prevent potential accidents and ensure the continued safe operation of the scissor lift.
Maintaining Air Pressure (Pneumatic Tires): For pneumatic tires, maintaining proper air pressure is essential for optimal performance and safety. Regularly checking and adjusting the air pressure according to the manufacturer's recommendations should be part of the routine maintenance practice.
Safety Regulations:
Adherence to Standards: It's imperative to adhere to all safety regulations and guidelines set forth by industry standards organizations and the scissor lift manufacturer. These regulations outline essential safety protocols, including the recommended specifications for scissor lift tires.
Qualified Personnel: Only trained and qualified personnel should be authorized to operate and maintain scissor lifts. This includes understanding the proper selection and replacement procedures for scissor lift tires.
V. Conclusion:
Choosing the right scissor lift tires is not merely a matter of replacing rubber. It's a crucial decision that directly impacts the performance, safety, and longevity of the equipment. By understanding the different tire options available, carefully considering the factors mentioned above, and adhering to safety regulations, one can ensure the continued safe and efficient operation of scissor lifts.
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#pneumatic tires#airless tires#Non-pneumatic tires#Airless Tires for truck#Why are airless tires not used?#Are airless tires loud?
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Forklift Tire Company describes the perks of using pneumatic tires for forklifts. For more details, visit: www.forklifttire.com.
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The Non-Pneumatic Tires market report provides a detailed analysis of global market size, regional and country-level market size, segmentation market growth, market share, competitive Landscape, sales analysis, impact of domestic and global market players, value chain optimization, trade regulations, recent developments, opportunities analysis, strategic market growth analysis, product launches, area marketplace expanding, and technological innovations.
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#Caster Wheel#Heavy Duty Caster Wheel#UHMW#PU caster#Jindal Caster#Plasto Rubber#Pioneer spring caster wheels#spring loaded caster#Pneumatic Tire caster#Rubber caster wheels#Metal caster#industrial Caster Wheel manufacturer#kitchen equipment caster#trolley caster wheel#special range caster#RG caster wheel#SS Caster#all types of caster wheel manufacturers and suppliers in Bangalore Karnataka#India#https://www.kmlwheels.com
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Things to research before getting your first custom manual wheelchair
one of the biggest things I can recommend to anyone getting a new custom chair (but especially a first custom chair) is to understand all of the parts of a wheelchair and what they do. I decided to make a guide with wheelchair parts to research and places to look for information to make this process a little bit easier. additional link suggestions are welcome.
General resources:
Permobil - The Wheelchair Handbook
Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation: Before the Evaluation (Part 1)
Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation (Part 2)
1. Frame
Motion Composites - Folding vs Rigid Wheelchair Frames: How to Choose
Permobil - Manual wheelchairs: rigid and folding frames. How do you choose?
GTK - Oh what’s in a frame? Comparing Multiple Materials
Motion Composites - Wheelchairs: Carbon Fiber Versus Aluminum
2. Front frame angle
Motion Composites - Understanding the Impact of Rigid Wheelchair Front Frame Angle
Sunrise Medical - Rigid Frame Wheelchairs – Frame Angle and Inset
4. Seat dump
Permobil - Ergonomic Seating and Manual Wheelchairs
Spinlife - Wheelchair Back & Seat Angle
5. Caster size, style, and position
Motion Composites - Front Casters for Manual Wheelchairs Practical Guide
Sunrise Medical - Front Caster Position in Manual Wheelchairs
6. Caster forks
New Mobility - Caster Wheels and Forks
Sunrise Medical - Maneuverability in Manual Wheelchairs - What Fork to use?
New Mobility - Innovations: Emerging Trends in the Wheelchair Market (information about single sided forks)
7. Footplate
Motion Composites - Footrest Options to Support Function and Mobility
When Tania Talks - Active User Wheelchair Footplate Options
8. Calf strap
Spex Seating - Lower Leg Support Considerations in Wheelchair Seating
9. Seat pan
Permobil - Solid Seat Insert for Wheelchair: Taking a Closer Look at Cushion Components
10. Seat cushion
Permobil - What to Look for in Seating & Positioning Products
Permobil - How to Choose a Cushion in Long Term Care
Permobil - Cushion Geometry: Linear and Contoured
Freedom Mobility Center - Wheelchair Seat Cushions: 5 Tips for Choosing the Right One for You
Mobility Basics - Seat Cushion Rigidizer
Motion Composites - Selecting the Right Cushion for Your Wheelchair a Clinicians Guide
Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers
11. Seat belts
12. Clothing guards
Sherman Oaks Medical Equipment - Wheelchair Clothes Guards / Side Guards Guide
13. Arm rests
United Spinal Association - Wheelchair Armrests What Do They Really Do?
Spinlife - Wheelchair Arm Rest Choices
Motion Composites - Armrests: Getting the Support you Need
14. Back supports
Motion Composites - Solid vs Upholstery Backs
Mobility Management - How to Choose the Right Back Height for your Client
Freedom Mobility Center - Why a Solid Back is Preferred Over a Sling Back
Mobility Basics - Back Supports
Sunrise Medical - Tips for Selecting Prefabricated Wheelchair Backs
Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers
15. Head supports
16. Push handles
Motion Composites - Push Handles: Pushing Around
17. Wheels
Motion Composites - Rolling Along: The Importance of Rear Wheel Selection
Sunrise Medical - Comparing Wheelchair Wheel Spoke Options
Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels
18. Tires
New Mobility - Everything You Need to Know About Selecting the Right Wheelchair Tires
GTK - Solid versus Pneumatic Tyres
Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels
Motion Composites - Tire Selection: Balancing Performance and Maintenance
19. Brakes
Motion Composites - Wheel Locks: Unlocking Safety and Function
20. Push rims/Hand rims
Motion Composites - Getting a Grasp: Understanding the Impact of Hand Rims
DME Hub - Wheelchair Hand Rom Options and Factors to Consider
21. Anti-tip wheels
22. Camber
Motion Composites - Camber - Degrees of Performance
23. Center of Gravity
Motion Composites - Rear Wheel Position 101
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𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚
river ward x fem! v
warnings- fluff with smut??? mostly gross fluff18+, this is seriously nasty lovey dovey shit, soft sex, v is tired, sad as fuck and injured, v and river are disgustingly in love, johnny cameo bc he's annoying as fuck, gentle dom!river, sub!v, slight angst but mostly fluff, creampie+fingering+oral (f receiving)
wc: 5.1k
It’s been a shitty day.
Your body aches. Aches from the constant misfiring of your brain. Your head feels like it's on fire, each thought a searing ember tearing through your consciousness. You’re bloodied, battered, bruised and exhausted— but shit, at least you’re almost home— and River’s there waiting for you.
Tonight was supposed to be a respite from the chaos, a date night with River that you had been looking forward to for days. But as the hours stretched on and the assignments piled up, it seemed like time had betrayed you. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve taken a break.
Your eyes blur as you step into the elevator— your legs begin to wobble. Your head hurts— and you feel like you can barely fucking stand. Your eyes flutter shut as you step through the doors, immediately slouching against the wall to soothe your aching muscles before your eyes flutter shut.
Your condition was worsening.
Johnny's presence in your mind is no longer just an annoyance—it's agony. He's there, unable to do anything but watch himself wreak havoc upon your brain.
All you ever wanted was to make it big.
Friends you’d laughed and fought alongside with are now fucking gone, swallowed by the unforgiving streets of Night City. Your job as a mercenary isn’t much better- it ensures that danger’s your constant companion, a perilous dance where survival was the one and only goal at the end of the day. And now, you found yourself entangled in Arasaka's web, tethered to the engram of the long-gone Johnny Silverhand—a construct that was slowly eroding your very existence from within.
But amidst that darkness, there was River Ward.
River's presence at your side was the one solid, the one steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the world. His arrival in your life was a bittersweet revelation, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’d always be that little glimmer of light. He was a constant amidst the chaos, a steadfast presence that anchored you in a sea of uncertainty. His kindness, his unwavering support, had chipped away at the walls you've built around yourself.
With River, you had found something you couldn't, and wouldn't, let go of. But the weight of your own impending demise pressed heavily on your chest, a reminder that time was slipping through your fingers like sand. Everything you’d ever known was slipping away, slowly but surely.
Your thoughts are pushed aside as the metal elevator doors open with a ‘ding!’
“Time to snap out of it, sweetheart. Cop’s waiting for ya.”
You hadn’t even noticed Johnny until now. Your eyes flutter open— and for just a moment, you’re grateful for your digital companion’s presence. You step through the looming metal doors, your mind buzzing, your tired legs beginning to tremble as you attempt to navigate yourself to your apartment. You’re fucking determined to make it home to River, even as your muscles scream and ache in protest.
Finally, you reach your apartment. Your heart pounds in your chest as you unlock the pneumatic door with a shaky swipe of your thumb.
“V?”
Sheer relief floods over your senses at his voice alone. Before you know it, you’re met with the warmth of River's presence in front of you— worried gaze bearing into yours, before his eyes slide down to examine the rest of your bloody, weak body.
“Hey," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress that swept over your tired senses. The soft white glow of his mechanical gaze captured every nuance of your exhaustion. But beyond that, he saw the pain you carried, the knowledge of your own impending demise that weighed heavily on your shoulders.
A shaky smile forms on your lips. The sight of him, his unwavering presence, was a balm to your aching soul. Fuck, you were just glad to be able to come home to him. But then your weakened trembling legs finally gave way beneath you, the exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave. As you began to sink, River's strong arms were there to catch you, his touch steady and reassuring.
“You know..” He holds you up with a tenderness that spoke volumes, his hands gentle as they brushed against your weary frame. His eyes met yours, concern and love intermingled in their depths. "..I would’ve picked you up, V.”
You let out a shaky breath, your facade cracking as the weight of the day and the pain you were in threatened to overwhelm you, tears burning at the corners of your tired eyes.
“You don’t have to deal with this all alone.”
That was the catalyst for you.
River wasn't the type of person you were used to. This time, you had found someone who really fucking cared. The love you felt for him was real—a force that pushed you forward even when everything else seemed to be falling apart and crumbling around you.
"I know," you admitted, your voice a soft admission of vulnerability. "But I just... I really wanted to see you."
His embrace tightened, and you felt as if he could shield you from the world with his arms alone. Tears finally spill from your burning eyes, falling down your bloody cheeks as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t want to have to lean on him. Didn’t want him to see you like this. All you wanted, all you’ve been looking forward to all week, was a night alone with River.
“Oh, V..” He sighs, reaching up to your face with his ganic’ hand to wipe away the tears that dampened your cheeks, metal hand holding your waist in place. His touch was so soothing and warm that chased away the pain, if only for a moment. “What am I gonna do with you?”
You took a shaky breath, emotions slowly ebbing as you meet his gaze. “I don’t know, River..”
Your voice was a whisper, fragile and raw, as you admitted what you needed most. What you craved. You wanted him— needed him.
“But I need you, I know that.”
As if sensing your need, River's huge arms envelop you, pulling you into a hug that's both comforting and electrifying. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against your ear, and you cling to him as if he's your lifeline in a sea of uncertainty.
A little weakened whimper escapes your throat as he wraps his big arms around you again. “I just… I need you to love me.”
His response was immediate, his fingers intertwining with your hair as he held you close. "I do love you, V. More than you know. I don't need you to be perfect, V," he murmurs against your hair, his breath a warm whisper that ignites a fire within your bones. "I just need you."
Your lips press against his, and in his arms, you finally feel ready to let go, surrendering to the vulnerability you’ve avoided for so long. The weight of the world, of the engram's presence in her mind, of the looming threat of your very own mortality, becomes a burden you two share together. River's love is a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your shitshow of an internal storm.
“Need you to show how much you love me,” you whisper.
In that moment, vulnerability meets strength, and River's eyes hold a depth of understanding that surpasses words. He smiles at you so sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead that makes your heart swell. “Course, V. That’s all you need to say..” He whispers.
“But first, we gotta clean you up.”
★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★
River’s attempting to help you undress in the most gentle way possible as to not disturb your scratches and bruises. His deft fingers work to shrug off your strapped jeans, and you’re able to shrug off your jacket and peel off your top with no problem. And for a second, he can’t help but to stare at you bloodied, broken skin, and his heart just fuckin’ breaks. Of course, it’s your job to do dangerous shit, you put your life on the line all the time, but it still fucked him up whenever you came home like this. It wouldn’t be the first time you have, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
He moves on to cleaning up your cuts as carefully as possible, doing his absolute best as to not cause additional discomfort.
The familiar burn of desire burned through you as his warm hands traced over your bare skin, taking great consideration in mending your wounds, even occasionally pressing his lips to your damp skin now and again. But you push it aside for now— you just want to enjoy his presence.
He helps your trembling body into the shower, and the warm water cascades over your bodies, soothing your sore muscles and washing away the remnants of the night's chaos. The soothing scent of lavender washes over you as his gentle hands cascade over your skin away from the wounds. Your cuts sting against the hot water, and your legs ache a little from having to stand, but you push the pain aside— you’re focused on River, and River only.
The quiet intimacy of the moment speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding that exists between you two a lifeline you never expected to find.
His big hands trace over your skin, and every little touch is gentle, reassuring as he washes away the blood and grime, calloused fingertips brushing against your lower stomach and setting your mind aflame with burning desire. His touch is soothing, tender— and it sends little shockwaves of heated desire through your core.
You lean into his chest, a little whimper escaping your lips as his metal fingertips trail down your sides finding comfort in his embrace despite the pain that courses through your body. It's the one fucking moment you’ve been waiting for all week—and you cherish it with your entire heart.
Both of River’s hands slide down to your waist. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft murmur against your wet skin.
“Still need me to show you how much I love you, or do you wanna settle down?”
You’ve wanted him, needed him, for so long now, you just can’t hold back any longer. You need him— and you need him now. “No,” you rasp. “Want you.”
His hands slide torturously slow up past your waist, torso, and up to your chest. With a little hum, his big hands move up to cup your breasts before sliding his rough fingers against your nipples before stopping abruptly. “Y’sure?”
You nod enthusiastically, a raspy and desperate “please” escaping from your tired lips.
“I’ll be gentle tonight. Promise,” River mumbles in your ear.
At this point, you need him. In River’s arms, the world seems to still— and you can only focus on him— the way he lets out soft groans whenever you accidentally grind against him from his consistent teasing, the way he towers over your much shorter frame, literally holding you up with his strong arms alone…
“Well shit, at least you can die happy now.”
You swear you need to get this motherfucker out of your head as soon as possible. You’re too tired to fight Johnny right now. You don’t even open your eyes at this point— River’s making you feel too good enough for you to care.
His hands move down your chest, tracing away every little cut and scrape as his hands glide against your lower body, carefully observing the way you whimper and shudder underneath his careful touch. Metal fingers dig into your ass as his other hand trails between your plush thighs, spreading them apart as his finger carefully slides between your soaked folds.
You don’t know why every single one of his touches send electric shocks to your core. A high-pitched whine escapes your lips, and you don’t even notice the way your legs shake violently underneath you— you just feel too good.
You do, however, notice when he pulls away— left arm wrapping around your waist to give your weak legs some rest as his other hand reaches over to shut the shower off. A little whimper escapes your tired lips, and his metal fingers tap against your cheek. “Let’s get you comfortable first, ‘kay? Don’t want you to fall.”
When you two step out of the shower, your body feels tired yet renewed, the pain momentarily eased by the care he's shown. River wraps your trembling body in a warm towel, his embrace a promise that transcends the challenges you two face together. You allow him to scoop you up into his big arms, and it’s almost laughable how vulnerable you really feel. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cherish it.
River's arms remained steadfast around you as he lifted you gently, cradling you like a fragile treasure. Your head rested against his chest, your body bone-weary and battered, but in his arms, you found a sanctuary. He carried you to the bed, each step a reassurance that he was here, that you weren't alone in this struggle.
Gently, he lowered you onto the bed, onto the soft pillows below, his touch tender as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The dim light cast soft shadows across the room, the neon glow from the city outside seeping through the windows. The world beyond may have been chaotic, but here, in this moment, it was just you and River. Not even Johnny dared to fuck with you right now.
A soft hum escapes his lips, leaning down to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. His steel fingertips dance across your cheek as your lips crash into his, before he pulls away from you. His hands trail down the sides of your body, carefully making sure to avoid any cuts or bruises, oh-so-gently.
He smiles when a shiver wrecks throughout your body, before he sinks down to your damp thighs, shut tightly as he looms over you.
“Open up for me?” He taps his mechanical hand against you, and with a shaky breath, you open your legs— exposing yourself to the cool night air.
“Pretty girl..” River whispers, spreading your soaked folds apart with a smug grin, before licking a firm stripe up to your clit. He presses his tongue up against it, and laughs when his lil merc gets flustered at the vulgar sight. He looks up at you again— the soft glow of his metal eye bearing into yours, and fuck, he’s so cute, smiling like a dumbass as he devours you whole.
His gaze leaves yours as his gaze trails over your tired body, admiring every little scar, every little bruise, and every little freckle. He can’t help it— he just fucking loves every little bit of you.
River loves the way you tremble underneath the soft touch of his cold metal hands— cherishes the way you look up at him with your cheeks flushed red.. hair messy and your makeup all smudged, hands fighting for purchase against the sheets as your chest heaves, and you let out tiny whimpers..
River loves how he’s the one you seek solace from— how you allow him to help you relax after a long, shitty day, allowing him to spread your pretty thighs for him.
Internally, River is so grateful for your presence— so fucking grateful that you’ve stayed by his side, aiding him and his family. But beyond that, he loves you for you. Loves you for that stupid goofy side of yours— he genuinely enjoys your presence.
River loves his lil’ mischievous, dangerous mercenary. He loves the person underneath that rough n’ tough exterior you hold yourself to.
He doesn’t even know where he’d fucking be without you. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he never met you. Never would’ve had a chance at saving his nephew— wouldn’t have a chance to experience those sweet summer nights laying in the back of his truck, miles away from the City just to admire the stars… never would’ve had the chance to spend countless nights just enjoying one another’s presence— and loving one another like it was your last fuckin’ day on earth.
Except the last part rings far too true.
You’re his person— how can he deny it?
He sees your strength, the physical and mental scars from long ago, the pain, and the fire that burns within you like akin to the likes of nobody else. It fucking hurts him, so desperately so, to see you struggle like this. Fucking hurts to see the cursed cards life has given you.
So tonight, he’s determined to show you just how much he loves you.
He’s brought back to reality by your cute sniffles as he continued to toy with your aching cunt.
“F—Fuck, River…” An errant moan escapes your lips, back arching as your hands scramble for purchase on his big shoulders as his tongue fucks you dumb.
He looked so proud, so smug as his eyes fluttered half-shut, a dumb grin plastered across his face. He uses his metal hand to pin your thigh further apart— your leg beginning to shake adorably as he continues to lap at your drenched cunt.
He doesn’t miss a single spot—kissing up and down your plush thighs, then back to your dripping folds. Each time you would whine, he’d just make out with your throbbing clit before it turns to unfair sucking and slurping.
His nose brushes against your folds and it makes sweet little whimpers and cries of his name fall from your pretty lips.
When his tongue and jaw begin to ache, he gazes up at you with the entire bottom half of his face completely soaked. He rests his chin on your thighs for just a moment— a smug little grin plastered across face before he presses a single thick digit between your folds, before he looks up at you again.
“You sure you can handle this tonight, V?”
You gush a little at his words, and you nod back, the burning desire in your chest ready to burst at any fucking second. “Don’t wanna stop,” you whine.
River smiles again, his large finger slipping into you again. The sight alone of his finger pumping against your tight walls, the sight of him flicking his tongue against your desperate aching clit, was far too much for you to handle at once. Soft little shivers escape your lips as your body trembles, this time not out of hurt, but out of the sheer overwhelming pleasure River provides you.
He insets a second finger, stretching out your tiny hole. He’s too much— and you love it. His tongue flicked against your throbbing clit before he closed his lips around the bud, all while his thick, long, rough fingers pump in and out of you.
The way your tight hole clenches around his thick fingers nearly sends him over the fucking edge. He’s painfully hard at this point, but by God, is he ever so determined to help his little merc cum after a hard day.
“Rivveeeeerrrr,” you hiccup, your hands coming down to attempt to grab and claw at his big wrists, but River just looks up with a smug grin on his face, his cock beginning to throb in his sweats again. “m’ close..” You whisper into the night air. But River just stares up at you to watch the way you unfold for him as your cunt trembles below his tongue.
“So soon, baby?”
You love it, but by fuck, it’s just too much for you. You’re literally ready to burst any-fucking second now. At this point, you’re so, so out of it. Purely just fucked dumb by River’s tongue and fingers alone— and you’d have it no other way. Your cunt’s starting to tremble and shake, and you can’t control the wetness dripping down your plush thighs. Your hips squirm and buck up against his face, desperately trying to ride out your high, and he only groans against your wetness in response. “L-Love youuuuuu….” You whine weakly. River responds back with a groan against you.
The burning knot inside of you finally unravels when he latches his lips onto your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and the high-pitched whines and begs for more escaping your lips are damn-near unrecognizable. Your hands claw desperately at his big beefy shoulders, tears rolling down your flustered cheeks as you finally let go of your orgasm— and you gush into his mouth and soak the sheets below with cute whimpers and whines of “thank you’s” and “m’ sorry’s” as he spreads your shuddering legs further apart beneath you— still lapping at your soaked hole.
“Mmm… that’s my girl.”
His voice is raspy and low before you whine. River growls against you as you pant and shake beneath him as his tongue swipes against you to clean up your mess. You look down at yourself, at River— and fuck, you’re both soaked.
…And so are the sheets below.
You’re a shaking, whiny, wet mess when he pulls away, a string of your slick connecting to his lips as he places a sloppy kiss to your wet folds. Fuck. But you didn’t want him to stop. Sure, you’re sore as hell, but by God, you just wanted, you fucking needed more.
“Riveeerr…” you hiccup again.
His big hands drop your thighs onto the soft mattress below, and both of them come up to rest against your flushed cheeks, soft eyes bearing into yours, filled with a soft, genuine concern as you let out a desperate whimper.
“Need you to fuck me. Please.”
A little dumb smile forms on his face.
“I’ve gotcha.”
He positions himself between your soaked thighs, lining his fat tip against your puffy and swollen folds, metal hand sliding down to guide his throbbing cock into your tight soaked hole.
His cockhead nudges your clit accidentally, and you moan before staring deeply and intensely at each other for just a brief moment— eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration for one another.
River pushes the rest of himself inside, and he almost knocks the fucking wind out of you as your hole attempts to take the stretch. After nearly two weeks, you forgot how fucking big he was, and you can barely form a coherent thought as he drags his hips so deliciously against yours as he softly reassures you.
“Fuck, V— always takin me so well,” River sighed softly while balls deep inside, internally noting your heavy breathing and shaky legs as you struggled to take him. It’s been a little while.
A squeal falls from your parted lips as he splits you in two so softly, hands moving to wrap around your ankles as he slowly thrusts his hips into yours. His eyes are focused on the way your tight cunt takes him soo nicely. Your little whimpers and sobs for more cause him to bite into his lip— you’re so fucking cute like this, and he’s so fucking lucky to have you. He loves to fuck his little mercenay nice and thorough, just wanting to treat you good after a tough day at work.
He almost loses his composure when little begs of “harder, please!” escape your lips. Truthfully, he’d love nothing more than to pound you senseless into the mattress, but shit, he doesn’t wanna hurt you tonight. Your body was already sore enough. Even he knew that.
“Can’t, V. Don’t wanna hurt you,” River’s voice rasps against your ear in response to your begs.
A little disappointed whimper falls from your lips, and you wrap your weak arms around the back of his neck.
“I know, I know..” River bows forward, almost mounting you entirely, and this slight movement pushes his cock further in. You whine, wiggling your hips against his slow thrusts to chase the fleeting pleasure that stemmed from his movement. Internally, you’re so so grateful for him. He looks so fucking cute, you swear it— your heart flutters at the sight of him, attempting to move as gently as possible but absolutely struggling to do so, the occasional whimper escaping his lips.. fuck, it kills you.
You’re so fucking grateful for the way he makes you feel. The way he distracts you from your pain with soft licks and gentle thrusts is just entirely unmatched, and so is the way he loves you oh-so-gently. The sheer amount of pleasure he’s providing you with is insane, and your eyes can’t help but to flutter shut as shockwave of euphoria shoot through your entire body every time he slowly bottoms out within you. You love River Ward, and you couldn’t have it any other way.
River’s thrusts refuse to relent, even as your tight cunt squeezes around him. He huffs, feeling fully endeared. You look utterly fucked dumb— your hair’s all messy and splayed out on the pillows below you, your eyes are shut tight, nothing but little whimpers escaping your lips. River just wants to make sure you’re okay before he starts to move again.
“Hey,” he whispers down at you as he pats your cheek gently. “Anyone home, V?”
“Uh huh,” you mumble, fucked-out eyes slowly zoning back in on your boyfriend.
River smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There's my girl.”
Then, he straightens back up again, his hands returning to their purchase on your ankles. You keen to the ceiling when he drags his cock out slowly, and you unconsciously squeeze your thighs around him before he gently separates your legs again.
River’s eyes are confused and glazed over as he pushes himself into you again. He allows you to latch onto him— he swears you’re so fucking cute when you whimper into his neck, sharp nails clawing at his back.. It’s just fucking addicting. He’s too focused on the way your cunt takes him in so well— your cries and tears of pure bliss causing him to bite his lip back in a groan.
River’s buried deep inside when you begin to clench around him, and he’s shoved deep inside of you when you feel your second orgasm approaching, and you let out little cries of “I’m’ close again!” and he’s staring down at you as your hips attempt to crash against his, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull— tears streaming down your cheeks. You could barely breathe. Your breaths are shaky and weak against the cool apartment air, and you’re just so so fucking needy— you can only focus on him.
You lean up as best as you can to hide your face in the crook of his neck and he lowky moans— his hands moving to guide your hips.
“C’mon, baby. Let it out for me.”
Your lips fall ajar at his command, feeling how his cock massaged your walls oh-so tenderly before your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you gushed again. You relish the whimper that escapes his lips as you cum again, but he refused torelent, the sound of your cunt squelching filling the room as he continues to fuck himself into you. The pressure inside of you finally snaps— and you let a loud high-pitched cry escape your lips as your back arches against the mattress. His rough hands move down to dig into waist before your little bucks begin to slow—gushing still all over him dumbly.
His thrusts finally begin to falter, his eyes fluttering, the soft mechanical one flickering a little bit as he bites into his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering. Fuck, you’re just so good— he can’t help the needy noises that escape his throat. He swallows back a whimper— and a low “m’ gonna cum” falls from his lips.
“Please,” you whimper weakly against him— cunt clenching again as he continues to fuck you. “Need you, Riv…”
Your words were the catalyst for him. With one more harsh thrust, he pushes himself into you, allowing himself to deep inside. River’s large body trembles as he cums, euphoria washing over him as both eyes flicker shut. You’re both fucking exhausted, and you two stay still— chasing the remnants of your long awaited euphoria.
The world around you seems like it’s stilled— it’s been replaced by a sense of calm that settled over you like a soft embrace. River's steady breathing beside you was a soothing rhythm, a lullaby that lulled you into a peaceful state of mind.
“Thank you..” you weakly mumble as he pulls out, his seed spilling from your weak hole, slipping down your thighs.
He flops onto his side as you flop back against the pillows, pulling your trembling and sore into his big arms with ease as your eyes flutter shut and your chest heaves. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead— his hands reaching up to sweep your hair away from your dampened skin.
“Let yourself get some rest.." he whispered, his voice a calming melody that enveloped you. "You’re safe with me tonight.”
Fuck.
His words cause tears to burn at the corners of your eyes, a testament to the weight that you had been carrying. Your walls had crumbled, the armor you had worn for so long had fallen away, and in this vulnerability, you felt a strange mix of relief and fear. River had always been there, a constant amidst the chaos, and now, as he held you in his arms, you allowed yourself to lean on him.
“I love you, V,” His metal fingertips brush against your cheek, wiping away remnants of stray tears. “You don’t need to be afraid to lean on me sometimes.”
A tremor ran through your body, a mixture of exhaustion and the emotions that had been pent up for far too long. You turned into his touch, your head finding the crook of his neck as you nuzzled against him. His scent, a comforting blend of familiarity and safety, enveloped you, and you allowed yourself to fully let go. “I know.”
“I love you too, Riv.”
And as his arms held you close, you allowed yourself to embrace the solace he offered, to find comfort in his embrace, and to let go of the burdens that had held you captive for so long. You allow yourself to drift off to sleep, nested in his embrace, allowing the world to dissipate around you. In the silence of the room, the distant hum of the city's chaos seemed to fade away. It was just you and River, bound by something deeper than the turmoil that surrounded you.
#this fic is 100% purely self indulgent btw#river ward x reader#cyberpunk smut#river ward#cyberpunk 2077 fic#joce writes#river ward romance#v x river ward#river ward x v
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Since you mentioned living weapon prompts…
Defiant whumpee with some sort of superpower finally breaking and becoming a weapon?
ooh i love this and now its really long and i want to write more because i have the plot bunnies
CW: electric shocks, brainwashing, needle mention, military indoctrination
Whumpee had been sloppy. They'd trusted the wrong people and been screwed over as a result. And now they had been arrested? Drafted? They supposed the specifics didn't matter.
Whumpee was wondering how long they'd been stuck in this stupid chair when a door opened, pneumatics hissing as a portion of the wall slid aside.
The man in uniform didn't smile. He sat opposite, barely registering them as he opened a file, scanning through the two pages inside. That was good. They clearly didn't have much information about what Whumpee could do.
"Please state your name for the record."
If Whumpee could cross their arms they would have. But instead they just cocked their head, lips pursed. A slight twitch was all that gave away the man's annoyance.
"It would be in your best interest to comply."
"Why?"
"Because it will save me time and you pain." He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Your name."
"You forgot the magic word," Whumpee smirked. A jolt of electricity burst across their wrists and ankles. Clearly the restraints were for more than keeping them in place. "Shit!"
"As I said, it is in your best interest to comply. What is your name?"
"Fuck. You." Another flash of pain, stronger than the last, and Whumpee cried out through gritted teeth. Their heart was pounding now, sweat beginning to bead on their back.
The man waited patiently. Whumpee just glared.
When the electricity hit again they screamed, back arching. White flashed across their vision. Whumpee wished they could move. Wished they could shake out the growing cramps in their arms and legs. Still the man just watched, waiting.
Whumpee lost track of time as shock after shock hit them, the only breaks in the silence being the sounds of screaming and the same question from the man, over and over and over. Your name.
"Whum-" their voice caught between sobs, "-Whumpee. My name's Whumpee."
They were drenched in sweat now, limbs shaking from the electricity that had coursed through them just moments before. They were so tired.
The man just nodded, not bothering to write anything down. Bastard. He already knew their name. All Whumpee had done was shown how much pain they could take.
"Would you like some water?" The question caught them off guard. After a moment Whumpee nodded. The man reached down, putting a glass of water on the table, a straw already in it, but didn't move it closer.
"You are being recruited into a special division here. There are others like you already in service, and you will receive comprehensive training to complete your missions."
"Why would I do that?" Whumpee rasped.
"To serve your country. You would receive compensation: food and lodging, thorough medical care, as well as a generous package when you retire."
"Can I think about it first?"
"While cooperation is preferable, we do not need any consent from you to enrol you into the program. I will repeat that it is-"
"In my best interest to comply." Whumpee finished for him. They looked at the glass of water and thankfully the man got the hint. He brought it forward, holding it so Whumpee could drink from the straw.
They took a long sip, looked at the man, and spat it in his face. "You can go to hell." He reeled back, wiping the water from himself with a sleeve. To Whumpee's dismay he didn't look angry, or even particular annoyed.
"Perhaps you need some time to think about it." Was all he said before leaving, the door hissing shut behind him.
___
Whumpee sagged forward in the chair, cheeks stained with tears and sweat as their muscles spasmed.
It had been hours. The shocks were random, or random enough that they hadn't been able to find a pattern - though it was hard to keep track when you kept getting electrocuted.
They didn't have the energy to scream any more. Strained whimpers and a rigid body the only sign of the electricity coursing through them. I won't let them do this to me. I won't let them turn me into a monster.
A firm hand on their arm startled Whumpee, who flinched away, silently sobbing. Then a scratch on the back of their hand, the strange feeling of tape keeping something secure. Whumpee didn't have the energy to look.
"Please..."
"Let it run through before shocking again, don't want them dislodging it." A different voice, and a murmur of acknowledgement. A few minutes silence.
"Have you thought about your situation, Whumpee?" The man's voice again, calm and professional. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou- "This can all stop if you want it to. All you have to do is cooperate."
It was so tempting. It would be so easy to give in. The exhaustion in Whumpee's body screamed at them to say yes, to accept whatever future they were offering.
With a sob, Whumpee shook their head.
"Why?" The man's voice was different now: softer, gentler. "You have no family, no true friends. Here you will have purpose. People to depend on, a stable place to live, the chance to make a difference in the world."
It was true. Whumpee didn't have anyone they trusted. There was no hope, no purpose, no stability in their future. Because of you. It was their fault Whumpee didn't have those things.
"Just let me leave," they said weakly.
"I can't do that. You belong here, even if you don't realise it yet." Whumpee heard rather than saw the man walk over. He pushed them upright, their head lolling backwards. "What's your name?"
"Whumpee." They didn't know why they said it. Whumpee told themselves it was because he already knew, but deep down that was a lie. It just... happened. They felt pliable, like their brain had been massaged into acceptance.
A video hologram appeared in front of them. It showed people in uniform eating together, playing games, doing training exercises and helping each other. Images of clean facilities, sports and books and tidy bedrooms flashed past one another.
It looked... nice? Not cosy but safe and welcoming. The calm speech of the voiceover repeated itself in Whumpee's brain.
'You'll be part of a family trained to be the best'
Whumpee wanted a family. They wanted to feel safe. Loved. To not have to worry about food and shelter, or who to trust. They're lying to you. The voice in their head took on an uncertain tone.
"Well, Whumpee? Are you ready to cooperate?" Yes. No. Whumpee didn't say anything, their thoughts merging together in a swirling pool of conflicting needs.
The man didn't say anything as he left again. Panic gripped Whumpee and they nearly called after him but it was too late. The door disappeared into the wall.
But no shocks came. Instead another video started, this time an interview of a young woman in uniform. She had powers too. And despite Whumpee's exhaustion they couldn't help but listen.
Another video played afterwards, and another, and another. Each one echoed in Whumpee's head, the voice telling them it was a lie getting quieter until it all but disappeared. Calmness spread over them, making them forget about the shocks, about the fact Whumpee had been kidnapped.
When the man finally reappeared, Whumpee looked at him silently.
"Are you ready to comply?"
"Yes."
#mortiawrites#whump#military whump#electrocution tw#electrocution#brainwashing#living weapon whumpee#defiant whumpee#whump prompt#whump writing
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bonus points: tell me why
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— WASTELAND, BABY
part i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world
[masterlist]
boba fett x f!reader
rated E - 3.4k
tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, death of people and animals, sort of slow-burn
a/n: I’m so excited to share this series with you! Reader is new to the world, so much will be explained (game knowledge not required to enjoy!)
The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.
And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.
You still dream about the sleep.
In shades of sepia, the perfect days that never seemed to end. That always seemed to be just a little bit familiar, like you had taken each exact step before.
The idyllic neighborhood, slow jazzy notes floating in from open windows. Cars that rolled down the street until they were out of sight, always at the same time. Perfectly behaved dogs, in their neat, square yards.
Now - now that you're out - you don't know why it took you so long to notice.
Maybe you didn't care. Were content to play through that single, perfect day. To ignore - at first - the glitches. The fuzzy part of your brain that said that something wasn't quite right.
The itching memory, that something bad was going to happen. Something you had picked at, until it was raw and aching and oozing.
You wonder if that is why you woke up. That something in your brain triggered the stasis - the reason why on that morning, your eyes opened to shades of green and grey.
A dome of glass overhead, a sick pneumatic hiss when you hand flattened against it. The mask you tore from your mouth and nose as you were born onto the tiled floor, shivering and confused.
It had all come back to you.
The blaring of the siren.
The man, ushering your family into the vault.
The promise, whispered with clasped hands.
It will all be okay.
We'll be together, don't worry.
Climbing into the pod, the slow sleep that came after. Waking up, in your old life.
Never waking up that way, again.
You had sat in silence, for hours. Unsure of what to do, where to even start.
Freezing in place when there was a whirr, the sound of movement - as a robotic being rolling into the room, checking the readouts on the large display.
With thick treaded tires, and a sleek, domed head. A mass that looked like a brain floated inside with one large, fixed mechanical eye. It churned your stomach, as it chirped at you.
You are 1825 days ahead of schedule. Please return to your tranquility lounger.
The pod wouldn't let you back in, though you had tried. The red button pushed flat, the screen unresponsive. Leaving you alone and helpless as you looked at the circle of others.
Of your family and neighbors and friends, still in their perfect dreamland.
You lingered there, a while longer. Too afraid of what was beyond its safe walls. Only nudged into moving when the cramp of hunger became unbearable, until you couldn't take the repeating, robotic lines any longer.
Metal doors had opened into other rooms. Empty and sterile and shades of grey steel. Bits of your memory came back - the hallways you ran through. Glimpses of what lied in them, in your rush to the pods.
Eventually, you found a mess hall. Twin machines lined the walls - white with cherry red accents, rows of cafeteria-style tables in front of them. They were still humming with life when you approached, reading the lettering across the top in blocky, silver print.
VAULT-TEC FOOD SYNTHESIZER
The press of a button dispensed thick, pink paste onto the metal tray beneath. It felt like mush in your mouth, the vaguest flavor of something, but not enough to mask the unpleasant texture.
But, much like everything now - the loneliness, the isolation - you learned to bear it.
There are some things you found, in the days that came after, that were not quite so horrible.
A room full of beds, where you tested each one to find the best. Stripping the pillows and blankets, until yours was as close to cozy as you could get.
There was a device you found, in a room full of bubble-screen computers, with their black screens and green, blinking text. It sat half-out of its box on one of the tables, and you were unable to resist removing it from its casing.
A screen sat in the middle, on top of a thick, leather strap. A booklet fell out - the pages now dog-eared and crinkled from the amount of times you read it. The first lines still seared in your memory.
If you're reading this, a scorching wave of atomic fire has likely turned the surface into a wretched husk of its former self... which means your Vault has been activated! You now have in your own hands one of America's finest, easiest-to-use personal-computational tools: the Pip-Boy.
It becomes one of your prized possessions.
Sitting heavy on your wrist, an endless supply of screens and dials that entertained you for hours. Readouts and documents and even simple, chirping games to fill the empty hours with.
The other thing you came to cherish most was the library.
Well, you called it that - though it barely compared to the ones in your memory. It was a small room - a pair of plastic chairs, beneath a thick, metal shelf lined with books of all shapes and sizes.
You'd read them all, in the months you stayed there. Even ones that made your eyes burn with their dryness; Dean's Mechanics, Infiltration Techniques Vol. 2, Pugilist Quarterly.
Fingering tracing over the thin pages, trying to make sense of things you had never heard of before.
But your favorite were the fairy tales. Just four books, among the two dozen.
Grimm and Perrault. Andersen and Lang.
Their books thick and illustrated, the spines and covers stamped with gold.
The romances were the ones you visited, again and again. Younger you would have loved the macabre - evil witches, plucked out eyes, soul-wrenching betrayal.
But in this new world, you couldn't bear it.
You got lost in the pages. The girl who fell in love with the Beast, who was not so monstrous after all. Another, who risked everything to dance with the Prince, only to abandon him at midnight when the spell was broken.
When you grew bored, you created your own tales. Princesses that were swept off their feet. Knight fighting dragons, a fluttering in your chest when you thought about the romance.
The twisting and twining of limbs and tongues, the slow build that lead into soft, contented sighs.
They became your comfort, as the days passed.
So similar - in ways - to the ones when you had been asleep. The same routines. Paste, read, sleep.
The same clothes - the blue and gold jumpsuit you had woken up in. That the others wore as well, in their sleep. Each one the same, with the vault’s number emblazoned across the back.
On your Pip Boy you read it was to protect you from the elements outside - but here, it only added to the monotony of your day.
Every variation of an afternoon you had done at least once. Poking into every corner of each room. Fingers tracing over the glass screen of the pods, watching your family sleep.
Reading the books again, and again. Using the bits you picked up to learn more about your Vault, what had happened.
It took you a solid month to key into the computer terminal in the main office. Clicking on different words in the scramble of letters that poured across the screen, trying to crack the password protection.
Getting frustrated and giving up - only to come back again the next day.
Finally, the beep as you were let in. Clicking through the files, piecing together a mess of text that was scattered across numerous logs over the years.
That you were in Vault 113. That it was created in partnership with several more, and a copy of the previous, 112.
That some of the Vaults were created to be an experiment. A test to see how humanity would fare, released in key waves after the Great War of 2077.
Held in a cryosleep stasis - the first to be opened at 25 years, and then at 50. Continuing every quarter-century until 225 years has passed. Ending with your vault, scheduled to be released last.
The dread settles in as you started to understand what they had meant when you woke up.
That you were early.
That all you can do is wait.
You don’t even know where you’d even start - no idea if they would fare as well as you did, to be woken up ahead of schedule.
And so, the days ticked by. The marks you scratched on the wall next to your bed slowly increasing. One for each morning you woke up, until there's 182 of them lined up in neat rows.
Finally - coming to the realization that had been nudging at you for days, for weeks. The one that had been keeping you up at night, though you wished for the unconsciousness of sleep.
That you can't sit around for 4 and a half more years, just waiting. That wasn't a life, any way to live.
That you'd go mad, talking to your Pip-Boy, the robots that only had a few lines of verbal programming.
You had to know, to see. To go out.
Into the world. Alone.
You'd watched the videos.
The short animated films. The cartoon boy with the vault suit like yours, as he explained life after the fallout. How it would be different - tips on survival, how to keep sharp, how to use your own experiences and talents to your advantage.
It helped, giving you an idea of what to expect, but you hated them. The little acronyms, the cheesy animation - they seemed to mock the massive loss from nuclear annihilation.
The grainy, black-and-white recordings you find, after.
Prepared and left by the Overseer that no longer stayed there - who passed on the responsibility to the robobrains that still stood watch, when another Vault position opened.
They had made you weep, to think about what happened. Until you chest ached and your eyes stung. You couldn’t watch some parts, thinking about all those who had not been able to get away. Unable to help wondering about your extended family - your friends.
But it still hadn't prepared you for how vast and cruel the Wasteland was.
It had taken you another two weeks to actually open the Vault door. Dragging your feet as you collected supplies. Trying to pack everything you'd need while also trying to leave plenty in case someone else woke as you did.
Canteens of water, extra vault suits. The pink mush spooned into glass jars, clinking in your backpack, as you checked the space another time.
Leaving a note on the terminal, where you hope they'd find it.
But eventually, you had to try. You'd stalled long enough.
And so, after marking the Vault’s location on your Pip-Boy - you left.
You’ve been out for a week now. That alone feels like an accomplishment.
Not expecting how barren the world would feel, even with the preparation. It mirrors the muted browns from your dreams, though there's no hazy edges here.
Just a broken landscape of trees - still standing, stripped bare and bleached by an unforgiving sun. Crumbling roads, and what little grass endured was burnt and brittle. The air dry and thick in your lungs with the dust that kicked up, as you had carefully left the vault.
Misfortune had befell you almost immediately.
Barely out of the crumpled building that held the Vault, down the worn asphalt path, when there had been a scuttling sound. Fear and bile in your throat when a roach the size of a cat crept from the ruins, poised to spring.
Unable to do more than to grasp at the ground, fingers wrapping around a solid bit of wood. You can still hear the crunch of collision when you close your eyes, before you took off running, not wanting to see the aftermath.
The petrified branch still sits by the door, just in case.
In the half-standing farmhouse you've set up base in, until you're brave enough to wander further. That has been unnerving as well - seeing places that were different from your memories.
You had gone home, first.
It had seemed natural, though the fear lingered in your stomach, making your steps heavy. Following the road for three miles, all the while trying to force the puzzle pieces to fit. Broken bridges over dead streams, street signs that lead to crumbling, empty lots.
The road you lived on had been hit hard. It had ached - nothing left but the skeletons of your life before. Tumbling brick and rotting plaster. Chipped tile and broken floors, creaking under your feet as you stood where the kitchen once was. Must like your life before, it was just - gone.
The sentimental part of you had rooted around. Finding a rusting, red bottle cap in the ruins. A silver spoon found in the shattered remains of the counter where you grew up baking cookies.
You took them both, tucking them into your bag.
The farm you had found next, late the first night. You had been there before as a child.
The owners opened their property for apple-picking, hayrides, bonfires with sweet, melting smores. It had been a memory you had forgotten, until the bit of still-standing roof appeared on the horizon, beckoning you to it.
You'd do anything to have more of them. The memories.
The owners are gone now, as is the orchard. Just rows of thin trunks left, the branches dead and brittle.
With the wasteland around you - so very different from the safe, metal walls, the honeycomb of simple rooms - you wish you had stayed.
But much like waking up, you knew you couldn't. That you couldn't undo what happened, or forget the things that haunt you now.
Now - you spend your days wandering out. Poking around the barn to see if there's anything to take with you.
Finding a bit of joy, in some small moments.
In your books, as they soothe you to sleep. The stories are long-memorized but still bringing such comfort.
In the funny, two-head cow that had half-scared you to death when you first found it - that you know think is sort of cute. Almost poetic, in a way.
She wanders the fields behind the barn, and sometimes you go out to sit with her - keeping watch from a distance.
In your Pip-Boy, with the radio that hums out tinny tunes throughout the day - there's only a few of them it picks up, the songs on loop.
Picking through the holotapes of data - finding out that your new friend is called a Brahmin, mutated after years of radiation. It’s not much, but it's something.
It gives you hope that there might be someone else out there. It gives you the strength to think about moving on.
And you do find them - a semblance of civilization - but not in the way you hope.
You’re sleeping when it happens. Curled up in a bedroom on the second story, trying to avoid the holes that litter the hardwood floors.
It’s barely morning, the sunrise a weak, watery yellow as it peeks over the ridge. Though with a start you realize it’s not the light that has woken you. That rarely made a difference, after your time in the Vault.
Too afraid of the dark to turn off the light.
It’s the bellowing.
At first, you don’t know why it makes your skin prickle. After all, Minnie made those sounds when she first saw you - snorting and pawing at the packed earth, both sets of eyes dark and wide. Slowly settling, in the hours after - when all you did was watch from behind the fence.
The pieces click into place.
There was something out there.
You’re just getting up to look, when you hear a wild shout. The sound echoing, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.
The bellowing stops.
Your gasp is loud in the silence. Hand pressing over your mouth as your heart thuds in your chest - aching. The floor beneath you creaking as sink down onto it, trying to make yourself small.
But the voices move closer. Different tones overlapping, arguing - from the open field, then to the barn.
Then, to the house.
Your breath in your throat as the front door bangs open, a sharp voice cracking through the air.
“-lay off the fuckin’ Jet, mate. You’re fuckin’ paranoid as hell.”
The floor creaking as they move through the living room. An annoyed grunt, the rattle as something metallic clatters to the floor, making your stomach flip.
“Told you man, I heard somethin’,” Another voice answers.
Your heart drums so loudly in your ears, you’re certain it has to be audible. Tucked underneath the window, in clear view of the staircase.
If you don’t move, they’ll see you. You’re certain of it. The videos had warned you of the lawlessness, but nothing could have compared you for the fear that paralyzes you.
But, you try to be brave. Three feet to the right and you should be safe - your heart in your throat as you shift your weight, to move just out of sight.
The floor groans.
The voices downstairs stop.
You bolt.
Feet like lead, disconnected from your brain as you make for the stairs - thinking you can make it out. Skipping steps at a time, hoping that you won’t fall and break your neck. Ankles aching as you hit the bottom, sights set on the door the left open.
Almost making it out, when there’s a shout. A sharp “fuckin’ knew it” that sounds entirely too close. A gloved hand that reaches out, snagging your elbow.
Sending you off balance, slamming into the brittle wall. Pain radiates from your hip, the wood splintering from the collision. The hand closing around your ankle, yanking you hard.
The man pulls again - dragging you to the side, through the open doorway.
You’re gasping for breath, trying to yell - though nothing comes out. The air knocked from your lungs as you’re tugged across the porch, one of the steps cracking against your head as you try to grasp onto the railing.
It splinters under your grip, one of the spindles breaking free. He lets go when you reach the bottom, calling up to the second that lingers in the doorway.
“Check inside. See if there’s any more.”
A foot pressing against your shoulder, pinning you to the ground as he leans down, barking out a harsh laugh.
“Thought you could hide?”
He’s even more terrifying up close. Dark paint smeared around his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like tears. Dressed in a mismatch of leather clothes, nails driven up through the fabric at the collar. A spiked shoulder pad made from bent metal, the sharp edges a deep, rusted red.
You take a deep breath… and then swing.
The makeshift weapon collides with the side of his head, and then shatters. With a loud yell he stumbles, and you scramble - pushing yourself onto shaking knees, and then feet.
“Goddamn bitch,” He snarls, and there’s footsteps from the house, calls coming from the barn.
You don’t make it to your feet before you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Fear and a strangled whimper in your throat as you hover in a half-crouch, hands coming up to shield your face.
A shot fires.
There’s a bright red light that sears through your closed eyelids, the smell of something burning. You open them just in time to see the man pitch to the side, his body glowing with a heat you can feel. Disintegrating as you watch, turning to ash before he hits the ground.
You can barely hear the yell from the others, the sound of your heartbeat drowning the world out. Faintly aware of one cracking shot, and then another, a deep reverb echoing across the flat plane.
Rocks skittering on the ground around you, the tremor of heavy steps and sharp mechanical hisses. Loud cries and shots traded as you cower, unable to look away from the scorched earth where a person just was.
And then, everything goes quiet.
A shadow falls across you, and you’re looking up. Seeing the figure that’s crumpled against the stairs. The unmoving peppering of bodies littering the ground, out near the barn. Never making it any further.
Up, and then up - to where a giant suit of armor towers over you. Painted in shades of green that you thought you had forgotten. A long rifle tucked in the crook of its thick arm, the end a hot, steaming red.
It’s head tilts - as a low, mechanical voice breaks through the silence.
“Its dangerous to wander the wasteland alone, ad’ika.”
ad’ika - little one
thank you for reading! 💚 part ii will be out thursday, the 9th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!
(0-pressure tagging some friends that liked the sneak peek 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights , @wingofshadow , @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force , @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved)
#please mind the tags!#boba fett x reader#boba fett x you#boba fett x f!reader#boba fett imagine#fallout au
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frontiers dlc cutscene simulator:
amy: we CANT let ANYONE DOWN!! sonic and the koco are COUNTING ON US i'll do ANYTHING to protect them!!! i love everyone so much im gonna BREAK SOMETHING!!
knuckles: grr i love to hit things. i love to dig in the dirt. i love to punch things WITH MY FISTS! and break things WITH MY FISTS! aww is poor widdwe sonic tired? aww too bad you have to do your little platforming boohoo Grow Up. tails, kid, you are doing amazing no notes. amy. would you like to break some things with me. with my FISTS 👊💪💪👊💥💪💥💥👊
tails: uwa i don't know if i can do this... but i have to.. but i dont know if i can.. everyone is counting on me im the Most Important guy here.. sonic don't worry about me i can handle myself. also did you know that these islands have incredible capacity to harness emerald power. by my calculations 🤓 i've hacked the mainframe.
eggman: mmyes. sonics stupid friend and his girl friend and his very scary little fox friend and also sonic. can you even appreciate that some of the set dressing on this island used to be a highway powered by emerald energy harnessed by ancient spaceships which btw are buried underground so you cant see them but theyre there. i wish i had a spaceship. i could do so much evil with that kind of power.
sonic: yooooo sup amy. tails. things are getting pretty rough, you doing alright? you are both so cool, i know youre gonna do amazing things💗. hey Treasure Hunter. seems like im better at finding the emeralds than you, Treasure Hunter. HA! eat my dust--im gonna go fall off that tower 20 more times. btw i wonder whats up with this building. can someone real quick explain what it does in 5 paragraphs or more?
sage: we are running out of time. you must find the emeralds or we will have success rate of zero percent. but since you asked. this building was a facility designed to stockpile or store grain. In the grain trade, the term "grain elevator" also describes a tower containing a bucket elevator or a pneumatic conveyor, which scoops up grain from a lower level and deposits it in a silo or other storage facility. In most cases, the term "grain elevator" also describes the entire elevator complex, including receiving and testing offices, weighbridges, and storage facilities. It may also mean organizations that operate or control several individual elevators, in different locations. i would also like to drop some casual race science into this conversation. do not worry about it.
#myaa#sonic frontiers spoilers#btw the race science hing is 'one tribe of these people was The Smartest'#which is. A Choice#anyway this post brought to you by me finishing my cutscenes and getting like 3 knuckles ones in a row where he refers to his FISTS!!!#long post
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Hey. It's @reaux07. If you remember my last angry history rant on Paul Robeson, I'm back for Part 2. This time? King Leopold II and his relationship to the Congo. I just finished writing a 5-page, single-spaced essay on this for class, so I'll do my best to summarize in bullet points this time rather than chunky paragraphs. This will still be long though, as a warning, but it's a necessary read. Please let me get through this, because y'all know this hurts to write.
Trigger warnings for... just about everything typically associated with mass colonization (e.g. rape, murder, torture, etc.). Tiktok below as a brief introduction first:
King Leopold II of Belgium, due to his personal unpopularity and lack of love from his parents, had low self-esteem. As his father had already made 50 attempts to colonize foreign lands to no avail, Leopold felt the only way to uplift both himself and his country was to take take control of his own colony.
He checked Sarawak, the New Hebrides, the Fiji Islands, and the Philippines. Nothing. But what was left? The Congo.
How did he learn of the Congo? Leopold hired Henry Morton Stanley, a famous Welsh explorer of the time, to cross Africa from east to west, walking and canoeing 7,000 miles.
Upon the Congo's discovery, Leopold turned his palace into a luxury hotel for the delegates of a new conference to discuss Africa's colonization, supervising every detail. He successfully lied to the major powers of Europe, making claims of charitable and philanthropic aims, and that there would be free trade amongst the African colonies. (And yes, he did give every single attendee a painting of his face... Because he could.)
Meanwhile, back in the Congo, Stanley (the explorer I just mentioned) used bribes and trickery to provide official treaties with the various chiefs of the land in case Leopold ever needed legal proof of land ownership. (Ex of said trickery: One report noted that a village assumed "the white man controlled the sun.")
In 1891 and 1892, Leopold released decrees stating that both vacant land and produce of the forests exclusively belonged to Belgium and that natives could only harvest for the state.
Enforcing Leopold’s rule were 16,000 Africans equipped with modern Belgian-made automatic rifles.
Outing Attempt #1: One African American man, George Washington Williams, during his trip compiled a report to be sent to the American secretary of state. In this letter, Williams remembers bets being taken on who could shoot the native people in the head first, among other instances of vile treatment. While the document never made it back to Williams’ home country, it was eventually found in Europe where he later died.
By this point, the Congo was actually ruining Leopold’s finances and he was growing desperate. But to his surprise, he happened to pick the one spot where rubber grew in abundance, just as the demand for cars and bicycles rose internationally, John Dunlop, a Scottish veteran, having just invented the first pneumatic tire.
Because of this, rubber-prominent areas were the targets of mass exploitation and punishment if daily and weekly rubber quotas were not met.
Missionaries began to write not just to one another, but back home in disgust of these aforementioned “punishments,” one man’s writings put in missionary magazines and national newspapers in Europe. These punishments included rape, tying people up to trees, cutting off men's heads and genitals to be displayed along the fences of Congolese villages, cutting women’s breasts off, and most notably...
Attempt #2: The world, if only momentarily, saw BASKETS after BASKETS of right hands that had been cut off as proof that each of the cartridges given to the Africans had been fired and killed one of their own people. These hands were then smoked for preservation and brought back to their officers.
What did Leopold do once this information came out alongside photos of child mutilation? Acknowledge the abuses and moved on almost immediately.
In Europe, the rubber was processed in a city called Antwerp, ironically named after a mythological giant who also cut off hands. To this day, the connection between such a name and Belgian history has not been made by the general public as countless documents by the Belgian Ministry of Foreign Affairs are kept secret to maintain an image of untouched royalty.
One commissioner in charge of a district in Congo, Leon Fievez, produced one ton of rubber a day, boasting of 1,000 people killed, 162 villages destroyed, burning gardens and plantations so people would starve, and having “only” used 3,000 cartridges. He was nicknamed the “Devil of the Equator” and rightly so.
Attempt #3: One day, a man named Charles Stokes, a British trader working for the Germans, entered the picture. Stokes was arrested for trading in state territory, despite those former claims of free trade, and sentenced to death. Leopold was forced to pay compensation to both Britain and Germany for his death, both countries now increasingly aware of the Congo’s dark reality.
To cover it up, Leopold made claims of the Congo opening up to new companies. Let's be real: His men were on the boards of all these new companies and he took 50% of the profits.
In particular were these "concession companies" where the "hostage system" was set up. Agencies, with official hostage licenses authorizing such, would take the wives of rubber collectors for up to 15 days until the quota was met.
On the 15th day, the men of the Congo either got their wives back or faced further punishment, often death. For the agents, the 15th day meant it was time to calculate commissions, and for the king? It was proof that this new hostage system worked.
These abusive concession companies lasted over 10 years until formal competition arose in South America and Asia.
Attempt #4: Then came Edmund Dene Morel, a half-French, self-taught shipping clerk turned investigative journalist who wrote in The Speaker of the abuses faced by the Congolese, backed up by evidence, not just speculations.
Due to Morel’s growing specialization in West African affairs, he was able to not only send out 15,000 brochures and 3,700 letters in six months after his move to Wales, but start his own newspaper, West African Mail.
By 1903, Roger Casement, an ally to Morel’s cause, spent two months traveling the upper Congo, recording African testimonies. He, too, realized that missionaries were key witnesses and went to visit Joseph Clark (a missionary of 20 years) for 17 days.
Through these reports, which grew to 50 pages in length, Casement and Morel were able to solidify Belgium as perpetuating the worst colonial system Africa had ever known. Punishments included Africans performing public incest for the colonists' entertainment, decapitation, women being stabbed with wooden spikes up their vaginas, and one woman tied up to a tree and slashed straight in half from her left shoulder through her abdomen and out the other side.
The West African Mail even reported on a part of Congo no one knew existed, private property within private property called the “Crown Domain” on the other side of Lake Tumba, which gained 231 million euros alone, all sent directly to King Leopold II. Crown Domain was 10x 5)3 size of Belgium.
Founded by Morel, Liverpool became the headquarters of a coalition called the Congo Reform Association. He also published a book called Red Rubber (1906). I think you’ll find the cover particularly striking! Check out the hand in the bottom right corner being weighed against King Leopold II on the left.
Leopold obviously not having this, commissioned a number of books and monthly magazines to clear up the mess. This didn't work. Obviously.
He even tried to send his own international commission to control what the Congolese said in 1904, to no avail. This was due to a missionary named John Harris who had taken the accounts of various people in the area and sent them back to Morel.
In one particularly heartbreaking moment, a chief brought to Leopold’s judges 110 twigs for each of the entire villages, not just people, killed by the Belgian state, naming every last one.
By the time they returned to Europe, the governor-general committed suicide and, upon being asked, Harris suggested Leopold should be sent to the gallows by the relatively new International Court of Justice.
The commission's report vindicated Casement and Morel. Leopold had tricked no one. EVERYONE in Belgium was calling him out.
Leopold ordered all of the Congo State Records to be burned.
In 1908, the Congo became a Belgian colony, not longer Leopold’s personal property. The state still made claims of "civilizing" the Africans after Leopold's death though, utilizing the leftover mineral exploitation industry with no guilt.
At least during his funeral, which he was denied of having privately, the entire city booed his body <3 well deserved. By this point, he had become Europe’s most hated man of the time.
And in case you were wondering, Casement and Morel were both accused to pro-German sympathies during WWI and executed.
I would like to add more detail but I think I’ve hit a character limit. Just know that Congo’s population was cut in HALF, in some places as much as 60-90%. Villages after villages were burned, as shown through so many soldiers’ and missionaries’ journals. This was a genocide of over 10 MILLION PEOPLE y’all. Hearing this story was truly SICKENING, but here’s the BBC 4 documentary we watched for class for more: Congo: White King, Red Rubber, and Black Death.
What truly gets me is just how OTHER colonizers were calling this man out after finding out the full truth… For me, that feels like extra proof of how truly messed up this was if THEY were disturbed too.
And what feels truly insidious was how Leopold made sure to institutionalize all of his wrongdoings and was so… obviously knowing about every wrongdoing, I mean writing in letters to make sure no one else found out. Please…
Linking my angry history rant on Paul Robeson from last semester here.
Happy Black History Month.
#belgium#king leopold ii#democratic republic of congo#history#black history month#colonialism#tw genocide#tw rape#tw torture#tw massacre#the congo#tw incest#resources#bipoc#undescribed#reaux speaks#black lives matter
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#Caster Wheel#Heavy Duty Caster Wheel#UHMW#PU caster#Jindal Caster#Plasto Rubber#Pioneer spring caster wheels#spring loaded caster#Pneumatic Tire caster#Rubber caster wheels#Metal caster#industrial Caster Wheel manufacturer#kitchen equipment caster#trolley caster wheel#special range caster#RG caster wheel#SS Caster#all types of caster wheel manufacturers and suppliers in Bangalore Karnataka#India#https://www.kmlwheels.com
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A world's record for a coast-to-coast trip by motor truck was established in 1920, when the three-ton Packard truck shown in the photo rolled into New York just 13 days, 13 hours and 15 minutes after leaving Los Angeles. The previous record was 17 days, 3 hours. The record-breaking truck, which was equipped with pneumatic tires, was made for coast-to-coast trips. Built in 1918, it had already rolled up 120,000 miles. The tires lasted through the entire trip.
Photo: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images
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