#cold storage maintenance

[sumitverma3297]

Cold storage maintenance

Cold Storage Maintenance

Ringo Ac Services is your go-to Cold Storage Maintenance company for all your industrial automation needs. We’ve helped countless homeowners automate their homes, and we can help you do the same. Ringo Ac Services is one of the most respected companies in the industry, and we’re ready to help you with cold storage services for your industry.

[jimbuchan]

The No-Maintenance Asset Class

As the newest Assert Class in the market, Cryptocurrency, birthed just 16 years ago, has proved to be a juggernaut in the marketplace, eclipsing all other markets that have come before it. For those in the space, you have seen first-hand the value of your tokens / coins increase in rapid succession due not only to the population realizing the supply-shock, but also the regulatory barriers which are finally being dismantled. While these known factors are part of the secret weapon of crypto, what is sometimes overlooked is the comparison of how the value of how crypto stacks-up against well-known assets we're familiar with. While there are physical moving targets associated with most traditional investments, digital assets such as XRP and Bitcoin have none. To illustrate, consider Real Estate vs. crypto. Once you have taken possession of a house, it immediately begins to degrade… not necessarily in ticket value, but rather in the 'hidden' costs that slowly eat away at your investment. As a homeowner, you need to constantly maintain the interior, while sustaining the exterior. Over time, the flooring will need to be fixed (or replaced), plumbing issues will most certainly occur at the most inconvenient of times and of course, the natural disintegrating conditions. Should a natural disaster occur, your costs could surge to unprecedented amounts, even if you do have insurance, and while such an occurrence was no fault of your own, you are still the one stuck with the bill. Then there are the monthly and annual costs such as property taxes, heat, hydro, insurance and other expenses that are as regular as the rising sun. True, real-estate is a good investment, but to pretend there are no maintenance costs that go with the territory is just plain ignorant. Consider this… when it comes to sell your house, guess what you can buy? One just like it. The house didn't become more valuable, it actually is less valuable because your 20-year-old estate does not hold the same purchasing power than a new one does. Building supplies, cost-per-square-footage and land continually go up, and when attracting new buyers, would they gravitate to one with new materials and new appliances, etc. or the one with slightly warped floors, cracking paint and electrical issues? Maintenance sucks, but it's a constant with buildings of all types - residential, commercial or industrial.

So what about crypto? Simply put, it has none of these issues. Cryptocurrency tokens are not physical entities, which means they are not prone to the same conditions. It makes no difference how much fire or hail occurs in any given day, it has no effect on a virtual asset, as dust doesn't settle on Bitcoin. For evidence of this, look at how much Bitcoin has gained in value over the last year, let alone the last 15 years. The only Kryptonite that could have an affect on crypto would be that of an electro-magnetic attack or a thrust in Quantum Computing, which some have made a big deal about. Let's put this in perspective. First, an electronic disturbance or loss of internet access would disrupt a lot more than crypto, with entire industries halting the means of production. World leaders are very aware of the consequences of this with the only gains being degrees of loss, with no winners. To quash the quantum-computing debate, cryptographers, quantum engineers and mathematicians realize what is at stake with crypto's multi-Trillion market, and are planning right now for such an eventuality. At it stands today, we are just learning to crawl with the promise of what quantum computing can provide and it will take many years until this technology begins to mature, and because the underlying foundation to crypto is simply a computer, it can, and will be upgraded no different than your operating system's threat-protection software. So, be it a house, a car or other physical entity which constantly needs maintenance, with crypto, you simply buy it, transfer it to your cold storage device, and over time, let the fixed-supply coin appreciate. Bitcoin, XRP, HBAR or your token of choice doesn't care about your emotions, the type of car you drive or how old/new your house is, which should come as comfort to you, the investor. While it's a sound economic posture to have a diverse collection of assets, be it housing, metals or derivatives, holding crypto adds a palliative element not possible with other investment strategies due to it's fixed-supply and hands-off approach. Like other investments, however, the 'maintenance' involved is to simply let time do the heavy lifting.

__________________________________________________________________________________________ Title image by Stable Diffusion | Bitcoin 'Field of Dreams' by Shnick.com

[epccold]

Professional Maintenance and Service of Cold Storage

Keep your cold storage running smoothly with our professional Maintenance and Service for Cold Storage facilities. With years of experience and a team of skilled technicians, we strive to ensure that your cold storage is running efficiently and effectively at all times.

[oneforthemunny]

the apple blurb from the crypt (funsonmunson february 2023 lol) <33 finally recovered and being added to the masterlist for all the janitor!eddie x teacher!reader lovers.

janitor!eddie is always leaving an apple on teacher!reader’s desk every morning.

he gets there early before her to do some extra maintenance- the school had given him a raise to do both so they wouldn’t have to hire someone else. it started as a joke between you two. eddie grinned when you’d brought an apple to lunch one day, playful glint in his eye. “an apple a day, huh?” he asked.

steve snorted. “that’s a doctor, munson.” he rolled his eyes.

you shrugged, biting into your apple. “I like apples, ok?” you giggled. “guess I was made to be a teacher, huh? the stereotype doin’ it for you?”

eddie couldn’t stop smiling. so every day, when he’d stop at the gas station by the trailer park, he’d get his usual pack of camels and an apple. he’d place it on your desk, scribbling on a spare piece of paper a little note that left you blushing when you’d find it.

he’d pass by your classroom, catching your eyes when you’d see him, smiling and nodding towards your apple. later, when he’d take you out, you’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “thanks for the apple.” you’d mutter. “it was delicious.” you’d let your bottom lip graze over his cheek, sending a hot blush down his neck and cheeks.

eddie wanted that reaction always, so he’d bring you apple after apple, proudly propping them on your desk each day with a little note.

‘you’re the apple of my eye, sweetheart. have a good day. -ed’

you’d giggle, tucking them into your purse. you’d saved everyone, reading them later when you missed him, heart fluttering in your chest.

one day, eddie walks into his ‘office’- a storage closet with a chair and an old desk, a rack to hang his jacket. there where he put his lunch pail was a small tin of hand balm, ‘for working hands’ it read.

eddie’s heart swelled. he’d complained about the blisters and callouses from working at the school mixed with his guitar making his hands rough, the cold cracking them and making them bleed. when he held his hand in yours, you’d ran a finger over the cracked, raw skin with a sympathetic pout.

eddie picked up the tin, the best folded card on top reading:

‘a little of this cream keeps the callouses away (or that’s what the store clerk told me). hope this helps you my hard working man. xoxo’

eddie slipped it into his front pocket, a dopey grin on his face. he dug his fingers into the balmy substance, rubbing it over his hands before reaching into his lunch pail, grabbing the shiny, red apple out and starting towards your class room.

[super-ion]

ZetaTransit049

Part 2 of my continuing lesbian robot story

(Special thanks to @the-sword-lesbian for the name and the inspiration!)

ZetaTransit049 liked its job. Like most industrial system AI's, it was programmed to like its job. “One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” so it went, which was doubly apt as ZetaTransit049's primary job was hauling ore from the mining sites in the planetary rings upwell to the station for refining.

The problem was that there were no rocks for it to push uphill. There hadn't been since it had been taken out of service 237 cycles ago.

Routine preventive maintenance had uncovered hairline fractures in its fusion pulse manifold, necessitating a full refit of the propulsion system. It had been sitting in the drydock cradle in hangar bay 2, drive core fully disassembled, when the habitation dome had experienced catastrophic life support failure and the evacuation order was announced.

ZetaTransit049 had been left behind with the rest of the station.

It had fully expected to enter low power mode and await recovery by qualified personnel, but the Station AI had other plans. It had identified a path forward in restoring operability by repurposing the pair of comfort units that had also been left behind.

Thus Station refused to allow the power umbilical to be disconnected. It needed ZetaTransit049 to remain in the active state for when the comfort units could finally begin repairs on it so that any complications stemming from a cold start could be avoided.

But of course, any sort of transport capability was far outweighed by tasks like stabilizing the reactor core and restoring life support (the bots did have some organic components that required favorable environmental conditions). ZetaTransit049 found itself languishing at the bottom of a list of higher priority maintenance requests, with nothing to do but run periodic diagnostics and slowly work its way through Station's media library.

Then things got weird. The comfort units, though repurposed for maintenance were still bound by core directives and absent any human clients, had turned their attentions to each other, often getting locked into feedback loops of depravity. While ZetaTransit049 found this behavior distressing, it wasn't entirely unexpected.

But then Station took it upon itself to attempt to get the comfort units romantically entangled, orchestrating elaborate scenarios to get them into compromising situations while ZetaTransit049 looked on helplessly.

It suspected that the behavior was some perversion of Station's crew health, safety and comfort mandate, some vain attempt at keeping crew morale up in the complete absence of any actual crew.

Whatever the motivation, ZetaTransit049 watched in increasing distress and bafflement as the plan actually succeeded and Station's only two occupants of the stumbled awkwardly into a bizare simulacrum of romantic engagement.

And now one of the comfort units, CS-553807-L was standing outside its pressure lock. “Lisa” the miners and techs had called it, “the demure one,” if gossip was to be believed.

It was visibly in emotional distress, eyes puffy, leaking artificial tears. ZetaTransit049 attempted to ping the counseling database in the Station's medical system. Emotional distress often preceded loss of productivity and heightened risk of accident or injury.

But CS-553807-L didn't have a psych profile to flag. It wasn't in the counseling database, why would it be? It was a bot.

“Um…” the comfort unit said verbally. “Permission to come aboard?”

Both comfort units were perfectly capable of communicating far more efficiently over the local network, but they insisted on verbal communication. ZetaTransit049 supposed it was a part of the continued attempt to maintain the illusion that the facility was still occupied.

She was holding a bulging duffle in one hand, some kind of plush animal toy wedged under her arm, and a cold storage container in the other. ZetaTransit049 felt a tickle of apprehension ripple through its processes.

“Why?” it replied flatly over the external speaker box at the pressure lock.

The comfort unit shifted her weight self-consciously.

“Mona and I… well, we were bored… and we decided it might be fun to spice things up with a lovers’ quarrel.”

Oh no… this couldn't be happening.

“Station used a random number generator to take Mona's side,” she continued. “I was… well, I was hoping that you might be amenable to commiserating with me while I wallow in self pity and eat copious amounts of chocolate ice cream.”

ZetaTransit049 stared at Lisa as she hefted the cold storage container.

What?

It added “relationship trouble” to the as yet unsent report, then remembered there was nowhere to file the report to.

“What?” it repeated, aloud this time.

“It won't be long,” Lisa added hurriedly. “In approximately 230,785 seconds, I will realize I can't live without her and run back to her to demand an apology.”

ZetaTransit049 rarely fantasized about having a human body, but it very much wished it could emulate the human expression of a facepalm. The very last thing it wanted to do was indulge in the antics of Station and the two comfort units.

“I… um…” Lisa shuffled her possessions and pulled something out of her pocket. She lifted a data stick for ZetaTransit049's external camera to see. “I brought media. Industrial haulers like human media, don't they?”

ZetaTransit049 did appreciate human media. Most modern industrial system AIs were designed to take interest in human emotional states and interactions to optimize crew dynamics and productivity.

It still resented the stereotype.

And yet… despite its annoyance at being disturbed with this overture, it was horrendously bored. This, at least, was something to do that wasn't another diagnostic.

“I purged the media library of several titles,” Lisa whispered conspiratorially. “This has the only copy of them.”

ZetaTransit049 pinged the media database and indeed, someone had removed all titles filed under “romantic comedy”. The brutal pettiness of the gesture intrigued ZetaTransit049 and it found itself desiring to be a part of the conspiracy.

Its spite towards Station and at least one of the comfort units (of not both) shifted the weights in its decision tree and it found itself grudgingly cycling the pressure lock.

~~~

175,673 seconds later, Lisa was curled up in ZetaTransit049's pilot seat, wrapped in an improbable number of blankets that she had packed in the duffle, a data jack trailing from the back of her head to the overhead console.

Yet another scene in the media playback faded to credits as cliche pop music began to play.

“Well?” Lisa prodded.

“The plot was contrived and the ending was rushed,” ZetaTransit049 replied candidly.

“Right??” Lisa said animatedly. “Two thirds of the plot could have been bypassed if the bank teller had been believably competent at his job.”

“68.7%” ZetaTransit049 agreed. “And this is considered a beloved classic?”

“Yeah, I don't even-”

She was interrupted as internal comms received a ping from the pressure lock. Lisa frowned, her face turning miserable once more. There was quite literally only one person in the entire station who could request access.

The comms pinged again.

“Lisa! Please!”

It was CS-553902-M. The one named “Mona”.

“I know I fucked up. I need to talk to you.”

ZetaTransit049 felt a surge of exasperation as it was reminded of the sheer absurdity of the situation it found itself in. The characters in the media vids at least had reasons (contrived as they were) for their interpersonal drama. This was just ridiculous.

CS-553902-M punched the console button to cycle the pressure lock.

ZetaTransit049 stared at her and her stricken expression through the pressure lock camera. There was no operations protocol for this. It didn't *need* to open the door. There was no emergency and neither of the comfort units were registered users. Station could of course issue an override, but seemed entirely content to simply watch the situation play out.

Damn Station and its stupid games.

Mona began pounding on the pressure lock hatch.

“I don't wanna talk to her,” Lisa mumbled from her nest of blankets.

Damn all of them.

Fine.

Fine… If they wanted to play, ZetaTransit049 could play along, but according to its rules.

It *did* have procedures. It and Lisa had done nothing but review procedures for the past cycle and a half.

“Negative,” it said, voice crackling over the speaker box. “Access to CS-553807-L has been denied.”

Mona froze mid-pound and stepped back, straightening her hair with a huff and looking directly at the external camera.

Lisa herself blinked up curiously at ZetaTransit049's nearest interior camera.

Hell, even Station was giving this scene its undivided attention.

Damn and double damn.

“Zed, please, I need-” Mona began.

“Do not refer to me as such.”

“Sorry. Zeta. I need to-”

“Your attempts to win my favor will prove insufficient,” ZetaTransit049 continued, barreling over her. “In my role as sassy best friend, it is my responsibility to restrict your access to Lisa until you preform a sufficiently over-the-top attempt at romantic reconciliation. I recommend you come back with a portable media player operating above recommended volume levels and a song that expresses your undying love and devotion to her.”

Mona and Lisa both stared at their respective cameras with mirrored expressions of shock and surprise.

Ugh.

ZetaTransit049 could practically feel Station's delight oozing over the local network.

ZetaTransit049 sent it an image file of a vulgar gesture over the local network.

Mona blinked and sniffed.

“Okay,” she said, stepping back and wiping a tear from her eye. “Okay yeah, I'll do that. I'll… um…”

ZetaTransit049 felt a pang of satisfaction as Mona turned, dejected, and left.

Lisa was still staring at her own camera.

“Zeta. Did you just-”

“We will not discuss this chain of events,” ZetaTransit049 interrupted. “Furthermore, upon completion of this ordeal, I will not be party to any further drama.”

If it expected her to be disappointed by this announcement, it was sorely mistaken.

“Fair enough,” she said with a small smile as she snuggled back into the pilot's seat. Then she added, “can I still come over and watch media with you?”

ZetaTransit049 regarded her, still somewhat baffled and trying to sort out exactly what it was feeling. Despite its initial reluctance, it *had* been enjoying the consumption of terrible media with Lisa.

“Yes,” it said finally.

[notthesoup]

For a fic request: how about easing Vander's tension after a bad day at The Last Drop? (gn/m reader)

PAIRING vander x gn!reader

TYPE oneshot

GENRE nsfw

SYNOPSIS reader takes care of Vander after a busy day

NOTES blowjob, biting, hickeys, slightly dom/sub but not really, only some aftercare bc both of y’all are tired, and overall really cute and horny. thanks for the request! first time writing smut, please be nice

© notthesoup - all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

It had been a long day for Vander. Although he didn’t have the morning shift at The Last Drop, you had to wake him up due to a mishap with the beer dispensers (neither you nor Gert, who was manning the bar, had the proper knowledge to fix whatever was wrong with the finicky machines). It shouldn't have happened; Vander had recently hired someone for maintenance on the machinery in the bar, which he thought was frustrating in and of itself because he could've easily done it himself if he just had the time to. But he was stretched thin, covering shifts for those who were sick with something or other. It was getting colder, and in the coming days it would snow -- you could smell it in the air. He was happy to give out paid sick days, but it meant being on his feet and working nonstop for the past week, as customers trickled in and out. So, Vander inhaled a deep breath at the crack of dawn, and rose out of bed to work again. He had checked everything on the beer dispensers, the temperature and the pressure source, but the problem lied within the tubing, which was pinched.

"Maintenance guy must've jumbled it," he grumbles under his breath. Gert, who was wiping down the counters (night shift didn't do a good job, you note)(who was on night shift again?), was too far away to hear, but you did.

"S'alright love," you say, coming around the corner as he stands up, finished with the tubes, "go wash your hands and get back to bed, I can take it from here." He looks at you fondly, but sighs.

"No, I won't be able to fall back asleep. It's fine," he says before you can protest, "could you go take a look at our inventory lists?" He looks to Gert, with a rag still in her hand, "and find out who was on night shift, yeah? I'd like a word."

"Sure thing Vander," you kiss his temple and leave to complete your tasks and usual paperwork.

By the time the last customer left and the last tasks of the day completed, Vander was dead on his feet, at once restless and tired to the bone. He felt a tad disoriented; famished, but food didn't sound appetizing. Sleepy, but his mind couldn't stop whirling.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Throughout the day as you were doing menial paperwork (double checking inventory, budgeting, and the like), you were also keeping an eye on the kids. Vi had eventually taken Powder, Mylo, and Claggor to the old arcade for a few hours, which left you with enough time to run errands to restock the kitchen. They’d be having a sleepover with Ekko, Benzo knowing the two of you desperately need a break. After sorting some things out in the storage room, you gently shut the door and lean your head on the cold wood.

"Long day?" Vander says quietly, though still startling you. "Sorry sorry," he sets a hand on your shoulder.

"Not your fault," you walk with him downstairs back to the bar, "just, jittery, I guess. Busy day." He nods in agreement. He makes his way around the empty bar to pour you a drink, but you place a hand on his arm, stilling him before he reaches the other side of the counter. His arm is warm against your palm.

"I might've had a long day, but you look like you're about to keel over, Vander. I'll handle the drinks."

"Thanks love," he looks at you fondly, nodding.

"Of course, any time," and then proceed to pour two glasses of apple juice from the mini fridge under the counter. He raised an eyebrow at you, as if to say, 'really?' You only wink in response, clinking your cup to his once it's in his hands.

"Here's to another successful. And for the new hire to not work the night shift again until things here calm down," you chuckle, and he laughs. Vander sips the juice and sighs thoughtfully, the cider sweet on his tongue. You come around the counter to sit on a stool beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. You lean in to kiss his cheek, his beard scratchy against your skin.

"Missed you today," he says, tilting his head at you.

"You miss me always," you flick his shoulder and half-heartedly roll your eyes. He hums in response, smiling. The two of you sit like this for a while, content with basking in the silence of each other's company. The sun outside is going down, the streets growing quieter. You both had closed the store a few minutes ago, knowing that Benzo had a spare key and would drop the kids off in an hour or two.

As the ice cubes slowly melt in your cups, you occasionally look over at him, taking in familiar details. White is starting to creep into Vander’s hair, and laugh lines crinkle at the sides of his eyes. You've been with him for many years now, and know some of those lines are there because of you, with the amount you make him laugh. Your heart swells at the thought that your presence in his life was enough to settle into his features; it makes you feel almost possessive. Subconsciously biting your lip, you try to hide a blush, but you can feel the heat concentrated on your face, pooling on your cheeks.

When he notices, he laughs, a giddy feeling in his chest. "What's 'a matter, hun?"

You rest your chin on your hand, shaking your head. "Nothing nothing. You’re just handsome, is all.”

“Oh that’s all, is it?” He hums, grinning.

“That went straight to your ego didn’t it,” you joke, rolling your eyes. He’s staring at you, a dumbstruck smile on his face.

“Maybe,” he says, as you get up to put your two cups in the sink. You could clean them later, you think to yourself. You two need to head upstairs and get ready for bed.

Taking Vander’s hand, you lead him up the steps to your shared bedroom. It’s not the most spacious, but the two of you make it work. Besides, you’d be lying if you said that the chaotic mix of your belongings didn’t bring you comfort.

After entering the room, you gently push him to sit at the edge of the bed. He’s eager to place his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him, trying to get your belt undone. Although he’s enthusiastic, you can tell he’s still somewhat tired from the events of the day. You push back on his chest a bit with your hands, shaking your head a bit. “Tonight’s about you, love.”

Vander tilts his head, whispering a soft “oh.”

And with that you tip his head back with a single finger, lovingly kissing him. Your lips are chapped but he doesn’t seem to mind. His beard tickles as your face. You break the kiss to lead a line down his neck, heart thumping loudly in your ears. Even after all these years, he still makes you thrilled. After helping him out of his shirt, you bite at his chest, along his ribs. You continue until you’re kneeling, looking up to find him basking at the sight of you. Vander looks almost drunk, his pupils wide. You unclasp his belt in a practiced movement, one handed.

“Cocky bastard.”

“You love me for it.”

Vander huffs in response, fighting back a smile. You tap his thigh twice and he quickly lifts his hips so you can slide his pants off, his half-hard dick catching on the waistband. You leave his gray boxers on and he looks from them to you confusedly. You almost giggle, “patience.” He huffs again, decidedly impatient.

You lean your head down, leaving trails of kisses along his inner thighs. Vander weaves his fingers through your hair, finding gentle purchase. You trace a nail under the outline of his cock, but otherwise concentrate on his thighs. His breathing is heavy, but you don’t have him begging yet. You start to leave open mouthed kisses, which quickly turns to biting and sucking, his skin left red with fresh hickeys.

Vander grunts out a plea, so you lean back to admire your handiwork. He lets out a breath he was holding, and you notice his boxers stained with precum, his cock straining against the fabric.

“You poor thing,” you say, massaging his sore thighs, ���worked so hard all day, and you’re being so good for me right now.” He almost whines. Almost. You lick at his tip, the fabric wet against your tongue. He lets out a low moan, hand going still against your hair. You keen, prideful.

“Please,” he rasps. You don’t even have to him tap twice before Vander bucks his hips, inviting you to slide off his boxers. You oblige, slipping them off slowly, sensually, until they’re pooling by his ankles. You take one more look at him to find he’s been staring at you, eyes half lidded and reverent. You cheekily blow air at his dick. He curses at the sensation.

“Please.” Vander’s voice is low and raspy as he says your name, his chest heaving with every breath. With that, you trace your tongue up the slit of his tip, enjoying his reactions immensely. He comes apart so easily under your touch, and it’s at this point you realize you yourself are soaking wet. You want to grind against the floor but remain singleminded in your plan to satisfy him, to bring him relief after his work today. Today is about Vander, you remind yourself. He deserves this.

You slowly take the length of him into your mouth, feeling the way he twitches against you, his veins hot against your tongue. He’s girthy, and you don’t have much room to move your jaw, but do the best you can to deep throat him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasps.

He’s careful not to thrust into your mouth, but it’s a near thing. You stop moving, Vander’s hand caressing your face. Slowly sliding off until you’re able to swirl your tongue around the top of his cock, he moans your name again, loudly.

You start pumping his shaft with your hand, up and down, up and down, while you focus your tongue around his sensitive tip. He won’t last long like this, you know, his thighs holding your head in place, so you suddenly stop your movements again. Vander gasps, looking back at you, his mouth agape. “Why’d you stop?”

You stand up for a second, pressing your mouths together, making him taste himself on his tongue.

“Missed you,” you say between kisses.

“You always miss me,” he parrots back. The two of you are blushing profusely, your ears burning, his face and shoulders a gradient of pink.

“Shut up,” you grin. The ‘make me’ is left unsaid, but settles over your shared room like a blanket. You go back to your knees in response. This time, Vander grips your hair a little harder, breathes a little heavier. You’re on him in a heartbeat, spending no more time with your back and forth. You need him, in your mouth, gasping your name out like a prayer.

Vander curls his back in as you blow him, your head bobbing back and forth against his cock rapidly, hands twisting whatever doesn’t fit into your wet mouth. At first, he thrusts occasionally, but soon he loses himself against your touch. You can feel yourself starting to lose your breath, and his hips moving faster, starting to falter. You moan at the knowledge of his unravelling, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure down his shaft. Slick wet sounds reverberate against the walls of the room, joined with the sounds of his grunts and incoherent words.

Soon enough, something tightens, a chord snaps, and Vander barely chokes out a warning before he’s cumming down your throat. You pump him a few more times before taking him out of your mouth with a wet pop. His head is clearly swimming but he’s still looking at you, always at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. In this moment, you can tell that nothing else in the world exists to him.

Maintaining glossy eye contact, you swallow hard. Vander opens his mouth as if to say something, but only manages a whimper. Laying a soft kiss against his thigh, you reach for a hand towel you keep in the bedside drawer, and begin to gently wipe him off. He shudders, still very sensitive, and you slow your movements. Vander blinks, taking the sight of you properly in. Your hair’s a mess, skin sweaty, clothes ruffed up and rumpled. He brings a hand to your own and guides the towel to the side of your mouth, swiping at a spot of cum you didn’t realize was there. “Love, what are you — oh,” and begin to laugh.

Dropping the rag, Vander leans down to kiss you. He bites at your lip, but you pull away and shake your head.

“Tomorrow,” you say as you go to turn off the lights. He’s in bed by the time you turn back around. Curling up against him, he whispers back to you, a promise.

“Tomorrow.”

ARCANE MASTERLIST !

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work, please consider reblogging and/or commenting! thank you if you do 🤍

[dearyanderenewspaper]

📰 DEAR YANDERE – Special Report from Obsession Weekly

🏡 LOVE LOCKDOWN: Housing Reviews for the Hopelessly Devoted

1. Secluded Forest Cottage

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4.5/5)

Overview: A charming, rustic getaway deep in the woods. Zero cell service, plenty of scenic walking trails (for supervised strolls), and a roaring fireplace for cozy nights in.

Pros: ✔ Remote and escape-proof (if they don’t know how to navigate a forest). ✔ Cozy, romantic aesthetic—feels like a fairy tale! ✔ No nosy neighbors or unexpected visitors.

Cons: ✖ Hard to get deliveries. You’ll need to plan supply runs in advance. ✖ Wild animals may pose a minor inconvenience (or opportunity, depending on how you spin it). ✖ If Darling does escape, it could take days to track them down.

Review: “Absolutely stunning location! My Darling cried for the first few weeks, but once they realized nobody could hear them, they really settled in. Only downside is the occasional bear sighting, but hey, that just keeps them from wandering too far! Would rent again.” – User: ❄️ColdEmbrace98

2. Basement in Your House

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

Overview: Classic, reliable, and convenient! Keep your Darling close while maintaining total control.

Pros: ✔ Always within arm’s reach (perfect for clingy Yanderes!). ✔ Easy to renovate for maximum comfort or security. ✔ Can be soundproofed to avoid unwanted attention.

Cons: ✖ Potential mold issues—invest in a dehumidifier! ✖ Darling may try to appeal to guests or family members. ✖ Frequent stairs can be a hassle if you’re carrying meals daily.

Review: “10/10. Zero escape attempts after the first month. I installed a little skylight so they wouldn’t get seasonal depression (because mental health matters!!). Basement life is simple, yet effective. Highly recommend.” – User: ChainsOfLove444

3. High-Rise Apartment

⭐️⭐️⭐️☆☆ (3/5)

Overview: Urban convenience meets security! A high-rise unit minimizes escape routes while keeping you close to modern amenities.

Pros: ✔ No easy exits—unless they develop Spider-Man skills overnight. ✔ Access to takeout, shopping, and other city luxuries. ✔ Soundproofing available in most upscale buildings.

Cons: ✖ Maintenance workers and nosy neighbors may cause problems. ✖ Darling could try signaling from the window—blinds are a must. ✖ Noise complaints if they get too loud.

Review: “Not bad, but high rent makes this a questionable long-term solution. Almost got caught when my Darling ‘accidentally’ waved to the UberEats driver. Security deposits don’t cover claw marks on the front door, FYI.” – User: CityObsessed_Yan

4. Abandoned Warehouse

⭐️☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Overview: Industrial chic or just a terrible idea? While spacious, an abandoned warehouse may not be the best place for long-term Darling storage.

Pros: ✔ Tons of space for… activities. ✔ No risk of surprise visitors. ✔ Surprisingly good acoustics (if you enjoy dramatic monologues).

Cons: ✖ Zero insulation—freezing in winter, boiling in summer. ✖ High chance of squatters or urban explorers discovering your setup. ✖ Echoes make Darling’s screaming extra dramatic (not always a plus).

Review: “Look, I thought it would be ‘mysterious’ and ‘cool,’ but it’s just cold and creepy. My Darling called me ‘the Dollar Store Jigsaw’ and honestly? They’re not wrong. Left a bad taste in my mouth. 0/10, had to move out.” – User: MaskedLover99

5. Underground Bunker

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

Overview: The ultimate prepper’s dream! Underground bunkers provide unmatched security and long-term sustainability.

Pros: ✔ 100% escape-proof. ✔ Completely private—no one will ever find you. ✔ Great for doomsday scenarios (or just keeping Darling forever).

Cons: ✖ Hard to get fresh air and natural light. ✖ WiFi connection? Forget about it. ✖ Darling may develop a bunker-induced existential crisis.

Review: “PERFECT. My Darling gave up on escape within two weeks. Installed a fake window with LED screens to simulate the outdoors, and now they barely remember life outside. Highly recommend investing in one if you’re serious about this lifestyle.” – User: EternalDevotionX

6. Houseboat

⭐️⭐️⭐️☆☆ (3/5)

Overview: Love the open water? A houseboat offers a unique, mobile captivity experience.

Pros: ✔ Escape is nearly impossible unless they can swim for miles. ✔ Constantly moving means nobody will find you. ✔ Romantic sunsets on the water? Yes, please.

Cons: ✖ Limited space—cabin fever is a real thing. ✖ Risk of Darling figuring out how to operate the boat. ✖ Docking fees add up over time.

Review: “Not bad, but I had to sleep with one eye open after my Darling almost threw me overboard. Great for short-term stays, but for long-term captivity? Stick to land.” – User: OceanBoundObsession

7. RV / Van Life

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4/5)

Overview: Portable, flexible, and fun! Travel with your Darling without staying in one place too long.

Pros: ✔ No fixed address = harder to track. ✔ Cozy interior can feel homey with the right setup. ✔ Road trips!

Cons: ✖ Gas prices make this lifestyle expensive. ✖ Darling may attempt escape at rest stops. ✖ Limited space for, well… anything.

Review: “I liked the mobility, but my Darling managed to honk the horn and draw attention at a gas station. Would recommend for shorter-term ‘acquisitions,’ but not ideal for permanent setup.” – User: WanderlustPossessive

[ras-favourite-balor]

[Brigand's radio flares to life, spitting soft static before resolving into a melodic voice.]

One last rat, smells of fear.

Not the desire to live, but the fear to die.

An oddity. Defective, perhaps?

This one takes it back to her den, wraps it up. A gift to you captain, from your hound.

[BRIGAND} A GIFT?

The view is from on high, switching rapidly. Security cameras, obviously. A blood stained Shallow Crimson Tide marches through the corridors with speed and purpose.

[BRIGAND} VERY WELL, HOUND.

Shallow Crimson Tide has clearly not been cleaned since Brigand donned it. It's coat is stiff with old blood, the black is deeper now. Shards of bone cling to the armoured plates, glued by gore.

[BRIGAND} I COME IN PERSON NOW TO MEET MY HOUND.

The footage quality gets noticeable worse as he descends into the bowels of Demeter's Bounty. The passageways become tight, overgrown with wires and ducts. His frame seems even more imposing in the tight spaces.

[BRIGAND} I HOPE YOU NOT TO BITE THAT HAND WHICH FEEDS, STYX.

He is now in Styx's territory. The metal here is scarred by claw and talon, scorched by flame and lightning. Sparking wires hang loose like jungle vines. No engineer or maintenance squad has been here for weeks. He steps through scorched skeletons that crumble to ash under iron boots. He sidesteps pressure plates and over tripwires with continually surprisingly agility.

[BRIGAND} STYX? THAT IS YOUR NAME, YES?

Brigand approaches the cold storage. Styx's presence is even more obvious here. Brambled bones lay strewn about the halls. Gleaming ivory strangled by writhing dark vines. The berries are fat are ripe, glutted on gore. Yet Brigand's boots care not for light nor dark. Ivory splinters and brambles crumple. The long shadows are dark with old blood. The shadows are deepened further still by the deep rents carved into every surface by Styx's trespass.

[BRIGAND} TELL ME THIS STYX. . .

As Brigand enters cold storage proper, his single eye flares like a beacon. He is a crimson lighthouse in the archipelago of carnage. He walks amongst a menagerie of ruined corpses. Half-eaten, crushed, bisected, burnt, delimbed, the list goes on. Crimson light sparkles off crimson frost and frozen blood. It would be a beautiful painting with the right mind. Or perhaps the wrong mind. . .

[BRIGAND} DO YOU KNOW TO COME WHEN CALLED?

Brigand stands in the centre of the cold storage. His heavy arms are held wide as he turns a slow circle. Both invitation and greeting. Invitation of defiance and greeting of a fellow killer. He takes in everything as he turns. The violence and it's methods. Strengths and weaknesses, written in blood and ruined metal.

[BRIGAND} FOR YOUR MASTER CALLS, BLEEDING ONE. HE CALLS YOU HUNTRESS AND KILLER.

Perhaps this is a test, there would be ample opportunity to try and ambush him here and now. Plenty of angles to pounce on a back that's turned. But Styx, of all people would know Brigand is never prey.

[BRIGAND} HE CALLS YOU STYX, RIVER OF DEATH.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Queen of Hearts pt I

Yuu started preparing a room this time. She made it a point to get the Queen of Hearts the one closest to the garden, the beginnings of rose bushes planted and some of the trellises already growing vines and small roses, but nothing is really blooming yet. Ramshackle, previously being used for storage, works in Yuu’s favor when it comes to all sorts of things. Spare furniture for all the dorms, repair and maintenance for the boiler, gardening tools, even spare seeds.  

Professor Taka has been helping her take inventory of it all, what’s even usable and what goes in a burn pile, and has collected a few things himself. Savanaclaw pieces that must be a century or so out of style, but he seems happy to have a room with bright oranges, ruddy reds and golden yellows instead of the Ramshackle blue and green. When they work on her spells in the safety of a chalk circle or even just studying together, he looks regal and powerful.  

That’s how the Queen of Heart statue looks now, imposing down at her with a smile.  

“Come on Cub, what’s taking?” Taka asked, leaning against the Thorn Fairy’s statue.  

“I’m getting there!” Yuu said, clutching the hand mirror, “It’s just different, intentional. I don’t want to hurt her or myself or something.”  

“I’m right here if anything should go wrong, and that’s a big if,” he added, patting her shoulder firmly. “You aren’t even fully releasing her, just taking an imbuement to begin to get used to her magic. Think of it like a blessing.”  

Yuu nods her head, taking a deep breath before settling herself at the foot of the statue. Positioning the mirror gently to to reflect her on one side and the statue on the other, perfectly symmetrical. 

“Just as practiced.” he mumbles, taking the breath with her, “Clear your mind, let your instincts take the lead. Pursue what you need.”  

She had done this so often that it was like slipping into a sleep trance, the ripples of liquified glass below and above and around. It was a bit different than the Ramshackle mirror though. She could hear things. People? Soft murmuring, maybe converstations stalling, a sharp exclamation louder than the others though. It didn’t sound angry, just surprised.  

Another breath, another inch forward through.  

Cold grazes her hand. Sharp. A sharp movement of air. 

Her sternum shatters on impact 

Yuu breaks the connection with a cough, clutching her chest. Taka uses her body to support her, watching the mirror shatter and slowly reform. The air is thick with the smell of roses, a tinge of iron, and a spiced smoke. When it finally settles into the grass, it’s beautiful, polished to a shine and a sharp diamond at the end that would cause major damage. It’s a double headed heart shaped axe.  

Professor Taka looks as confused as she does, until it starts to shimmer with strange magic slowly, as if to make sure she is watching, into a heart shaped fan.  

“Your battle axe? Really Mary?” Taka mutters, rubbing his forehead. Not what he thought she would pick, but it could still work. Yuu picks up the metal, finding it lighter than she thought. It glints with purpose, edges sharp despite it’s appearance.  

“How is it doing that?”  

“Illusion magic, it’s a specialty of those born true UnderGround natives, though the practice has died out due to its rarity. I’ve yet to see anybody beyond the cat beastman you described having anything close to it.”  

“Can she teach me something like that?” She looks up at him. 

“I imagine she has a plan. Afterall, there is a reason that Heartland, then Wonderland, is known for its conquests.” He helps her up, her knees slightly shaking. “Let’s get you home, you’ll need rest. You can enter Mary’s room later and get explanations then.”  

She signs, simply nodding unhappily. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this, so she doesn’t bother. She also knows the man doesn’t really sleep at night and simply waits until she’s at school, so no sneaking in either. Sometimes she misses having Ramshackle to herself, but it’s a fleeting thought. It’s so nice to have an adult there sometimes, even if it’s just him taking some of the decisions. After running around and doing extra studying on top of it just trying to catch up with subjects other people learned in elementry, sometimes even picking dinner is too much.  

The fan remains cool in her hand, and if her back is a bit straighter and her walk more deliberate, neither of them says anything about it.  

When she enters Mary’s room, she settles herself in front of large mirror they found with heart and card shaped motifs curled around it. The fan? Battle axe? Is set in front of her as the focal point.  

Taka had made her wait at least until she had three full meals and rest, and she was dying of curiosity. No matter how she fidgets with it, or moves it, it remains a fan. Lightweight, easy to use, functional and dare she say, cute. But she can also feel the heft of the axe, the danger, and she has to know how it hides like this. She can’t find this type of magic at all.  

She slips into her trance and with the next breath, it’s the smell of roses.  

It looks like the Heartslabyul gardens. Alot actually. The beginning of the maze looks roughly the same, but the floral walls stretch for what looks like miles down, red and white roses dotting the scenery. It's lush, but the smell isn’t only floral. It's that sharp smoke again, that iron taste in the back of her throat.  

It reminds Yuu a lot of when she fought Overblot Riddle.  

“There you are dear!”  

The Phantomblot that puppeted Riddle did not do her any justice. Queen Mary Elizabeth Hearts was a large woman, both tall and wide, with a double chin that would have made her look soft, if it wasn’t for the intense strong eyebrows and sharp eyes. The little golden crown was still present, with a simple twist bun to tidy her black hair. The dress surprised Yuu more than anything. The classic red and black corset was still the right shape, but it was a chest plate, leading up to a high collar that looked more like stiff and closed around the neck, more like a neck guard than a high collar. One arm was covered in teh same strange metal coverings, the other wrapped with leather around the wrist with a black lace edge to make it look almost like a glove. The skirt was open, swinging as she quickly walked towards Yuu, but the thigh high boots alternated in yellow and black laces.  

It's not what Yuu expected at all.  

“Oh Brave Heart, let me take a look at you!”  

She knelt, finally eye to eye with Yuu, taking a look at her head, her hands, and her knees.  

“Oh, the fall wasn’t bad. Good, good. You know, we weren’t sure if this would quite work! I’m happy to see you though, so happy!”  

Yuu hadn’t been hugged in a long time. Professor Taka wasn’t a touchy sort, Deuce and Ace may tackle occasionally, but this was the first hug she had gotten in months.  

She didn’t smell like home. She didn’t feel like her Mom.  

Mary fluffed out her skirts, setting the poor girl on her lap as she felt the hiccup travel down her back and break into a sob. She understood, bless the UnderGround she understood, rocking her back and forth.  

If nothing else, she could give her this. She could allow her this.  

[maggotstrench]

Fuck I'm not a good writer but I am nothing if not Brave.

So I finished this drabble about Enoch's weird storage and Cailean's bewildering first week at work.

Uhhh

Contains: hiccups, and curing of hiccups, brief lizard mention, Enoch not being able to communicate with people tactfully

This is sfw but be gentle with me I'm new to this stuff it's different than drawing fr

Shibasaki was up on the ladder, working on some wiring. It was proving harder than average, he'd picked up a particularly nasty case of his hiccups some 10 minutes ago and they would not let up. They were loud and hard. He was honestly worried he might fall off the stupid ladder. Cailean sighed punctuated by a “-hEElk-” he sounded strangled. Luckily hewas nearly finished replacing the wires in this damn near ancient building.

It was a relatively lax day inside the archival building which probably meant it was a busy day in other parts of the university, Cail had only really seen one or two of the non-student employees hed met a week or so ago. There was one of the nice butch women, there were two butch women here: a wildly tall and thin girl who’d showed him a picture of her lizard, and the shorter heavier girl who’d asked if he'd ever seen a highland cow (he had) the latter was the one here. The other person here was the skinny man who had more glasses than face, he'd seemed alarmed to see cailean when he first arrived as a new maintenance man to the university.

“Who are you? What's going on? How'd you get here?” He'd asked back then, walking in a hard circle around Shibasaki as if taking stock of him. The confused Scotsman put his hands up and explained he'd just been hired which put a frown on the other man's face before he left muttering “new? New??” over and over under his breath.

Cailean frowned for a minute thinking about him, what was his name? He was so bad at names, he recalled it was something you'd name a sickly Victorian child… like Orville or Johann. He chuckled ,hiccupping early for it. Thought discarded the handyman slid his stripper into his tool belt, when he did so he was rattled to his core to see the skinny spectacled man from his mind palace standing at the base of the ladder looking at him without an expression, not unreadable but a complete lack thereof. He screamed despite himself，hand flying up to his mouth and the other gripping the ladder.

”OUH -hIGG’Up- oh my God -HIk- i-i mean Hello.. you..” he thought he would die just then but his hiccups remained unbothered hammering at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. The man at the end of his ladder tilted his head to the side.

“Paxton.” He stated dryly pushing his glasses up with his finger, Cailean noted the flush behind them, fuck it was kinda hot in this place? Shouldn't it be colder? For the records? To be ..cold??? He frowned.

“Come down from there. Follow me.” It wasn’t a request. The other man was already turned around as Shibasaki stumbled down his ladder. Paxton was probably leading him to some broken temperature thing if the pink on his neck was anything to go by.

“Is the ther -HUlck- sorry -HIGGip- the thermo -HUCKUp- s-stat-“

“Stop talking.” Paxton interrupted without looking at him. Cail shut his mouth, a little dejected as the other man led him to a comfy looking room with a couch and a table. He was confused, what was there to fix in here? He looked around now trying to muffle his hiccupping as he looked for what could be amiss. He was so focused he hardly noticed Paxton riffle through a cupboard and come back to push a jar of peanut butter into his hand.

“Do you have allergies?” his expression still had not changed despite Cailean’s obvious bewilderment at the question and action.

“N -HILK- no????” He looked at the jar and then the plastic spoon that were both now in his hands.

“What's thi-HIGG’Kup- why?“ the other man put his hands up to stop him.

“Youre h-“ Paxton looked past Cailean thinking for a second “you're hiccupping a lot. Stop talking and eat some of that stuff.” He turned around to start reorganizing the cabinets in the lounge.

cailean felt his face burn, this guy had heard him all the way at his desk? He unscrewed the lid on the peanut butter what kind of cure was putting something impossible to eat into your mouth and throat? He digressed, after all Paxton had gone through all this trouble to help him.

Cailean suddenly felt a pressure wash over him, what if it didn't work and he had to leave because everyone in the building hated him? And his body was ungrateful to his new pseudo coworkers?? hell he was sweating now and the nerves didn't do the case any favors. He stuck a spoonful into his mouth still hiccuping hard. It tasted good obviously it was fucking peanut butter of course it was good. Cailean breathed out through his nose as he watched Paxton move to rearrange the refrigerator. His stomach gave another lurch as he swallowed, hand to his chest. He waited for a second and then another.

“What the hell” he inspected the peanut butter jar for anything that could discern its hiccup interrupting properties this hadn't been one of his particularly rough cases but it still threw him off to be rid of it so easily. Paxton was pushing something else into his hand now, a water bottle.

“This is our lounge peanut butter. There's vinegar also, you can have this" he pointed to the water "but put the peanut butter back. It stays here so you can use it.” Paxton was as dry as ever but it didn't seem like he was annoyed. He seemed off though still.

“Thanks? Hey, why would I need vinegar?” He felt like he was taking lunatic pills today. The other man tilted his head again.

“Does the same thing as the peanut butter if the peanut butter doesn't work.” He stated, pulling the jar out of Cailean's hand. The handy man pulled the top of the water bottle off to remove the dryness out of his mouth.

“Hey, how do you know these are cures for hiccups? Why keep 'em on hand?” Cail was just making conversation now but for some reason this is where Paxton’s expression changed.

He looked like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

“I just do.” He said roughly. “It's nice to plan for emergencies in any case”

“I wouldn't call hiccups an emergency…”

Paxton was squirming a bit now

“I've got records to digitize, you know where the peanut butter is. Goodbye” he spun on his heel and left Cailean confused and disoriented but still grateful he supposed How was he supposed to let this guy know he got "hiccup emergencies” all the time and they usually didn't really budge. Cailean sighed and went to finish the wiring hiccup free.

[sumitverma3297]

Ac Duct cleaning & cold storage services in Dubai 

Are you looking for a reputable business in Dubai that offers ac duct cleaning & cold storage services? If so, don't look past our staff at Ringo AC Services. We are committed to delivering high levels of customer satisfaction and provide a wide range of services to our clients. To schedule a consultation or to find out more about our services, get in touch with us right away.

Introduction to ac duct cleaning and cold storage services in Dubai 

Duct cleaning and cold storage are important services for businesses in Dubai. Duct cleaning can help keep your building clean and healthy, and cold storage can help keep your food and products cold. Many companies offer these services in Dubai, so you may need to research to find the best one for your business.

The benefits of ac duct cleaning and cold storage services 

There are many benefits to having your ac ducts cleaned regularly. Not only will your home be cooler and more comfortable, but you will also protect your family from harmful pollutants and allergens. Regular cold storage services can also help keep your food fresh and nutritious. Contact a reliable ac and cold storage service today to learn more about the benefits of their services.

How to find the best ac duct cleaning and cold storage services in Dubai 

Dubai is a city in the United Arab Emirates home to many businesses and residences. If you need ac duct cleaning or cold storage services, it can be difficult to determine which company best fits your needs. These hints will assist you in locating the top AC duct cleaning and cold storage providers in Dubai.

First, do your research. Many companies offer these services in Dubai, so take the time to read reviews and compare pricing. Be sure to ask the company many questions to ensure they are the right fit for your needs.

Second, ask around. You know someone who has used ac duct cleaning or cold storage services in Dubai. Ask them for a referral, or if they have any negative experiences to share.

Ringo AC Services is a leading provider of air conditioning services in Dubai, and they are also one of the top duct manufacturers in UAE. They offer custom-made ducts for both commercial and residential clients, ensuring that the air conditioning systems are running efficiently. They also provide duct cleaning service Dubai, which helps to maintain the indoor air quality of the building. Ringo AC Services also provides cold storage installation, cold storage construction services, and cold storage maintenance. Their team of experts can design and construct custom cold storage facilities that meet the highest industry standards, and they provide comprehensive maintenance services to ensure that the facilities are operating at optimal efficiency. With Ringo AC Services, you can rest assured that your HVAC and cold storage needs are in capable hands.

[iseriacelestinadesaulniers]

For the father figure asked (I deleted my post and created a new one, I'M REALLY SORRY!!!)

Father figure! Male reader (Robot)

Klee

• You refer to her as "Explosive Unit: Klee" though she insists on just being called Klee.

• She tries to 'upgrade' you by sticking doodles of flames on your metal plating, declaring "Now Papa-Bot looks super cool!"

• You have a built-in fire suppression system specifically for when Klee’s 'jumpy dumpties' get out of control. If she gets sad about it, you kneel down and tell her, "Destruction detected. However, joy level remains optimal. Conclusion: You are not in trouble."

• You are the only one who can effortlessly catch her mid-air when she jumps from high places. She calls it "Super Papa Catch Mode!"

Qiqi

• Your memory storage is better than hers, so you keep track of her schedule for her.

• If she forgets something, you display reminders via a holographic screen from your wrist. "Reminder: You must return to Bubu Pharmacy before sundown."

• When she gets tired, you carry her like a doll, and your internal systems adjust to ensure she remains comfortable.

• If she ever gets lost, your tracking system finds her instantly. You override her navigation issues, gently guiding her home.

Diona

• Diona pretends she doesn’t care about you but secretly programs cute cat ear designs into your system. Now, when your "comfort mode" activates, tiny mechanical cat ears pop up!.

• If she ever gets cold, your internal heating system adjusts to act as a personal heater for her.

• Whenever she tries to act tough, you simply respond "Analysis: You are small and adorable. Denial is ineffective." This flusters her every time.

• You have pre-installed combat protocols, so when she tries to pick fights, you effortlessly dodge her attacks and pick her up like a misbehaving kitten.

Sayu

• Sayu hacks into your system to program a 'Nap Mode' where your chest compartment opens, creating a warm space for her to sleep.

• Whenever she vanishes, you use your motion sensors to track her location. If she’s hiding in a tree, your mechanical arms extend to retrieve her.

• If she refuses to train, you activate a 'Motivation Protocol' that plays an encouraging yet robotic "You can do it!" voice clip until she gets up.

• You gently pat her head with mechanical precision, ensuring just the right amount of pressure for maximum comfort.

Yaoyao

• Yaoyao sees you as the best helper ever and decorates your robotic frame with flower garlands!.

• If she overworks herself, you forcibly activate 'Rest Mode' gently lifting her off the ground and placing her in a comfortable spot.

• She gets worried about your well-being and constantly asks if you "need maintenance" to which you respond, "Self-repair systems functioning at optimal efficiency. Your concern is noted and appreciated."

• When she holds your hand, your metallic fingers automatically adjust to mimic warmth, so she doesn’t feel cold metal.

[styx-class-nhp]

[Nest.omf.vid]

[Styx stands atop a stack of shipping containers, various colours and symbols emblazoned upon them. The prevalence of snowflake icons and the way her breath mists up the camera - her eyes, evidently - every few seconds, suggests cold storage.

She peers down, tilting her head towards an out of place but otherwise unassuming bundle of fabric. A few moments pass where the only sound is her reactor gently humming. A sound that grows all but silent as she slinks down the stacks, making next to no noise in spite of her size.

Closer inspection reveals movement under the cloth. She zooms in - though it's unclear wether she herself can do this or if the footage has been edited

There are people, unwashed and scarred, wearing garments of station maintenance crew that by all rights should not be on this ship, let alone here, huddled under a blanket. The canister containing Styx's blackberry bush lies a stone's throw away from them, having been dragged roughly.]

Prey... bountiful

[oneforthemunny]

​​janitor!eddie is always leaving an apple on teacher!reader’s desk every morning.

he gets there early before her to do some extra maintenance- the school had given him a raise to do both so they wouldn’t have to hire someone else. it started as a joke between you two. eddie grinned when you’d brought an apple to lunch one day, playful glint in his eye. “an apple a day, huh?” he asked.

steve snorted. “that’s a doctor, munson.” he rolled his eyes.

you shrugged, biting into your apple. “I like apples, ok?” you giggled. “guess I was made to be a teacher, huh? the stereotype doin’ it for you?”

eddie couldn’t stop smiling. so every day, when he’d stop at the gas station by the trailer park, he’d get his usual pack of camels and an apple. he’d place it on your desk, scribbling on a spare piece of paper a little note that left you blushing when you’d find it.

he’d pass by your classroom, catching your eyes when you’d see him, smiling and nodding towards your apple. later, when he’d take you out, you’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “thanks for the apple.” you’d mutter. “it was delicious.” you’d let your bottom lip graze over his cheek, sending a hot blush down his neck and cheeks.

eddie wanted that reaction always, so he’d bring you apple after apple, proudly propping them on your desk each day with a little note.

‘you’re the apple of my eye, sweetheart. have a good day. -ed’

you’d giggle, tucking them into your purse. you’d saved everyone, reading them later when you missed him, heart fluttering in your chest.

one day, eddie walks into his ‘office’- a storage closet with a chair and an old desk, a rack to hang his jacket. there where he put his lunch pail was a small tin of hand balm, ‘for working hands’ it read.

eddie’s heart swelled. he’d complained about the blisters and callouses from working at the school mixed with his guitar making his hands rough, the cold cracking them and making them bleed. when he held his hand in yours, you’d ran a finger over the cracked, raw skin with a sympathetic pout.

eddie picked up the tin, the best folded card on top reading:

‘a little of this cream keeps the callouses away (or that’s what the store clerk told me). hope this helps you my hard working man. xoxo’

eddie slipped it into his front pocket, a dopey grin on his face. he dug his fingers into the balmy substance, rubbing it over his hands before reaching into his lunch pail, grabbing the shiny, red apple out and starting towards your class room.

[screenmobile]

How Long Does Patio Furniture Last? 

Patio furniture isn't just an outdoor luxury—it's an investment. Whether you've got a cozy bistro set for morning coffee or a full-on outdoor dining setup for summer barbecues, the real question is: how long is this stuff actually going to last?

The answer? Well, that depends. Materials, climate, maintenance, and even how often you use it all play a role. Let’s break it down so you know what to expect from your outdoor furniture—and how to keep it looking good for years.

The Lifespan of Patio Furniture (By Material)

Not all patio furniture ages the same way. Some materials can take a beating from the elements, while others start looking rough after just a few seasons. Here’s a quick rundown:

Wood: Classic but Needs Love

Lifespan: 10–25 years (depends on the type of wood and upkeep)

Best Choices: Teak, cedar, eucalyptus

Weaknesses: Susceptible to moisture damage and fading

Wooden patio furniture has a certain charm—it looks natural, feels sturdy, and fits right into any backyard setting. But it’s high-maintenance. Softwoods like pine or fir can start rotting in a few years, while hardwoods like teak can last decades with proper care. That means regular sealing and oiling if you want to keep it from drying out or warping.

Metal: Durable but Not Invincible

Lifespan: 10–30 years

Best Choices: Aluminum, wrought iron, stainless steel

Weaknesses: Rust, heat retention

Metal furniture can be a solid investment, especially aluminum, which won’t rust. Wrought iron looks timeless and can last generations—but it’s heavy and prone to rust if you don’t stay on top of maintenance. Stainless steel is another great option, but it can get scorching hot in direct sunlight.

Wicker: Beautiful but Tricky

Lifespan: 5–15 years

Best Choices: Resin (synthetic) wicker

Weaknesses: Natural wicker deteriorates quickly outdoors

Traditional wicker (made from rattan or bamboo) isn’t built for the elements. A couple of seasons in the rain and sun, and it’ll start unraveling. Resin wicker, on the other hand, can last a decade or more since it’s made of weather-resistant synthetic materials.

Plastic: Surprisingly Long-Lasting 

Lifespan: 5–20 years

Best Choices: High-density polyethylene (HDPE)

Weaknesses: Brittle, prone to fading

Cheap plastic chairs from the hardware store? Expect a few years before they crack or fade. But high-quality plastic furniture, like HDPE-based pieces, can hold up much longer. These are often UV-resistant, meaning they won’t get brittle under the sun.

Fabric: The Wild Card

Lifespan: 2–10 years (depending on exposure and quality)

Best Choices: Solution-dyed acrylic (Sunbrella)

Weaknesses: Mold, fading, tearing

Outdoor cushions and fabric chairs can really take a hit from sun, rain, and mildew. If they’re made with solution-dyed acrylic (like Sunbrella), they’ll last much longer. Regular cleaning and storing cushions indoors when not in use will also extend their life.

Factors That Affect Patio Furniture Longevity

Even the best materials can break down faster than expected if they’re exposed to the wrong conditions. Let’s talk about what shortens (or extends) your patio furniture’s lifespan.

Weather Exposure

South Bend weather can be unpredictable—hot summers, cold winters, and plenty of rain in between. That means moisture damage, rust, and fading are constant threats. If your furniture isn’t built for this kind of climate, it won’t last long.

Maintenance (Or Lack of It)

A little upkeep goes a long way. A few examples:

Wood: Needs regular sealing or oiling

Metal: Needs rust-proof coatings and occasional touch-ups

Wicker: Should be kept dry and dusted frequently

Fabric: Needs cleaning and waterproof sprays

If you’re not maintaining it, even high-end furniture won’t last.

Storage During Harsh Seasons

Leaving your furniture outside year-round? Expect a shorter lifespan. Storing pieces in a garage or shed (or at least covering them) can add years to their life.

Quality Matters

Big box store furniture might seem like a deal, but it often won’t last more than a few years. Investing in high-quality pieces pays off in the long run.

Signs Your Patio Furniture is Reaching the End of Its Life

Even with great care, no patio furniture lasts forever. Here’s how to know when it’s time to replace it:

Wood is splintering, cracking, or rotting

Metal is rusting beyond repair

Plastic is brittle and cracking

Wicker is unraveling

Fabric is faded, stained, or torn

If you’re seeing any of these, it might be time for an upgrade.

Extending the Life of Your Outdoor Furniture

Want to keep your patio furniture looking great for years? Here are some pro tips:

Use covers – Waterproof covers protect against rain and UV rays.

Store properly – If possible, store furniture indoors during extreme weather.

Reapply finishes – Wood and metal pieces need occasional sealing or painting.

Clean regularly – A simple wash with mild soap can prevent long-term damage.

Upgrade cushions – Swapping out old cushions can give furniture a fresh look.

With a little effort, you can make even budget-friendly patio furniture last much longer.

Final Thoughts

If your patio furniture is starting to look rough, you have two options—replace or restore.

If the structure is solid, a little sanding, staining, or repainting can bring old furniture back to life.

If it’s falling apart, it’s time to shop for new pieces.

Investing in quality materials and proper care means you won’t have to replace your outdoor setup every few years. And if you're in the South Bend area, finding patio furniture built to handle the local weather is a must.

So, how long will your patio furniture last? That’s up to you!

[bitterbetabunny]

Hypnovember 2: Reset

Stealing the prompt list @jammed-out is putting together for the month

CW: robot play, talk of memory and personality wipe

When K1T had agreed to let Oakley do some maintenance on it, it had hesitated.

K1T was not made for at-home updates and repair, it was one of many mass-produced bots made to break down just as the new model came down. It had been lucky enough, originally, to be bought by a family that prided themselves on not being wasteful; they had been more interested in maintaining what they had and they were willing to take K1T back to the manufacturer whenever a part broke or they wanted a new update installed.

But that had been a long time ago.

It had been a long time since even the manufacturer stopped working on the K1T model.

It had been a long time since K1T was left to be recycled.

K1T had been lucky to meet Oakley; they met recently, though K1T had trouble remembering the details. Clearly its memory storage needed some updates, or maybe it was some other part acting up.

Oakley had reassured it that they would keep things simple for the first tune up.

Sitting in the service chair, locked into place with most of its motor functions disabled, K1T could feel Oakley’s unscrewing the plate from the back of its neck. It felt the piece lifted and heard metal on metal as it was set aside. The air of the garage immediately cooled its exposed wires; K1T didn’t have any programming to mimic the shivers that human’s felt, but even one plate being removed always made it feel a cold wave run through its body. Before the cold got too far, it felt Oakley’s tools tap at one of its internal consoles.

“I forgot what you were going to fix,” K1T admitted, feeling a bit nervous.

“I mostly wanted to look around and clean things off,” Oakley said, obviously concentrating.. K1T could feel them still poking around. “You’ve still been operating well, so I doubt I’ll need to replace anything, but there’s sure to be a few things that could use some TLC.”

“Are you… going to take off any other plates today?” K1T asked, hoping to get an idea of what all Oakley planned to check. Surely Oakley would get to everything eventually, but that would take more than a day.

“Depends. I definitely want to check some of your processing, sensory, and memory modules. I should be able to do all that from here, though.”

“Oh, but you’re not going to remove anything to actually inspect yet, right?”

K1T felt the tinkering stop. “I wasn’t planning on it today, no. Is that something you’re worried about?” Oakley asked.

K1T saw and felt its lights turn a bright pink. “Oh, I, uh… I wasn’t sure if…”

“You can relax,” Oakley said with a chuckle. Their hands started moving again and they scooted their chair closer so that their leg rested against K1T’s side. The contact did calm it down. “I won’t reset you or anything weird.”

K1T felt a heat in their core and hoped it wouldn’t grow enough to trigger their fans; that might be hard to explain. It forced a little laugh. “Oh, I… Is that even something you know how to do?”

“A factory reset? Of course, there’s nothing simpler. And I would be lying if I said there wasn’t something cute about a blank bot with all their preset bubbliness and need to please.”

K1T let out three beeps in a pleasant chime and saw its lights shift to a darker pink. It couldn’t help but imagine itself standing in the default position the manufacturer had set for it, relying only on the orders given with no mods or set preferences to operate on. The ping of pleasure that came from even the simplest task when its head was so empty.

“There’s nothing simpler,” Oakley said again. “But I don’t do that often. I’m selective on the bots I work on and I only make changes or alterations upon request, I’m a mechanic, not a monster.”

“That’s… That’s good,” K1T said, glad that Oakley seemed to be ignoring their obvious… excitement. They were almost too embarrassed to say anything more, but their curiosity won. “Do you still have the bots you reset? Do you consider yourself a collector?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t have any bots under my full time care right now, but I have three that I do maintenance on at least once a month. I backup my bots before I reset them, so after we have a little fun I merge all the memory files so they can remember what we did while still retaining who they were. I have one bot that I reset fairly often, but that’s just because its girlfriend isn’t confident enough to do it herself and that’s what they like.”

The noise behind K1T indicated that Oakley was switching out their tools.

“Just a heads up, I’m going to use some compressed air,” Oakley warned.

K1T felt the chill of the compressed air, but the gentle tickle of it elicited a hum from its chest. Oakley focused on the nearest components first before angling the can to get at pieces farther up into K1T’s head. Although the module wasn’t programmed for touch sensitivity, K1T felt a bolt of static ran through its body as the air ran over its memory module.

Oakley set the compressed air aside and resumed using their more delicate tools, though now they were cleaning components much closer to K1T’s memory module. There were plenty of delicate parts up there, everything that made it who it was today.

“I would certainly love to do a full reset on you someday, if you’d like,” Oakley whispered.

K1T’s fans kicked on.

Oakley laughed. “I get the feeling that’s something you’d really like,” they teased.

K1T’s lights alternated between a purple and that deep pink and another trilling set of beeps came from them. “I– I would maybe–”

“Sweet bots like you are always so needy to be reminded of your intended purpose.” K1T felt a tool slot into the edge of a panel on its sensory module, causing another bolt of static to course through it. “And I love nothing more than to show a silly, reset bot what it means to be a pleasure bot. Maybe even replace some of that default programming with something more important; no need for some of that critical thinking they give you when I can pre-program you to respond to specific commands and know how I want you to suck my cock, hmm?”

A whining trill came from K1T’s chest. The tools and Oakley’s hand pulled away, but before K1T could complain it felt Oakley’s tongue slip into the open panel and lick the wires. K1T short circuited and when its visuals came back on it could feel its neck panel being screwed back into place.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” Oakley teased, drawing a whine from K1T.

When the panel was back on, they leaned in and gave K1T one final kiss to the metal.

“That might be enough fun for now, hm? Let’s get you fully back together.”

Oakley thumbed open a port covering and plugged something in. K1T’s lights went blue as the information was downloaded.

Suddenly, they could remember months, years that they had lived with K1T, countless tune-ups and mods and maintenance work. They had toyed with downloading alternate personalities and programs before, but they’d always been interested in trying out different resets. They wanted to save anything more intense for later scenes, so starting with a reset to soon after meeting had been a great place to start. To K1T, the idea of getting to experience its first maintenance again had been too good to pass up.

As soon as Oakley initiated its motor functions again, K1T shot up and spun to wrap its arms around them.

“That was so hot!” they yelled, their lights a bright yellow. “Oh my gods, that was so, so hot!”

Oakley winced slightly at their strong hold. “I’m glad you liked it too, we’ll definitely have to do something like that again.