#Fridge Repair Company | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loudlittleecho · 3 months

Text

Too Late to Save Them: Frozen in Time.

Part 3

Paul had moved the Ice Growler into a shed. He had needed that field, after all. The ice had repaired itself from the previous chips, but never grew larger or smaller. It was just one of those things one keeps in a shed. Out of sight, out of mind, unless you need something.

It had been a year. Two, maybe? From Paul’s estimates, when his son found it. His kids visited every so often. Becks, his oldest, worked as a librarian. His son, Nathaniel, was a. . . stock broker? Banker? Paul was never sure what his son did, but Nathan was always talking about his ‘next big break’. Paul loved his kids, and he and Sara had made sure the two had a decent enough education, and that their wills were fair between the two. Especially when Sara’s cancer diagnosis revealed itself.

Well, Nathan was fit to be tied about the ice in the shed.

“Dad! Do you know what this means?”

Paul added another helping of green beans to his plate. This was a ‘dedicated meal’. Sara had made the kids promise- you will visit your father once a season- this was one of those meals.

Rebecca– Becks- visited more often, though Nathan typically visited only the four times a year.

Nathan continued. “This could be my big break! Ice that never melts?? Dad, I could compete against the Stanley and Yeti brand- I could sell it to medical companies- I could sell it to anyone! I– we could make millions! Why did you not tell me earlier?”

Paul took a swig of sweet tea. Nathan always got very animated when he got a new idea. That’s what he was, an idea man. Becks had a concerned look on her face.

“Dad, have you checked if it's safe, though? What if it’s dangerous?”

Paul loved his children. Becks, the overthinker, and Nathan, the optimistic.

“Bits of it have been in the fridge for a few months now. Nothin’s gone bad. Fridge hasn’t been plugged in for awhile.”

Becks placed the spoonful of corn down. The little family shared who brought what to their dedicated meals. Paul had supplied the iced tea, corn and green beans. (this year he hadn’t managed to shuck and peel like he used to. These were from cans, but he had made sure to rinse and season them thoroughly) Becks had brought the ham and mashed potatoes, and Nathan brought Bluebell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream and store bought brownies. (the brownies had a discounted sticker from the grocery bakery. Paul was just glad Nathan was there).

“Dad. . .” Becks said worriedly, while Nathan jumped up. “The fridge! Really!”

The rest of the evening had a different pace from previous dinners. Nathan was on the phone with different “investors”, while Becks was on theirs researching about unmelting ice and effects of low levels of radiation in humans. Paul thought Becks had finally mastered Sara’s tater recipe. It was the butter. For a few years Becks had tried a ‘fat free’ healthier butter. It seemed to Paul that this year Becks had finally admitted that regular butter (and a heaping spoonful of it) made the best mashed potatoes.

. . .

It had been two weeks. Becks had bought him a new fridge and had brought replacements for everything he had in his other fridge. She told him she loved him and was just worried about the untested ice. (He mentioned twice about paying her; Becks just shook their head both times with a “Dad, I don’t need your money. I just want you".)

Nathan had asked him to borrow the ice. Have it tested. Have his investors look at it. Of course, Paul agreed. He wasn’t getting any younger, and if this really was something Nathan saw as helping people, “of course dad! Think of the diabetics!” Well, who was he to stop progress?

. . .

Nathan had asked his dad to give him the ice. Paul wasn’t sure. If what Nathan said was right, this could make Nathan a lot. . . and he needed to be fair between his two children. Nathan snapped at him. “Give me the ice. Becca can have the farm.” Paul still gave Becks a call. Becks had murmured something he couldn’t hear, but did say: “If you want to change your will that’s your choice dad. If Nathan’s plan doesn’t work. . . I’ll make sure Nathan’s ok. Don’t you worry.”

Paul trusted his children. The overthinker and the optimist.

He updated his will.

Part 4

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phanton fanfiction #phanfic #too late to save them #Option A: Frozen in time #(If you didn't catch it Danny is in the ice)#Becks is she/they. Paul doesn't quite understand but loves his child.#original characters #sorry for the delay! life came up #dc characters are coming soon #how long had Danny been floating in the ghost zone?#the answer will be revealed soon

44 notes · View notes

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 8 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere concept #yandere x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc montgomery

68 notes · View notes

decadesfinds · 2 months

Text

I think my least favourite interpretation of the past is that women "did what they were told" - especially married women. A lot of what people interpret as subjugation was done because it had to be done, and somebody had to do it, or everyone would suffer and die.

The idea that they could just pick up their skirts and go live an awakened, enlightened #feminist life without this labour is also ahistorical. You still have to have someone do the dishes after the feminist luncheon, as someone put it, and it doesn't matter who. Things, even today, need to be done. There is no path to enlightenment that ends in housework being obsolete.

These women would look at you extremely strangely if you asserted they were subservient, and laugh in your face if you insisted they get a mind of their own. They were doing things like cooking for long hours because it was that, or starve. Spin wool, or have no clothes. Split wood, or freeze.

Their job was usually "make sure nobody starves, the children are cared for, the animals are fed and watered, the injuries are tended, the fires stoked, the food purchased, the money managed, the supplies ordered, the home cleaned, the food stored properly, the wool and flax spun, the hired workers paid etc etc" and that's still an important fucking set of jobs to do.

There are also a lot of skills that we simply do not have to do anymore. We still have to have someone who cooks, who scrubs, who feeds the cat and orders the refills and makes sure the gutters are repaired. It's just less gendered now. But labour was much different then. Laundry took an entire day of the week, by hand. You had to do your own canning, your own darning, your own boot repairs, or take it to a professional for a fee... which required you to hook your own animals to a wagon, get in the saddle, or go on your own two feet. There were no fridges or lightbulbs for many years, and cleaners were often just vinegar, soap, bleach, and elbow grease. Someone had to be around to do that, or you hired someone to do it.

The idea that women were these woebegone, overworked, horribly depressed and isolated housewives is a creation of the 1950s. In the 1950s, the war was over, and most young women lived apart from their families and communities for the first time in many decades. New suburbs sprung up and isolation followed.

(This is partly why food in a box became such a staple, btw. Being in your 20s with four kids and nobody nearby to show you how to cook something, outside of memories of WW2-era foods now considered outdated after rations ended - of course packaged and instant foods became a success. It was easy.)

Of course, not every woman back then was depressed, and many were proud of their lives. It was all so new and exciting. But it was also so divorced from how life used to be, that it was still a huge shock to the system for the many that came before, who knew community and families all in one place. Now women were expected to be isolated with just their husband and kids, with no help from family, and often hours of driving between family members (parents, grandparents, siblings) on brand new highways. The cultural shockwaves are still lingering now. The world this woman knew growing up was being torn up for perfect little boxes. It's not the universal lot in life for women. It was created by housing developers to sell properties, by companies to sell products. This is not the reference point for all women, it's an aberration.

Historical women did not often live like a 50s woman did, or like we do now. We are the exception, and the Decades Challenge helps explore how history became now. But it's not linear, and women were not liberated on an ever-increasing timeline of rights. Women have always had choices, but they also had obligations different to ours.

Women were happy, they had joyful lives and were full of memories, and able to make their own decisions. They lusted, they cried from laughter, they had tenderness and were able to shape a life they were happy within. They lived in communities and were a proud part of them.

This applies heavily to a lot of narratives around the Decades Challenge - that women were simply wives until feminism liberated them. As if being just a wife is anything to sneeze at, as if women didn't also have lives beyond that. The idea that they were forced to cook, forced to milk the cow and tend the hens and have the kids is insulting. Many women wanted these things and chose them willingly. Many dreamed of that life. Many did it to survive and would feel it strange that you wouldn't see her choice as smart or valid.

Of course, not every woman got free choice (there is abuse everywhere!) and many did suffer. Many did feel trapped. Many still do. But it's absolutely appalling to me that there's even the idea that all women universally were miserable waifs for centuries, waiting to be liberated from behind drawn curtains, waiting to bloom. It's untrue.

I just wish people would write their historical women as more than pitiful or uneducated on their own rights. They had a different world than we do, but that world wasn't solely a horrible place to be a woman, and you should show them the same respect as that #girlboss you think of today.

#mine #feminism #reference #decades challenge #rant #been reading a few legacies and just felt Tired lmao

38 notes · View notes

kiss-theggoat · 1 year

Note

Ok okay okay- I’m back and I just have to pitch this idea to you. Don’t feel like you need to write anything for it but I just need to slide this over to you. House of Wax setting again lol- okay so the clothes and outfits- the boys have a lot already from their previous victims. But sometimes they want something a bit different for an exhibit. Enter the S/O. Who’s sitting in the garage with Bo, sowing outfits together for Vincent’s new figures. She can’t be in the basement with Vincent since she needs proper light- but can’t be completely alone since the boys are still, even after years, unsure if she’ll try to leave.

So She’s just there, tongue sticking out as she thoughtfully sows glass beads onto a dress. And if any victims walk through the garage, and ask why she’s sowing in here or what she sowing- she’ll say;

“Oh its clothing for the museum”

“Oh I’m working on one of the girls prom dresses.”

“Oh, one of the old men in town ripped his pants again.”

“I just enjoy the company and music.”

She’s also always repairing the boy's clothes when stuff… happens (cough cough knife and chasing)

Angrily sitting there, sowing up Bo’s shirt and lecturing him. “I just re-did this Bo! Now I have to pause my work on the gown for Vincent.”

-🪴🖤

A/N: Hi hi hi 🪴🖤!! Thanks so much for the request and I love the idea! It’s so cute to think of one of the boys coming up with some clothes that need mending. Anyways, on with the one shot!

The Sinclair Seamstress

Sinclair Brothers One Shot

Summary: You find yourself as the personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers.

TW: none 🖤

The radio was quiet, filling the kitchen with a soft melody which you hummed along to. You were hard at work at breakfast for the Sinclair brothers, whom you’d become very close to in your year in Ambrose. The toaster popped up beside you, and you held the pan that contained almost nine eggs worth of cheese covered scramble. You’d filled the house with an amazing aroma, mixing cheese and eggs and bacon, and onions in half because Bo and Lester liked onions and Vincent and you didn’t. You smiled as you grabbed the toast, now having two pieces for each of you. You placed the carefully on the plate and then buttered them all before putting the egg scramble between the two pieces, along with three pieces of fresh, crispy bacon.

“Somethin’ smells good.” You heard Bo’s raspy morning voice and it filled your chest with warm honey, making you turn around with his plate in your hands like a little kid presenting a handmade gift.

“Breakfast!” You said happily, setting his plate down where he usually sat, at the head of the table. “Sit.” You said, walking towards the fridge. You wanted to grab out the gallon of orange juice you’d gone so far to buy, but you knew that he’d hound you for a beer, so you skipped the hassle and grabbed one for him. You popped the cap off and set it besides his breakfast. Bo looked up at you with a quaint lopsided smile, which you knew meant he was pleased.

Before you could ask what he had planned for the day, you heard the creaking of the steps and whipped around to see Lester, sliding his loose old button up over one arm. As he moved, you noticed the huge hole near the armpit seam of the shirt.

“Lester, you can’t wear that. It’s falling apart.” You scolded and walked towards him, fingers finding the tear and tracing it.

Lester sighed, “Well I ain’t got another shirt today. It’s fine.”

“I can fix it for you before you leave. Do you have a sewing kit?”

Lester gave you a look with one eyebrow up. “You can sew?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I used to make my own clothes and stuff. It’s a really easy fix, no time at all.”

“…Well alright. I’m sure we got some sewin’ stuff somewhere.”

And this conversation was how you became a personal seamstress for the Sinclair brothers. You never thought you’d be in this position, living with three men in a town of wax and making clothes for their sculptures. But, here you sat, red fabric draping over your legs as you moved closer to the seams you were sewing. The only downside to this was that they didn’t own a sewing machine, so everything you made had to be by hand. This definitely simplified yours and Vincent’s designs, but you made it work.

The dress you were working on now was for a pretty blonde girl in a classy red cocktail dress. You were excited about the fitted bodice and the slight flare of the knee length skirt. Vincent was particular about this dress, and the girl that was about to become wax didn’t have anything that fit that vision.

You hummed to yourself as you sewed, enjoying the pace of the activity and the feeling of the fabric under your fingers. You were sequestered to your room in the house, locked, because the boys were dealing with a new group in town. But it was already close to two in the morning, so you decided that you’d stay in your room until sunrise and then you’d go out and look for them.

That concern and worry was quickly flushed away by the sound of the front door slamming shut and familiar big boots stomping up the stairs. You ran up to the door and unlocked it, seeing a sweaty but thankfully not injured Bo.

“Oh thank god.” You said, practically tackling him with your arms around his neck. “You scared the shit out of me, Bo.” You whispered. “Where are Lester and Vincent?”

“They’re alright. They’re in the workshop.”

You pulled away from him and nodded, sighing a breath of relief. As you stared at him, subconsciously scanning for injuries and blood like you were used to, you noticed a giant hole through your perfect sewing.

You reached forward and touched the edges of the tear. “Dammit Bo, I just fixed this! You guys can never keep your clothes in shape.”

“Not exactly my fault, darlin’.”

“Take it off. I already have my stuff out.” You grumbled, moving back towards your chair and moving the dress onto your bed.

“We’re gonna have to tell Vincent that this dress is gonna take longer now because I have to fix your shirt for the ninth time. And he also wants me to make a pair of pants for another sculpture, but-“

“You don’t have to fix it, doll.”

“Take your shirt off, Bo.”

Bo slid his button up off and handed it over to you with a sly smile on his face, chuckling a bit at the fact you were so perturbed at the hole in his shirt. You grabbed his shirt and finally your supplies, sitting back down in your chair to begin sewing.

Just then, you heard more footsteps clunk up the stairs. You looked up from your needle to see Vincent and Lester. And even though you were relieved that they were okay, the stack of drawings in Vincent’s hand, surely new clothes for his new sculptures, made you anything but happy.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair x you

233 notes · View notes

collapsedsquid · 21 days

Text

Lobbying groups across most of the device manufacturing industry—from tractor manufacturers to companies that make fridges, consumer devices, motorcycles, and medical equipment—are lobbying against legislation that would require military contractors to make it easier for the U.S. military to fix the equipment they buy, according to a document obtained by 404 Media. The anti-repair lobbying shows that manufacturers are still doing everything they can to retain lucrative service contracts and to kill any legislation that would threaten the repair monopolies many companies have been building for years. In a May hearing, Sen. Elizabeth Warren explained that “contractors often place restrictions on these deals [with the military] that prevent service members from maintaining or repairing the equipment, or even let them write a training manual without going back to the contractor.”

That cannot be real

29 notes · View notes

whatyadrawin · 8 months

Text

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 7-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,543 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Sexual language, health concerns, foul language, mild mention of abuse, brief mention of infertility. I guess just all the usual slasher fucker warnings? Use your own discretion.

A/n: I went into the ZONE for this one, I spent all day on it, ALL DAY. In this chapter I round out some characters a bit more and I get Y/N to push some boundaries. I'm falling in love with this little world. Check the masterlist for some home layout references if you're interested in the layout of the property. As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag-List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 7

A week went by slower than molasses as you stayed in Luda Mae’s room the entire time, only leaving to get a little bit of movement. You were generously allowed to stay at the Hewitt house until your home could be repaired, the entire time you stayed at the house you were weak with a persistent cough from the smoke, so you slept most of the time you were there so that you could recover; Today, you finally feel back to normal.

You had made a call to a company in the next town over who specialized in reconstruction from fire damage, they let you know that the work would take at minimum 4 months to complete and the cost was fairly high; You were fortunate enough to have a large sum of money from Tilly, who left you a dragon’s horde of wealth in her will, so money was not a stressor for once in your life.

Waking up to the sounds of a farm everyday was comforting, the wind blowing through the tall grass, crickets and birds singing songs, chickens and cows going about their business, it was extremely pleasing to hear these sounds every morning. The more you explored the property, the more beautiful you realize it was, despite being banned from viewing certain rooms and areas, there was still so much to see; you could tell that this family was once quite wealthy, they had a large mass of land and the home was enormous, there were fixtures which only the rich could have afforded, they were old and a bit damaged but the extravagance was still there.

You made your way to the kitchen for some coffee and see Luda Mae frying some eggs, she turns to see who entered and smiled when she saw you,

“Mornin’ sweetheart! It’s real nice to see you up and movin’ around this early. Want some eggs? I just been fryin’ some up for breakfast, there’s also coffee in the pot over by the stove.” She turned back to her frying pan and grabbed a plate to place the eggs onto.

You accept her offer and make your way to the coffee pot, you had been so drained of energy the past week that you always woke up so late and were unable to walk around much without coughing up a storm, today you felt strong. You place your coffee on the table and sit down, the kitchen was quite a decent size much like the other rooms in the house, American houses in the south had such massive rooms, they all felt so spacious.

The kitchen was full of mixed technology from varying eras, the stove and fridge were from the 50’s while the coffee maker and the smaller appliances were all from the late 90’s or early 2000’s. There was a theme to this kitchen which tickled your brain, strawberry themed. The kitchen window was situated in front of the tub style sink, it had white curtains with a red strawberry pattern which just added to the coziness. The walls were colored a salmon pink which beautifully accented the white laminate countertops, you saw that the molding was painted that same soft eggshell white from Luda Mae’s bedroom but the floor was still that dark walnut wood which ran throughout the house.

You turn to Luda Mae and say,

“I feel really bad for staying in your room, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch or somewhere else so you can get your space back.”

She laughs and replies,

“Funny you mention that ‘cause I have a surprise for you. Been workin’ on it the whole time you been here.”

You were wondering what she got up to everyday, it seemed like she was nowhere to be found whenever you were awake. You even rarely saw Tommy while you stayed at the house, but Luda Mae assured you it was just him wanting to give you space to recover; apparently, he asked about you every day, and would keep watch for whenever you emerged from the room.

You quickly finished your breakfast in the anticipation to see what this surprise was,

“Ok Luda Mae, I want to see what you have in store for me and then I’ll come back and do those dishes.” You didn’t want to seem like a lazy freeloader, it was the least you could do. She responds,

“You ain’t wasting time doing no dishes while you have your first day of full strength. After I show you what I been workin’ on, you best go outside to get some fresh air.” She smiles at you playfully and takes your hand to guide you to where the surprise was.

You pass the main foyer and make your way through the dining room to reach the edge of the living room where there was a door. You were not allowed to go in the room past that door so you were curious to see what she was hiding, she stops you before you go any further and says,

“Ok Y/N, I know you been wonderin’ what’s behind this here door, and I don’t blame you. I want you to close your eyes and don’t peek ‘till I say so.”

You agree and cover both your eyes with your hands, she guides you through the door and walks you into the room,

“Ok now open ‘em!” she says excitedly.

You open your eyes to reveal a large bedroom, there’s a queen size bed still covered in its original plastic in the far corner of the room, and a writing desk by a large bay window overlooking the meadow. Large cabinets and wardrobes fill up space on the walls while another set of doors can be seen on the opposite end near the bed leading to the outside patio; The walls are a very old white color with one good size chandelier in the middle of the room dangling from the high ceiling, still with all its crystals in-tact. Your eyes widen and you are struck with awe, Luda Mae squeezes your hand gently and says,

“This was bein’ used as storage, it was meant to be my daughter’s room from a very long time ago but, I was never fortunate enough to have her.” She looks down at the floor,

“What happened?” You ask, not realizing that it may be a touchy subject,

“Oh, I’ll tell you that story someday. I want you to know that this room is yours to have, regardless of when your home is fixed, it’ll always be here for you.” She smiles at you endearingly and then continues, “And you can call me Mae from now on hun, no need to say its entirety, just don’t call me Luda.”

You nod and follow with, “How come you don’t like Luda, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shakes her head,

“Me n’ Charlies Pa used to call me that, he was as mean as a starvin’ coyote, liked to hit and berate us both.”

You understood and dropped it, “I’m sorry you went through that, I’ll make sure to just call you Mae then.”

Luda Mae smiles and hugs you with one arm from the side, you match her and hug her with your arm and you both look at the room together side by side.

“I have no words for how grateful I am to have you in my life Mae, you have been like a mother to me and I feel like I could never repay you for your kindness.” You start to feel tears well up in your eyes, overwhelmed with the generosity of this woman.

“Theres’s nothin’ to owe dear, I did this of my own volition. I want you to enjoy it, all I ask is that you start feelin’ like family, because you are.” Her sincerity was enough to make tears stream from your eyes, which she wipes with her handkerchief.

You give her a hug and hold her tightly; you don’t know how to thank her but you promise yourself to make her as happy and loved as she has made you feel.

“You’re such a sweet girl Y/N, I want you to make this here room your home, do whatever you want with it, paint it, move the furniture, hell, whatever your heart desires!” She kisses your head and you release the hug saying,

“Will you help me decorate?” you ask.

Luda Mae looks at you with an excited smile, “I was hopin’ you’d ask!”

After the incredible surprise, Luda Mae left to go clean the kitchen and she sent you to go outside to get some sunshine, she handed you a straw hat and said,

“Go on now, explore a bit. Maybe go bug Thomas for a bit, he’d like that.”

You laugh and make your way outside; you start looking around the property and notice a whole lot of things. In one end of the property, behind the house near your new bedroom was the meadow for the cows to graze, next to the house across from the barn was a wheat field, in another end behind the small forest there was what looked like a vehicle graveyard which spooked you a little; there were cars with license plates from all over the U.S. and many different kinds of vehicles in varied states of decay. You decided not to explore that section due to potential hazards; you make your way through to an unexplored part of the property behind the forest which was between the meadow and car graveyard.

This area of the property had some trees around it which gave it privacy, in the middle of this tree perimeter was a large swathe of tall green grass, you found this odd since most of the land you saw was covered in dry, yellow grass. You tried to make your way through the bush, ensuring you don’t step on something dangerous, the further in you went the more wet the ground got -this must be where all the ground water is rising up- you felt a sense of excitement as you got closer to the center.

You finally reached a pond; it was fairly large and was surrounded by beautiful native plants. The water was crystal clear; you could see right to the bottom which was modestly deep, there were lily pads dispersed throughout the surface, and tadpoles played in the shallow zones. You felt an overwhelming desire to swim in it, the water was so pure looking that it was like a dream. So, you did.

You took off all your clothes, the surrounding forest shielded you and the Hewitts were all too busy with chores and farmwork to bother coming by, so you felt sure that you would be left alone. The water was a refreshing temperature and it felt amazing on your skin which was sweating from the heat of the day, as you made your way into the deeper parts of the pond you see small fish bolting out of your way, you decided to only go as deep as your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the pond for, it was too incredible of a sensation to pass up spending time in. The birds sang for you and the water felt so comfortable, the shine of the sun passing overhead left a shimmer effect on the pond surface. You kept your hat on to protect you from the intense rays and you could not have been more relaxed, the small fish now were coming up to your toes and nipping at them which tickled you. Nothing could be better than this, it felt magical.

Back at the house, Luda Mae checked the clock on the wall and called out for you, when she didn’t hear a response, she went to ask Charlie if he had seen you.

“I hadn’t seen that sweet piece of ass nowhere Luda, I been busy as hell fuckin’ with this damn broken fence.” He was mending the fence by the road all day which had some damage from cows messing with it, he followed with,

“Go ask that kid of yours, I bet he knows where she went. He’s always tryin’ to get a peep on her. He needs to let off some of that pent up frustration, the boy’s brain is already like mud we don’t need him fantasizin’ all day.”

Luda Mae rolls her eyes and heads toward the barn where Tommy was feeding the chickens, she walks up to him and rubs his back asking,

“Son, have you seen Y/N today? She isn’t responding when I holler.”

He shakes his head and looks worried,

“Can you go check to see she hadn’t gone too far out? I worry she got herself lost. I have lunch ready for everyone too so both of you come on back to eat when she’s found.”

Tommy nods his head and immediately heads out from the barn to search for you, he began looking around in the wheat field which didn’t take long because of his incredible height he could see over all the wheat. He goes to check the meadow but doesn’t see you, the car graveyard was next which worried him. When he looked around all the vehicles and didn’t see you, he grew more concerned, the forest area had human traps still left in it from the bad days in the past, he was scared that you were stuck in one.

Tommy carefully made his way through the forest, cautious to avoid trap areas, he still didn’t see you and this made his heart race. He didn’t want to find you hurt and there was a very real risk of that, he paused and tried to listen. The sounds of humming could be heard in the distance, that’s when he remembered the pond and he bolted towards it as quickly as he could.

When he got to the pond area the humming was just you singing a song to yourself, he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He decided to quietly make his way through the reeds so he wouldn’t scare you and stop your singing. For such a bulky man he was incredibly quiet, and with his hushed footing he got past the reeds and saw you in the water, naked.

Tommy immediately turned his head away; he was already intoxicated by your body from the night he saved you from the fire where you had so little clothes on already, and now your body was completely bare. Tommy tried his best to be gentlemanly but his aroused curiosity got the better of him and he just sat there gazing at you like a lion hiding in the tall grass watching their prey.

You looked like a mermaid, your singing was like a siren calling to him, putting him under a spell, he didn’t want this moment to end. He couldn’t see anything much below your shoulders thanks to the sun illuminating a glittering glow around you, he wanted to black out the sun for hiding your beauty from him.

Tommy couldn’t resist moving in for a closer look, he had never seen such beauty in his life, all he wanted was to be with you in this pond sharing in the relaxation and freedom. He wasn’t careful where he stepped and his weight was too much for the soft mud shelf to bear, so he fell in the pond making a lot of noise. You let out a scream and turn around to see a large splash, you try to think if there’s alligators in Texas, and panic sets in.

Tommy got his footing and stood up in the pond, the water in that area was deep for you, but on him it only reached under his pecs. You felt relief at the sight of him, his hair was slick and stuck to his face, he looked like a dog with long fur who was getting a bath, it was cute. Tommy gasped for air and moved his hair from his face pushing it back away from his eyes. You were so taken by him revealing his face again that you didn’t move, his dark green t-shirt clung to his chest and revealed erect nipples underneath. You couldn’t help but giggle a little bit after he turned his head to you looking embarrassed.

You had the biggest crush on this behemoth of a human, every day last week was like agony not being able to see him, he was all you could think about which helped keep your mind off the memory of the fire. He didn’t move from where he stood, he also couldn’t stop staring at you, a devilish smirk appeared on your mouth. You move your wet long hair over your chest for modesty and call out to him,

“I didn’t know you guys had a paradise hiding on your property.” He rubs the back of his head and looks around nodding, you follow,

“Why don’t you come out of the pond this way, it’s a gradual incline here so it will be easier to get out for you.”

He shakes his head and tries to turn back to get out the way he came, so you push,

“Thomas, I can move out of the way if you are too scared to look at my body. Don’t put yourself at risk of drowning, just come out this way.” You felt so bold, the magic of the pond gave you a strange confidence, and Tommy being so shy was endearing and only bolstered your sudden jolt of extroversion.

Tommy hung his head and covered his eyes as he made his way past you, he slipped on the slick mud underneath and fell backwards into the water right next to you, splashing you as he went down. You giggled as his head slowly came up from the water, a very annoyed and embarrassed expression on his eyes. He was able to sit with his butt on the pond floor and his head was able to remain above water, he didn’t move from being too scared of further making a fool of himself.

Seeing him so close to your bare body made you incredibly aroused, you couldn’t help but swim up to him and get between his legs so you could hold onto his chest. You smiled at him and said,

“Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t think this pond is very friendly to such… impressively large men. Why don’t you stay a while and just relax in the cool water with me?”

Tommy’s eyes were so wide you thought they would fall out of his head, you saw his cheeks flush and he was breathing heavily, you were close enough to hear his heartbeat which was racing. He had never been this close to a woman before, well, a woman who was alive and willing to be near him, let alone a naked one. You stare into his eyes, they were so full of emotion and deeply blue like the Pacific Ocean on a summer day reflecting the light of the sun on the water, you were mesmerized, you said,

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Thomas; I could get lost in them.” You reach out to move some stray hairs away from his face.

Tommy was overwhelmed with carnal desire; it was taking a lot of restraint to not touch you and he was worried that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had never felt this way before, he thought his heart was going to explode from pumping so fast, he could feel his veins throbbing and a very specific organ was painfully pressed against his jeans. When you touched his face, he couldn’t take it and instead of just grabbing you and taking you, he got up and ran out of the pond towards the house at lightning speed. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you, or overstep a boundary you didn’t want him to cross, his head was so full of new swirling emotions, he was drunk on the desire you put in him and it was too alien of a sensation for him to handle.

You watched as Tommy got up and ran away from you, it made you laugh seeing him flustered like that. You knew you were tempting a beast but there was a deep lust and longing inside you that wanted him to let loose and ravish you. You were so erotically excited that your groin was aching for touch, it didn’t help that you noticed a massive snakelike shape pressing through his jeans as he got up to escape your spell, the prospect of his size was enough to make you bite your lip thinking about what it looked like freed from the bonds of his pants.

You got out of the pond and put your clothes back on, you made your way back to the house feeling proud of yourself -at least now he must know where I stand- you were looking forward to more overtly flirtatious encounters in the days ahead.

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slasher thirst #slasher fandom

67 notes · View notes

heychucklenuts · 2 months

Note

after I saw a headcanon about the mercs as Uber drivers; how about the mercs (plus ms. Pauling) but they are Airbnb hosts?

Miss Pauling and the Mercs as Air BNB Hosts

Coming from someone with a very limited idea of what an Airbnb host does, had to research a bit. I get the gist of it but still.

The very idea of this is frightening to me but in the best ways possible. I also like to think if they were put into this situation, it was a Mann Co. ordinance to say the company isn't as bad as people think it is, so there's more people coming to Teufort, and also to make the Mann Brothers even more money. (If that is even possible.) I also like to consider this something where they either fully understand what they're supposed to be doing or they completely wing it, no real in-betweens.

Miss Pauling

Probably one of the more responsible ones in terms of being a host, making sure to greet people staying and give them a little tour of the place, and overall just ensure they have a pleasant experience. She's very keen on keeping up with property maintenance, and once the people staying leave she'll do her rounds of the place to make sure there's no damage, or that nobody left anything behind. Maintenance is usually taken care of by Engie, and general house decoration is done by herself, or by Heavy since he can reach up higher. Pictures are done by Sniper since he has the best ability to capture the spirit of a place, and she makes sure they get paid for their help. But of course, she still has a job to carry out for The Administrator, so sometimes she'll use the Airbnb to trap people who need to be "taken care of", so to speak. Any bodies are disposed of appropriately, and blood and other gorey materials are promptly cleaned up, staging the scene to make it seem like they just canceled their reservations. Though, belongings of the missing individuals sometimes end up in thrift stores or antique shops.

Scout

He treats his time as a host more as him being a host for MTV Cribs, he doesn't understand that hosting means he has to take on more of a professional role. So, to a lot of people, Jeremy the Host is more like a party house owner than anything. He stocks up, he lets people drink, party, and he even gets involved in it quite a bit, leading to him skateboarding into a ditch in the middle of Teufort. This leads to issues when the parties get to be a bit too much though, leading to him either having to kick people out, or end up having to spend a good chunk of the money he made on repairing holes in the wall, or trying to figure out how to install a new toilet because the one he had magically disappeared. He gets scolded constantly for allowing such reckless things to happen, but his only rebuttal is "Hey, I'm makin' us money, ain't I? So quit worryin'." If people come just to stay there and not party, he awkwardly tries to make small talk, or something. Again, not understanding that it's people using the space for there own purposes, not something where the host is having a sleepover. But, he's just trying to make sure everyone is comfortable, even if he is obnoxiously awkward about it. The weirdest thing he does is stock the fridge with Bonk! in all kinds of flavors, and he'll also have at least one bucket of chicken in there, nice and cold for the guests.

Soldier

Probably the lowest rated experience within all the mercs because of his insistence of patriotism and MREs. He truly makes you feel like you're in army boot camp, having rules such as waking up at 5am (he says 0500 hours of course), doing exercise, training, and having rations for meals. Actually, he doesn't make you feel like you're in army boot camp, he just runs the Airbnb as one. And it's weird, because if he advertises it as an Airbnb, he get's horrible reviews. But if he advertises it as "Sergeant Doe's Boot Camp", he gets a lot more positive feedback from random people who decide to go visit. It almost becomes like an attraction for Teufort, and instead of being a tourist trap and labeled thusly, it's more of something painfully fun for people to go participate in. Of course while people think it's just fun and games, Soldier thinks it's just real life, no nonsense stuff. It also gives him an opportunity to fulfill his desire to want to be in this position, even if he's tried to be this way with the mercs. (As in, he's tried to be the sergeant of or leader of the mercenaries, not really to any avail.) People also go there for the added on mini-raccoon sanctuary, and the chance to be able to have raccoons wandering around the house. (Even if the contracts disclose there's a 72% chance of getting infected with rabies, people still go, and still pet the raccoons.) Plus if you get through an entire stay with Soldier, he will reward you with something. (Sometimes it's a bottle of water from Teufort, sometimes it's a rocket.)

Pyro

To Pyro, this meant new friends, and potentially a sleepover. And with Pyrovision, we know what they saw isn't what the guests saw. The place is decorated like Pyroland, or at least similarly to it. Very cutesy, almost like it was meant to be a place for families to stay. What scares people off is when they start to bring up fire, and also just how much fire-related paraphernalia is left out in the open. Blowtorches, matches, lighters, you name it. To some this is scary, to others its cool. And this seems like some of the only activity you find within the place, outside of the random Spy head they accidentally leave around who starts to insult you. Their presence as a host is either regarded as very sweet or very frightening, with very few in-betweens. They've gotten scolded a few times over for nearly burning the place down, but to them it's just adding more fun things to the place. To them, what they're doing is okay, and there's nothing wrong with it. In their view everyone is happy. The only saving grace with this is perhaps Engineer being by their side a lot, helping with the place, and undoing any damage they do. And also trying to get stuff in for the people staying there, such as a TV and other things to occupy themselves, and food that isn't just sweets and candies.

Demoman

Another one of the more popular hosts, namely due to the luxurious living conditions, and the only payment necessary to stay being alcohol. Buy him a pack of beer? You stay there for free. If you don't, you can just fork over enough money to pay for some alcohol. Given his insurmountable wealth, he provides one of the best experiences, even if he's found drunkenly wandering the halls of the place. Regardless of that, it's furnished, it's fancy, and you even get fancy foods to eat in the fridge, again, no charge. So if anyone is flocking to an Airbnb, it's the one he's a host of. He isn't demanding or anything along those lines, and if you choose to, he can (drunkenly) tell you about his family's history, and how he got to where he is. His presence makes the stay a bit more comforting, as it starts to feel like you have a friend you can talk to at any time you want. There really aren't any downsides to him, he's fair, and you get a cozy place to stay. Well, okay there's a couple downsides. You may have to deal with Eyelander's crap, and depending on the time of year you may have to bare witness to Demoman's eye coming to try and kill him. But 99% of the year you're golden to not have to deal with that.

Heavy

Heavy would be a polite host, probably would make a surplus of Sandviches, and has print-outs of the recipe for people to take home with them. He's kind and is willing to show people around, and introduce them to some of the books he's providing, his only rules are to make sure to be quiet after a certain point of time so that it's not noisy. He does enforce the noise cut off when it gets close to midnight, and is pretty strict about it too. "You are to go to sleep, not be rambunctious." Though he doesn't care if you stay up late, he just says that so you aren't disturbing other people. Like Sniper, Engineer, and Demoman, he is considered to be one of the favorites among the mercs being forced to host. He's considered to be fair and sweet amongst the people who are hosted, and a lot of them will recommend him to people who are thinking of staying in Teufort. He also randomly leaves out books about mini-gun care, and will sometimes talk to people about Sasha, correcting them when they think Sasha is some sort of significant other to him. As in thinking she is either a lover or possibly a child of his, which he has to clarify she is a gun, but he does say she has has her own thoughts and feelings. More in a joking sense, but he still loves to tell people about her.

Engineer

Definitely one of the favorite hosts. Sweet and kind man, makes the place he's in charge of look nice and cozy. Him and Sniper both would win for having the homiest places, and in Engie's case he's definitely have the vintage sense of style that has wood panel walls and such. It's cozy, and he tries to make sure all the spots in the house are cozy enough for the people staying, even going out of his way to maybe get some stuff to better suit people's comfort needs. He does regular maintenance, keeping up with the place every day on the dot. Any leaks, breaks, or cracks, they get fixed in minutes. Any complaints get answered, and he tries to assess the situation to the best of his abilities. And he tries to make small talk so long as the people he's hosting are cool with it, understanding some people wanna just be left alone. Funny enough he does keep in contact with some of the people he hosted after they leave, sometimes inviting them back for a little get together for free. Usually it's for a campfire or maybe a barbecue. He's definitely putting up the better front for the Mann Co. sponsored Airbnb's, and is one of the pillars ensuring the whole thing doesn't come crashing down.

Medic

The question is more why did anyone let this man be in charge of an Airbnb. To him this was the perfect opportunity to get free patients, which ends up making him the worst rated host. Reports of people waking up with multiple tongues, seeing in ultraviolet, and in some cases they wake feeling the need to breathe through water, rather than breathe pure oxygen. Countless instances of this have caused people to consider him frightening, and say that they never want to have him as a host or a doctor the rest of their lives. (To which he retorts, "Ha! As if you have control over that, Dummkopf!") He waits until people are asleep to be able to do these surgeries, and while sometimes they just happen in the bed, sometimes they are transported to his lab, especially if he needs special access to something, or if he needs a specific type of organ he doesn't carry on himself. The place is... not even fully normal, almost looking more like a doctor's office than anything. The rooms also aren't that appealing, looking more like medical rooms. Definitely not a fun place to stay, unless you're into that stuff, or you just really like medical horror. The only slightly nice thing is the flock of doves that randomly shows up... that is until you see Archimedes with blood on his feathers.

Sniper

He tries his best as a host. Tries to make the place look nice and homey, which he does a great job of. His aesthetic is one of rusticity and antiquated nature, so he'd probably make the Airbnb look a bit like his childhood home in Australia. As a host he's a bit quiet, not exactly keen on being around so many people (especially given his occupation), so he just gives the basic rules and says "make too big a mess and ya get to either clean it, or pay for it", which can be a bit threatening even if unintentional. He's one of the few mercs to make the place feel like a home, so it becomes very popular with older tourists, and people with kids, so it feels more like you're just staying at a grandparents house. He's not demanding, just wants you to respect the place and not break anything. (Especially since his mom's probably insisted on knitting a few tapestries for the place.) He himself is barely there, trying to focus on his normal day to day life without it somehow crashing with this weird attempt to not make Mann Co. look like a criminal organization. If he is there, it's usually for a little bit after people have gone to sleep/when he's waking up (so around 3am), and all he's really doing is making sure everything is in order, and maybe taking the time to do his laundry or take a shower. The people staying do know he does this, and he kinda brings it up beforehand. If they aren't comfy with it, he won't enter. But, he isn't there for long before he's back out the door, going to take on whatever jobs the day has.

Spy

Decadence behold this man as he is an Airbnb host. Quite similarly to Demoman he hosts in nothing more than luxury. More for himself, but, he provides it to others, albeit at a cost. See, this is his own abode, his own lounge. He does not want others to tamper with it, so he makes strict rules as to not go into certain areas. No going into the smoking room, the lounge, or a certain bedroom. Go in there, and you will either be kicked out or threatened. He does this for obvious reasons, he is a ladies man, after all, and he wouldn't want to end up disturbing the guests. ...Moreso he doesn't want them to disturb him. He doesn't even like having to be a host, finding it to be a waste of time. He tolerates it so that he may get paid, but that's about it. Despite being a man of mystery, he tends to loom throughout the place. He's wiped clean any proof of who he is as a person, but there's always a lingering fear he has forgotten something. A picture, a medical document, so on. That would be the end for him. Plus, he's particular about his things. So as much as he wants to try to trust anyone, he finds himself suspicious, and needing to make sure everything is in order by the end. If you decide to steal something of his, consider there to be a bounty on your head. His possessions are not cheap.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 headcanons #my headcanons #ask box #thank you for the ask!!#inaccuracies are possible but in the tf2 universe they're a common occurrence /lh

23 notes · View notes

cathode-raygirl · 8 months

Text

Salvation for a Broken Bot (Chapter 1)

An amateur repair girl finds a severely damaged android abandoned in a junkyard.

This first chapter is sfw but subsequent chapters will be 18+ only. Content warning for a description of a character in a state of disrepair with implied eye trauma.

If you have any questions or feedback feel free to comment or send me an ask!

Rose had visited the abandoned junkyard several times before, but this was the first time she'd come with the intention of stealing.

Half a mile away from anywhere of note, the only sign of civilisation was the distant hum of cars driving down the A22 in the distance. The sound felt relaxing to her, like the waves of the ocean.

She approached the chain link fence surrounding the complex. Someone had repaired the hole she used to enter last time, but she had come prepared. She rummaged around in her backpack and retrieved a pair of bolt cutters. Expertly praying apart rusty segments of fence with her tools, she breached the defences and found herself in a sea of discarded garbage.

From handheld items like phones and radios, to larger appliances like televisions and fridges, the junkyard had it all. But there was one particular prize she was looking for: A robot. It was rare but not unheard of for companies like Ashdown to dump their decommissioned workers in facilities like these, and she was planning on...

Hmm.

She wasn't really sure what she was planning on doing to be honest. Selling one for parts? Repairing it as a passion project? She told herself she'd figure it out later. There wasn't even a guarantee that there *was* anything here anyway. Better to not get her hopes up too early.

She gripped the scanner in her left hand. She'd spent the past week building it, the perfect device for combing for artificial life. The android designs that Ashdown Logistics pioneered had distinctive battery designs to accommodate for their intense workload, and it quickly became the industry standard. If she was able to locate a power supply with the scanner, she *should* be able to locate a bot. In theory. The scanner wasn't picking anything up yet though.

She turned on her torch and began walking deeper into the facility. The scanner's range wasn't particularly good due to the sensor she'd opted to use so-

Her eyes lit up in excitement. A figure! In the distance! Unmoving!

She crept up towards it, her eyes filled instantly with recognition: The body of a robot, slumped backwards over a pile of broken televisions, a steel rod driven perfectly through its left eye, pinning it in place. Most of its pure white hair had been torn away, the few remaining patches blowing gently in the wind.

Its chest had caved in as well, and the silicone plates that covered its rusted internals were covered with dirt and mould.

Rose wondered what had happened to it, how it could have gotten this damaged. It was hard to make it out in the state it was in but it seemed to be some kind of worker bot? Definitely not anything that would normally have combat experience, that's for sure. If any robot rights groups found out about this they'd be having a field day. But more than that... She wondered how her scanner never picked it up.

She ripped the steel rod out of its head and flipped it over. Its charging port was missing, a large cavity in its place. By the looks of it, someone had forcefully removed the battery and several other key components by the looks of it. What *happened* here?

A mystery like this was irresistible to her. If she could somehow repair it, she could interrogate it, and then she potentially had a story she could give to the press, or even one of the robot rights groups. They'd been springing up a lot recently and she was sure at least one of them would take interest.

She dragged the bot through the muddy ground, through the hole in the fence, and loaded it into her car.

Rose sat on a chair in her workshop, staring at the android in front of her in contemplation. The first thing she needed to do was assess the damages and figure out if it was possible to salvage the bot. A more talented maintenance girl would probably know by now, but Rose was just a hobbyist, so she *really* needed to know what model it was.

The sticker with this valuable information on had long since been washed away by rain, so she had no choice but to begin disassembling its head in the hopes of finding a motherboard.

After half an hour's work, the bot's head laid sprawled out in pieces on her desk. She admired the beauty of the intricate mechanisms in front of her, how so many tiny parts could come together to form a believable imitation of a human face. At least, they would if they were in good condition. She could already tell that most of them had either rusted beyond repair or been badly damaged by the blunt force of the steel rod, so they'd have to be replaced. Still, the process should be simple enough once she got the model number.

Inspecting the motherboard, she noticed a peculiar chip with a pink heart on it. She'd never seen something like that before. She took a photo of it and made a mental note to reverse image search it later. Turning the board over, she was met with an unfortunate sight: The Ashdown Logistics logo, and the model number 4MB-3R.

Ashdown's androids were known for being made with parts that were as closed source and proprietery as physically possible. They refused to release any data sheets or schematics, and the parts that *could* be bought were insanely expensive. No one, not even the smartest engineers of their rival companies had been able to figure out how to create even an imitation of their personality chips, so they held a complete monopoly over the robotics industry.

Not only that, but the 4MBs were several generations ago. In fact, Rose was almost certain that they had been discontinued in 2002. By now, they were onto the 8MB range, which were mechanically unrecognisable from their 34 year old counterparts.

Rose slumped backwards into her chair. There was absolutely no way in hell she would be able to buy any replacement parts for this, and she doubted that she'd be able to find any more 4MB units, let alone a 4MB-3R. She had no idea what the difference between the sub units even was, but she was certain it would be significant enough to hinder her progress.

She sighed. It looked like she'd need to take matters into her own hands. There *was* a crude accessory that was compatible with most androids she'd encountered before: A modified cathode ray tube screen could be used to visualise a robot's thoughts. With some training, she was sure that the 4MB-3R could teach itself how to use one as a face. It wouldn't be a great solution by any means but it'd definitely be better than having a caved in, unmoving face. And it wasn’t like the bot would be stuck with it forever, just until she found something better to use.

As for the rest of the body? She could replace the charger port with an external charging system she had lying around, and she was sure she had some spare torso pieces buried *somewhere* in her workshop. There were obviously a lot more parts missing but it'd probably be best to get the basic functionality working first. After all, she wouldn't want to put effort into building a body for an android that might not even be capable of turning on anymore.

She gazed out her window wistfully, watching the cars pass by below her. In a way, Brighton looked like a giant circuit board, the roads forming tracks between the various buildings, which resembled cathodes, diodes and chips. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and circuit boards looked like cities.

Despite living in a bustling city, she could never shake away the loneliness she felt in apartment. She was a single, lonely electron in a vast uncaring circuit board, but perhaps she'd be able to find a companion in the form of this bot. And if not, it'd certainly give her something to take her mind off things for a while.

[ Chapter 2: Reconstruction ]

#my writing #ashdown logistics #robot girl #robogirl #robot maintenance

38 notes · View notes

neotomiccccc · 1 year

Text

LONG POST INCOMING sorry

Anyway. Here's some assorted Shane headcanons of mine about his life after marrying and moving onto the farm, enjoy

🌄 Morning:

• It is difficult to get him out of bed. It probably always will be. That's okay, because getting out of bed can be really difficult.

• Usually the farmer leaves him to get up in his own time.

• On some difficult days he won't get out of bed at all except for necessities like the bathroom, and water.

• Otherwise, once he's up and awake he tends to put the TV on as background noise while he makes breakfast (if it's his turn to make food)

• He's not the best cook ever, he's just learning and it's difficult, but he can do eggs on toast and an omelette - failing those, cereal.

🏙️ Daytime:

• When the farmer is gone, which is often for long hours of the day, Shane has to find some ways of occupying himself.

• The most obvious is that he spends time with his chickens - he tends to them daily and always spends some time sitting with them.

• He also lounges around and watches TV a lot. Sometimes he brings Charlie in to watch with him.

• If he can't find anything interesting to watch, then he might practice his cooking skills for a while. He's trying to become good at it!

• He still likes his video games although he doesn't often buy new ones. He's pretty comfortable playing the same thing over and over to beat his own high score. The farmer likes to get him new games sometimes for his birthday or the winter star.

• If the weather's nice and he has the energy, he might go outside and do some woodworking - he'll help to clear trees and stump so that there's less for the farmer to do. He also likes repairing the fences and paths!

• He has tried to pick up knitting, but it didn't stick. He could not stop dropping his stitches even after Emily helped him a lot.

• He likes writing. Sometimes it's stories, sometimes it's poetry, sometimes it's something he just needs to get off of his chest. His therapist recommended he write down his feelings and since then he took it up. He's quite shy about his writings and doesn't like to show anyone.

• He snacks a lot through the day - sometimes it's boredom, sometimes it's stress, sometimes he just wants to. His husband can never keep the fridge stocked for very long lol

• Almost every day, at some point he is going to take a nap. Usually on the sofa, and he often leaves the TV on for background noise. Sometimes the farmer will pop in during the day and find Shane and Charlie fast asleep pm the couch.

🌅 Evening:

• In the evening, he's always happy when his husband comes home. He doesn't particularly love being alone and enjoys the company of his partner.

• He can be clingy and loves physical touch from his husband. He'd hate it from anyone else but when he's with someone that he deeply trusts, he loves to cuddle, hug, kiss, hold hands, or just brush against each other. Verbal affection is difficult for him unless he turns it into a lighthearted joke or pun, so this is his main way of showing love.

• Speaking of jokes. Neverending dad jokes.

• Depending on the sort of day he's having, he can get really emotional. Some days it's happy tears and other days not so much. He still struggles with self loathing and alcohol relapses are inevitable.

• He's trying his best and just having someone who loves him no matter what is enough to make him start getting all mushy..

• Absolutely wants to cuddle and watch TV, cuddle and take a nap, cuddle and eat pizza, you get it

🌌 Nighttime:

• This man never sleeps a full night know that much. He's always up a few times during the night

• Can be found eating leftovers out of the fridge, pacing back and forth, having a turbulent shit, or if the sun is coming up, sitting on the porch.

• Other times he wakes up and doesn't want to leave the bed because he feels like shit. He gets clingy to the farmer when this happens.

• He snores. Loudly and obnoxiously. (But his husband doesnt care because it means he's sleeping and that's all that matters)

• He likes to sleep on his back, unless he's cuddling with his hisband in which case he'll sleep on his side. He has a knack for finding the most fucked up sleeping positions known to man and insisting it's comfortable.

• His consistently disrupted sleep is a big contributing factor to his daytime naps.

• He does like to co-sleep with Charlie and his other hens but it's not something he does all the time.

#thanks for listening to an insane man ramble everyone #its 3:30am and my own insomnia is bad tonight and im so so tired but i cant sleep #So decided to write about shane being tired but then it just turned into more #god bless #headcanons #sdv #sdv shane #shaneposting #sdv headcanons #rambling

111 notes · View notes