#Cabinet Hinges Types

[kitchenkosmos]

How To Install Hinges on a Cabinet Door?

Step-by-Step Guide: How To Install Hinges on a Cabinet Door?

Installing hinges on a cabinet door may seem like a daunting task, especially if you’re not familiar with woodworking or DIY projects. However, with the right tools and a step-by-step approach, you can easily accomplish this task and ensure that your cabinet doors open and close smoothly. In this article, we will guide you through the process of installing hinges on a cabinet door, providing you with the necessary instructions and tips to complete the job successfully.

Introduction

Installing hinges on a cabinet door is an essential step in the cabinet-making process. Hinges not only enable the door to swing open and closed but also provide stability and durability to the overall cabinet structure. By following the steps outlined in this guide, you’ll be able to install hinges on your cabinet doors like a pro.

Tools and Materials Needed

Before you begin the installation process, gather the following tools and materials:

Screwdriver

Drill

Chisel

Measuring tape

Pencil

Cabinet hinges

Screws

Types of Cabinet Hinges

There are various types of cabinet hinges available, such as butt hinges, concealed hinges, and European hinges. Each type has its own advantages and installation requirements. Choose the hinge type that best suits your cabinet design and functionality needs.

Preparing the Cabinet and Door

To ensure a smooth installation, start by removing the cabinet door from its hinges. Lay the door on a flat and stable surface. Similarly, open the cabinet and remove any shelves or items that might obstruct your work.

Marking the Hinge Positions

Using a pencil, mark the positions where you want to install the hinges on both the door and the cabinet. Take measurements and ensure that the markings are aligned and at the same height on both the door and the cabinet.

Mortising the Hinge Recesses

To create recesses for the hinges, use a chisel and carefully remove the wood from the marked areas on the door and the cabinet. Take your time and work slowly to achieve clean and precise recesses that match the size and shape of the hinges.

Attaching the Hinges to the Door

Place the hinge in the mortise on the door and align it with the marked position. Using a screwdriver or drill, secure the hinge to the door with screws. Repeat this process for all the hinges on the door.

Attaching the Hinges to the Cabinet

Once the hinges are attached to the door, hold the door in place against the cabinet. Align the hinges on the door with the markings on the cabinet. Using a screwdriver or drill, secure the hinges to the cabinet with screws.

Testing and Adjusting the Door

After attaching the hinges, test the door by opening and closing it. Check if the door swings smoothly and if it aligns properly with the cabinet. If adjustments are needed, loosen the screws slightly and reposition the door until it functions correctly.

Conclusion

Installing hinges on a cabinet door is a task that can be accomplished with patience and the right tools. By following the step-by-step instructions provided in this article, you can successfully install hinges on your cabinet doors and ensure smooth operation. Remember to take measurements accurately and work carefully to achieve the best results.

FAQs

1. Can I install hinges on an existing cabinet door? 

Yes, you can install hinges on an existing cabinet door by following the same steps outlined in this article. However, you may need to make adjustments to the door or the cabinet to accommodate the hinges.

2. How many hinges do I need for a cabinet door? 

The number of hinges required for a cabinet door depends on its size and weight. As a general rule, doors up to 36 inches tall and 24 inches wide typically require two hinges. Larger and heavier doors may require additional hinges for added support.

3. What should I do if the hinges are not aligning properly? 

If the hinges are not aligning properly, check if the mortises are the correct depth and size for the hinges. Make any necessary adjustments to ensure a proper fit. You can also try loosening the screws and repositioning the hinges slightly.

4. Can I use different types of hinges on the same cabinet door? 

While it’s best to use the same type of hinges throughout a cabinet, you can use different types if needed. However, keep in mind that different hinges may require different installation methods and adjustments.

5. How often should I lubricate the hinges on my cabinet doors? 

To ensure smooth operation, it’s recommended to lubricate the hinges on your cabinet doors at least once a year. Use a silicone-based or graphite lubricant for best results.

6. What is the recommended hinge type for inset cabinet doors? 

For inset cabinet doors, concealed hinges are often the preferred choice. They are designed to be mounted on the inside of the cabinet frame and provide a clean, streamlined look without any visible hinges from the outside.

7. How can I ensure that my cabinet door hangs straight after installing the hinges? 

To ensure that your cabinet door hangs straight, use a level to check its alignment. If adjustments are needed, you can loosen the screws on the hinges slightly and reposition the door until it hangs evenly.

8. Can I install soft-close hinges on my cabinet doors? 

Yes, you can install soft-close hinges on your cabinet doors for a more gentle and quiet closing motion. Soft-close hinges have a built-in mechanism that slows down the door’s movement as it closes, reducing the chance of it slamming shut.

9. Should I pre-drill the screw holes for the hinges? 

Pre-drilling the screw holes can help prevent the wood from splitting and make it easier to secure the hinges. Use a drill bit that matches the size of the screws you’re using and drill the pilot holes before attaching the hinges.

10. Can I paint or stain the cabinet door after installing the hinges? 

Yes, you can paint or stain the cabinet door after installing the hinges. However, it’s recommended to remove the hinges from the door before applying any finishes to ensure an even and professional-looking result. Reattach the hinges once the paint or stain has dried.

You may like to know more about:

How to Install Kitchen Cabinets Handles?

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Lights For Above Kitchen Sink

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[pennsylvaniaroofer]

4 EXPERT TIPS ON SELECTING THE RIGHT TYPE OF CABINET HINGES FOR YOUR HOME

Discover expert tips for selecting the right type of cabinet hinges for your home with our comprehensive guide. Learn about the various types of cabinet hinges available and how to choose the most suitable option for your needs. Explore essential considerations such as hinge functionality, material, and installation method to make informed decisions. Whether you're upgrading existing cabinets or installing new ones, our guide provides valuable insights to help you find the perfect hinge type. Trust our expert advice to navigate the selection process and ensure your cabinets function seamlessly. Explore our guide to learn more about the different types of cabinet hinges and make the right choice for your home.

[toonass]

Beach Style Bathroom

[writingwarden]

HESH REQUEST!!!

him helping you clean out your attic and you find a bunch of your childhood stuff :( (including your old diary, which is FILLED with pages you wrote about him)

Anon, you're a genius

David "Hesh" Walker x Reader

TW- None, just fluff, love confessions, kissing, minute emotional angst

Word Count- 2.1k

Summary- Feelings dug up by written words

[A/N- Typed this out in one sitting! Tried to keep it GN.]

Call Sign- BADGER

There was only one good thing about being sent into No Man's Land, and that was the fact you were able to make a stop at your old house. Memories rush at you as you cross what used to be the threshold. The house was smaller than those around it, a nice looking one story building with a huge backyard. As an only child your parents felt they didn’t need so much empty space. Dust covers every surface you look at, the wildlife has taken over every inch it could reach. The air was thick as you moved further into the house, Riley at your heels and his handler not far behind.

Hesh’s and Logan’s footsteps echo loudly against the crumbling walls of your once pristine home. Your mother had taken pride in how orderly she had kept things. She always had somebody over for whatever reasons. That was actually how you had come to know the Walker boys. You mom and dad had been close friends of Elias Walker, your dad having served with the man. One day she had them over for lunch, the next thing you know you’re skating with Hesh and teaching Logan how to pick locks. You three had become the three musketeers. If one of you had an idea, then all of you had a plan.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen to take in the feelings that come with returning to a place you used to hold dear, a long sigh leaves your chest. “It’s weird being back here after everything,” you say to the men behind you, “We have a minute to look around, feel free to dredge up old memories.” 

Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you start looking through the cabinets. You weren’t looking for anything specific but it was somewhat comforting to see that most of the dishware had survived. You could hear comments from Hesh from further in the house. Moving through the house made you almost want to tear up, it was a lot to process in the short amount of time you had. Down the hallway was Riley.

The dog stood in front of your old bedroom door, behind him the ladder that led to the attic had been pulled down. “Which one of you’s up there?” you called out from the floor. Hesh’s head pops out, looking down at you with a grin on his face. You shoot him a questioning glance.

“Badger, the fort is still standing!” He elaborates excitedly. The fort in question was exactly as it sounds; a hangout spot built from storage tubs and old blankets that hadn’t been used since your parents lived up north. A smile creeps onto your face when a memory hits you. 

“Well shit, I told you it would survive to the end of the world.” You had built the place after all, and your creations don’t fall apart easily. “You know, there should be a box of those books in there somewhere. I remember a copy of World War Z being in there somewhere. See if you can find them?” you suggest. 

He moves his head around in an indecisive way before nodding, “Yeah I'll try to find it.” He disappears back into the attic for a second before reappearing, “Oh yeah, I found some stuff from when you were younger. I’ll bring some down for you to look through.” And with that he’s gone again. 

A huff from Riley has you looking down and shaking your head fondly at the dog. Riley pawed at the closed door again. Looking up you stare at the plain white door that leads to your old bedroom, why were you hesitating?

Slowly you reach your hand out, resting it on the cool brass doorknob. Just open the door. Placing your forehead against the door and taking a deep breath, You don’t have time to move this slow. What is wrong? A quick push and the door squeals open, hinges rusted from years of no use and nature's wrath.

The room looks just how you left it, your favorite color painted on the walls and your bed still unmade. If it weren’t for the dust and fallen debris from where a part of the ceiling fell in, the room looks as if you had just stepped out for a moment. Clothes still strewn around from your searching and desk still in disarray from writing in your diary before you left. That’s how you knew you were desperate to leave, you never left that book in the open. But you had been so worried about getting over to Hesh’s place that you had left it open. You don’t know why you hadn’t put it up, the Walker household was only a three block walk from your own. You would have made it in time.

You had been a block away from the boy’s house when the ground exploded, sending you into the grass. Your skateboard still clutched tightly under your arm, your blue  drawstring bookbag cushioning your fall. In your panicked state you tried to rush home, the sifting road preventing you from reaching your destination. Your only saving grace had been Hesh’s dad, Mr. Elias Walker in his screeching to a  halt in front of you. He flung the passenger side door open and you scrambled in. After that, he found the boys and the rest is history.

Entering the room further you pick up random items, quickly and silently going through the items. A few small items are stashed into your backpack, two of which being a family photo and your childhood keepsake. The thought passed to go into your parents room but you knew that would only bring sobbing and you couldn’t afford that right now. If you were lucky there would be a later time to properly mourn for them again. Turning around, you face the messy desk. As you approach you take in the messy state of it, shaking your head at the lack of organization.

A thump from the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway you see Logan picking up a dining chair. “You okay Lo?” you call from where you stand. He looks up and smiles before holding a thumbs up in your direction. Shaking your head at the younger man, you re-enter the room, heading straight back to the desk. That diary that held every thought that crossed your past thoughts. Every single one dated and time stamped in a 24 hour clock format. Your dad had been adamant that you used the “military” time, citing that you would never be confused between 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM. He had been right, you had never confused 05:00 with 17:00. 

Picking up the book you can’t help but feel like you were in mourning. Flipping through the pages reveals a time where what you were wearing to go out and the latest thing Hesh had done to make you feel butterflies in your stomach were the biggest problems in your life; not worrying about a bullet through your skull or a knife to the gut. Those feelings were still there like a raging storm. And it was honestly no surprise that you had come to be absolutely smitten with the man in the room above you. Everyone could see that even now you were in love with Hesh. Everyone but him; flipping back to the last page that had been written, your heart breaks a little more.

The date on the top of the page read 10:49, July 10th, 2017. The day ODIN had fired on Earth and uprooted the entire world's life. Eyes scanning the page as memories from that day screech to a halt in the forefront of your mind. You and Hesh were supposed to go downtown to skate and meet up with a few friends for dinner. Past you lamented onto the page about your outfit and that your hair wasn’t working with you. In between complaining about your outfit or excitedly talking about your plans for later that day, was your feelings of nervousness. You remember vividly searching frantically through your wardrobe and failing to find that one shirt Hesh had said he liked on you. That day was supposed to be special. Skating, dinner with your crush, a confession that you had hoped wouldn’t go wrong; instead you got a burnt breakfast and a crater in the middle of the city.

Footsteps echo from the attic as Hesh calls for you, “Badger! I got a box of things, could use some help getting it down.” 

You finish putting the diary and any working stationary into your pack before moving to the bottom of the ladder again. Hesh wastes no time handing you a medium sized plastic tub. Taking the box into your arms you're surprised about how heavy it is. He must have found a lot. Hesh makes his way down as you walk back into the bedroom.

The box is set on the unmade bed and the lid is removed from the box to reveal several more items from your childhood. Most of them had been completely forgotten. Further into the box were books from the fort. But the item that had you pausing was the brightly colored notebook that once served as your diary. Flipping to the cover page revealed your name and a messy all capitalized KEEP OUT OR ELSE in blue sharpie. 

Hesh steps up to your left side, a shit-eating grin sprawled across his face. “Prime literature right there, Badger.” He says teasingly. Heat rushes to your face, you feel that if you turned and looked at the mirror on the back of your bedroom door you’d probably see your entire face looked as if you slammed it into a bucket of blush. 

You begin to stammer out an explanation when Hesh takes the book from your hands. He flips to a certain page and clears his throat. “I’ll have to say, this one’s probably my favorite,” His eyes sparkled as he read the words out loud, “I can’t believe that I’m in love with this stupid, handsome, green-eyed dumbass. Somebody please sedate me before I explode the next time he shoots me that stupid ass smile. With three green hearts drawn after it.” 

You could’ve passed away on the spot, embarrassment zipping through your very soul as he flips through the pages. Avoiding his eyes you look anywhere but him, afraid of the rejection you’d find there. He was going to laugh at you and that would hurt more than a straight up “No.” would have. Why of all things did he have to find that! You pick at your hands as you look back at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don’t find laughing or a sneer at your words, you just see him studying your being. Instead you find joy in his eyes and that stupid comforting smile. “I- I can explain-” you begin but don’t get to finish. You don’t get to finish what was sure to be a jumbled ramble because Hesh is surging forward, his lips pressed to yours. His hands pull you close by your vest straps to deepen the kiss. The shock leaves just as quick as it came and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.

Eventually you both need to come up for air, the realization of what is happening dawning slowly on you. 

“That was-”

“I-” 

You both began at the same time. You clear your throat, “You first?” 

Hesh shifts on his feet, looking rather pleased with himself. “I was going to stop reading it, I swear!” He puts his hands up in a defensive way, “But then I saw my name and I got invested in this little plot of yours.” 

Sheepishly you raise your hand to rub the back of your head, “Yeah, well I had a lot to write about…” You let your sentence trail off, unsure of what to say next. But you figure you might as well tell him. “I feel like this is the part where I tell you I had planned to tell you after we were supposed to go downtown and meet up with our friends.” You laugh quietly and gesture to the dusty clothes strewn around the room, “I was even trying to find that one shirt that you told me you liked.” A pause of silence passes before he speaks up. 

“But then ODIN happened… Well shit, Badger.” He also looked at a loss for words. A rare sight. “Well, no time like now, huh?” 

You thought for a minute before leaning back in and kissing him again. “Yeah, no time like now I suppose.” 

[Not Pictured- Logan and Riley standing in the doorway baffled.]

[A/N- Took a little inspiration from my own younger self's journal! Hope I did this Justice! Likes and Re-blogs are always welcomed]

[sapphixxx]

I've become such an extremely specific type of pervert after doing so much woodworking that I'm catching myself zooming in to see what type of hinges are on the cabinets in this Yuri manga

[beechersnope]

*rattles metal cup with one penny on it*

Any girlseb wips you can spare sir? Any girlseb?

ok so i have a couple, the only one i've made any tangible progress on has been sitting kind of stale for a while, but it's an AU where seb blackmails mark into having an affair with her

here is a snippet since you asked so nicely

warning for unhinged teenage (18/19) sexual behavior, semi-public masturbation type stuff, and the aforementioned blackmailing agenda

***

Seb is sprawled out on the tiled floor of the guest bathroom with the handle of her hairbrush stuffed in her cunt when the doorbell rings. She holds her breath, waiting for one of her parents to pass through the hallway on their way to answer it, but there’s only the sound of her blood thumping against her eardrums.

The doorbell rings again.

“Sabrina!” her mom yells from the backyard, causing Seb to jolt, the hairbrush slipping free from her pussy and clattering loudly onto the floor. “Can you please get the door?”

Seb picks herself up off the floor and takes a quick look in the mirror as she smooths down her dress over her thighs. Seb had never liked wearing dresses—mostly because she didn’t like the way they only seemed to accentuate her round, boyish features—but she’d discovered recently that it was a lot easier to slip away from a social function to masturbate when she didn’t have to worry about things like pants. Or underwear.

The hairbrush gets a quick rinse under the faucet before being tossed carelessly into the cabinet under the sink. Seb hurriedly exits the bathroom and hopes that the pink flush in her cheeks will be written off as something far more innocent than the truth. It is a sunny Saturday afternoon, after all, and whoever is waiting at the door doesn’t need to know that Seb hasn’t set one foot outside all day, instead taking advantage of her parents’ preoccupation with cleaning the house by fucking herself in any room that happens to be uninhabited for the moment.

She lost the ‘privilege’ of having a bedroom door when she was fifteen and got caught watching porn. It wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill video either; she might have been a late bloomer when it came to masturbation, but it hadn’t taken Seb long to grow tired of missionary and doggystyle. The trauma of her parents walking in while the woman on Seb’s laptop screen had a dick in her ass and a dildo down her throat was enough to put her off masturbating altogether for the next two weeks.

Seb had ultimately been able to convince her parents that someone at school had sent her the link and that she would never watch something like that of her own volition, but her door still came off the hinges, and even now, there were parental controls on the internet router, forcing Seb to be a little more creative than a typical teenager about procuring spankbank material.

Seb can feel wetness rubbing between her bare thighs as she approaches the front door, and she makes an effort to tug her dress down a little lower. It is a church function, after all. No need to scandalize one of the elderly couples that were slowly taking over the sleepy beachside suburb she’d grown up in.

But when Seb opens the door to let in their first guest, it isn’t a frail old lady standing on her front porch.

Seb gapes openly at the stranger, too taken aback by his towering stature, dark stubble, and strong jawline to do anything more than stare with impropriety. The stranger stares back at her for a moment with a stoic expression and then lifts an eyebrow, looking almost annoyed.

“Is this the wrong house?” the man asks.

Seb shakes her head automatically, not even bothering to ask if he’s there for the barbecue. She moves out of the way to let him inside. “It’s just through there,” she says in a small voice, pointing down the hall toward the kitchen. “The back door is on the right.”

The man starts to move past her, then stops, turning so they’re facing each other with only a few inches between them in the narrow entryway. Seb has to crane her neck to look up at him.

“You’re Bert’s kid, right? Sabrina or something?”

“Seb,” she corrects, feeling her face go hot.

The man frowns. “Seb,” he repeats slowly, like he’s testing out the way it feels in his mouth. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”

It’s not the first time someone has made that comment to Seb, but coming from this tall, handsome stranger, the words feel like stones settling in the pit of her stomach. She wants to run away and hide, all thoughts of slinking around the church barbecue looking for a suitable prospect amongst the stringy teenage boys to help her lose her virginity gone in an instant.

Seb takes too long to come up with a response. The stranger doesn’t wait for one. He continues on as if they hadn’t spoken at all, strutting down the hallway with his hands in his jean pockets before disappearing around the corner into the kitchen.

It takes Seb over an hour after the rest of the guests arrive to figure out the stranger’s name: Mark Webber. She also learns that he’s moved into a house a few streets down, and that Seb isn’t the only one interested in him. Every middle-aged woman in the church is already in a tizzy over him, gossiping openly at the picnic tables outside about whether he’s single—even though most of the women themselves are not.

Seb is, though. And despite the fact that Mark is clearly a fair bit older than her, he doesn’t actually seem old. Certainly not anywhere close to her parents’ age, and Seb would be surprised if he was over thirty-five, at most.

The boys she’d gone to high school with are starting to seem a lot less tempting, as far as losing her virginity goes.

That’s Seb’s ultimate goal for the summer, the one she’d jotted down in her seldom-used diary as soon as she’d officially come home on her last day of senior year. She’d have been happy to do it even sooner, but Seb had always been shy and not very well-liked at school, and it wasn’t until recently that she’d started to fill out. Most of the boys she was friends with still treated her like a kid sister.

Mark wouldn’t treat her like a sister. And Seb plans to make damn sure he doesn’t treat her like a kid.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

BoB Headcanon: Could They Fix A Broken Cabinet?

A/N: Here, pls enjoy another obscure headcanon set that Literally Nobody asked for lol. A big thank you to @mccall-muffin for encouraging me to post it lol 💖

✿ Dick Winters: Will not only fix your cabinet but also IMPROVE your cabinet. Enjoy your new soft-close, freshly-painted cabinet. 🤌🏽

✿ Lewis Nixon: Absolutely Not. Nix knows when he’s beat. He Was Not raised for this & he knows that. Will gladly call someone else to fix it though! 

✿ Carwood Lipton: Definitely could fix it (he has the knowledge & the skills) but doesn't trust himself to do it because he's afraid he'll mess it up (🥺) so he'll pay someone else to do it. 

✿ Ronald Speirs: He’ll fix it! Won’t make a big deal of it though. Honestly would probably not even tell you he’s fixed it; you just walk in one day & it’s Done & you’re like “When did you do that?” & he’s like “Oh like a week ago”.

✿ Harry Welsh: Bound & Determined to fix it if it kills him. He will read Every book, watch Every show, Welshy is a man on a mission 😂 He is going to be your knight in shining armor even if he has to toil away at it for days & ends up cussing the thing black + blue before it's complete.

✿ Buck Compton: Will give it the ol’ college try (lol) but no guarantees. Will do his reading but still ends up freestyling it. 😂 Definitely not above calling someone if his attempt goes awry tho lol

✿ Don Malarkey: Sort of? It may not be perfect– like the hinges will probably squeak when it opens & it might be a little crooked maybe – but he worked all day on it & it’s Technically fixed.

✿ Joe Liebgott: Is convinced that he can fix it but will actually just fuck it up even more & then duct tape over it. It might be functional but it Will Not be pretty. Probably accidentally hammered his thumb once. Pls appreciate his efforts tho, he is Trying.

✿ George Luz: Will fix your cabinet super well! It’s gonna be in tip-top shape… You’re just gonna have to remind him to do it tho lol bc he’s kind of all over the place! (Also he whistles while he works; it’s kind of adorable).

✿ Eugene Roe: I'd like to believe he could but my heart just says no. Lowkey, it would probably frustrate him all to hell bc he can perform life-saving medical feats in the heat of battle but he can't fix a goddamn cabinet?? He's gonna call someone to fix it for y'all but he's gonna be So pissed about it.

✿ Joe Toye: Can definitely fix it. Very handy around the house but his true expertise is in cars! He could be a mechanic if he really wanted to. King of explaining Why It Makes That Noise in simple terms that Make Sense 🤌🏼

✿ Bill Guarnere: He'll fix it but it won't be in the way you expect. He's the type of person to put a book under a table leg to steady it, that sort of thing. But he is WAY too stubborn to ask for help so don't expect him to call anybody who can actually do it. He'll INSIST on doing it himself– it's a matter of pride at this point.

✿ Skip Muck: No way, not a clue. Might try to fix it but gets distracted halfway through like a puppy & abandons the project forever lol.

✿ Bull Randleman: Oh absolutely he can. Man was practically raised with a toolbox in hand. He likes to do little things like that for you around the house because he likes to feel useful. 

✿ Shifty Powers: Definitely can. But like Speirs ^, won’t make a big deal out of it. He has immaculate focus, a steady hand, & seemingly limitless patience so he can fix pretty much anything.

✿ Babe Heffron: Purely a duct-tape-&-a-prayer man. "We don't gotta call anybody, I got it covered." No, Babe, you do not 😆

✿ Johnny Martin: Could probably fix it if he actually put his mind to it but doesn't want to. He simply Does Not Have The Patience. He gets frustrated one time & he's Done. Calls someone by the end of the first day 😂

✿ Frank Perconte: Doesn’t know how to fix it at the beginning but will try to figure it out. He may storm off a few times cussing the damn thing in frustration but he’ll get it done eventually.

✿ Floyd Talbert: Absolutely could. He + his brothers used to do all sorts of odd jobs & carpentry stuff back in Kokomo. 

✿ David Webster: Nope! Wants to fix it so badly but is absolutely Hopeless when it comes to any sort of home renovation. Despite some of the more stubborn guys on this list, Web's not ashamed about calling somebody to fix it. He just kind of figures, "Well someone has to do it" & it is Clearly not going to be him.

✿ Skinny Sisk: Please for the love of God, Do Not Let This Man Near A Hammer. 😭 He will joke around with it like a dumbass & will probably just accidentally hurt himself or someone else. 

[teamrockethr]

I woke up entirely too early, so I'm just thinking. Just based on current plots and things. What the fuck do Pokémon do while their trainer is having sex? Do they behave like pets? Is it Pokémon dependent? Are they all perfectly behaved angels and listen to the type-specific playlist on poké-spotify put on by their trainer for this exact scenario?

Like, whatever Lark does behind closed doors is none of Keith's business. He does not care. He knows Lark is out of the room and he's looking at the kitchen cabinets will ill intent. He hasn't figured out how to open the fridge door yet, otherwise, he'd eye it up, too.

Walker's Nidoking, however, is ripping said closed door off its hinges and defenestrating a target non-flying creature for 3 mana.

I'll probably delete this later, once things are more coherent, but animals are funny. Pokémon should get to be weird as shit, too.

[recurringwriter]

wip wthursday

tagged by @omgkalyppso so i will share some out of context felicity fic! featuring rufus and some disposable spy type guy. (contains some blood and strongly implied torture)

i could tag @umbralstars or @sevarix-blogs or anyone else with a wip or two. no pressure to and feel free to tag me as having tagged you even if i didn't tag you or we've never spoken

They arrived at a simple door, which the knight opened without knocking. Inside was a room lined with cabinets, files, and shelves. In the middle was a very old, heavy desk. The top was clear, and the chair was empty. The knight gestured for Felicity to follow him, to a door behind the desk. It was made of blackened steel, but it barely creaked on its oiled hinges when the knight pushed it open with a gesture for Felicity to enter. Nodding to the knight, she strode into the room beyond and froze in place. Rufus stood in the middle of the circular chamber, his back to her. He was bowed over a stone table that called to mind an altar. It glistened in the dim light with a trail of dark liquid running from the chest of a man laying on it. "I've brought her, Your Highness," the knight said. Rufus stood straight, slowly. With the way his body had been hunched, Felicity flinched, expecting when he turned around that his mouth would be dripping blood. Instead, he looked the way he always did--golden, radiant, and handsome. His hellhound lay at his feet, but looked up with ears pointed as Felicity entered. Rufus smiled beautifully when he saw Felicity and dismissed the knight with thanks. The door closed behind her, and Felicity clasped her hands behind her back, digging her nails into her own knuckles. "There you are," Rufus said, warm and pleasant. Behind him, the man on the table whimpered. Rufus ignored him. "I've learned something very interesting about our friend here, why don't you come and make some introductions?" "I have no idea what you mean," Felicity said, hovering by the door. "Come closer," Rufus said, raising his hand to gesture her near. He was wearing a device on his hand, hinged metal that covered his fingers like an armoured gauntlet would. This particular piece ended in brutal claws that were spotted with red. Feeling like she had no choice, Felicity stepped closer. Rufus gestured to the man on the table--he was chained to it with his arms above his head and his legs to rings on the corners of the stone slab. His shirt was torn and bloody, his face bruised. Felicity could barely recognize him as the assassin that had tried to kill Prince Lambert. "I have just learned," Rufus said, conversationally, "that this pathetic little man hails from the Alliance. Why do you suppose a Leicesterian would attempt to kill the Crown Prince of Faerghus?" "I don't know," Felicity said, quietly. The assassin turned his head and met her eyes with his own wide, staring ones. "Help," he gasped. His chest rose and fell in a ragged pattern. "Please--pretty lady, don't let him kill me--please--"

[husbandomail]

"so, um...I might have possibly accidentally tipped the entire jar of cayenne pepper into the soup...and by might have I mean definitely" from the cooking prompts + Ace Trappola

The word “sweet” never really suited Ace. He would, on occasion, make an effort— when you’d informed him of your home’s Valentine traditions, he’d awkwardly gifted you with some last-minute chocolate. If you were getting unwanted attention from other men, he was quick to throw his arm over your shoulders and call himself your boyfriend. Not really the sweet type, more practical.

That doesn’t sit too well with him.

“—and make sure you keep stirring, so nothing sticks to the bottom and burns.”

Trey’s voice is smooth and steady as always, but Ace can feel something bubbling and boiling in his own veins. If he stirs any faster, it’ll go splashing out of the pot, but he’s clearly going too slow because he can feel the spoon scraping burned pieces off the bottom, just like Trey said.

“—what if she doesn’t like it?” Ace absently fiddles with the heat on the stove; when he turns it down, Trey reaches over and turns it back up. Heartslabyul’s kitchen is a bit more cozy than the rest of the dorm; Riddle doesn’t cook much, so he doesn’t wander in here often, leaving the place as Trey’s domain.

“She’ll like it.” The upperclassman resumes his half of the recipe, measuring out spices into portions for Ace to use. “You’re going through the effort of making something for her— that’s more important than how it turns out.”

“But if she can’t eat it, the whole thing is pointless!” Ace picks up a tiny bowl of freshly-chopped basil and empties it into the soup.

Trey shrugs. “If she can’t eat it, Grim will. They’ll both appreciate it.” He sets down a small jar of something bright red. “Only add a dash of that, or it will overpower everything.”

Ace is only half listening as he grabs the jar. “It’s not for the damned cat-weasel,” he grumbles, picking up the jar and giving it a gentle shake..

The lid pops off. It lands right in the center of the pot of soup, followed by a cascading jarful of bright red powder. Ace just stares blankly. “Hey, what was in that jar?” He keeps stirring anyways, not really knowing what else to do.

“Cayenne pepper,” Trey hums, not looking up from where he’s chopping vegetables to add. “It’s on the recipe card too, after all. Why?”

“...no reason.”

Later that evening, Ramshackle Hall is filled with the haunting screech of your doorbell— an unpleasant sound, but still better than when the ghosts used to phase through the walls to announce your guests.

You sniffle loudly from your blanket cocoon on the sofa. It seems like a regular cold, but it’s your first one since arriving at Night Raven, and it’s hit you fairly hard. The doorbell rings again and you groan, muscles screaming their protests as you haul yourself off the couch and onto your feet.

“C’mon, I know you’re home!” Ace’s impatient voice drifts through the thin door and adds some pep to your sluggish steps. Your blanket is still wrapped around your shoulders and drags against the floor behind you. When you’re finally able to open the door, Ace visibly recoils. “—ew.”

You stare flatly at him. The effect is ruined when you sniffle like a kitten. “You’re the one who demanded I open the door.”

Ace rolls his eyes and brushes past you into your lonely dorm. He visibly shudders, the bag in his hands rustling as he rubs his warm hands up and down his arms. “No wonder you’re sick. It’s totally iced over in here.” He nudges your shoulder, then his hand drifts down to the small of your back, guiding you back towards the nest you’d made on the couch. “Go sit back down, I’ll be there in a moment.”

You just sniffle again before coughing lightly, too tired to really sass back right now.

From your spot curled up in front of the tv, you can hear Ace clattering around in the kitchen; the familiar squeaks of cabinet hinges, the weak beeps of the ancient microwave you’d scavenged from Mostro Lounge when Azul wasn’t looking. An inevitable round of swears when the microwave fails to properly heat something— followed by a few crackling pops as he resorts to magic anyways.

Eventually Ace does join you in the living room. He’s cradling a bowl in his hands, setting it carefully on your lap so nothing sloshes over the rim and onto your thighs. You stare blankly into the bowl for a second too long; Ace crouches next to you and offers a spoon he’d found in the kitchen. “It’s called soup,” he snickers, “You’re supposed to eat it.”

You snatch the silverware out of his grasp and, muttering something like “I know what soup is,” you scoop a spoonful into your mouth.

It’s warm. The heat comfortably pools in your chest before spreading through your limbs and chasing away your chills. You’re a bit too sick to properly taste it, but you’re sure it’s passable; Heartslabyul boys aren’t allowed to cook without Trey’s supervision, after all.

Ace settles in next to you on the couch as you eat. The television is tuned to some old cartoon he’s seen hundreds of times, so he spaces out a bit, more focused on watchin you eat, your face slowly turning red.

You cough once, assuming it’s your cold. Then you cough again; maybe something in your throat? And then you sniffle loudly, your eyes beginning to water, tears spilling past your lashes and dripping down your face. “Hey, Ace, what’s in this—?”

Oh. Now that you mention it—

Ace sheepishly scratches his face and smiles shyly. “Yeah, I think I, uh… may’ve accidentally dumped the entire jar of cayenne pepper in there.” A beat, and then, “—and by maybe I mean definitely.”

Yeah, you wouldn’t call him sweet at all.

[beatricebidelaire]

“Let's try to think,” Klaus said. “What did Hal say about the file? We know it has to do with Jacques Snicket, and with fire.”

“Prem!” Sunny said, which meant “But we looked under Snicket, Jacques, and Fire already.”

“There must be something else,” Violet said. “We have to find this file. It has crucial information about Jacques Snicket and V.F.D.”

“And about us,” Klaus said. “Don't forget that.”

The three children looked at one another.

“Baudelaire!” Sunny whispered.

Without another word, the orphans ran to the B aisle, and hurried past Babbitt to Babylon, Bacteria to Ballet, and Bamboo to Baskerville, stopping at Bat Mitzvah to Bavarian Cream. As the door continued to fissle behind them, Klaus tried nine keys in a row before finally opening the cabinet, and there, between the Jewish coming-of-age ceremony for young women, and the delicious filling of certain doughnuts, the children found a folder marked “Baudelaire.”

“It's here,” Klaus said, taking it out of the drawer with trembling hands.

“What does it say? What does it say?” Violet asked in excitement.

“Look,” Klaus said. “There's a note on the front.”

“Read it!” Sunny said in a frantic whisper, as the door began to shake violently on its hinges.

Whoever was on the other side of the door was obviously getting frustrated with trying to pick the lock.

Klaus held up the file so he could see what the note said in the dim light of the room. “'All thirteen pages of the Snicket file,'” he read, '“have been removed from the Library of Records for the official investigation.'” He looked up at his sisters, and they could see that, behind his glasses, his eyes were filling with tears. “That must be when Hal saw our picture,” he said. “When he removed the file and gave it to the official investigators.” He dropped the file on the floor and then sat down beside it in despair. “There's nothing here.”

“Yes there is!” Violet said. “Look!”

The Baudelaires looked at the file where Klaus had dropped it on the ground. There, behind the note, was a single sheet of paper. “It's page thirteen,” Violet said, looking at a number typed in a corner of the paper. “The investigators must have left it behind by mistake.”

“That's why you should keep paper clips on papers that belong together,” Klaus said, “even when you file them. But what does the page say?”

With a long crackle!and a loud bang,the door to the Library of Records was knocked off its hinges, and fell to the floor of the enormous room as if it had fainted. But the children paid no attention. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny all sat and looked at page thirteen of the file, too amazed to even listen to the odd, teetering footsteps as the intruder entered the room and began to walk along the aisles of file cabinets.

Page thirteen of the Baudelaire file was not a crowded sheet of paper-there was just one photograph stapled into place, below one sentence of type. But sometimes it takes only a photograph and a sentence to make an author cry himself to sleep even years after the photograph was taken, or to make three siblings sit and stare at a page for a long time, as if an entire book were printed on one sheet of paper.

There were four people in the photograph, standing together outside a building the Baudelaires recognized immediately. It was 667 Dark Avenue , where the orphans had lived with Jerome and Esmé Squalor for a brief time, until it became another place too treacherous for the children to stay.

The first person in the photograph was Jacques Snicket, who was looking at the photographer and smiling. Standing next to Jacques was a man who was turned away from the camera, so the children could not see his face, only one of his hands, which was clutching a notebook and pen, as if the obscured man were a writer of some sort.

The children had not seen Jacques Snicket since he was murdered, of course, and the writer appeared to be someone they had never seen at all. But standing next to these two people were another two people the Baudelaire children thought they would never see again.

Bundled up in long coats, looking cold but happy, were the Baudelaire parents.

-- the hostile hospital

[tamilselvamppts]

Office Cleaning Services - How to Efficiently Include Tasks

Introduction:

A productive and healthy work atmosphere is crucial in the busy world of business, and this requires keeping the office clean and organized. Office cleaning services are essential for making sure that the workspace is both visually beautiful and healthy for employees. This thorough guide will show you how to effectively include tasks into office cleaning services so that your workspace looks great and stands out from the competition.

Understanding the Unique Needs of Each Office Space

It's important to understand that every office space is different before getting into the specific duties related to office cleaning. The number of employees, the type of business, and the size of the office are few examples of factors that may affect how much cleaning is needed. A comprehensive and efficient cleaning service is ensured by customizing your cleaning strategy to the unique requirements of the workplace.

Creating a Customized Cleaning Checklist

Creating a personalized cleaning checklist is a crucial component of effective office cleaning services. Every part of the office, including common areas, workstations, restrooms, and food areas, should be included in this checklist. You may organize your cleaning jobs according to importance and frequency to make sure each and every space is covered.

Daily Cleaning Services:

1. Replace the liners in waste receptacles and empty them. As needed, wash.

2. Vacuum every mat and carpet.

3. Scrub every hard floor.

4. Dust all of the furniture's horizontal surfaces, including tables, chairs, and workstations.

5. Use a disinfectant to damply clean any horizontal surfaces.

6. Use a disinfecting mop on any hard floors.

7. Clear the front entrance and the nearby vicinity of cobwebs.

8. Eliminate traces and fingerprints from the area surrounding door frames and light switches.

9. Spotless outside and interior automated glass doors

10. Clean every inside window.

11. Shine up the bright work on doors and cabinets and polish all brass.

12. Identify spotty painted surfaces and walls.

Prioritizing High-Traffic Areas

There is a variety of foot traffic in different locations of the office. For effective office cleaning, high-traffic areas must be identified and prioritized.

Meeting spaces

Common areas

Entrances frequently

These areas are need more frequent maintenance to maintain a professional atmosphere and make a good first impression.

Implementing Eco-Friendly Cleaning Practices

The importance of sustainability and environmental stewardship in the modern society cannot be overstated. Climate change, pollution, and waste are serious issues that need to be addressed right away. We spend a lot of our time at work, therefore it's important to consider the surroundings while making decisions on a regular basis. This is especially important for office employees and supervisors who have the ability to make significant changes, as well as commercial cleaners and cleaning businesses.

Although effective, the commercial cleaning industry has long relied on techniques and chemicals that are not eco-friendly. Still, as awareness grows, there is a growing desire for more sustainable, greener solutions. In the office and commercial cleaning sectors, this site aims to provide a wealth of information to anyone looking to transition to greener cleaning techniques.

Investing in Professional Training for Cleaning Staff

The success of any office cleaning service hinges on the competence of its cleaning staff. Invest in ongoing training programs to ensure that your team is well-versed in the latest cleaning techniques, products, and safety protocols. A highly skilled and knowledgeable cleaning crew will deliver superior results, enhancing the reputation of your cleaning services.

Conclusion

Efficiently including tasks in office cleaning services is a multifaceted endeavor that requires a tailored approach, attention to detail, and a commitment to excellence. By understanding the unique needs of each office space, creating customized cleaning checklists, prioritizing high-traffic areas, and embracing eco-friendly and technology-driven practices, your office cleaning services can surpass the competition. Remember, the key to success lies in flexibility, client satisfaction, and continuous improvement to stay at the forefront of this dynamic industry.

Contact Careplus Cleaning Solutions today to delve into the ways our tailored cleaning solutions can elevate your business's overall productivity and success.

Uncover more efficient methods to maintain cleanliness and boost efficiency with Careplus. Reach out for a personalized discussion crafted to meet your specific needs

[callmebliss-got-swamped]

“Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people.”

Context under cut. Content warning for gore

In my dream last night I was somehow managing to buy a house. Massive, rambling, old, lots of antique furniture in and flourishing plants still there. Was taking a tour with my ex, god knows why, who was excited about things in the place for me but his presence drove me to explore faster than I wanted so as to not be in the same room.

Gorgeous…greenhouse? Conservatory? Lofty glass-ceilings room with potted plants all around and quite a few in pots suspended by chains from the ceiling. Warm and bright, all my plants would love it.

A beautiful study with a fireplace taking up a whole wall, dark wood built-ins with glass-front cabinets. One of those clocks with the perpetually spinning orbs under a glass dome.

In one room there was a bench sized and shaped structure, turned akimbo mostly toward the wall. The seat area was round wooden rails, with actual wooden seat platform on it large enough for one person at one end. My ex declared it to be a shoeshine bench; there were foot supports in front of the seat for such an activity so I had to presume he was right. Couldn’t test whether the seat could still slide along the rails, though, because there were four 80s-90s era mini electric keyboards on the rails. Collecting dust in a house where everything else was clean.

I moved on without finding the kitchen, climbing the stairs. The upper floors were a little more dim, and had a stranger layout, with half-flights of stairs. Went up one to find a room with the doorway filled with two panes of glass on hinges; the one on the stairs side I had to press and release to have it spring out and swing toward me. The one on the other side did the same in the other direction. It led to a playroom with toys mostly put away but others still scattered on the far side of the room. The glass door was, apparently, so a parent could glance up the stairs and see the kids still safe and playing in there.

I left through a door to one side; coming up the half stairs, the ceiling had slanted sideways over me, indicating another set of stairs above running perpendicular.

This was when I ran into the small man. Somehow it did not bother me he was there. He reminded me of The Old Man Of Hoy from Sense8, but much more compact, only three feet tall at most.

At one point I discovered an oak and wrought iron built in foldout stair made to let me climb to open some sort of door. I pulled it out using the round safe-door type handle, climbed up, but the door was locked.

“Don’t have the key.” The old man said. “There’s another way to the fifth floor.” He sounded unsure of himself but I followed his swift pace around to the bottom of a staircase that climbed through a space that got smaller as we went up, to a door that was 1/3 height and also locked. But I had a piece of flat metal and a Bobby pin I could bend, and a rudimentary experience of basic lock picking, and I got it open.

The old man and I were hip to hip as we shoved our top halves through the doorway. The other side was dark, so I pulled out my phone and set it to flashlight. To the right, the ceiling slanted down in two sections; eaves, flat wood surfaces painted a violet-tinged grey with white accents. On one end the floor opened up to a sharply dropping ramp that disappeared into shadow. At the time it struck me as a bad slide for a person to go down, but now I think it was a slide to move boxes from eaves storage to rooms below without having to carry them downstairs/through rooms. Like a dumbwaiter with the simplest of physical mechanics.

We turned our heads and my light to the left, and the ceilings rose to full height, picking out open doorways to very still rooms, objects and doorknobs thick with dust and some furniture draped with cloths. The old man crowed with delight. “You found it - The Cousins’ House! The house within a house!” We scrambled through and to our feet, and somehow I know this section was just that - a whole ‘nother house, attached and separated, from days long past when folks might come visiting for months at a time.

We explored here slowly, for this house was dark as midnight and even more maze like than the main house. I rounded a square pillar with piles of abandoned items around its base all dusted and cobwebby, and there was a hint of movement at the edge of the light. I moved closer - it was a doll, perhaps the size of a standing American Girl Doll, no taller than my knees as it stood there. It’s head moved, turning away, and a little-girl voice said something I do not now recall. My friends standing behind me (I do not know who, but they were there) were terrified, so I said, “oh look, a baaaaayby! Get the baby!” in a playful singsong voice. I stopped toward it to scoop up the doll, to show my friend it was perhaps a really good windup doll.

That is when the doll ran. That little girl voice was repeating,” don’t catch the baby!” While I chased it through the maze of rooms and halls, barely keeping it in my shaker flashlight, calling out, “catch the baaaayby!” My friends were yelling to stop, no, don’t try to catch it. Wet came back round to where they stood and I snatched the doll up, swaddling it in the blanket that was wrapped around it and cradling it in my arms to show my friends. It’s face was turned away.

“Who’s a baby?” I asked jovially, stroking the fringe of its bangs. My friends were relaxing now. The doll’s head swiveled to face me—

ABRUPTLY I was no longer in that place, that situation, those people. I was staring from very close up into the face of 90s era pixie-cut Winona Ryder. Her pale skin was glistening with moisture, her teeth perfectly white as she hissed, “Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people.” She took a deep breath, ragged, as if talking was an effort, and said it again. “Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people. Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. ” Over and over again she repeated it and slowly my view drew back like a camera pulling away she was still gasping and hissing it as I saw that she had no arms, rough-edges of flesh around wet pits where they had been pulled off. She wore nothing, she was in a bath, deep cuts down her body that was dappled with moisture - from sweat, from steam. There were long streaky tunnels of blood down her skin. Finally she could speak no longer, her head lolling in a deathless silent scream, the inside of her mouth blackened. Her legs were torn away the same way as her arms. The bath water was milky. When I was far enough away I could see a thick ruddy cephalopodean tentacle rising from the bath, lashing toward me.

I awoke. Full of What The Fuck?

[almalekcarpentry]

Hiding an electric box and a storage cabinet can be achieved in various creative ways, depending on your specific situation and preferences.

Here are some ideas: Electric Box:

1; Wall Art;

Use decorative wall art or decals to cover the electric box. Ensure that they can be easily removed for maintenance.

2; Furniture Placement:

Strategically place furniture like a tall bookshelf, a decorative screen, or a console table in front of the electric box to conceal it.

3; Hinged Artwork or Mirror:

Install a hinged artwork or mirror that can be swung open to access the electric box when needed.

4; Cabinet or Shutter Cover:

Install a small cabinet or shutter with hinges that can be opened when access to the electric box is required.

5; Floating Shelves:

Install floating shelves that can be arranged around the electric box, incorporating it into a display of books, plants, or decorative items. Covering an electric panel with a cabinet can be done, but it's important to ensure that you maintain safe and easy access to the panel for maintenance and emergencies.

Here's a step-by-step guide on how you might accomplish this:

1; Materials and Tools Needed:

Cabinet:

Choose a cabinet that fits the dimensions of the electric panel and complements your room's decor.

2; Safety Considerations:

Ensure the cabinet doesn't obstruct the electric panel's visibility and accessibility.The cabinet doors should open easily to allow quick access to the panel.

Do not permanently attach the cabinet to the wall or panel; it should be easily removable.

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For more details Call us at Tel:

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[kineenpt2]

Small little interaction between two OCs.

Warnings. Implications of Self Harm, NSFW

Peter huffed out a sigh, and ran his left hand through his hair, mixing the split red dye with his natural, dusty blonde. He leaned back in his gamer chair, the hinges screaming in protest at the sudden weight. His bare back stuck to the plastic in sweat, but he ignored the uncomfortable feeling and stretched his aching back.

He'd been playing this stupid video game for a while now. He lowered his deep green eyes to an LED clock to the right of his monitor. 2:34 am. He moves his eyes to his monitor, the LED keyboard flashes rainbow, his tower softly humming and also flashing rainbow.

He turned the game off, and opened a new browser, unsure of what to do now.

The game had pissed him off too much to play a different one. His friends were asleep. He stared at his Google opened for a few moments before leaning his back off the chair with a *sstck*. He sucks in a breath and adjusts himself in his chair, leaning forward on his elbows, his head in his palms.

Peter moved his mouse over to the Discord icon on his bookmark bar and waited for it to load. A new message from Dae. He scrunches his nose and purses his lips, knowing what was about to happen. He opened the message, reading through the rant his friend sent him. He read occasional words aloud, in his light voice. "Blah blah...Art is hard ..Lizz won't help...Check ou-" The image shocked him, that's for sure. He stopped reading the words and stared at the image.

Dae is sitting on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, his shoulder length black hair pulled into a ponytail. He's on his knees, leaning forward and putting his hands in between his thighs.

Peter's eyes widen, and he scoffs out a "Hm." before continuing to read the rant, trying his best to focus. Spoiler alert, he doesn't. He receives a new message from Dae.

"Oh...yeah I forgot about that, mb bro... Lol"

Peter slowly typed out a response, constantly having to go back and fix his mistakes.

It's cool, u up this late, why? also why do u have that?

"Idk, got it at a hot topic. oh hold on I also got something at Spencer's lol"

Peter chuckles and stretches his arms above his head, yawning and glancing at his clock again. 2:45am. He pushes his chair backwards, rolling it silently across the worn hardwood floor. He pulls his dark grey sweatpants up over his waist band and walks away from his computer, avoiding obstacles in his dark room. He flipped a lamp on as he walked by, and opened his door, twisting the handle slowly.

He yawned into his palm, stepping out into the dark hallway. He felt his way along the wall, until he reached the bathroom. He flicks the overhead light on, the room filled with a soft yellow light, a buzzing sound ricochets across the walls. Peter closes the door behind him, and leans forward over the sink, his face a foot away from the dusty mirror. His face is pale, but still blushed from his previous interaction. His cheeks have a small bit of acne, lining his cheekbones. His eyes have light bags under them, and a beauty mark under his right eye. His lips are soft and pink, cracked with constant abuse. He looks down at his sweatpants, a bulge still pressing through his pants. He clenches his teeth and uncomfortably fixes his boxers.

Peter opens the medicine cabinet and unwraps his left arm, wincing at the bandage sticking to his damp arm, the fresh pink slits on his arm widening at his flexing. He tosses the dirty bandages in the trash bin, and grabs the Hydrogen Peroxide. He sucks in a breath and pours the liquid over his cuts, clutching the edge of the sink. He sighs, wipes away the foam and wraps his arm with fresh bandage, tightening it at the wrist.

He opens the door, flipping the light off as he slides out of the bathroom. He walks toward the dim lighting coming from his room. He shuts the door, turns off the lamp, and returns to his desk. When he situates himself, he sees 4 new messages from Dae.

Warning, lol. open alone ;)

*3 attachments, marked in spoiler*

Peter raises an eyebrow, and clicks on the first image. Dae, bent over the bed with a large blue dildo beside him. The panties he was wearing before slid down to his knees now.

Peter's mouth drops and he clicks off the tab. He puts a hand on his mouth and chuckles, breathing in giggly breathes. Finally he returns to click the other images. Admittedly, ignoring the boner in his pants.

Disclaimer. This is just a work in progress, and is from a larger story.

[bipolar-type-2-confessions]

I think I told you this before in private but maybe it's interesting for your followers too, adding to the discussion. One of the things that helped me understand bipolar disorder better both as a psychology student and as someone who has bipolar (type 2) was my problem with cabinet doors. I routinely got in trouble with my mom over cabinet doors because I wouldn't close them in depressive episodes. The thing is I couldn't (and depressed me blamed herself for it of course). I'd tell myself "close the door" standing in front and my arms would just not budge. But one time in hypomania I almost ripped a cabinet door off its hinges when I just wanted to open it because I couldn't control my strength level. Another thing I have is that in depression I speak in a monotone voice but when I'm hypomanic i sound like a theatre actor because i have trouble controling the strength of my intonation. When it comes to impulsivity the dysregulation in bipolar has very much to do with how activated your nerves and muscles are. Focusing on psychological disorder like mood is very reductive.

It’s always great to listen to other peoples experiences out loud because it doesn’t always fit the ‘typical’ list of official symptoms and so many people already experience doubt and imposter syndrome over their own circumstances so it’s always comforting to know other people go through the same thing or something similar. You’re genuinely awesome and I’m just really grateful everytime you choose to share something with me.