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lundenloves · 2 years ago

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“ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ” ¹

≔ in which simon’s son enlists behind his back. ceramics are smashed, threats are thrown and feelings are hurt behind nonchalant expressions.

⤷ *return of the mac in the background* i wasn’t really sure which route to go down with this so i just blind wrote it. if you don’t agree with any of the following actions or words, keep it to yourself because i really do not care. it’s been a long hibernation, troops.

∷ warnings of abusive dynamics if you squint but mainly just unnerving silence and abrupt shouting | 2.3k

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Eight thirty.

Three hours into Simon’s habitually quiet morning routine with the rising sun pouring keenly through the kitchen window, and sparrows chirping a little too loud — the mail had slid through the door.

A modest fall of envelopes, taking each one with a crease between his brows after sifting through them, eyes glossing over each addressee while walking to the kitchen table with the stack. He liked it this way. He liked the known, finding a specific comfort in knowing that the mail would come on the same dot every, single, day.

Not that there was ever anything special. Only the usual, clubcard points, screwfix leaflets, disgusting bank statements and various military envelopes on his current pension plan. Christ.

He sat down, pulling a lip upward to disregard more than half of his own mail, tossing it to the counter behind him for the bin. “What a load of shit.” Came a grumble, kissing his teeth at the mere £3.40 discount he had received for spending over £300 in Tesco.

Though the pending sigh was lost for a singular stand out letter. One he seemed to still over, chest dipping in regret. Regret for nothing in particular, only a sinking feeling for the familiar Be The Best motto cast upon the right side of one envelope — different to his Who Dares Wins slogan. The envelope wasn’t for him.

The birds hadn’t paused their songs, an ambient morning now fuelling a slow anger. An inter boiling one, but for now simmering with long breaths. In and out. His shoulders broke inward with large palms leant on the counter, craning his neck side to side to release placebo tension.

The letter mocked him. A bit of paper that had permanently strained something, “Fucking hell, son.” He picked it up, flipping it backward to frontward as if the writing would change. As if his son's name would disappear from under the window of the envelope. Though it didn’t, and the paper was slid to the depth of the counter, prompting Simon to rub at his bottom lip.

It took three minutes of silence before he was being followed downstairs by his son. Few words exchanged, and surprisingly fewer questions. They both knew, and tension had already built, bringing Simon’s anger to a heavier simmer. The prior efforts of calmness were obliterated at the sight of the kitchen once more, the pad of his foot tapping against the vinyl flooring.

“What the fuck is this?” The letter was slid across the counter, branded and bred in the British military with the familiar crest proud in the top right. It looked sinful, like something exposing, illegal even. The boy's stare was one of tiredness, palms flat on the kitchen counter to stare down at the envelope on the oak.

Fatigue hadn’t quite left his eyes, squinted in the bright dawn. “What’s what?”

Though his words were met with silence and the birds chirping outside seemed wrong. The moment had forced a thicker, uglier tension into the room, and his son rounded the counter to pick up the letter. Brash and pasted, once again, in military branding.

His eyes fell to his father.

A picture of disappointment, veiled with frustration through a glare, one so strong it almost felt off-putting. Stress seemed evident via the way his hand had pushed toward the back of his neck, running upward and down the front of his face.

“What is it?” The same question, though this time quiet and sincere. His eyes had regrettably softened for all of two seconds before a leg had begun bouncing in compromise after taking a seat in pre-ceasefire.

“Nothing.” A teenage mumble.

Simon laughed dryly, shaking his head with a palm flat on the counter. “This.” He raised his hand, now only the tips of his fingers on the letter. “This isn’t nothing.” Eyes catching his mirror image, a lanky eighteen year old with next to no muscle. It was devastating, really.

“It’s just mail.”

“Open it.” A stern command, standing up and boring his eyes further into the boy before him. His height and build was much more significant, effectively towering over the six foot kid with all of his broadness.

“It’s none of your business, like.” The croaked words of a voice just woken were ones Simon raised brows at.

“Anything with that crest is my business.”

The similarities between his younger self and the boy before him was something Simon internally hated. He hated that his son had genetically taken not only his originally scrawny, defenceless build but also his raging attitude and temper issues. Dark eyes and accompanying circles, a rare smile and sigh of laughter.

Though not one bone had been broken in his body, his nose wasn’t squinted from various punches and his skin hadn’t been plagued by scars of battle. Something Simon could always draw a line between, though, he no longer held that power.

The kid begrudgingly opened the letter, hunching shoulders inward as if to shield it from his father. A congratulatory letter, one addressed to his name in bold letters with an offer to train at the military academy for a reserved cadetship upon completion.

The silence was loud.

Simon knew what it was before it had been opened. His fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, and rubbed at his temples. “Fucking hell mate.” A deep breath was taken, chest puffing out with the inhale. “Fuck sake.”

His son felt like a child again, small and inwardly anxious for his fathers reaction. Not that Simon was ever violent, not ever, but he was a different kind of frightening. Silent. He gave you the option to take whatever you’d wanted from his step back, though fiery eyes only pushed you down one slope. Anxiety and paired overthinking, it came as part and parcel of the Riley name.

“I was goin’t tell you.”

Another laugh escaped Simon, “At what point?” The side of his lip curved upward, though there was no real amusement. “Look at me.”

There was a scoff from his son in response, shaking his head with eyes locking back to the letter. Ink printed in gratification. “Nothin’ to do with you though is it?” The second part came as a mumble for the internal struggle to hold back aggression. Though it slipped through, naturally.

“What did I say? Fuckin’ hell.” Simon growled, taking the envelope from the boy and skim-reading it. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “The fifth, next month, yeah?” Eyes flicking to his son who had shrugged, slinking off behind Simon to look through cupboards in evident dismissal.

“Dunno–”

“You’re out.”

They had spoken in unison, each person cancelling the other out to create a bout of eye contact. “What?” The quirk in his lip was a giveaway of building frustration, eyes cast directly across his father who stood just taller than him. “I’m out?”

“You’re out the house.” Simon slid the letter across the counter in finality, “As soon as you leave for that camp. You’re gone.”

“What the fuck.”

“Big enough to enlist?” His tone was venomous, something his son was unable to contest. “Big enough to fucking leave.” The letter had been picked up by the kid, eyes skimming it over, eyes darting across the page while familiar anger had slowly built.

“Fuck off.” He mumbled, brows pulled together in a foul mix of annoyance and evident upset over his fathers’ dismissal. “Any other dad would be proud of that.” The letter dropped to his abdomen, two shaky hands still clutching to the torn envelope. “Not you though, yeah, not fuckin’ you. ‘Course not.”

There was a pause before a crash.

A split decision of anger, one Simon mirrored at that age. A raging feeling of internal emotion that was only alleviated in bursts of aggression and breakage - punching holes in doors or smashing dishware. There was never a safe space to feel, therefore it came out unwillingly.

For his son, it was a failing on his behalf as a father. That space was never created for lack of recovery had never allowed real estate.

Multiple ceramics flown off the counter with one hand swoop, “Such a cunt.” His chest heaved and Simon’s eyes bore into his. Solemnity follows each and every moment with an unnerving silence, though it wasn’t continued when aggravated palms had landed on his chest, a teenage attempt to express.

“Don’t.” A bark, complete with snarling and a metaphorical showing of canines. A hand caught the boy's forearm, an admittedly tighter than required grip. “Don’t you fucking dare.” And for a moment, he feared he sounded like his father.

Though he did dare.

A rebellion as it was.

Again, a heavy palm had landed on his fathers’ chest - uncaught and if any stronger than the age of eighteen would’ve at least budged Simon. And, god, did he sound like his father with the promise of violence, a grip on his son’s shirt to hold him against the wall at the action alone.

A huff of air fell through his nose, head tilted, “If you enlist and you have this attitude,” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, eyes fixed to the wall he held the boy against to speak just above his ear. “They’ll send you right fucking back.” Though his son no longer recognised dad. This was someone else, someone he was never to meet. “Show some fucking respect.” A tone orchestrated of octaves reserved for Ghost.

You had come down with the crash of ceramics, fully aware that Simon was in knowing of your presence by the way his grip had rid, stepping back with hands to his head. “What the fuck is going on?” You scowled at your husband who was already lighting a cigarette.

After a short inhale, “He’s enlisting.” The smoke tumbled from his lip that turned upward to accommodate a low but amused chuckle. “He’s enlisting, lovie. Our boy.” The cigarette was then pointed to the teenager. “He’s enlisting so he can run around with a fucking rifle, kill one or two people because it's what? It’s a laugh is it? A fucking game?” Though the words were intensely directed to you, waving the smoke around before taking another inhale and shaking his head.

“It’s not that serious, fucking-”

The words were cut off by a harsh slap of the counter and a rumble of a scold. “Not that serious?” It could only have woken the whole house and Simon ditched the cigarette to lift his shirt up, various scars and burn marks stretched across his front and back. “What's this? Eh?”

“Calm down.” You warned, or at least attempted to.

“Calm down? He’s going to get himself fucking killed.” A bite, one without intention of ceasing.

“You’re not dead.” The kid provided.

“I died years ago, son.” His eyes were naturally narrowed in their frustration, slow on the look-up, and shoulders tense through chest heaving. Up and down, and up and down.

The kid mirrored his fathers’ lost expressions.

“Right.” You then interrupted, placing delicate hands on the shoulders of your boy to steer him out of the room, letter still in his hands.

“Coddle him. Tell him he’ll be fine,” The smoke from the cigarette danced around his hand, lifted back upward for a long, slow inhale, eyes burnt to your back. “That the world is a safe place and he won’t get hurt.” His voice had lowered.

But there was a mutual understanding of the lie, that nothing was fine and he wasn’t going to come out unscathed. Mentally, if not physically.

It had bled into an argument between the two of you after, pointed fingers of accusation and bursts of tears had split from your eyes. His frustration turned into ready anger, then dismissal, refusing to believe the reality.

“What’s your fucking issue?” Was the question you had barked once downstairs, four words that seemed obvious in their asking though Simon still quirked a brow. “There’s no need. No fucking need at all for that.”

He shook his head, looking down at you over his cigarette while you swept up smashed ceramics. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” His voice low, cigarette mumbling the words with an inhale.

You dropped arms to your sides, pointedly tapping the foot of the brush against the floor. “Like I don’t know what?” The accompanied scowl was one Simon’s eyes darted back and forth from, looking away out the window before tipping his cigarette. “It’s something he wants.”

“He’s going to get himself killed.”

“Ever the fucking pessimist.”

“Once he leaves,” The cigarette was acting as punctuation, pointed toward the door in far gesture. “He’s out.” Tone unnervingly quiet. One that warned any other argument off, though not yours.

“Do me a favour, yeah?” You continued to sweep the ceramics. “Realise this isn’t about you.” Looking up at the way he had shifted in his stance, arm now crossed over his chest to tuck under his opposing armpit.

“Fuck—“ He laughed. “It’s not about me.”

“You just kick off immediately.”

“Hardly.”

“The fucking state of the floor, Simon.” You scorned, raising your voice to take his attention from the mindless cigarette smoking. “He’s your son. Treat him like it.”

“When he learns respect-”

“He doesn’t respect you for that fucking attitude. It’s a battle, let it go.”

His eyes met yours to stand down, ditching the cigarette before nodding absently. His silence was telling of an awful mood, one he would carry for the next few days if uninterrupted.

Tension grew thicker than a rope knot dramatically fast in the Riley household, and whether granted or not, there was only the one man to blame. Walking on eggshells whenever he would come home from a bad deployment was only fit to last so long, and you couldn’t change him.

But he didn’t want to change himself either.

≔ unedited, and the tags probably won’t work. this is all i got and i’ll slam my fist on an ikea desk, this. is. all. i. got.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon @loveangelic @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @hayleybarnesx

@bunthebunny23

song of the day (time of writing)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw fanfiction #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw3 #cod mwiii #call of duty #ghost call of duty #Spotify

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infectiouspiss · 6 months ago

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installed window vinyl to stop myself being blinded at night by the Light of the Holy ScrewFix which shines directly into my eyes while i sleep

#bishop.txt

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owlservice · 11 months ago

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geeoharee · 1 year ago

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I found where all the dust was in my computer that was making it overheat when I tried to play games (it was in the CPU fan)

Do not think you can just wipe things with alcohol wipes and call it done, apparently, you really must get canned air. I had to get some off Amazon, nowhere local had any. Well Screwfix did but they wanted twenty quid for it, inexplicably.

#care and feeding of a Real Live Desktop PC #you don't have to do this with phones

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socojes · 4 months ago

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Countersink Drill Bit#CountersinkDrillBit #ScrewFixation #DIYTools #WoodworkingEssentials #DrillingSolutions #HomeImprovement #ToolTips #CarpentryBasics #ConstructionTools #PrecisionDrilling

#Countersink Drill Bit #CountersinkDrillBit #ScrewFixation #DIYTools #WoodworkingEssentials #DrillingSolutions #HomeImprovement #ToolTips #CarpentryBasics #ConstructionTools #PrecisionDrilling

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modernistestates · 2 years ago

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Bedroom installation project

I've been meaning to write up about the bedroom insulation project for ages, but what with being away and also trying to move to a new studio I haven't found the time to finish the job. However, the bulk of it is done, and as I am away again over the next couple of weeks, I thought I'd summarise the installation process so far.

So for the people who haven't been following the highs and lows of it on my Instagram, over the last couple of months, I've been tackling the issue of a very cold and very small bedroom.

I live in a late 1970s building by Benson and Forsyth. It's a modestly sized one-bedroom flat, but what the architects did to make the space feel bigger is add a split level and give the majority of the space to the living areas and compromise on the size of the bedroom. This doesn't bother me at all, apart from a bed and some drawers, what else does a bedroom need? The room, essentially a little cube, juts out from the rest of the flat meaning there are three external walls, it's also partially sunk into the ground. Additionally, above the ceiling is the pedestrian deck, so again, no insulation. All this amounts to a very cold room.

When I first moved in 2015 I just kept the heating on in that room the whole time, but it just seemed ridiculous to heat a room that I wasn't in during the day. And then, during the pandemic, I noticed little mould spots all over my mattress and wall behind the bed. Gross. I had to do something about it. Properly.

Over the last couple of years I started researching different insulating materials, but because of the size of the room (it's about 2.5 x 2.5m) I really couldn't afford to lose any wall space with regular insulation. I then came across Spacetherm WL made by Proctor. There wasn't much written about it when I first discovered it, but I've since found a BBC article that you can read here.

This seemed ideal as it's only 13mm thick, and you can glue it directly onto the wall, plus you can do it yourself. You can download the installation guide here from their website, but here's what I learnt from the installation. I could have done some things better, so I hope you learn from my mistakes and this is useful.

First of all, if you can, clear EVERYTHING out of the room. I couldn't move my bed out and it was a pain to have to work around it, plus, the particles from the material are horrible. More on this later.

Step 1: it goes without saying, measure the walls and work out the amount of boards you need. I ordered them directly from Proctor. They were really helpful every time I emailed them with a question. The boards are 1200 x 600 mm, so are easy to handle for just one person. I'm no stranger to DIY I should say, but I do think most people could do this themselves. The boards are stuck on with Foam Glue, which I also ordered from Proctor. I underestimated the amount I needed but managed to get the same stuff from Screwfix.

Step 2: Get everything off the walls, obviously, including radiators. Obviously. I've done quite a bit of tiling in the past, so I treated this job in a similar way: I installed a batten at the bottom of the wall where I wanted the boards to sit and worked my way up with whole boards first. You need to spray the glue onto the furry side of the material in a zig-zag pattern. One thing to note is the thickness of the glue. Try and make this consistent otherwise it's difficult to get the adjacent boards flush (I had this issue, more on this later).

I haven't mentioned the material. Right. So essentially it's 10mm of Spacetherm aerogel insulation blanket — a weird feeling fibrous furry material, bonded to a 3mm Magnesium Oxide Board. I found it horrible to handle, and when I cut it, tiny tiny little fibres would end up everywhere, including my bed. They were like little tiny shards of glass. The instructions do say to wear PPE and seal the area you are working in if possible. I ended up having to cut it outside during the heatwave, so was wearing shorts — a mistake!

Step 3: Once all the full boards are in place, you need to measure and cut the boards to fill in the spaces. A friend lent me his Festool circular saw (thank you Huw), which as I mentioned I set up outside. He was worried about me damaging the blade, he needn't of worried, the material cuts very easily.

Step 4: So the gaps are now filled and all the walls are lined with the material. The instructions say you to tape and fill the gaps between the boards, prime it, paint it and you're done. Ha ha ha!! My advice is to ignore that. I could not get the boards to align next to each other completely perfectly. Unless you are really experienced, I don't think you will either, so in the end I decided to get them plastered. That meant ordering a different primer (at £100 a pop, ouch) and it delayed things by a week.

Step 5 and 6: Once the pot finally arrived, I was ready to go. I'd imagined a watery consistency which would take half an hour to do. But this stuff was weird. It's basically grit or sand, in a viscousy fluid which you have to paint on evenly with a paintbrush. So it took half a day, and the result — rough textured walls — reminded me of a Greek taverna. It stayed like this for a while until I managed to pin my plasterer down, who skimmed the whole thing last week.

Getting there.

Step 7: This weekend I managed to get three coats of paint onto the walls, and also get the furniture back in. I still need to sort out the skirting boards and repaint the woodwork, but the walls themself are done and are looking good! It really doesn't feel like it's eaten much into the space, which I was worried about. Of course, the proof will be when it starts getting cold, I'll be sure to update you on its effectiveness. Fingers crossed!

#journal

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lycomorpha · 2 months ago

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"Is this bad or are you trying to order a milkshake from Screwfix" might be my (UK-variant) response to dubious art criticism forever now. It's too perfect.

I feel like some people need to relearn Genre Expectations... "Man, this tragedy sucks!!! Why didn't they just do XYZ, then everything could have ended happily!!" well, then it wouldn't be a tragedy, would it. "Man, this lighthearted teen romcom is terrible, it's so sappy and unrealistic!!" Well, yeah. If it had been gritty and dark, it wouldn't have been a lighthearted romcom, would it. Is the writing actually bad or are you just trying to order a milkshake from a Home Depot

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calculatingislandwave · 1 month ago

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Making Use Of Screwfix Drain Unblocker: A Comprehensive Guide

Using Screwfix Drain Unblocker: A Comprehensive Overview

Before you proceed with cleaning that stubborn obstruction using Screwfix Drain Unblocker, there are vital steps you need to follow to ensure safety and security and performance. From protective gear to the proper application method, each information plays a crucial function while doing so. However what occurs next after pouring the Unblocker right into the drainpipe? Stay tuned to find the waiting time, the flushing procedure, and the necessary safety measures you should remember throughout the whole treatment.

Secret Takeaways Put on safety gear: handwear covers, goggles, old garments. Put directly right into stopped up drain gradually. Adhere to manufacturer's guidelines for appropriate amount. Wait for suggested time to dissolve obstruction. Flush completely with warm water after usage. Prep work Prior To Application

Wondering exactly how to prep prior to using Screwfix Drain Unblocker? Before beginning, make certain you have the essential protective gear and cleaning tools. Put on rubber handwear covers, security goggles, and old clothes to secure on your own from any type of splashes or spills. It's important to work in a well-ventilated location, so consider opening windows or using a follower.

Gather the cleaning tools you'll require, such as a plunger, drain snake, or wire brush, to get rid of any kind of debris or obstructions near the drain opening. Guarantee these tools are conveniently obtainable prior to you begin the application process.

In addition, consider eliminating any type of standing water in the sink or tub using a pail or cup to make the application a lot more efficient. By clearing out excess water, you allow the Screwfix Drainpipe Unblocker to work straight on the blockage without dilution.

With your protective equipment on and cleansing devices ready, you are now well-prepared to go on to the following step of using the Screwfix Drainpipe Unblocker.

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Application of Screwfix Drainpipe Unblocker

To effectively apply the Screwfix Drain Unblocker, ensure you put the recommended amount directly into the blocked drainpipe. Appropriate strategy is vital for ideal results. Gradually pour the Drainpipe Unblocker down the influenced drain, making sure it gets to the obstruction. Prevent sprinkling the product on yourself or bordering surface areas.

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Usual errors when applying the Screwfix Drainpipe Unblocker consist of pouring as well quickly, which can create spills and prevent the item from getting to the blockage properly. An additional error is making use of an inaccurate quantity of the remedy. It's essential to abide by the producer's guidelines regarding the amount to put down the drain to stay clear of wastage or insufficient therapy.

Waiting Time and Efficiency

After applying the Screwfix Drainpipe Unblocker, you need to wait for the advised duration to enable the product to efficiently liquify the clog. The waiting time can differ depending on the intensity of the clog and the particular guidelines supplied on the product tag. It is necessary to follow these guidelines to ensure the drainpipe unblocker works effectively.

When it concerns drain maintenance, using plumbing a chemical drainpipe unblocker like Screwfix can be efficient in removing tough obstructions quickly. Nonetheless, for finest regularity, it's reco

#Youtube

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