#carpet cleaning procedure

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[cipheramnesia]

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

Part 3: Inveterate Scars

The only sound in the corridors of Genghis Khan was the slow throb of a giant breathing. It was barely audible, always just below the floor or walls, nearly vibration alone at times. Sy thought it sounded a little like the rush of a monorail through a long tunnel, perhaps. Nothing echoed along its walls or wide empty corridors, his own voice barely came back, his running footsteps reduced to thuds. The silence was the same kind he remembered from university libraries, where every word slipped into racks of data cartridges or soft carpet, anywhere it could hide to escape notice.

The bloodstains on GK's floors were browning, but the pool on the bridge was still a darkening, sticky red. It reeked of sour copper, and he hadn't had time to clean. He felt like he'd been walking for hours, screaming at GK to show him medical supplies. He couldn't even remember what he said, what GK said. Most of the emergency kit was empty, discolored spaces where whatever passed for bandages or antibacterial cream had vanished over time, but he clutched several rolls of polyplast-like material and a few metallic tubes that sloshed.

"There is no certainty these materials are safe for Laika's use," GK advised, while Sy staggered his way through the floor switch into her room.

More blood, not as much as the bridge, but enough. Her skin almost seemed to have a blue tinge, terrifyingly pale compared to her usual brown and olive undertones. He dropped what he held and put his hand under her nose. Faint, still breathing. The cactus thorns and torn clothes he'd tried to pull her wound together with seemed to have held enough for the moment. Some of the rags were starting to soak through.

"How do I use these?"

"She appears stable. It may more prudent to avoid the potential aggravation of her injury rather than undertake the risk of incompatible medical procedures."

"She isn't stable, she's bleeding more than breathing. These," Sy waved the rolled sheets, "look like bandages. Are they bandages?"

"..."

"GK if you don't tell me what they are I'm gonna try and figure it out by myself."

"They do not- Your words do not describe them well. They are biologically static shell component. The fluid component will permit structural permeation without deterioration."

"This sounds a lot like a bandage."

"Her- Laika does not share a compatible structure with a Pilot. It may prove beneficial to her injury, or it may eject her soul from this shell, may it find a stronger shell one day."

"Well I think that's going to happen anyway if we don't try something."

"I am also attempting to locate assistance."

"What do you- Nevermind. Show me how to use the thingy."

"Biologically static shell component. You will need to activate it with biologic matter to prime the component to the recipient structure."

Sy stuck his hand in Laika's blood and smeared the bandage. "Please don't die yet," he said. "You can't leave me alone with GK." He took a deep breath and began to unwind the bandages.

In the ever expanding void of space, and interlace of structure and system, Genghis Khan reached in its own way for help, hungry and waiting.

[ummmlife]

realistic nanami's d analysis

warnings! ; nsfw (kinda) , headcanons (obviously) ; educational 🤓☝️

as a nanamin simp i've been reading and hearing about nanami's 9 inches manhood all over the internet and, honestly?, that doesn't sound accurate to me

something that happens to people who like nanami a lot is that they portrait him like a white man and, consciously or unconsciously, i feel that the 9 inch thing has been motivated by that current of thoughts

that's why i've decided to make a long research about the male genitalia comparing the average sizes all over the world, asia and finally, japan

of course, i did not give him a micro penis, but please don't expect the king cobra between this man's legs

i stress again the fact that this is my opinion and if you don't agree... well, there's not much i can do about it :)

context ;

for us humans, diversity comes in different styles of things, perhaps no topic elicits as much curiosity, speculation, and even anxiety as the dimensions of the male reproductive organ: the penis. from ancient myths to contemporary media portrayals, societal fascination with penile size permeates cultural narratives worldwide. however, amidst the myriad myths and misconceptions lies a scientific inquiry into the fascinating variations of penile size across different populations and ethnicities.

so, repeat after me: not every hot man has a 9 inches long d– / jk

in a comprehensive analysis conducted in 2020, researchers examined studies on penis size and determined that the typical length of an erect penis ranges from approximately 12.9 cm( 5.1 inches) to 13.9 cm (5.5 inches.) They suggested that the actual average tends to lean towards the lower end of this spectrum. (King, 2020)¹.

Another study indicated that the length for a flaccid penis was 9.16 cm (3.61 inches). (Veale et al., 2015)².

and that is what i’m basing my analysis (headcanons) on.

let's take a look on this chart (of dubious origin):

in this one we can see and compare the different sizes of the male reproductive system in different countries. if we look at it, japan has an average of 13.56 cm (5.3 inches).

investigating more in detail the male population, i managed to find that the average penis size in japan is about: 13.56 centimeters (5.33 inches), with a diameter of 3.53 cm (1.39 inches) at the head and 3.19 cm (1.25 inches) at the shaft when it's erect. (日本人の平均ペニスサイズが明らかに! | TENGA FITTING(テンガフィッティング), n.d.)³

knowing all of this, let's get into the heart of the matter that concerns us today.

his size ;

i'm using using this essay for a reference (since my humble self does not own a peewee) (男性器の大きさについて|大東製薬工業株式会社, n.d.)⁴.

to keep it simple:

erected :

length; 13.73 cm (5.4 inches) ~ 15.37 cm (6 inches)

girth; 11.73 cm (4.6 inches) ~ 12.73 cm (5 inches)

flaccid :

length; 9.73 cm (3.8 inches)

girth; 9.37 cm (3.6 inches)

the shape ;

i imagine it with a base a bit wider than the head (it gives fat dick ohohoho) and slightly curved up, the foreskin is still there and the skin is more pigmented there (#967a68). i can imagine a notorious vein coming from the base to the tip from below. his glans is paler than the shaft (#aa8483) and when it gets stimulated it turns into a #c96c60 shade.

nuts! ;

how do i say this?

they look heavy, somehow. also notoriously asymmetrical, the left one hangs lower.

is the carpet matching the curtains? ;

no, and this is my personal headcanon since I like the idea of ​​kento bleaching his hair since high school, from dark brown to his blonde tone he all see now. but if you don't think the same, it's alright, it doesn't affect anything.

he's hairy, everywhere, yes i'm also talking about his butthole!!

but he like to keep the hair trimmed and nice, not a crazy jungle of hair, since he also like to keep his face clean. it is a routine procedure that he does once every one or two months, always using an electric shaver.

so if you plan to give him head (or eat his ass, idk and idc), please expect to feel his pubic hair tickling your nose

+ his buns ;

his glorious glutes are made of 90% pure muscle, it also look squared shaped.

amazing, wow.

sources ↓

anyway, you don't have to take everything i wrote literally or personally, nanami is a fictional character and it doesn't really matter what his penis should or could look like. if you imagine him differently, great, i do too lol, my brain is never going to imagine him with some exact measurements or shape

hope you enjoyed my little essay on nanaken's penis :) it's the first time in my life that i talk so much about cocks lol

bibliography ;

1. King, B. M. (2020). Average-Size Erect Penis: Fiction, Fact, and the need for Counseling. Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy, 47(1), 80–89. https://doi.org/10.1080/0092623x.2020.1787279

2. Veale, D., Miles, S., Bramley, S., Muir, G., & Hodsoll, J. (2015). Am I normal? A systematic review and construction of nomograms for flaccid and erect penis length and circumference in up to 15 521 men. BJU International, 115(6), 978–986. https://doi.org/10.1111/bju.13010

3. 日本人の平均ペニスサイズが明らかに! | TENGA FITTING(テンガフィッティング). (n.d.). 日本人の平均ペニスサイズが明らかに！ | TENGA FITTING（テンガフィッティング）. https://www.tenga.co.jp/special/fitting2012/

4. 男性器の大きさについて|大東製薬工業株式会社. (n.d.). Copyright (C) 2015 更年期障害・勃起不全・早漏のOTC医薬品は大東製薬工 All Rights Reserved. https://daito-p.co.jp/essay/penil_size.html

[astragreenwoode]

♡Treasure (Adventure Time Petrigrof AU)♡ PT 4/?

(A/N: Part 4. We're getting into heavy angst territory, so be prepared. Sorry to put you guys through heartbreak.

If you are sensitive to themes such as child loss/miscarriage, suicidal ideation, extreme grief, and hospitals, either proceed with caution or feel free to avoid this part altogether. Remember to look out for yourselves.)

♡ My AU where pretty much everything is the same as in canon except Betty is unknowingly pregnant with her and Simon's daughter when she jumps through the portal.

Italics - A/N

Slashed Text - NSFW

Bold Text - Sensitive Topics

A Bump in the Road

♡ When they got to the Emergency Room, the nurses immediately wheeled Betty to an examination room once they saw the trail of blood behind her and Simon. But they needed him to stay behind. They needed help from the hospital security to practically pry them away from each other so they could treat her.

♡ After an hour of waiting when Betty was finally stabilized, Dr. Olson, came out to give Simon the bad news; Betty experienced a late miscarriage. But during their treatment, they had to strap her down to the bed and give her a sedative so she wouldn’t worsen her injuries.

♡ Betty’s situation was time-sensitive. She was in danger of getting an infection, so after updating Simon, Dr. Olson performed a surgical evacuation immediately.

♡ "Princess, we can have another baby. But I can't have another you."

♡ Given Betty’s medical history, a recorded suicide attempt when she was 13 years old, and how she was so distressed that they had to sedate and restrain her, Dr. Olson put her on Suicide Watch, just to be on the safe side.

♡ Up until this point, Simon didn’t know her struggles with her mental health were this severe.

♡ In the meantime, he called Betty’s mother and told her what was happening. She was at the hospital within five minutes.

♡ Alice Grof had trouble warming up to Simon from the beginning. She never liked how he stopped Betty from going on that trip to the Outback. But her daughter was happy, and that’s what mattered the most. And while their relationship wasn’t the warmest, they respected each other. She comforted Simon whilst Betty was still in surgery.

♡ Betty recovers in the hospital for five more days, drained both physically and emotionally. When she first wakes up following the procedure, she’s unresponsive, almost catatonic, and withdrawn from reality to process all the trauma of the whole situation. Simon and Alice make sure she’s never by herself during those five days.

♡ Alice stays with her daughter one day so that Simon can go to their apartment and bring some of Betty’s stuff to the hospital to help her not be as anxious during her stay.

♡ The day before they were ready to go back home, Alice offered to tidy the place up so Betty could recover in a clutter and stress-free environment. She cleaned the blood off their sheets and carpet, made everything neat, stocked their fridge and pantries with food, and made sure their bathroom had the necessary medical supplies to help the healing process. She also hid all items related to their lost baby in a trunk in their hall closet, out of sight, and waiting for whenever Simon and Betty were ready to try again.

♡ When they came back home, they took three weeks off of work so they could mourn their loss together.

♡ Betty returns to taking all her regular antidepressants and antipsychotics. They stabilize her mood and help keep her focused and ‘normal’ when she returns to work, but she’s still numb and withdrawn for a while.

♡ She visits with her mom more frequently, going over to her and her partner Suzanne’s house once a week. The visits help her in her grief.

♡ When Betty started getting her period again, her heart shattered all over again. Simon asked her mother to come over for a few days. 

♡ Proceeding with caution, Simon asks her about what he discovered in the hospital. He wants to understand her past struggles with her mental health; the suicidal ideation in her childhood, the self-harm tendencies, the OCD, the ADHD, the bipolar disorder she inherited from her mother, her past of pain, all of it. He wants to know so he can fully understand how to help her if she spirals again in the future. 

♡ It’s hard for her to open up about that.

♡ Betty avoids intimate and vulnerable situations with Simon for a while. He doesn’t mind at all and is willing to wait as long as she needs. The farthest she’s willing to go is cuddling with him in her underwear. Two months after coming back from the hospital, they graduate to taking showers together again.

♡ At night, Betty still holds Simon’s hand to her stomach as they sleep in bed.

♡ She can still feel their baby kicking from time to time, like experiencing phantom pain after losing a limb.

♡ In an effort to help Betty heal and get back to her old self, Simon surprises her by taking her on a two-week vacation to Ireland; Betty’s dream trip.

♡ A week into the trip, they retire to their suite early after having dinner at the hotel restaurant along with a bottle of wine. And for the first time since their loss, Betty lets Simon all the way in. That night, they unknowingly conceive their future daughter.

♡ The day before they fly back home to Seattle, Simon proposes. Betty says ‘yes.’ And after three months of sitting with their heartbreak, they feel hopeful for what the future might bring them again.

♡ Two months into their engagement, Simon embarks on a solo journey to follow up on a lead for an especially rare artifact.

♡ We all know what happens from here; what was meant as an innocent and playful gesture sparked earth-shattering consequences.

♡ Betty is absolutely petrified by her fiancee’s abrupt personality switch once he puts on the mysterious crown. That wasn't her Simon. So, when a portal to the future opens showing her the fiancee she knew and loved, she doesn’t think twice before she impulsively jumps through a thousand years and into the land of Ooo.

♡ She's blissfully unaware that she didn't jump through that portal alone.

Reblog, follow me, and come back for Part 5!

[revnah1406]

Mason’s Legacy -

Chapter 4: Cold

WARNING: References to torture and violence. Non-accurate medical procedures.

<- previous chapter Next chapter ->

___________

The clouds were beginning to separate, leaving a path for that dark blue sky, which was beginning to lighten thanks to the first rays of sun that were peeking over the horizon, even so, despite the fact that the clouds were beginning to leave, they still dropped small and delicate snowflakes that slowly descended until they accumulated on the ground, they fell so slowly that they looked like particles suspended in the air.

It was the first moments of the morning, it looked as if a blue blanket covered everything, as if someone had put a blue filter in front of your eyes. The atmosphere was cold and very silent. The only thing that could be heard was the howling wind among the remains of a battle already finished hours ago. The silence after the storm.

Clouds of cold condensation sped from Delta's nostrils and mouth. The dog was panting, sticking its tongue out as a sign of exhaustion, it had gone through the place over and over again, looking for its good friend, it was sniffing the floor of the corridors, the carpet, the rooms, the presidential table... looking for a little trace of the young woman's scent. The dog whined sadly, frustrated at finding nothing but trails that led nowhere. So it marched off again with the others.

When Delta found them, it put its head under David's arm. Looking for consolation

 The man was kneeling in front of the corpse of a bearded soldier. David stroked between the dog's ears, but his eyes were on the corpse, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

This was all his fault... he should have listened to his daughter... not parted... He tried to keep her safe, and the only result he got was the opposite. He was willing to sacrifice himself, hell broke loose on the White House a second time that night after Cordis Die, but he had seen hell many times before. The hell that he now feared burned inside his chest... Guilt, regret, sadness, frustration, pain... The same feeling he had with his father, with his wife, with Woods and now Abby.

He hammered himself with the same sentence over and over again as the lump in his throat tightened more and more until it strangled his heart until it broke.

If only…

The dog nuzzled David's cheek, sniffing in concern. Delta managed to get the man out of his thoughts for a few seconds. David smiled sadly and nuzzled behind the German Shepherd's ears again.

“Sorry buddy…Abby's not here…” David sounded like he was broken inside it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to Delta. He looked around, all the corpses of soldiers lying and strewn across the floor of the Oval Office, blood staining the carpet, each with their respective pool of blood. In a way, his heart felt relieved not to see her daughter's body among those of the soldiers, maybe he wouldn't be able to bear it.

“They were killed with a clean shot to the head… They must have been taken by surprise.” Harper was pacing the scene, knocking over a soldier with his foot. “Some have blast burns”

David got up, walked to the table where he had left Abby's things there, which he had previously collected from the room where they stayed that night, or at least, what little was left of that room. He took the jean jacket between his fingers and stroked the fabric with his thumbs. The clothes still had the scent of his daughter, the smell caused cracks in the man's heart and increased the feeling of guilt.

"Maybe they managed to run away." David mentioned trying to find some possibility that would give him hope.

Harper pursed his lips and shook his head slowly.

“The emergency convoy is still in the same place, they have blown it up.” Harper explained with a pained expression. He sighed through his nose and swallowed hard. “Hyenas are practically mercenaries, they were after the president and they probably took Abby too…they thought she might be of value. Maybe they thought she was the daughter of someone important."

David turned to his friend.

"So she's alive"

Harper was looking at his best friend with a defeated expression. He had given up hope of finding the young woman alive.

“Dave… I've seen those guys in action. I've seen what they do to their prisoners…" Harper pursed his lips and looked away. "And for all the love I have for Abby…I just hope they were quick with her…”

David looked down again at his daughter's belongings. Maybe Harper was right, better to be shot between the eyes than not be strapped to a chair for days. He stroked the jacket one last time before carefully folding it and putting it in Abby's backpack.

Harper sighed again. “There's a Wolves settlement on the other side of Washington, the few remaining renegades will have gone there. I will make a statement to the rest of the cities. We will locate the safe houses and bases of operations of the Hyenas”

Dave didn't need to hear anything else, he grabbed the backpack and the rifle. Harper stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“If we do this… If we take down every location of these motherfuckers door to door… We could put the lives of the President and Abby at risk. If they are still alive"

"I'll find her," he stated. "It doesn't matter if I have to pick up every bit of her." He slung the backpack over his shoulder. “I don't give a shit if I have to go across the country just to bury her. But I'm not going to sit idly by."

________________

Abby watched the scene before her with a strange tranquility. Like a perfectly performed play, so much so that it seemed almost real. Mom cooked that delicious stew that she only prepared when dad came home after a long time. She stirred the ingredients inside the pot in a rhythmic, circular motion as she tilted her head letting David kiss her cheek gently. Holding her from behind, rocking her body from side to side gently, almost like a slow dance moved by love.

“Don't ever say 'I told you',” Abby mumbled.

"You know I'm right." Woods responded by appearing at her side, as always dragging his wheelchair with him.

Abby laughed bitterly and shook her head.

“You are just an interpretation of my subconscious. I don't even understand why my head chose you…”

"If I'm just your subconscious, why didn't you listen to yourself?" Woods answered looking at the young woman.

"I tried"

"you didn't try hard enough"

David made his wife turn around so that she was now looking into his eyes. Alice laughed, rubbing off on David. They kissed tenderly, as if everything was fine, as if the rest of the world didn't matter at all.

“I don't even know if Dad's alive…” Abby murmured sadly, looking at the loving couple.

"Do you think he's dead?" Woods asked, looking in the same direction.

"Well... Now he appears in my dreams together with mom"

"Not everyone who appears in dreams is a ghost from the past that comes to torture you, Abs."

Abby gave a small smile but didn't say anything. They were both silent for a moment.

"Now you know what to do, right kid?"

Abby sighed shakily and nodded unconvinced.

"I don’t want to wake up…"

"You have to, you can't stay here all fucking day." Frank chuckled, teasing and trying to take the fear out of the girl's eyes.

But Abby didn't seem fazed.

"I'm afraid of what might happen to me... I don't even know where I am or what happened to me, Woods"

The old man sighed and put his hand on her knee.

“I know it's scary, but you have to face it on your own. You’re smart and stronger than you think. I will wait for you here."

A bucket of frozen water hit Abby square in the face. She woke up with a start, coughing and gasping for breath from the sudden rush of water through her nostrils. Her eyes were wide open, without even blinking she looked in all directions in panic, trying to recognize where she was, her mind was going so fast that she wasn’t even unable to process what her eyes saw.

"I see we're all awake!" The voice of an unknown man made Abby turn her head in his direction. "Perfect, we can start then"

Abby watched the man without even blinking yet, still trying to catch her breath and breath. The man had manic eyes, wide open and the pupils so dilated that you could hardly see the clear blue of his eyes. Gunpowder, dust, and dried blood stained his skin. From the way he moved, Abby deduced that the blood wasn't his, he didn't seem hurt.

Abby looked at her wrists, they were tied tightly to the arms of the chair she was sitting on, her ankles seemed to be in the same situation. The wire cut into her skin and circulation. She would try to move her hands to pump blood to her fingertips but it only made the sensation worse.

"We started the introductions without you. I hope you don't mind. You didn't seem to want to wake up, luckily we fixed that problem, right?" The strange good humor of that man gave the young girl goosebumps.

That subject walked around the room without any concern. Gesturing with his hands in a theatrical way.

Abby stopped looking at the man and took in who was in front of her. Bosworth was in the same situation as her. Tied hand and foot to a chair. The president had her head down. She had been beaten, perhaps tortured. Abby wasn't sure how long they had been here and how long the president had been through. Abby felt the dried blood on her forehead, perhaps from when she was hit in the head, she wasn't able to tell how long she had been unconscious.

She looked around, trying to recognize the place, perhaps planning an escape route. It was a large room, with no windows, only a small old light bulb hung from the ceiling and swayed, threatening to fall at any moment. Apart from the chairs and tables, the furniture was somewhat strange, there was a workbench with strange tools neatly arranged on them. But what caught her attention the most were the huge number of computers and screens that illuminated more than the sad bulb hanging from the ceiling. It looked like an old media room, with radios and microphones scattered across the tables. Abby cursed in her thoughts. She had to find a way to get out of there. Her eyes fell on a small pair of pliers that were lying on the ground a short distance from where she was, perhaps if she managed to pick them up... She gritted her teeth in anguish, but when she applied pressure with her jaw she realized that the USB drive was still there. . She had hidden it inside her cheeks as a desperate measure. She was very surprised that she hadn't lost it in her sleep time.

Suddenly someone yanked her hair back.

 "I like people to listen to me while I speak, you rude brat" the man's voice appeared very close to her ear.

Abby grunted in pain, but said nothing. She knew that if she spoke they would realize that he was hiding something.

The man was going to speak again but suddenly the metal door behind Abby opened. A pair of heavy boots were heard.

A second man entered the room, took it easy, and walked with slow steps. The man with the manic eyes was still gripping Abby's short hair, not letting her turn her head. What she could see was the president's face darken, her expression changed completely. A mixture of anger and fear crossed her face.

When the man appeared in the periphery of Abby's eyes, she caught a glimpse of the new arrival. Abby found it both curious and intimidating to look at. He was a tall man, middle-aged, with broad shoulders and a broad back. He was dressed in black, several dog tags dangling from his neck, jangling with every step he took. His head was covered by a hood and part of his face was hidden by a black gas mask. Abby swallowed as the man looked into her eyes. His left eye was white, he seemed to be blind, a vertical scar crossed his eye, it seemed that he had suffered damage.

The man didn’t take his eyes off the young woman at any time, nor did Abby. They started a staring contest without saying a word.

"What is this?"

Abby was surprised by the Russian accent that flowed over the consonants of the words. It made him briefly remember the man with the eyepatch whom he had bumped into at the White House a few hours ago. 

Were they related?

"This…" The man tugged at Abby's hair some more, causing her to growl, "it's truth serum, sir."

The man with the white eye analyzed the young woman for a few seconds. Abby didn't blink and didn't look away. She knew that if she showed even a hint of weakness, she would be doomed.

To her surprise, the man was the first to look away. "Make it quick, Varl…" The man left the room without saying anything else. Then two more men came in, looking as big as a wardrobe. They wore the Hyena insignia on their jackets.

The man named Varl finally released Abby's hair. She was able to breathe in relief for a few seconds and then look up and look at that man with hatred. It was clear that he was the leader of the Hyenas, getting rid of him was going to be a difficult task, maybe escaping from that place was going to be a worse task.

Varl walked up to the president and smiled cynically again. The two Hyenas got on each side of the chair where Abby was. She looked at them with little confidence. One of them took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, took one out and put it between his lips. The gorilla lit his cigarette and took a couple of puffs.

"I think we all know the rules of this." He began to say, "You tell us what we want to hear, and no one will get hurt."

Bosworth frowned, she wasn't going to show weakness either. "Now you can torture me all you want, I'm not going to tell you anything."

Varl chuckled and shook his head.

"No no no… I don't think you've understood it yet, Madame President… It's not you we're going to hurt."

The Hyena stubbed out the cigarette on Abby's arm. The touch triggered painful spasms. It burned her skin, the faint smell of burnt meat and tobacco filling her nostrils. Abby grunted in pain, but she didn’t scream. No, she couldn't open her mouth.

Bosworth's eyes widened in fright. She wasn’t going to be the one who would pay the consequences of her silence. 

"Let's see how much your clear conscience can take." Varl muttered in a cynical, almost sadistic tone. "The USB. Where is it?"

Bosworth watched Abby for a few moments, who was trying to recover. The young woman began to sweat and pant. The president closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

"I'm not going to tell you…"

Varl looked at the ceiling and sighed. "Very good. Let's start again" And without thinking twice, he turned and punched Abby's face hard. Abby's head jerked around from the blow, her cheek burning inside, the cigarette burn on her arm stinging.

Bosworth unconsciously tried to get up from the sudden punch. As if she wanted to stop him but the wires held her to the chair.

Abby had to go over all her teeth with her tongue. It seemed to her a miracle that she hadn't lost any. She was grateful that the punch wasn’t on the cheek where she hid the USB. It would have been so much worse.

"I'm sorry…" Bosworth tried to apologize. Guilt was beginning to build inside her. She had gotten Abby into this. And now the youngest suffered the consequences. But she couldn't say anything. She couldn't tell where the USB was located. What was more important? The life of a single girl? Or the fate of the world?

"Apologizing won't fix anything…" Varl walked to the workbench and began fiddling with the strange tools and objects. "Those are empty and hypocritical words… So I'll repeat it one more time. Where is the USB drive?"

They all looked at Bosworth. Waiting for an answer, but she just looked away and closed her eyes. Abby sighed through her nose. Shit… this was going to be long…

Varl looked at the ground and then at Abby. He grabbed a tool and approached her.

"Itis not personal."

_________

Abby was tired, her head down, her eyes on her lap. Watching as the blood dripped from her nose and mouth to stain her shirt and pants. But that didn't matter, the clothes had already been stained with blood for hours. The right arm looked like a mosaic or perhaps an abstract painting with the numerous small cigarette burns, all in a circular shape with a dark red hue. Her fingers were numb, the absence of a couple of nails had been bothering her for a while. Abby was sure she had a couple of cracked ribs at the very least, one of the hyenas had been having fun with the iron fist.

But the USB was still hidden. She didn't scream, she didn't open her mouth at any time, she just grunted in pain and clenched her teeth. She doubted the state of the device was the best, but at least they hadn't found it yet.

She was exhausted, she just wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to go home with her mother… with Woods… She wanted to talk to him, maybe he would know what to do in these situations. Abby was sure old Frank had been through something similar. She also wanted to go back to David, she wanted to continue her trip to Alaska. Abby was beginning to dissociate, perhaps as a defense mechanism or simply because she wanted this all to end once and for all, of one result or another..

Varl's clicking of his tongue as he massaged his sore knuckles brought Abby slightly out of her thoughts.

"You are a very persistent kid, I must admit that." The man cracked his neck and looked at Bosworth "and you have a heart so much worse than mine. All this…" Varl jerked a thumb at Abby "It's your fault. If you had told us where the USB is this wouldn't have happened." ."

Bosworth knew she couldn't make amends. She couldn't repair the damage that had been done to Abby, but she had made up her mind.

Varl sighed as he received no response from the woman. "Okay…we're running out of time Madame President. Maybe we need to cut the bullshit and put the games aside." and with a simple nod of his head to one of his men, a wire wrapped around Abby's neck and he squeezed with all his might.

"NO!" Bosworth was startled.

"Yeah! This is what happens when you make decisions, Madame President!" Varl exclaimed. He had succeeded in making the woman falter. He had her where he wanted her.

The oxygen flow was cut off for Abby. Suddenly she stopped breathing. The pressure of the wire cut the skin on her neck, squeezed her arteries, and strangled her throat. Abby wriggled as she could trying to get free, fighting as hard as her body would allow. She wanted to open her mouth to cough, to try to catch a breath of air that she knew would never come. But she didn't open her mouth, no, she kept it shut the whole time. High, hoarse growls escaped from between her teeth. Like an animal in a pure state of hysteria.

"Enough! She has nothing to do with this!"

"I've already told you countless times!" Varl grabbed Bosworth's jaw and glared at her with wild eyes. “This is all your fault! WHERE IS THE USB?!”

Bosworth's eyes filled with panic and fear. My God, Abby had a lot to live for, she was still young. What she was doing? She was witnessing an innocent person's life being taken away. Varl was right, it was all her fault. She shouldn't have brought her into all this.

"WHERE?!"

"OK! I'll tell you! Now let go!"

"Not until you tell me where it is."

“It's in the White House! Under the floor of the Oval Office, right where the presidential table is!

Varl smiled. "You see? It wasn't that difficult…” With a wave of his hand, Varl ordered the Hyena to stop. The man removed the wire, freeing Abby's neck. She took a huge breath in. Abby struggled and struggled, but ended up coughing loudly. The USB didn't take any longer inside Abby's cheek. On the last cough the device fell into Abby's lap.

Fuck…

A tense silence filled the room. Everyone was looking at the small USB drive. Abby didn’t dare look up. Her eyes were riveted on her death warrant, which now rested in her lap, smeared with blood and saliva.

Varl approached the young woman slowly, with a strange tranquility. Maybe because he hadn't come out of surprise either. He slowly picked up the small USB and looked at it for a few seconds, as if he had found the most valuable object in history. Then he moved his wide eyes to the president, who had a face full of surprise and panic. They were screwed...

"I'm sorry…" Abby muttered so weakly and still trying to catch her breath that she doubted anyone had heard her.

Varl walked up to the president and tilted his head slightly, unblinking, maintaining that psycho look. "You lied to me".

Before Bosworth could defend herself, Varl pulled the gun from his waistband and pulled the trigger. The shot made Abby jump in fear. The chair where the president was fell backwards, the woman with a hole between her eyes.

Abby saw the now lifeless body of the president. Her breathing was shaky, they had just killed the last governor of the United States of America in front of her eyes. That was cruel proof that no matter how powerful you were, you were just as fragile as everyone else. We are human, we die like any other animal. We are not immortal. 

Poor Abby didn't have much time to process the situation, by the time she looked up the barrel of the gun was pointing at her.

The muzzle of the gun came between her eyes, Varl's smile showing almost maniacal amusement. Madness burned in his irises like a forest fire in August. But she showed no fear, lifting her chin and not taking her gaze from him. She was terrified, but she wasn't going to give him the luxury of enjoying it. If she was going to die, at least she was looking into the eyes of her tormentor.

They spent a few seconds looking into each other's eyes, Abby waiting for the shot and Varl looking for a glimpse of fear. But neither of those things happened. Varl's smile stretched to the side.

"No, with you it won't be that fast." And without warning, he deflected the gun toward Abby's abdomen and fired.

A gasp caught in Abby's throat and her body jerked forward from the impact. But Varl didn't let her, he grabbed her hair again and made her look into his eyes.

"You and I are going to have some fun one last time."

And with a jolt he knocked the chair and Abby to the side, crashing to the floor.

"Should we report sir?" One of the Hyenas asked his boss.

Varl took a deep breath, as if he had finished a job well done, he put the USB on the table next to the main screen. "I'll do it. You take care of contacting Verdansk, inform the rest that the loose end has been tied up.” The man nodded determinedly and left the room.

Abby had her cheek pressed against the floor, she was still tied to the chair, she had no way to get up. The bullet wound was beginning to bleed slowly, staining what little was left of her bloodless clothing. shit, shit, shit…! She was screwed, she had to break free and stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Suddenly her eyes fell on the small pliers she found earlier on the floor, if only she could free one arm to grab them...

“You start processing the information from the USB, transfer it to the central computer and send it to the rest. We will be able to continue with the above procedures once the data is recovered.” Varl ordered the second Hyena.

"And what about the kid?" the man asked.

Varl looked at her for a few seconds and smiled "Leave her there, then we'll take care of her, in the purest style of the Hyenas."

Abby completely ignored the conversation between the two men. She had found a way out, and she was not going to give up. Not while she was still breathing.

Varl ended up leaving the room, perhaps ready to report his success to his one-eyed, hooded superior. Leaving Abby alone with that man. The hyena ignored the young woman, grabbed the USB drive and headed for the mainframe computer to process the data inside the device, turning his back on Abby.

That was the perfect moment, Abby began to pull on one of her arms with all the strength she had left. The wires were beginning to cut off the circulation in her wrist, the pressure of the ties was very painful. But Abby didn't care, using every last drop of adrenaline she had left, she pulled and pulled.

C'mon C'mon…

Until the thumb of her hand was dislocated, leaving it in a strange position. Thanks to that, Abby was able to free her hand from the wire that kept it tied to the armrest of the chair. She reached out and managed to grab the pliers. With her remaining useful fingers she managed to use the pliers to cut the wire that was holding the other hand. Without giving it much thought, she put the handle of the pliers between her teeth so as not to make a sound and put her thumb back in place. She channeled the pain into clenching her teeth instead of screaming, letting a tear roll down her dirty cheek. Abby had to admit that her nervous system was numb from adrenaline and fear, yet she felt like she felt nothing and everything at the same time.

She checked that the guard hadn't turned around, the man was still looking at the screen so she continued cutting the wires that tied her ankles. Finally able to push that damn chair out of the way, she dragged herself noiselessly away from it. Her back and ribs complained with every little movement Abby made, but she ignored it. She had to deal with that hyena as soon as possible. So she slowly got up from the ground and grabbed a scalpel that was on the work table along with the rest of the torture tools. Staggering like a newborn deer calf, she slowly approached the man. Trying not to lose her balance, holding on to the furniture with one hand and grabbing the knife with the other.

At that moment she was not afraid to use a knife as she had been on other occasions. Adrenaline pumped blood hard into the hand that held the weapon so it wouldn't falter at the moment of truth. Abby held her breath as if afraid she would give her away, until she was within a safe and appropriate distance. She did not hesitate, at the moment when the Hyena noticed a presence behind him and made a move to turn his head, Abby jumped on top of him, stabbing the scalpel tirelessly into the side of the neck, stabbing the artery, the esophagus and any piece of meat found along the way. The man struggled, trying to get Abby off his back but couldn't get it in time, before his knees gave way. The man collapsed to the ground choking on his own blood. Abby didn't stop stabbing until seconds after the man died.

“Fuck you.”

Abby stood panting, watching unblinkingly as the pool of blood formed around her. At that moment, she realized that she had lost her fear of death, her sense of survival was at its best. She didn't care what she had to do with getting out of there alive. She was willing to kill anyone in order to return to her father, to her family. But unfortunately all that goes up comes down, and Abby wasn't immortal, she was also human. The adrenaline began to fade from her body, she began to feel tremendously exhausted and sleepy.

Abby had to shake her head and slap her cheeks to keep from falling asleep. She looked at her abdomen. The bullet was still inside, the hole was on the right side, the bleeding was little but constant. Perhaps she had been a little lucky and the bullet hadn't hit an artery. Either way she had to get it out or the wound would only get worse. She got up, grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the workbench. There she sat and began looking at the tools until she finally found forceps thin enough to get inside the bullet wound, she also grabbed a second scalpel.

She lifted up her shirt and clamped it down with her teeth, reaching for the scalpel but pausing for a moment. She tried to psych herself up for what she was about to do, closed her eyes, trying to remember how her father did every time he had to remove a bullet from his shoulder or leg. She used to help stop the bleeding and keep the wound clean, but David was usually the one who got the bullets out of the flesh. Well... that was the moment to remember the steps that had to be taken to remove a bullet and not die trying.

Abby glanced at the door to see if anyone was coming in, then sighed heavily.

"Fuck it..."

Gripping the scalpel as best she could, she made small incisions above and below the wound to make it a little larger so that the forceps could enter it. Abby grunted in pain, reflexively tensing her abdomen causing her two fractured ribs to hurt. When she was done with the cuts, she tossed the scalpel on the table and grabbed the forceps, where she stuck them into the wound and began poking around inside the wound until she touched the bullet.

“Son of a bitch…” Abby cursed at the intense pain she felt.

After several attempts she managed to get a good grip on the slippery bullet and with a very shaky hand she managed to pull it out. She tossed the forceps and bullet onto the table and quickly grabbed a rag to cover the wound and try to stop the bleeding. She needed something to plug so she could fill the hole and not bleed out in that chair.

She looked around without finding anything of the right size until her eyes fell on the computer that was previously being used by the man who now lay dead on the floor.

“Don't fuck with me…” she murmured tiredly.

She struggled to her feet and staggered over to the computer. She was about to remove the USB until she noticed the files that were open on the screen. Many were of lab locations, bunkers, weapons stores, old black and white photos of people she didn't recognize. Until her eyes came across a file that caught her eye.

"Project Blackout?" Abby opened the file and began to read “Stem Cell Mass Reproduction Program…Organic Tissue Regeneration…Memory Recovery…? What’s all this bullshit? Abby was completely curious about what she was reading. Eternally long files that spoke in overly complex terms and technicalities that she had never heard of. "Holy shit…" Abby frowned. "Are they trying to bring fucking dead people back to life?"

At that moment she realized why Bosworth was willing for her to die. All that was inside that USB was highly classified information, capable of turning wars around, it could change the entire world if all this came to light! Abby glanced at the president's corpse. For a moment she felt sorry for her, almost forgiving her for letting herself be tortured for hours. She shook her head and looked back at the screen. Abby didn't know very well what the Hyenas' intentions were, but they were allies of Perseus as Varl said in the White House. It was better that Abby took all those files away from them. She would give them to Uncle Harper, he would know what to do with them.

So Abby made a copy of everything and put it back on the flash drive and erased everything on the computer. She disconnected the device and stared at it for a few seconds.

Now she had to figure out how to hide a small black USB drive so they wouldn't find it again. Abby looked at the flash drive and then at the bullet wound. she sighed.

“You're fucking crazy, Abby Mason…” she told herself.

Returning to the chair, she put the flash drive on the table and ripped the rag hse had used to stop the bleeding. Luckily the bleeding had slowed down. she used a strip of cloth to wrap it around the USB, leaving the shape resembling a small white cotton chrysalis. she inserted the device surrounded by the cloth into the bullet wound. It hurt like hell but she managed to stop the bleeding and hide the USB.

“You're going to have the biggest infection ever…” Abby said, talking to herself again, “but that'll suffice for now. I just have to sew the wound"

Rummaging around the room she managed to improvise a needle and thread. With trembling hands she finished stitching up the wound as best she could. Trying to do it as David taught him.

"Desperate situations, desperate measures," she said, admiring her work.

Her gaze fell on the door. Now she had to find a way to get out of there. She approached the exit and very carefully and slowly opened the door. First she poked her head out making sure no one was around. She ended up going out into a corridor with several doors on each side. That place is not that it had the best appearance in the world, it could be seen that it had been an abandoned and ruined building that was recovered by the Hyenas.

A safehouse? No, it was too big, maybe something more complex. There were stairs leading to upper and lower floors. Abby started walking in either direction, watching her step and listening for every little sound. She was looking for something that could give her a reference to where she was  and how high up the building she was. Perhaps she was looking for a window, something that could give outside, but no matter how hard she searched in those facilities, she couldn’t find anything. The thought that she might be in a basement somewhere crossed Abby's mind. So perhaps the best idea was to go up the stairs that led to the upper floors.

“I told you that you and I will have fun later…” Varl's voice appeared like a ghost just behind her.

Abby didn't have time to turn around, for like last time, something lasting hit her in the back of the head. Making her collapse to the ground.

_________

The cold was the first thing Abby noticed when she woke up. The second thing she noticed is that she was still alive, her body was screaming in pain everywhere but she was still alive. This surprised Abby greatly. She thought she would never wake up again. But no, she remembered that Varl had something special in store just for her.

Abby blinked a few times and looked around. It was night, how long had it been? She was completely disoriented, she didn't even know what day it was, let alone what time it was.

She looked around confused. The smell of the river was carried by the slight cold breeze. Was she on a bridge? Was it the Francis Scott Key memorial bridge? She looked at the ground, she was lying on the asphalt and her hands were tied, this time with a rope.

"You know…"

Abby barely looked up at Varl. He was squatting in front of her. There were several soldiers from the Hyenas around, they carried assault rifles, with their fingers ready in case the trigger had to be pulled. Maybe they started reading Abby as a threat. Each Hyena carried a flashlight with them, illuminating Varl and Abby.

"The true definition of insanity." The man began to explain with a calm tone gesturing with his hands "It's doing the same thing over and over again... Always the same thing... and expecting different shit"

Varl patted Abby's forehead a couple of times, she didn't even bother to push him away. "And that... makes you a person completely lost in your own madness."

He got up and walked to the edge of the bridge. The structure was half demolished. The other half of the bridge was missing, probably sunk into the Potomac River.

Abby noticed that there was a large rubble stone placed just at the edge of the void. She was tied to a rope too.

"But don’t worry." Varl smirked, "We're about to change that."

Abby followed where the rope that was tied to the stone led. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw the rope connect to her wrists. She was tied to the stone.

"Because today." Varl tossed a flashlight into Abby's lap. "Shit will be different."

And with his boot he pushed the stone towards the precipice. Abby's eyes widened in her most pure panic as she watched the stone disappear into the water. It was Abby's most eternal seconds until the rope tightened and the stone dragged Abby into the void with her.

The dizzy feeling came on instantly, just as Abby started to fall. She watched as she inevitably approached the dark mass of water, she knew that the moment she hit it it would be like hitting a concrete floor. In the last thousandths of a second she closed her eyes and gasped for air before burying herself under the waters of the river.

"Abby" the voice of a woman woke her up

"Abby, are you listening to me?"

The named one opened her eyes confused. Her pupils took time to get used to the blinding white light of the hospital room. Abby blinked a few times, realizing she was sitting in a chair, her back aching. Has she been sleeping in that chair? She looked around, she was in the chemotherapy room of the Hospital where her mother worked. She looked out the window, it was raining very heavily.

"Are you alright honey?"

Abby turned her head to her right.

"mom?"

Alice was sitting in an armchair next to her, she had tubes connected to her forearms and hands, a colorful scarf covering her hairless head. Abby remembered that scarf, she always told her mom that she looked like a pirate in that. The woman's eyes were incredibly tired, almost lifeless.

Abby remembered what memory she was in. That was her mother's last chemotherapy session, she fell asleep in that chair for hours.

"It's been a while, honey," Alice replied, caressing her daughter's cheek. “My God… You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you. You are quite a woman now"

"Why here…?" Abby tried to understand why she was remembering that now, she should be home with Woods being a representation of her conscience telling her that she hadn't tried hard enough.

"Listen to me." Alice cupped Abby's face in her tired hands. “You are not dreaming. You shouldn't be here." Alice's expression turned sad and pained.

"Mom, what are you saying?" Abby was completely confused.

“Your time hasn’t come yet. You must go."

Abby shook her head. No, she was with her mother at last, she could hear her voice, she could feel her hands again. This wasn't a dream, it felt different, Abby wasn't playing a part in a perfectly performed play. She could hug her mother, she was not going to part with her again.

"I'm not going mom. I want to be with you!" Abby's eyes began to fill with tears. She started crying like a little girl who just wanted to see her mother. And nothing could comfort her. Abby was tired, she didn't want to fight anymore. She felt like a baby who just wanted to sleep on her mother's lap forever, she didn't want to face the world again.

“You have to wake up, honey… Your place is not here. Not yet… They need you.” Alice spoke sweetly. Abby wiped her tear-streaked cheek with the back of her hand.

"I'm scared mom..."

Alice smiled softly. “You are my pride, you are my love and you are my life. I gave birth to the toughest and bravest woman in this world. And I don't doubt and I will never doubt you.” Alice placed a soft kiss on Abby's cheek and one last one on her forehead. The young woman closed her eyes, feeling the lips of her much-missed mother on her skin.

“You have to open your eyes… Come on my love, open those beautiful eyes. Show the world what you are capable of.”

Abby sighed and nodded.

She opened her eyes, everything was dark, small particles were suspended in the water. Abby was aware that she couldn't afford to let out the air she was holding in her lungs. She forced herself to stay calm, to slow her heart rate down.

The stone had touched the bottom of the river. Abby had to find a way to free herself from her restraints as soon as possible, before she ran out of air.

She found the lantern resting near the rock, dimly illuminating the ground. She took it as she could in her hands and looked around, illuminating the dark waters.

Abby nearly had a heart attack the moment she pointed the flashlight forward. She found the corpse of a man, his face was hardly recognizable, he had surely been eaten by fish for a long time. Abby realized that the man's hands were also tied to a rope connected to a stone. The body floated, trying to rise to the surface but the weight of the stone prevented it.

She illuminated her surroundings, realizing that there were more corpses in the same situation. The victims were countless, they went beyond where the light could reach. The bottom of the Potomac River had become a forest of floating corpses.

She understood that she hadn’t been the only one to suffer that fate. And if she didn't hurry she would end up like them. Her heart rate began to accelerate, she was getting nervous and holding her breath was beginning to become more difficult. The fear of ending up like them was increasing more and more, taking over Abby's mind.

Until her eyes met an object that shone in the light of the flashlight. Abby narrowed her eyes to get a better look. She realized that a sharp piece of metal was stuck in the leg of the first corpse she found. As she could, she tore that object from the dead man's leg. And without wasting much time, she began to cut the rope immobilizing her wrists.

The more effort she made, the more difficult it was for her to hold her breath, bubbles escaped from between her lips, her vision became more blurred and the sensation of pressure in her chest increased enormously.

At last the rope was cut and her wrists were free. Wasting no more time, Abby swam to the surface, using the last of her strength. Every meter she swam she lost a little more consciousness. She had run out of air, now it was a race against time, between his strength and the distance left to get out from under the water.

Abby was about to give up, she didn't know how far she was, until she suddenly stuck her head out of the water. She took as big a breath of air as she could and coughed up all the water she had swallowed. She tried to recover her normal breathing for a few moments. So quickly was she able to recover that she looked for the nearest shore and began to swim towards it. Her movements were slow but steady. She was ready to get out of the water. It advanced slowly until it finally reached solid ground.

Shee scrambled out of the water, coughing and expelling the last traces of water that remained in her lungs. She lay down on the snow, she was soaked. The cold hit as soon as Abby managed to relax her muscles. Snow and wind stuck millions of needles into Abby's skin. Abby's battered limbs were beginning to turn red, almost taking on an almost blue hue.

But Abby didn't care. She stood there looking up at the starry night sky. It was beautiful, you could see the star path of the milky way, she recognized some constellations that were scattered across the sky. She even found some planets. There was Mars, and nearby she found Jupiter.

She didn't know why, but she really wanted to laugh, Abby laughed, alone, lying in the snow watching the stars. Surely she was going to die of hypothermia, but what did that matter now? She had done it! She made it out of that hell hole. She could finally rest...

“Hey mom… I did it”

At that moment a shooting star crossed the firmament. Abby smiled, letting a discreet tear trickle down her cheek and freeze on the way.

Abby stared at the stars for hours, until the sun began to rise in the east. She no longer felt cold, she was not able to lift a finger, but she refused to close her eyes, she didn’t want to stop seeing that stellar spectacle. She wanted to record it on her retina for the rest of eternity, counting the shooting stars that traveled that night, taking note of all the stars she knew: Alpha Centauri, Sirius... also the constellations she recognized, even inventing new groups of stars.

But her peace was interrupted by the noise of a helicopter engine. Abby sighed and frowned. Still, she didn't deign to move, she was too tired for that. A few long minutes passed until she heard a pair of boots crunch in the snow, someone was getting closer.

"Good to see you in one piece." The Russian accent was not lost on Abby.

Abby sighed.

"Fuck off…"

The man approached until he was within the field of vision of the young woman. Abby recognized that strange mustache and eyepatch.

"I must admit that it has been somewhat difficult to find you, Abigail Mason"

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

“It only took a little research, nothing more.” He shrugged.

Abby's eyelids began to feel extremely heavy. Fatigue was taking over her, it was beginning to drag her like a tide into the interior of an ocean.

Noticing that Abby was beginning to drift off, the man crouched down beside her and shook her shoulders.

"Hey hey. Don't fall asleep now” he shook her a couple more times when he didn't receive any reaction or response, he put his hand to the communicator he had at his ear “To all the search teams. I have found the subject, she is in need of immediate medical attention, suffering from severe hypothermia and multiple contusions and profuse blood loss."

Abby felt like she was under water again. All sounds were distant and gradually faded away. The cold stopped stabbing at her skin, she had stopped feeling pain.

"Shit… We're losing her!"

[dollsonmain]

New "houseperson" job posting from the Casino. I'd prefer that to cleaning the individual rooms, really. The part where it says you have to clean out the ash trays puts me off applying more than anything else. I don't want to work around smokers.

"Reports problems and safety issues to supervisor" could have been ONE bullet point, not added to almost every bullet point AND it's own bullet point.

Uses daily checklist to direct and record activities

Inspects entries including: door mats, trash cans and cigarette urns to ensure cleanliness standards have been met. Cleans and reports any problems to supervisor.

Maintains cleanliness of Lobby, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, picking up debris and trash, emptying trash cans.

Cleans assigned public hallways, policing for trash and/or debris; vacuums and dusts hallway furniture and fixtures and washes corridor windows on schedule. Reports problems and safety issues to supervisor.

Greets guests in hotel public areas as they are encountered, always smiling and conveying positive hospitality standards.

Assists with setting and arranging conference rooms in preparation for events and meetings, according to Sales department specifications. Cleans room(s) after each day’s use.

Cleans Public restrooms and maintains room supplies.

Maintains cleanliness of Pool area, reports problems to supervisor or Maintenance as appropriate to property standard. Is there a pool on property?

Uses floor machine to scrub tile floors and uses floor wax to polish floor after application.

Uses carpet machine to clean carpeting and remove stains

Cleans, vacuums, dusts and empties trash cans in staff offices. Also maintains cleanliness and supplies for Employee Break Area as may be assigned to include wipe down, sweeping, mopping, emptying trash and re-stocking.

Delivers clean linens and collects/removes soiled linen.

Re-stocks Housekeeping storage closets as needed

Makes up cribs and rollaway beds (along with room attendants) after use and prior to storage

Delivers Housekeeping supplies as instructed.

Assists Housekeeping staff with movement of heavy items such as mattresses.

Responds quickly and courteously to guest requests. Follows up to ensure guest satisfaction.

May be required to clean rooms as may be necessary.

Provides a professional image in appearance and behavior at all times.

Follows all company policies and procedures and actively participates in all hotel meetings, task forces, training and programs.

Thoroughly familiar with Emergency Procedures.

Familiar with HAZCOM as related to position. Follows all chemical and equipment safety handling procedures.

Always alert for Security and Safety issues and hazards and reports same immediately to supervisor.

.... jfc that's a lot to expect one person to do.

The only thing I really can't do is using the floor buffer. My back can't take the side-to-side motion which is why I had "no mopping" on my permanent profile in the army.

[abra-ka-dammit]

bojji's ballooning didnt go as well as i hoped

the stricture is severe. it's down the entire bottom 1/3 of his esophagus. bc it was so severe they did it in smaller increments than usual, and during it saw tissue that looked suspiciously unhealthy. As they went lower they reached a hole that should theoretically be a continuation of the tube into the stomach but it apparently looks so unusual that they werent sure that was actually the ORIGINAL hole and didnt go further down. the doc told me quite frankly theyve never seen one so bad and shes not too optimistic for it ever being usable again even after multiple balloonings. but im not giving up yet.

since its so bad, they need to spread them out more than the 2-3 days it would normally go, and bc they could see the thin tissue stretching where the original tear was, in fear of risking re-tearing the original injury they most likely will need to do the future one(s) by more surgically invasive means, in order to go up from his stomach rather than down from his mouth since the downward route became anatomically unclear. this is all of course assuming nothing goes wrong in his recovery from this first one.

when i asked this morning the doctor had said a secondary ballooning baselines around 3k, but i guarantee the more invasive version costs more. i heard 3k ("or less, depending on the exact situation") and thought yes! i have the space for that with my brother's help. not feeling as confident anymore.

hes being constantly watched at the emergency vet overnight, longer if he seems to be on the downward trend. but he cant eat or drink for 48 hours so even if he can come home after theyre gonna help me out and give him fluid injections to keep him hydrated (he was, naturally, kinda dehydrated. happens when u can barely keep water or anything else down)

i was so stressed out i went into walmart to physically buy things instead of just doing drive up pickup like the no-spoons-having ass i am

i got my other cats senior kibble. its probably about time.

i got more pate in anticipation of bojji's 2-days-after food trials, and even some sodium-reduced chicken broth to mix with it instead of sink water to make it soupy, as well as some churu lickable treats for. treats.

i got fucking spray so i can clean up the spots bojji food-yakked on my bedroom carpet

the surgeon who did the procedure tried comforting me about the unsettlingly bad news by telling me nobody could ever say i didnt do everything i possibly could to save him but that just makes me feel worse

like whats the point of all of it if he still dies

he made the specialist vet office love him immediately with his sweet face and gentle behavior, just like he did the ER vet. now he has even more animal-loving hearts crying out with love to cruel fate, to please spare the boy: he is an angel, yes, but not yet for heaven

[onthespotcarpetcleaningtn]

On The Spot Carpet Cleaning - Tile and Grout Cleaning Knoxville

It appears that you're interested in upholstery as well as household carpet cleaning company in Knoxville. These services are frequently offered by professional cleansing companies to assist preserve the sanitation and also health of upholstery as well as carpets in houses. While I can't offer real-time details, I can provide you a general suggestion of what these solutions could involve as well as how to deal with locating them.

Furniture Cleaning: Upholstery cleaning entails cleansing as well as refreshing fabric-covered furniture such as couches, chairs, as well as other seats. Professional furniture cleaning can assist eliminate dust, stains, allergens, and also smells from your furniture, prolonging its life-span and boosting the total appearance of your residence. The process commonly consists of:

Pre-Inspection: A specialist analyzes the furniture to figure out the best cleansing strategy. Pre-Treatment: Stains and spots are pre-treated with specialized remedies. Cleaning: Steam cleaning, warm water extraction, or various other appropriate approaches are used to clean the upholstery.

Rinsing: Residual cleaning agents are washed out. Drying out: Proper drying methods are used to stop mold and mildew and mold development. Last Inspection: The service technician guarantees satisfactory outcomes. Residential Carpet Cleaning: Residential rug cleaning intends to tidy and recover the carpets in your home. Comparable to furniture cleansing, it includes the use of various cleansing approaches to eliminate dust, spots, and irritants. The process may consist of:

Pre-Vacuuming: Dry soil is removed from the carpeting utilizing a vacuum cleaner. Pre-Treatment: Stains and also high-traffic locations are dealt with. Cleansing: Hot water removal, steam cleaning, or other techniques are utilized to cleanse the carpetings.

Rinsing: Residual cleaning agents are washed to stop re-soiling. Drying: Proper ventilation as well as drying out devices are utilized to speed up the drying procedure. Final Grooming as well as Inspection: The carpeting is brushed to restore its appearance, as well as a last assessment is performed.

Searching For Services in Knoxville: To find furniture and also residential carpet cleaning services in Knoxville, you can consider the following steps:

Online Search: Use search engines or online directories to locate neighborhood cleaning firms that offer these services. Include key words like "upholstery cleansing Knoxville" or "domestic carpet cleansing Knoxville."

Read Reviews: Look for customer reviews as well as testimonials to determine the high quality of service given by various business.

Request for Recommendations: Ask pals, household, or next-door neighbors if they have utilized any kind of respectable cleaning services in the location.

Check Company Websites: Visit the sites of prospective cleansing firms to read more regarding their services, prices, and client evaluations.

Demand Quotes: Contact a few picked companies to demand quotes or quotes for the solutions you need.

Ask About Methods and Equipment: Inquire regarding the cleaning approaches, tools, as well as items they utilize to ensure they straighten with your choices.

Searching for top-notch furniture and domestic carpet cleaning services in Knoxville? Look no more! Your service is right here with us-- On The Spot Carpet Cleaning in Knoxville. We focus on renewing your furniture and also carpets, bringing back their original freshness and also cleanliness.

Our specialist team uses sophisticated methods such as pre-treatment, steam cleaning, as well as complete drying to guarantee your furniture as well as carpets look their ideal. With a commitment to high quality as well as client complete satisfaction, On The Spot Carpet Cleaning is your relied on partner in maintaining a clean and welcoming home setting. Experience the distinction with our specialized services that exceed and past. Call us today to set up a consultation and also discover the makeover we can offer your space."

[ofhobbitsandwomen]

The Ultimate Guide to Rug Cleaning: Idea for a Spotless Home

""

Maintaining your rugs tidy and also well-maintained is vital for a healthy as well as welcoming residence atmosphere. Whether you have pet dogs, children, or simply wish to lengthen the life-span of your carpetings, regular carpeting cleaning is a must. In this thorough guide, we will discover the various methods, devices, and also expert tips to help you accomplish spotless carpetings that look brand new.From vacuuming and also area cleaning to deep vapor cleansing and expert services, we will certainly cover all the rug cleaning strategies you require to understand. Discover the benefits of each method, along with when and just how to utilize them efficiently. We will likewise look into the significance of choosing the right cleansing items and tools, consisting of environment-friendly choices, to make sure a safe as well as effective cleansing procedure. Additionally, we will share insider ideas and methods to take on typical rug stains and also odors, along with preventative actions to keep your carpetings looking fresh for longer. Whether you're a DIY fanatic or thinking about specialist carpet cleaning company, this guide will equip you with the expertise and also devices to attain immaculate rugs that not only boost the appearances of your home, but also add to a healthier living atmosphere.

Read more here carpet cleaning services

[kingsrestoration]

10 Things that Happens During Mold Remediation

If not treated on time, mold accumulation can spread and damage the house beyond repair. Many people get health issues due to black mold. Even if occupants can put up with it, the mold will still be an issue for the subsequent homeowners because inspection reports always note the mold's presence.

Mold cleanup businesses are a godsend for homeowners seeking to make a sale. Companies that specialize in mold treatment are specifically created to handle mold issues. Read more to get an idea of what happens when a mold remediation firm arrives at your home and how you should prepare for it.

What is Mold Remediation?

The word "mold remediation" is used to refer to all of the procedures utilized to get rid of dangerous mold development. Depending on the type and location, it may involve mold testing, removal, demolition, sanitizing, containment, and cleaning. Instead of making the misleading claim that all mold has been removed from your house, a reputable restoration firm would offer the treatment to lower the level of mold there to a safe level.

Why do People Get Mold Remediation?

You will typically need a professional mold treatment service when a mold outbreak spans more than 10 square feet of your house. However, it may also signify a mold infestation if someone in your home suddenly develops a mold allergy, such as coughing or wheezing.

Since there is a likelihood that such people have other allergies, it is crucial to see if symptoms get better when you are away from your house. If this occurs, you are more likely to deal with mold growth in your house, and you should consider professional mold remediation services.

What Happens During Mold Remediation?

Ahead of the Company's Arrival

Move as much furniture and other untouched items as you can a few days before the firm arrives. The home remediation area must be free of obstructions for the company to work.  Move cars from the driveway or garage, put the dog in the backyard, and generally clear a broad access area from the outside to the mold area a few hours before the business is scheduled.

Company gets ready

The mold removal business will park a vehicle as close as feasible to the doorway, spread plastic sheeting throughout the house, and direct hoses toward the mold location. Most mold remover businesses will take care to keep your home tidy while they work. They will, at the very least, tidy up after each workday. If the mold location can be reached from the outside, like a crawlspace, the service providers can enter without having to enter your home.

Suit-Up Procedure

Mold remediation workers are completely prepared for duty with white suits from head to toe, booties, respirators, and goggles, just as they would be for any other potentially dangerous procedure like the removal of asbestos or lead-based paint. It does not necessarily imply that the mold removal business will eliminate dangerous mold. Numerous varieties of mold that are prevalent in homes are not dangerous. Instead, treating mold as though it were toxic is recommended, even if that is not the case.

Take Away Items

At this stage, anything that can get removed is thrown away. Usually, porous mold-damaged things need to be removed rather than cleaned. These include drywall, plaster, carpeting, furniture with fabric coverings, and apparel.

Packaging of Goods

Items taken out of the home remediation area are kept in airtight, thick plastic bags that are carefully sealed. The bags are cleaned for the owners to get rid of any mold. The ability to dispose of the moldy debris in a standard landfill will depend on local rules and restrictions.

Pour Down

Step one of this two-phase procedure is to spray a biocide on the moldy area. This first stage should often take less time than the second. The EPA-approved liquid biocide eliminates mold. Be aware that the EPA does not recommend using bleach to destroy mold.

Waiting Time

Following the workers' departure, the biocide starts to act and eliminates the mold spores. The surface needs to be dry before application since paint or whitewash is used for encapsulation. The waiting period determines how long the biocide takes to dry and destroy the mold.

Encapsulation

The employees will apply paint or whitewash to cover or encapsulate the region's last mold spores. The mold remediation business should spray far outside the contaminated region to ensure the owners that no additional mold grows. For instance, even if only a small portion of an attic has mold, the business will likely still spray down the entire attic. Therefore, you should check with the professionals that you’re hiring to spray down the entire area, and not just the spot with mold. It would be better if they did this for future purposes.

Verify Your Success

Mold removal is typically successful if neither visible nor a mold odor is present. It's crucial to eliminate all mold before painting or whitewashing so that it can't reappear underneath enclosed areas.

Address mold's Cause

The location is safe for the inhabitants to return to once the surfaces have dried. After the home remediation process, the mold's root cause, such as roof leaks, dampness from the kitchen or bathroom, or leaking gutters and drainpipes, should be addressed.

Call Kings Restoration

Kings restoration offers mold remediation services for homeowners to eliminate mold accumulation. With multiple years of knowledge and expertise in the field and a team of professional mold experts that do the job quickly and ensure excellent results, we offer home-delivery services at a very affordable cost. Our team will explain every step of the process to you while helping you prepare for the process. We aim to provide results that cause the least damage to your house and the stuff around. We can even provide mold inspection and consultation to read the situation and suggest the best options to fix and prevent such situations from happening in the future. Visit us for more information on the services we provide. Schedule an appointment with us for a quote or other inquiries and sort your mold worries quickly.

[soniabigcheese]

*snort*

Oh and a warning of medical procedure ahead

Ever since we - hubby and I, got online, I have migrated from watching videos of Sims antics/machinmas etc. To reminiscing music videos, tutorials.

To Pimple Popping yep, that Dr Sandra Lee. To dental stuff (OMG how the heck????) and someone trimming infecting cow hooves (again ... how the heck? Since those last two videos do NOT interest me AT ALL)

The cleaning of filthy 'carpets' - rugs to us cos I'd like to see someone rip out a fitted carpet, take it to a special facility, clean it then take back and refit it again.

And now ... amateur videos of people popping cysts with a pin and a lot of squeezing.

I'm sitting there, grinding my teeth and complaining that they should make the hole bigger and if they keep.squeezing like that, they'll both push the yucky stuff further in and cause a lot of nasty bruising in the area.

They can't just leave the sac in there cos it'll fill back up. And when they DO remove the sac, it is all torn up, so whatever infection was inside, has now been let loose inside.

Bloody amateurs.

Just wondering if Sally Tracy would have something to say about that.

[szlachtas]

Do you have a favorite dental procedure ?

Perhaps basic, but I've always enjoyed a periodontal cleaning surgery. Cut into, peel back the gums, strip and expose tooth and jaw. And thoroughly tidy it up! Sew the gum up, nothing ever happened. But you'll know there's no dirt beneath the surface

Like ripping the carpet up to clean underneath :)

[floorsonlineuk]

Why Installing Laminate Flooring Is A Great Home Investment?

Laminate flooring refers to multi-layer synthetic flooring that has been laminated together. The photographic applique layer of the lamination flooring, which is covered by a transparent protective layer, replicates wood (or stone). In most cases, the inner core layer is made of fibre board and melamine resin. Sometimes the tiles will have adhesive backing for simple installation. Laminates have the benefit of being more appealing and durable than carpets. When compared to the majority of other natural floor materials, it is also regarded as affordable.

The ease with which laminate floors may be installed is a huge selling point for homeowners. The tongue and groove boards of laminate flooring frequently come packaged together and may be snapped together. 10mm Laminate flooring will often "float" above the subfloor during installation on top of a foam/film underlayment. This will have the ability to produce sound and wetness. There should be a thin (1 to 10mm) space between the flooring and any immovable objects, such as the wall. By doing this, the laminate flooring will be able to extend without being impeded. Before and after installing the floor, you can remove the baseboards (skirting boards) for a neater finish, then replace them.

You must maintain this type of floor in a clean condition. In any heavy traffic locations, any dust, dirt, or sand particles might eventually harm the beautiful surface. One thing to bear in mind is that laminate flooring needs to be kept quite dry. Unless the planks have water-resistant coatings, which will only withstand a certain amount of moisture, any water or moisture can cause the boards to swell. If water spills are swiftly cleaned up and do not sit for a long time, they should not be a reason for alarm.

Most frequently, laminates are manufactured of melamine resin, a formaldehyde-based chemical. As a result of the discharges of volatile organic compounds from construction materials containing formaldehyde, indoor air quality is becoming a growing problem. But compared to particle board and other materials that contain formaldehyde in them, resin composites are thought to emit far less of it. Some laminate flooring, such as Parador ProAir, uses a chemical procedure to cut down on formaldehyde emissions and neutralise them throughout the floor's lifetime.

If you are looking for 8mm Laminate Flooring, visit: Floorsonlineuk.co.uk.

[valgasnewsthings]

Diet and cure are need constantly.

 My grandchildren is on 1.5 y.old , her body covered with red spots and pimples, they are itching, she is wordiness and nervousness.Doctor  put diagnosis as atopic dermatitis, allergy to  the protein in cow milk, and failure for ferments a digestion system.All  milk products avoided, effect is zero, ointments are not helping, relieving not beginning, disease is keeping, advice to her something, please.

A children with atopic dermatitis are constantly checking in dermatologists, and pediatrist and receive supporting cure  as for preventing a recidive a disease answers dermatologist  Kuleshov, and constantly keeping these recommendations:

1.Using hypo-allergy diet with limiting animal fats, sea meal, smoked,spicy, salted and marinades, eggs, nuts, honey.

2. Limiting contact with water and items of household chemicals.

3. In household carrying are elimination/avoiding contact with allergen/activities.

Everyday house cleaning, wetting.

Minimal quantity at home are soft furnitures, carpets.

Using pillows with filling of synthetic materials.

Removing at home a tick dust.

 Avoiding a children skin s contact with woollen  fur fabrics.

At home, removing abundant humidity and sources for mold on the wall.

Avoiding contact with home animals.

Limiting using synthetic washing items.

4.And using for preventing and on acuting time or long time for till 30 days and more on rashes of atopic dermatitis as for medicament cure are creams Bepanthen, Panthenol, or vitamin F99 for two times/day, if doctor allows and cream Protopin for one time/day for 3 months, concrete remedy selecting individually by skin peculiarity, season, climate, time of a day, and patient s preferences.

5.Using for base care a skin softening and moisturizing remedies/Emollients as of lotions, creams, ointments, they are fighting dryness, itch, inflammation skin, and common recommendations by using: Self using, after water procedures by principle to wet-grease, and bathe baby at warm on 27-30 C bath for 5 min with adding for 2 min till procedure ending a oil for bath and apply on wetting skin, and wipe her needing after bath by blotting moves, avoiding friction a softening remedy.

On the colt time a year use softening and moisturizing remedies with a most oily ingredients.

Emollient  as of cream apply for 15 min, or in 15 min after using a anti-inflammatory preparation/in a case more oilyness base a Emollient .

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/5bGIeQz via https://ift.tt/YifrK3L

[lerosjl]

Hand-knotted rugs

Oriental rugs are actually maybe the absolute most adored as well as valued instances of this particular old art kind. In the timeless practice, rugs are actually hand-made in a strenuous interweaving procedure. Hand-knotted rugs most likely existed centuries previously in the area which is actually currently Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and also Chicken. The art was actually certainly not restricted to this area, as customs of interweaved carpetings quickly developed somewhere else throughout Asia. The earliest, very most real concepts are actually an image of the area where they were actually developed. Rug producers interweaved colours, trends, and also designs that pertaining to their environments as well as their lifestyle. Historically, a rug can be mapped back to its own source just through its own style. It was actually numerous centuries prior to rugs ended up being typical in Western Europe. In the 17th Century, trade-in wonderfully interweaved rugs started to circulate via Venice to the remainder of Europe. Surf our considerable option of wonderful area rugs where you make certain to discover a style that matches your residence decoration. The earliest, very most real concepts are actually a representation of the area where they were actually made. Rug manufacturers interweaved colours, trends, and also designs that associated to their settings as well as their society. Historically, a rug can be actually mapped back to its own source just through its own style. Wool has actually verified to become much more durable, remain well-maintained much longer, and also clean far better than various other fibres. For these causes, most of Oriental rugs are actually still crafted coming from wool. Gorgeous rugs are actually crafted in numerous various other nations, as well as there is actually a lengthy record of Tibetan rugs, Mandarin rugs, Afghani rugs, and also even more. Handmade carpetings coming from this vast geographic location are actually usually pertained to as Oriental rugs. Wool is actually the best frequently utilised fibre for rug-making. Various other selections featured cotton, cotton, and also synthetic fibres like nylon material. During that time carpetings were actually often held on the wall surface or even put all over tables. Flooring carried out certainly not come to be prominent in Western Europe for an additional a century or two. An old art, interweaved rugs have actually been actually carefully crafted depending on to abundant local area customs for much more than 2 1000 years. Lifestyles around the planet have actually resulted in this cloth art. Coming from the humblest of residences to the grandest royal residences, hand-tufted rugs supply both abundant elegance as well as elegant convenience.

[rosethornewrites]

Having a rough go right now.

My cat, who is my emotional support animal and has been with me for 18 years, has failing health. A UTI and/or arthritis has rendered her incontinent, necessitating washing bedding basically daily until the reusable, washable bed pads come and I can put them over the comforter. Doesn’t help the carpet (which needs cleaning anyway) or puddles on the vinyl floor. And she’s hating it. No telling if it’s permanent or can be healed. I’m essentially providing palliative care at this point.

Her treatment has decimated my savings and I’m relying on help from family to finish out the summer. And her treatment isn’t over.

My job, while I find it fulfilling when working with students, pays me under the area median income after 9 years of work and has denied me promotion for reasons that implied my required 500+ page material was barely skimmed, and it’s time to apply again and I’m angry and burnt out. Literally I was told to describe and prove that I’m an “excellent” teacher, not just a “very good” teacher. Anyone know the definition of excellent? This was instruction by an English professor.

My job has also asked me repeatedly to give unpaid labor, including asking me to put together a workshop on… applying for promotion, which I was denied. I used to go over and above and it gave me nothing but burnout and exacerbated health issues. I’ve divested myself of everything that isn’t contractually required and refocused on my students as solely as I can.

I have had to be honest with students about major problems at specific institutions that would impact them negatively if they went there for grad school. Grad school is, of course, traumatizing all on its own, but add extra toxicity to the environment and it’s untenable. There is major and ugly upheaval going on at many institutions. And not in a way that would correct systemic issues.

Rent went up, of course, by $100 a month. But rent is up everywhere, moving is expensive, and this is the last apartment my dad helped me move into before he died.

My salary for the next year has not been told to me, but my guess is that I technically am making less given cost of living increasing and little to no corresponding salary increase. Maybe I’ll get a couple hundred dollars a year more if I’m lucky. I’ll still be making under area median income, as a professor at a major university.

My mom’s health is not great and there’s so much family drama going on right now that I’m very glad I live 4 hours away. The saving grace is a cousin who’s become like a sister and is there to help.

My late father’s chihuahua has a brain tumor and will likely die in the next few months. She’s at a stage where she cannot stop walking in circles and it drives her crazy, so she hugs walls to keep from doing it. She can’t even stop while peeing. She still has good quality of life, but we’re monitoring her closely to determine when that’s not true anymore. Once she’s gone it’s another piece of my dad gone.

My brother became a military contractor and is now living in the Middle East as of last month. We aren’t super close, but I worry. Added note: his cat died in my apartment in February, as I was helping care for him, a week after he turned 20.

I now have been diagnosed with two skin conditions and referred to a dermatologist. By a gynecologist at the first appointment who took one look and said, yeah you have this and this, let’s fix it. I had shown my gp one of the issues and she basically shrugged and said it was my weight. It is actually a recognized chronic inflammatory skin condition that flares with hormones in painful ways and which I have been dealing with since puberty. Turns out I can get a shot once a month and it goes away. 27 years of dealing with it and embarrassment and pain, including a very painful procedure to kill my armpit sweat glands with lasers about 15 years ago. I’m now on E to stabilize my hormones and that should ease it too.

This is on top of the autoimmune disorder I have, and chronic mental health issues.

Have I mentioned I’m burned out? I have to work multiple gigs to survive, and I just never get anywhere.

I have higher education. I work in higher education. I am starting to hate higher education. I am not the only one. People are leaving higher education (and education generally) at pretty high rates. I think I would leave too if I wasn’t so burnt out I can’t think of what I could change to.

Can I just catch a break?