#pipe inspection company

[precisioninspectionservices]

Service provider of NDT service, general safety training, inspections, safety audit, ultrasonic testing, pipeline inspection, hydro testing, crane inspection, third party inspection, shipment inspection and many more services.

[cctv-pipe-camera]

What is CCTV camera inspection of pipes?

It is sometimes very difficult to find out the severity of the damage to a sewer pipe and the location of the damage without using a CCTV pipe camera. If, your house’s subterranean sewer pipes are compromised because of intrusion, bad installation or any kind of natural elements, then it’s good to contact a skilled plumbing specialist to inspect your pipes.

What is a CCTV pipe camera?

CCTV or Closed-Circuit Television Video sewer inspection mainly refers to the process of using a camera to check the inside of pipelines, drains, and sewer lines. CCTV cameras allow plumbers to see the main cause behind your sewer issues without requiring them to conduct any invasive methods such as digging or removing walls or flooring to gain access to plumbing.

CCTV camera inspection of pipes

CCTV sewer inspections mainly refer to using a camera to see the pipelines inside, drains and sewer lines. CCTV cameras help plumbers see the main cause of the sewer problems without requiring them to do more invasive methods such as digging or eliminating walls or flowing to gain access to plumbing.

Such sewer inspections are a more cost-efficient way to pinpoint the exact location of the sewer and also any blockages in the pipe.

Working on CCTV inspection of pipes

Every CCTV inspection companies might have a different pipe inspection process. There are robotic and remotely controlled CCTV cameras, backed by premium quality CUES software. These are inserted through some sewer entry points in the pipes anywhere from 1.5” to 72” in diameter. The thorough self-propelled cameras can also inspect the adjacent sewer laterals until 80 feet.

When the cameras are inserted, we can see a clear picture of the sewer pipe’s condition so that we can easily detect the severe damages present within. The inspection process through CCTV is rapid and you need to find out about the repairing solutions.

The CCTV inspection process is usually fast, and you'll have an answer about the repair solutions we suggest in no time. 

Reasons you should select CCTV inspection of your pipes

Affordable option: Pipe repair experts can assist house owners in dealing with damaged sewer lines and recognize the most affordable repair solution. In several cases, repairing the whole length of any underground sewer pipe is not at all required. Repairs are then focused on the sections that are damaged, thereby decreasing the time and cost.

They are nature-friendly: There is no requirement for digging in CCTV camera inspections. This implies that the plants, shrubs and other natural elements are not affected because of the process of inspection.

They recognise the issues fast: You can make sure that a CCTV camera inspection will solve the plumbing issues immediately. This is so because the camera made use of CCTV inspections to recognise the root causes and problems. In one day, you can seek expert advice on any problem in your pipe and make plans for fixing your faulty work of pipes.

So, these are some of the best advantages that CCTV camera inspection of pipes offers.

[spartaktatev]

How to Ensure Quality in Pipe Coating Services

Are you in search of reliable pipe coating companies that provide top-notch pipe coating services? Look no further! In this article, we will discuss everything you need to know about ensuring quality in pipe coating services. From choosing the right service provider to understanding the process and benefits of pipe coating, we've got you covered.

The Importance of Pipe Coating

Pipe coating is a crucial process that helps protect pipelines from corrosion, abrasion, and other forms of damage. By applying a protective coating to the exterior of the pipe, it helps extend the lifespan of the pipeline and reduces the need for costly repairs or replacements in the future. Additionally, pipe coating can improve the efficiency of the pipeline by reducing friction and preventing the buildup of debris inside the pipes.

Choosing the Right Pipe Coating Company

When it comes to ensuring quality in pipe coating services, choosing the right pipe coating company is essential. Here are a few factors to consider when selecting a service provider:

Experience: Look for a company with years of experience in the industry. Experienced companies are more likely to have the expertise and know-how to provide high-quality services.

Expertise: Make sure the company specializes in pipe coating services. A company that focuses solely on pipe coating is likely to have the skills and resources needed to deliver exceptional results.

Certifications: Check if the company is certified by relevant authorities. Certifications indicate that the company meets industry standards and follows best practices in pipe coating.

Reputation: Do some research online to see what previous customers have to say about the company. A company with positive reviews and a good reputation is more likely to provide quality services.

The Pipe Coating Process

The pipe coating process consists of several steps, including surface preparation, application of the coating, and curing. Here's a brief overview of each step:

Surface Preparation: Before applying the coating, the surface of the pipe must be cleaned and prepared to ensure proper adhesion. This may involve sandblasting, chemical cleaning, or other methods.

Application of the Coating: Once the surface is prepared, the coating is applied to the pipe using techniques such as spraying, brushing, or dipping. The type of coating used will depend on the specific requirements of the pipeline.

Curing: After the coating is applied, it must be cured to ensure it forms a durable protective layer. This may involve heating the pipe to a specific temperature or allowing it to cure naturally over time.

Benefits of Pipe Coating

There are several benefits to investing in high-quality pipe coating services, including:

Corrosion Protection: Pipe coating helps prevent corrosion, which can lead to leaks and other forms of damage.

Extended Lifespan: By protecting the pipeline from damage, pipe coating can help extend its lifespan and reduce the need for frequent repairs.

Improved Efficiency: Coated pipes have smoother surfaces, reducing friction and improving the efficiency of the pipeline.

Cost Savings: Investing in pipe coating services can help save money in the long run by reducing maintenance costs and extending the lifespan of the pipeline.

Conclusion

In conclusion, ensuring quality in pipe coating services is essential for protecting pipelines from damage and extending their lifespan. By choosing the right pipe coating company, understanding the process, and reaping the benefits of pipe coating, you can ensure your pipelines remain in top-notch condition for years to come. So, don't wait any longer – invest in quality pipe coating services today!

[veteranfire]

Website : https://veteranfireprotection.com/

Address : 1403 N Batavia St Suite 112, Orange, CA 92867

Phone : +1 800-557-8189

We provide all of your required fire protection maintenance and repair services for your home and business including but not limited to: Fire Sprinklers, Fire Hydrants, and Fire Pumps. Veteran Fire Protection isn’t just in our name. We are a proud, Veteran owned, company dedicated to providing 5-star quality fire protection services with the discipline, commitment, and integrity that exemplify the values ingrained in our military background. Our mission is to safeguard lives and property by offering cutting-edge fire prevention, detection, and suppression solutions. With a team of highly trained professionals, we strive to exceed expectations and ensure the safety of our communities. At Veteran Fire Protection, our dedication to excellence is not only a reflection of our name but also a testament to the honor and commitment with which we serve.

Business mail : service@veteranfireprotection.com

[gillbrother]

With Gill Brother's licensed plumbers, you receive exceptional expertise in every plumbing repair and water pipe installation. Our Master-certified Professionals are skilled in managing both residential and commercial plumbing needs with utmost care. For more details, visit our website or call +1-647-895-8107.

[mcqueengasinspectionservices]

Gas Line Backfill Near Me

With Mc Queen Gas Inspection Services, you can be sure that your gas line is both safe and reliable. Our knowledgeable staff specialises in "Gas Line Backfill Near Me," offering exact backfilling and comprehensive inspections to stop leaks and guarantee peak performance. Contact us today for all your gas inspection and backfill needs! Call now: 1 (858) 923-7105.

[pagepulse]

The Ultimate Guide to Hydro Jetting in Verona, NJ

If you're a homeowner in Verona, NJ dealing with stubborn clogs and slow drainage issues, hydro jetting might be the solution you've been looking for. Hydro jetting is a powerful and effective method of clearing out tough blockages in your plumbing system using high-pressure water. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore everything you need to know about hydro jetting Verona NJ.

First and foremost, let's dive into how hydro jetting works. During a hydro jetting service, a professional plumber will use a specialized machine that blasts water at high pressure through your pipes. This intense force clears away any buildup of grease, hair, soap scum, or other debris that may be causing blockages in your plumbing system. Unlike traditional methods like snaking or chemical drain cleaners, hydro jetting provides a thorough cleaning that can help prevent future clogs.

One of the biggest advantages of hydro jetting is its effectiveness in removing even the toughest blockages. Whether you're dealing with a simple clog or a more serious issue like tree roots infiltrating your pipes, hydro jetting can break through the obstruction and restore proper flow to your plumbing system. This makes it an ideal solution for homeowners in Verona, NJ who are experiencing recurring drainage problems.

Furthermore, hydro jetting Irvington nj is a safe and environmentally friendly option for clearing out your pipes. Since it relies on water pressure rather than harsh chemicals, there's no risk of damaging your pipes or harming the environment with toxic substances. This makes hydro jetting a sustainable choice for maintaining your plumbing system while also promoting long-term health and safety for your household.

In addition to its cleaning power and eco-friendly benefits, hydro jetting can also help improve the overall efficiency of your plumbing system. By removing built-up residue and obstructions from your pipes, water can flow more freely and smoothly throughout your home. This can lead to better water pressure, reduced instances of clogs, and improved longevity for your plumbing fixtures.

Conclusion: In conclusion, if you're dealing with stubborn clogs or slow drainage issues in Verona, NJ, consider scheduling a hydro jetting service to clear out your pipes effectively and efficiently. With its powerful cleaning capabilities, eco-friendly approach, and ability to improve overall plumbing efficiency, hydro jetting is an excellent choice for homeowners looking to tackle tough blockages head-on. Contact a reputable plumber in Verona today to learn more about how hydro jetting can benefit your home's plumbing system!

[godirectplumbingx]

[smallesthobbit]

The Hobbit & The Dwarf {P.I} || Thorin Oakenshield

Synopsis - You and your brother, Bilbo, meet Thorin (& Company).

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Guess this is going to be a few-parter and a slow burner, sorry in advance!

Word Count - 1.2k.

{Caffeinate Me}.

That morning, you had been sitting outside with your brother Bilbo Baggins, smoking a pipe of tobacco and betting who could blow the biggest smoke rings over The Hill when the sun was quickly shaded from your vision. You and Bilbo turned your heads to the side to see an elderly man grinning down at you: he was dressed in grey, with a long grey, scruffy beard, a pointed hat and a staff clasped between his hands. Bilbo looked at the man with wide eyes, as in awestruck before chiming out a loud “good morning!” 

Well, that was the start of a conversation then but to be honest, you weren’t really listening, you were still blowing large smoke-rings over The Hill and basking in the warm shade the mystery man was creating. You had overheard that this man's name was ‘Gandalf’. Not to mention, the word ‘adventure’ was being thrown around a few times, that was before Bilbo stood up and stormed inside leaving you sitting on the lawn with the elderly gentleman. “Your brother,” Gandalf mumbled to you, shaking his head as he walked up to the large circular front door. You watched with curious eyes as Gandalf used his stick to draw a small glowing symbol on the door. Then, once his masterpiece of vandalism was complete, Gandalf turned to you and placed a finger to his lips and chuckled before walking off into the sparkling sunlight. 

Later that day, you and Bilbo had been merrying your way around the markets, picking up food for the week's suppers and buying little trinkets that you found rather appealing. Before you knew it, night had fallen and you were back in your hole in the ground, ready to have a nice, quiet supper with your brother… or at least that’s what you thought. 

You were both about to tuck into your supper for the evening when there was a knock at the large, round front door. With a confused expression Bilbo looked at you but you just shrugged, your face showing equal confusion. Slowly and hesitantly, Bilbo walked to open the door, and the last thing he expected to see was a dwarf. “Dwalin, at your service!” The dwarf spoke loudly, curtseying as he introduced himself. 

“Bilbo and Y/N… at yours,” Bilbo mumbled, looking at you with that same confused expression. 

“Where is it? He said there would be food, and lots of it!” Dwalin said, pushing past Bilbo and walking towards you in the kitchen. 

“He said? Who said?” Bilbo asked, but the question fell on deaf ears as a second knock came to the door. While Bilbo answered the door, you showed Dwalin to the supper table and offered him the food off of yours and Bilbo's plates. When Bilbo opened the door, another dwarf with a white long beard was standing there, a grin on his lips. “Who are you?” Bilbo said, the words tumbling off his lips before he even realised what they were. 

“Balin, at your service!” The dwarf, Balin, bowed to Bilbo and walked into the dining area where you and Dwalin sat. The second the two dwarves' eyes met, they were hugging immediately: it was clear they knew each other, maybe they were even related. While Bilbo spoke his mind to the two dwarves who had now moved their conversation to the pantry there was yet again another knock at the door. Well, expect both yours and Bilbo’s surprise when there was not one, but two dwarves on the other side. 

“Fili-”

“And Kili-”

“At your service,” they chime at the same time. 

“I think there must be some mistake,” you gasped as the two dwarves at the large door looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Has it been cancelled?” One of them asked. 

“No one told us!”

“No, nothing’s been cancelled,” Bilbo stressed, raking his hands through his hair. 

“That’s a relief,” Kili and Fili smirked as they pushed their way inside. They looked around inspecting the furniture scattered across the room and art that adorned the walls, taking in the homeliness and comfort of the hobbit hole. 

“Kili! Fili!” Dwalin and Balin cheered, pulling the two younger dwarves into a hug. 

“What in the middle–earth is going on here?” You hissed at Bilbo, looking towards the four dwarves now standing in your pantry and inspecting your food. 

“I don’t know! Don’t ask me!” Bilbo hissed back at you, frowning. 

“You invited one too many people for tea and now we have four dwarves we do not know in our home!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I did not-” Bilbo tried to defend himself when he was, once again, interrupted by a knock at the door. “I swear to whoever, if this is someone’s idea of a joke I am not going to be happy!” 

Before Bilbo opened the door, he took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for another dwarf or two - but not eight! One after the other they fell on top of each other onto the floor of your home, grunting in pain and discomfort. Just as Bilbo was about to squeal in disbelief, shock and pure horror, a large figure bowed down revealing himself: Gandalf. Bilbo’s eyes met with the wizards and he shook his head, helping the dwarves off the floor and begrudgingly welcoming them into your shared home. “Bilbo my boy!” Gandalf exclaimed. The wizard ducked to allow himself entry into the home. Then he began to introduce each dwarf as they hung up their cloaks. “Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur.” 

“Welcome,” you smiled weakly, watching as the dwarves piled into your kitchen and began to merrily chat with one another. Meanwhile, Gandalf and Bilbo were speaking quietly in the corner of the room. You were lost, standing in the middle of the entrance surrounded by a Company of dwarves. 

“It seems we’re one man short – Where is he?” Gandalf asked, looking around at the dwarves, taking in each of their dishevelled appearances.   

“He’s running late, but he’ll be here,” Dwalin replied confidently. Gandalf nodded his head in response, taking in Dwalin’s answer as fact. Then, the Company began to chat amongst themselves again as they ate and drank. They were growing in confidence when all of a sudden a mighty bang came from the large front door. 

“That’ll be him,” Gandalf said, standing up and heading to open the door. When Gandalf opened the door, yet another dwarf stood there, his head down. “Thorin!” Gandalf chimed, forcing the dwarf to lift up his head. 

The dwarf, no doubtedly called Thorin, offered a weak smile to the wizard before turning to walk towards you and your brother. “So you are the Hobbits Gandalf insisted on bringing to our Company?”

“I say you’ll find no better members than these two Baginses!” Gandalf said sternly, placing a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin looked between you and Bilbo, an almost knowing smirk on his face. That smirk gave you two reactions: firstly, it made you visibly tense up and secondly it made your heart soar like a bird in the sky. You decided it best to keep your distance away from the one they call Thorin.

[mysticmellowlove]

Thinking about dating yandere and we went out to dinner one night maybe with family or just by ourselves you choose but anyway we are talking to our family members or to staff about to get our table when some chick come up to him and starts flirting. Of course he ignores her at first then we have spider sense so notice it then walk over to him kindly not wanting to start something in a restaurant. She walks away like a whore so later on he goes to the restroom and a minute later we notice that chick following into the restroom to. We immediately think “Fuck no” and go in to save our man. We didn’t want to cause a scene but we’re about to.

warnings; sadistic reader, sub male, sub yandere, gn reader

note; darling can definitely feel disturbances in the force

Your lips pursed as you waited for the server to come back with a table for the two of you. Off to the side a girl with her body, admittedly a very nice body, clothed in a skimpy black dress was trying to chat up your boyfriend. You could see it out of the corner of your eye, the way she was pushing her boobs up to try and entice him, so unaware of what was under his perfectly tailored suit.

The thought calmed you down for a moment, she didn't even know how much he loved you. She didn't know how the two of you loved. Still, he'd be hearing about it later on tonight. By the way that he wasn't cussing her out you knew that this was exactly what he wanted. Always such a glutton for punishment.

However, it had gone on for as long as you wanted it to. You had a feeling she was mere seconds away from leaning up against his side, pressing her tits into his arm to try and lull him into some sort of lust haze. Unfortunately for her the only thing that ever seemed to get him hard was the sight of you shirtless on the couch with a bag of chips.

"Hey babe, the servers coming over." You went over and leaned against his side, looking down at the female who seemed to still be shorter than you even in her pretty little kitten heels. He looked over, a cheeky glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was enjoying it.

"I'm sorry, babe?" The girl piped up from behind him, her smoky eyes set on your form. You looked her up and down, just to add insult to injury.

"Yeah, babe. As in my boyfriend." You hummed as you clicked your tongue, wrapping your arms around his so you could pull him back to the station. He looked down at you, a sneaky grin on his face just in time for the server to come back and lead the two of you to your table.

It was perfect, right near the window overlooking the river lit up by streetlamps. Date night had been set right again and now you even had a reason to 'punish' him later on. You went ahead and ordered some of the finest wine for the two of you as he looked at the menu, inspecting it to find something that you would like.

The rest of the evening seemed to be moving smoothly. Good company, good wine and even better food. That was until he got up to go to the bathroom that you noticed something was wrong.

You spotted the girl from before slinking her way to the bathrooms as well and usually you wouldn't think too much of it. However, her insistence on being around him earlier this evening really set you off. It wasn't that you were jealous, or maybe you were, it was just that you didn't know if facing your wrath or his wrath was more dangerous.

Now that he was out of your sight he wouldn't care about trying to piss you off, he'd be a completely different person. You pursed your lips and pushed your chair back before making your way over to the bathrooms.

He didn't seem to be in any of them so you simply followed the sound of voices. It led you around a secluded corner, one that had a mirror on the back wall so you could see exactly how infuriated he looked as he pinned the girl against it. Her eyes darted to you, wide and blown out in alarm. She looked teary, the poor thing.

"Down." You said, just one simple word. He let her go and slunk to his knees.

"Honestly, it's people like you who mess things up for people like me." You hummed as you walked past him. She seemed to cower before you, her hand pressed to her chest as her eyes grew teary.

"Come on now, you didn't seriously expect no consequence." You sneered. Hands wrapped around your thighs as you let your eyes wander to him in the mirror. You'd let it slide for now, purely because it was funny to see the girl look at the two of you as if you were freaks.

"I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I decide to make this the entire restaurant's problem." You grinned as she gasped and skirted around the two of you, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she all but ran away. A satisfied hum left your mouth as you turned to watch her leave, served her right.

"And what shall I do with you." You looked down at the man on the floor, his hands massaging your legs as he looked up at you with a soft gaze. His mouth opened slightly as he shivered

"Whatever you want." He whispered, his tone reverent. You huffed and shook your head.

"Come on then, I think you need to be reminded who you belong to and it would be such a shame for the rest of the restaurant to hear your pretty little screams."

[h4rrypotterf4n]

Stuffed animal

Pairing:  Legolas x Reader

Wordcount: 1210 words

Warnings: hurt to comfort; The fellowship being mean to reader

Summary: After the fellowship made fun of you sleeping with a stuffed animal a certain elf is there to comfort you.

Finally, you were able to rest a bit. Aragorn and Gandalf found a clearing in the forest they both agreed on resting for the night. So, the fellowship prepared their bedrolls. When they finished Sam began to cook dinner, Aragorn sharpened his sword, Gandalf watched how Boromir tried to teach the hobbits how to make a fire, Legolas rested with his eyes closed against a tree and you were preoccupied with staring at the elf across from you. You’ve had a crush on him since you first saw him at the council of Elrond. And how could you not? Long blond hair, icy blue eyes, a fierce warrior, you could rant about him all day.

 “My lady,” Aragorn pulled your gaze away, while he gave you a plate of soup.

 “Thanks, Aragorn,” you responded gratefully.

 “You know,” he began as he sat next to you, “you should just tell him, that you fancy him,” you nearly choked on your soup at his declaration.

 “I- what?”

 “Come on, it is painfully obvious that you both like each other,” he left you stunned, to say the least and walked over to Gandalf.

Soon darkness fell upon the camp and the only source of light was the slowly dimming fire. The fellowship sounded asleep, so you slowly sat up and as quiet as possible opened your bag and pulled your stuffed animal out. You can’t sleep without it but felt ashamed of your little habit and chose to hide it from the others. As a woman it was hard enough to proof that you were capable of this quest. You cuddled against it and let the faint sounds of the fire and the snores of Gimli lull you to sleep.

 You woke up to loud laughter from your friends. Groaning you turned to the other side trying to shut them out and get a bit more rest. But as your mind slowly came to its senses, you missed the light weight in your arm. Hastily you opened your eyes to see your little friend wasn’t anywhere near you. You hurriedly began searching for it through your things.

“Do you miss something?”  Gimli laughed at you, while he held your stuffed animal up.

“Our fierce warrior sleeps with a stuffed animal who would have thought of that?” Boromir mocked you. You looked around hoping someone would defend you. But the hobbits just laughed along, even Aragorn and Gandalf smirked at their cruel jokes and Legolas was nowhere in sight, he was probably looking for any danger ahead of us.

 As the humiliation became too much and you felt tears threatening to fall you ran into the forest. You only stopped when your vision was too blurry to see properly. Sinking down with your back against a tree you buried your head in your bend knees, while you continued to cry.

Meanwhile Legolas came back from inspecting the further road. Thanks to his elven ears he heard the conversation, and he was furious. Because unbeknownst to you he also had his eyes on you since the day he first saw you.

 “What was that?” Legolas asked in a stern tone.          

 “Oh, we just had a bit fun,” Gimli answered still laughing.

 “Fun for whom? Because of what I’ve witnessed (Y/N) just ran crying into the forest,” the elf bit angrily back.

 “Maybe it’s better if she’s gone. I mean if she still sleeps with a stuffed animal she can’t be of much help, can she?” Boromir piped in defending Gimli.

 “She is a strong warrior with a kind and loving heart. She is a perfect addition to this company. She has proven herself often enough. We all know that. And besides everyone has something from home to remind us of it,” Legolas pointed out and everyone fell silent knowing he was right, „For example Gimli, you have your necklace with pictures of your family. Aragorn, you have your evenstar and Frodo, you have your mithril shirt. So why shouldn’t she be allowed to have something, that remind her of her home?” he went on in rage and the fellowship let their gaze fall to the ground in shame, knowing he was right.

 “While I go looking for her, I advise you all start thinking of a good apology for her,” he said already walking in the direction you took off but not without your stuffed animal.

While he searched for you, he freed it from a few leaves that were tangled in the soft fur from sleeping on the ground until he picked up quiet sobs ahead of him.

The sight in front of him broke his heart your whole body shook with the sobs you desperately tried to muffle with your hand.

 “I think you forgot someone,” Legolas spoke as softly as he could. Startled you looked up to see he was now sitting beside you with your little comforter sitting in his lap.

 “G-Go away, Legolas,” it warmed your heart that he was trying to comfort you, but you do not want him to see you like this.

 “So, you want me to return with your friend?”

 “It’s stupid anyway,” you grabbed it and threw it away which shocked Legolas. The elf stood up and walked over to the poor animal to pick it up.

“I do not think it’s stupid. I actually think it is quite relatable,” you looked up at him to find there was no lie in his eyes and your stuffed animal closely held to his chest.

 “You don’t?”

 “No, I could not for I too miss my home. Every one of us does and it is cruel to make fun out of something, that helps you,” the elf explained softly sitting next to you again.

 “I got it from my parents when I was a child. It’s the only thing I still have of my family. They died

w-when I was young, “

 “Which makes it even more understandable that you carry it with you,” 

 “You really do not think of it as stupid or childish? “

 „No, I don’t. I can’t think that of someone I love, “

he blurted out and started to lightly blush as he realized what he had said. 

 „Y-you love me? “ You asked kind of shocked. 

He thought for a second what he should do now but decided for the truth. 

 „Yes, “ he whispered as he looked to his feet.  

 “I love you too,” you whispered back making eye contact with him when he looked up. You watched as a smile came upon his features and involuntary you mimicked him. Slowly he leaned closer to you but before your lips touched, he stopped. 

 “May I?” Legolas whispered looking down towards your lips. Instead of answering you closed the gap between you two. Trying to convey every emotion Legolas felt for you he kissed you back. 

 “How about we go back and give the others the chance to apologize to you?” He asked when you both broke away from one another for air. You nodded in agreement and stood up with the help of Legolas hand.  For the whole way back, he didn’t let go of your hand instead he looked at you with a smile on his face. 

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 12!!!

This post features the way I think renting cars works. I'm very sure it doesn't actually work this way, and I could have researched it, but the image is in my head and I thought it was funny having cars on shelves with little description tags like some kind of Automobile Costco Warehouse.

Also, I'm gonna link my playlist because I feel like you all might be interested to see the list of songs I'm working from lol.

Fun fact, the playlist used to be called List of Holding and was meant to be a small collection of songs that I wanted to hear REALLY often. But, um...well, I've since had to change the name :P

This is All Good Omens Now Who Am I Kidding

And yes, I'm very VERY picky about my Queen songs.

OKAY here we go.

Beginning || Previous || Next

********************

In the end, it was surprisingly easy to find a rental company willing to loan you all a car (considering that three out of the four of you have no identification, documents, credit score, valid driver’s licenses, etc.). Deciding on a car, on the other hand, was a bit more complicated.

“I don’t understand why I can’t just miracle the Bentley over,” Crowley whines as the four of you wander the aisles of cars.

“Well for starters, the steering wheel is on the wrong side,” Anathema reasons.

“The wheel’s not on the wrong side! All of these have steering wheels on the wrong side! They drive on the wrong side of the road here too! Americans!” He shoves his hands in his pockets, practically spitting the last word like it’s some kind of curse. Anathema raises an eyebrow at him, but otherwise says nothing.

“Ooh!” Aziraphale calls from further ahead, “Look at this one! The description says that it’s very good for the environment. I mean, aesthetically speaking it isn’t anything extraordinary, but I do like all of these things written on the tag.”

“What kind of car is it?” Anathema asks.

“I believe it says it’s a...Tesla?”

You snort a laugh. “I am NOT getting into one of those things,” You say between giggles.

“Why not?” Aziraphale’s confusion is genuine – you can see it in his face.

“Well,” You begin counting on your fingers, “It farts, it can see ghosts, and it may or may not explode while we’re in it, SO!” You see Crowley’s face light up.

“Sounds like my kind of car!” He says, making his way towards the car that Aziraphale is inspecting.

“No,” Anathema sounds like she’s talking to a child. Or maybe a dog. “No, we are not riding in a Tesla. I’m with you on this one,” she says in your direction.

“I have a suggestion,” You pipe up, raising your hand.

“Oh-ho!” Crowley calls. He leaned slightly to the left, and took off between the aisles. All three of you have to jog to keep up with him. He’s stopped in front of an enormous Hummer. “Now THIS is a CAR!”

Anathema is shaking her head.

“No, wait, listen, I have it,” You say, and everyone turns to look at you expectantly. “It’s the only logical option here. It fits the vintage vibe that you two like, and it’s the most reliable car I know of aside from Bentley.”

“Well go on,” encourages Anathema, “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“What we need is a 1967 Chevy Impala!”

And THAT, dear Reader, is how you find out that none of them have seen Supernatural. Or heard of it, even. Criminal, really. You resolve to make them watch it next chance you get. In the end, Anathema suggests a very practical SUV and well, you’ve all learned not to argue with her by now.

Honestly the woman needs a cake for putting up with the three of you.

Also, as it turns out, one of the perks of having a current car model is that you can sync up your playlist to the bluetooth. So guess who ends up in charge of the music.

“And THIS one,” You say, flicking through your playlist, “Is a song that was suggested for the Season 3 playlist by Neil Gaiman himself!” And you press play on The Book of Love. And you watch their faces. You want to see their reaction when it gets to the part about wedding rings.

“Are all of your songs for us love songs?” Aziraphale asks. He stopped complaining about your taste in music an hour ago. Crowley is driving, and Anathema has been zoned out for a while now.

“Uuuummm, the ones that aren’t breakup songs you mean? Pretty much yeah.”

Crowley groans.

“Except for like, Queen and Hozier.”

Crowley groans again.

“I thought you liked Queen,” You are shocked and alarmed. Crowley rolls his whole head (probably because you wouldn’t see him roll his eyes behind his sunglasses).

“Go on then,” he says, “Which Queen songs do you have on that playlist of yours?” He glares at you through the rearview mirror. Suddenly, you hesitate.

“Um...Somebody to Love, and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy,” You finish meekly. Crowley nearly crashes the car. Whether it was on purpose or not doesn’t matter. Anathema takes the wheel and he gets demoted to the back seat. Next to you. As a peace offering, you hand him your phone with your spotify open, and let him take charge of the music. You feel that you might not survive the ride otherwise.

Google Maps pegs the estimated driving time from NYC to New Orleans at 19 hours. Splitting the driving between a demon and a responsible human woman, the four of you manage a respectable 12 hours including a number of breaks to: use the washroom, get coffee, get food, look at the view, poke around a used bookshop, pick some apples, eat the apples, and buy some fudge. Crowley refuses to admit that he may or may not have stopped time once or twice, and Aziraphale refuses to account for your sudden bursts of energy from time to time (conveniently and suspiciously whenever there was a stop he was interested in).

So, having made excellent time, all four of you arrive in New Orleans. Crowley is back at the wheel now, and he pulls the car into the parking lot of The Ritz. Because of course it’s The Ritz again. Anathema doesn’t even comment this time. You figure she was probably expecting it. Learning fast, that one. You check in, and aren’t all that surprised to find that you’ve been booked into the fanciest suite in the place once again. According to the pamphlet at the front desk, this suite is supposed to only be two rooms, but when you arrive, you find that it actually contains 3. Why? Supernatural beings who influence their surroundings.

“You really do have some expensive taste,” You say casually to Aziraphale as you place your bag on the floor.

“It was Crowley who booked this one,” the angel replies, inspecting the knick-knacks on a shelf to his left.

“Crowley? Trying to impress you, no doubt.”

“Pft!” Comes Crowley’s response from behind you, “Right, and not at all because to get up here you need a special passkey, which keeps unexpected guests few, far between, and easy to notice.” He gives you a pointed look over his sunglasses. “We’ve been lucky so far that we’ve been left alone since Heathrow. But don’t think for a minute that he won’t be back.”

“That’s...fair.” You pause and think for a minute. “Then we should probably limit going out too. Unless we really need to.”

“That would be best, yes,” Anathema agrees, “But please, leave the hotel staff alone.”

Well, honestly she could only expect that request to go so far once Aziraphale found the room service menu.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 10

Roman Roy x Reader

short but oh well! kind of sucks but soo la voo as the french say (pls understand that reference)

let me know what u think x I’ve missed this

Word Count: 2.022k

We need to figure things out. Now.”

Your arms are folded over your chest. You’re stood, Kendall and Shiv sat down on the plush sofa in your office.

Roman pipes in from across the room. “And it’s not me.”

Kendall and Shiv eye each other. “Realistically, it’s me,” Kendall says first. “I’ve been at the company the longest in the position closest to CEO. I’m the logical choice.”

“Who gives a shit who’s kissed Dad’s ass the most?” Shiv interrupts. “I’d bring better business. I’d be better for a rebrand- we could become ethical for once.”

“Okay, Shiv, while that’s respectable, the company would collapse before you could do any of that.” Kendall leans back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You can’t make changes to a company that you can’t keep alive.”

Roman’s crossed the room to stand near you, intently inspecting the curtains on the windows overlooking the city. “Nice fabric,” he murmurs to you, glancing back at you to make sure he has your attention. You can tell he’s not comfortable with anything that’s happening at the moment. But he’ll stick it out because you have to be here. He’s thinking of you more and more, these days.

He doesn’t know what to do with all these new feelings. New sensations.

Kendall and Shiv glare at each other, words passing between them in a language you’ll never understand. Roman turns back to the curtain, clearly anxious, linking one of your pinkies with his.

“The way I see it, you both are the right decision. Just do it together,” you tell them. “Two CEOs, Kenny handles the nitty gritty and Shiv does all of the media stuff. Problem solved.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Shiv manages through gritted teeth.

“Is it really?” you question. “Because that’s my offer. If you want my help, it’s both of you take over the company after we go to court. Or it’s neither.”

It’s ridiculous of you to do so, but you know it’s the only way you’ll get them both on board. You were never going to give it to anyone else, anyway.

“Didn’t know we were on Shark Tank,” Kendall mutters. “But fine. I’ll do it if you do,” he says, turning to Shiv. She heaves a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Fucking finally,” Roman says. He’s sitting in your desk chair now, feet reclined. “Actually, no. You both caved too fast.”

“Oh, shut up, Roman. They agreed to it, let’s fucking make sure it stays like that.” He catches your eyes and makes a face at you. You ignore him, turning your attention back to Kendall and Shiv. “We should speak to Connor.”

Shiv scoffs. “And say what?”

“He could be what wins us the case. Do you know how valuable he’d be as a witness?” you ask, watching the gears turn in Kendall’s head. “The fact that he was framed could be all we need to send your dad packing. We just need some hard evidence.”

“It’s worth I shot, I think,” Kendall offers. “If Shiv doesn’t want to do it, I will.”

“No, no, we’re doing it together. Honestly, Roman should come, too.” She turns to glance at him, over relaxed at your desk. “I think there’s a lot of things we need to talk about as a family, anyway.”

Kendall stands, clapping his hands together. “Well, I’m glad we figured this out.” His neck’s tense, a smile out of place on his strained face. He stands still for a moment, taking a breath. His shoulders sag, relaxing, and he adjusts his tie before coming to give you a hug.

A little surprised, you weakly return it, giving his back a light rub. Every muscle your hand glides over is taut.

Whatever’s going on in his head, you know you’re going to hear about it later.

He pats your back, squeezing you tight. “You’re a godsend,” he says, his voice suddenly warm and light, a stark comparison to his previous stiffness. “Thank you,” is all he says before he leaves, nodding at Roman, not sparing Shiv a glance.

“Fucking hell,” she manages, grabbing her purse and getting to her feet. She doesn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t even look at you, merely stalking out of your office after Kendall.

Roman rocks backwards in your chair, watching his siblings through the glass panes of your office walls. “They’re not doing that shit.”

“Not doing what?” You slide onto the edge of your desk, glancing over at him.

“The CEO thing. They’ll rip each other’s throats out before they even get near that.” He picks up a trinket from your desk, handling it delicately. “Cute.”

You sigh. “They’re going to have to suck it up until the court case They can do whatever the fuck they want after the company’s theirs.”

He starts spinning himself around in your chair. “Crazy thought,” he begins on spin one, “you give it to neither of them. Steal from the rich and give to the poor. Robin Hood.” He spins again.

“What, just walk out onto the street and choose some hobo to become Prince Ali?”

He snorts. Another spin. “Not the poor poor. The millionaire poor. Or something.” He spins again. “They won’t be able to handle it. They’ll implode. All of this buddy buddy stuff-” he flaps a hand at the windows, Kendall and Shiv long gone “-won’t ever happen again.” He sticks his leg out to halt his whirling, facing you. “And I… I don’t really want that. It’d… I can’t just watch our relationship disintegrate like that.”

☾𖤓

You straighten your blazer, Cherry flitting about your office straightening things out. She’s paranoid like that- always has been. You treat her well, she treats you well. What started out as a symbiotic relationship is now a genuine friendship, one that you’ve both nurtured and hope to continue nurturing.

“If he screams, I’ll run in with the fire axe,” she mutters to herself. “Self defense.”

“This building has a fire axe?” You take a manila file from an assistant who’s rushing by, setting them on your desk.

“What do you know about Siobhan?” Cherry asks suddenly. “Other than that she’s a Roy.”

You round your desk, slipping into your chair and spreading various documents just the way you like them. “She’s sweet when she’s not scheming.” Your eyes snag on a sticky note pasted to the surface of your desk.

You’ve come to recognize Roman’s handwriting when you see it. It’s his messy script on the Post-It, his messy doodles. It’s only one word- hi, the rest of the paper covered in hearts and shitty stick figures. He’d labeled two for you, the both of them holding hands, a heart floating between their heads. Y/N and Roman, he’d written, a cloud of hearts surrounding his script.

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile. You peel the sticky from your desk, resticking it to on of your desktop monitors.

Cherry’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “She’s really pretty in real life,” she says hesitantly, straightening out a portrait on your wall.

“Oh?” You let yourself smile now. “Is she ugly on TV? I think someone's a bit lovesick,” you say, watching her fumble with the frame.

Her face flushes pink. “Is she even into girls?”

“I’ll ask for you.” She opens her mouth to protest, but one of the front desk receptionists buzzes in to your desk phone. You make a face at Cherry, watching her scuttle from the room with a stupid grin on her face, her middle finger stuck out at you.

“Mr. Roy is on his way up. He refused to sign in,” the receptionist says, irritated.

“Thank you, Garrett,” you say back, making quick note to do something nice for your staff once everything was done and over with.

Before you know it, Connor’s sat across from you, grin on his face. “L/N, about time you had me in.” He settles into the armchair, his skinny limbs splaying at awkward angles. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” His expression is as confident as you’ve seen it, his eyes carrying a relief you haven’t seen before.

“Don’t worry. I could never forget about you,” you say coyly, gathering a few papers and stacking them.

“Well, come on.” He shifts in his seat. “What’s the big news? You must’ve finally let me in for a reason. I’m not as stupid as Pops says I am. I know you’re avoiding me.”

You feel a pang in your chest. You’ve thought all of this over thousands of times, and each time, you’ve felt worse and worse for Connor. The poor guy just wants to be happy. And in the end, so did you. How could you ever hate someone for that?

“It is big news,” you say, smiling softly. You paperclip the sheets together before sliding them into the manila folder that’d you’d set on your desk earlier. You paste the kindest, most benevolent expression onto your face as you hand him the folder. “You’re being served.”

You can see his heart stop.

“Sorry?”

You use a pen to gesture at the folder. “You’re being served,” you repeat. “I’m suing you.” You keep your words clipped, yet soft. You still feel bad for him, in the end. He’s just a pawn in this sick and twisted game, same as you. Might as well give him grace.

Connor breaks down before you. “I thought they were joking,” he manages. “Just trying to scare me.” He drops his head into his hands.

“Siobhan and Kendall aren’t your father,” you say gently. They’d gone to speak with him, as they’d agreed, but Roman had strangely not shown up. He’d given you a quick excuse when you’d asked him at home, the words rolling quickly off of his tongue. “And I’m not, either.”

Connor’s face is tear stained when he looks back up at you. “I have nothing,” he tells you. “Nothing, and I keep losing, I keep going into debt…” He wipes at his eyes, struggling to speak.

“I can help.” You unlock a compartment in your desk, taking out the paperwork you’ve been painstakingly working on since you met with Logan in that restaurant you’ve come to hate. You slide it towards Connor. The papers are structured similarly to the ones you’ve already handed him, but the defendant’s name is different.

His fingers begin worrying at the bottom of his sweater. You notice it’s beginning to fray. He looks over the papers, his features still drawn in a heartbreaking mixture of pain and desperation. “What’s this all mean?”

“That I can right some wrongs for you.” You keep your eyes locked on him, despite his avoidance of your gaze. “More importantly, I could get you a lot of money. You won’t have to keep scrambling. You won’t have to resort to crime, which, by the way, you never had to do.”

“How does this change things?” he asks quietly, his eyes trained on one part of the first paper in his hands. You know what he’s looking at.

“Things won’t ever be the same with him, Connor,” you murmur. “But they haven’t been good for a while. He can only use you for as long as you let him.” He sets the papers on your desk with shaky hands. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just urging you to think through your options. I’m here to help… he’s not. You’re just a means to an end for him.”

“I’ll do it,” he says immediately. “I’ll do it. I’ve been doing the wrong thing for too long. It’s time I righted my wrongs,” he says, reusing your words. “I can finally right my wrongs.” All of a sudden, he’s out of his chair and has thrown his arms around you. You’re stiff with surprise in your chair, only for a moment, until you awkwardly return the hug. He’s struggling to breathe, but doing a good job of hiding it. He quickly straightens up, composing himself. “I’ll do good this time. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

“I’m so fucking grateful that you do.”

[thiziri]

Royal Navy's newest sailors at HMS Raleigh greeted by Princess Anne during Passing Out parade

The Princess Royal takes salute at HMS Raleigh passing out parade.

Princess Anne made a special trip to HMS Raleigh yesterday, April 21, as the guest of honour at its Passing Out Parade to celebrate the newest sailors joining the fleet. The basic training facility of the Royal Navy at Torpoint was last visited by Her Royal Highness, The Princess Royal, in 2017.

HMS Raleigh is the home of both initial naval training for Royal Navy ratings and professional training. She arrived via royal helicopter and was greeted by the commanding officer of HMS Raleigh, captain Jane Roe ADC Royal Navy.

During the visit, Princess Anne met with the service, civilian and contractor staff who help deliver and support world-class training, as well as talking to a selection of recruits at various stages of their Royal Navy journey. The Cunningham 22/32 class are the latest recruits to complete their 10-week phase one training at the Torpoint base.

Among those to have met her was recruit Brodrick from Bristol, who is currently in week four of her training. She said: “I see The Princess Royal as a role model and an example on how I, as a female in the Royal Navy, can reach the highest ranks."

Chief petty officer Dav Hayer added: “I have met Her Majesty through her position as the chancellor of the University Highland and Islands where I am currently completing my MSc, and today [April 21] it is special to meet her in her role in the Royal Navy.”

Reflecting on her position of admiral of the Sea Cadets Corps, petty officer Stephen Owen from Liskeard, who works in the youth training team said: “It is appropriate The Princess Royal is here today [April 21]. 400 sea cadets are about to arrive to undertake the Annual National Drill and Piping competition at HMS RALEIGH, and she is an important head of our organisation.”

The Princess Royal inspects the passing out class at HMS Raleigh.

The class passing out was Cunningham 22/32, comprising of 25 sailors who are joining the fleet as future weapon and marine engineers, warfare specialists, Royal Navy Police, and a qualified dental nurse. The Princess Royal took the salute at the parade, which included Ship’s Company Divisions, and presented the training prizes and service awards.

Acting as guard officer, chief petty officer Al Lowe said: “It was a real privilege to be on parade in front of The Princess Royal, and it’s hugely rewarding to see these men and women evolve into effective members of the Royal Navy. All the training staff wish them luck as they start the next phase of specialist training.”

The Princess Royal meets HMS Raleigh recruit CS Sebastien Kava Liliu who is the first Solomon Islander to join the Royal Navy.

During her visit, six senior ratings serving at HMS Raleigh had their near 200 years’ service recognised with awards presented by Princess Anne. The sailors, all living in the south west and serving on the training staff at the New Entry Training establishment in Torpoint, Cornwall, have had their outstanding service marked with awards of Clasps to their long service and Good Conduct medal and Valedictory Certificates.

Petty officers Matthew Hocking and Stuart Donaldson both received the first Clasp to their medal after attaining over 25 years’ service, while warrant officers first class Ian Bailey and Justin Newbury both received their second Clasp after completing over 35 years’ service.

© Plymouth Live

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Our apartment is through a management company. It's usually fine. The last several months, we've had issues with them 1) actually sending out maintenance, and 2) not fixing our fucking floor.

Our floor was put in during the Fall of 2022 after the fucking flood of June 2022. For the entire summer, we walked around on the original concrete floor of our renovated 100-year-old basement apartment.

Management company swore the problem was that the property owner was dragging his feet.

I'd met the property owner several times as he'd come to inspect the damage and understand what he needed to do as owner, since it would be his insurance covering things. I thought he was an asshole.

The new floor went in. We moved home. A few weeks later, I noticed a space between the boards in the kitchen. I debated calling the management company, then went, "I'm in no fucking mood" and threw a rug over it.

I'm not a professional, but I know bits and pieces of home shit. I figured, with the weather cooling, the vinyl boards were shifting a bit, and it'd either stay the same or just slip back together at some point.

And then the rest of the floor started buckling.

I put a maintenance request in. A guy came out, took one look at the floor, and went, "Oh, yeah, I know what's happening." He took photos. He pushed back together what boards he could, and he left.

Nothing for about a week, then a call. The owner wants to come out and look. I sighed and agreed. He came out and brought along his wife, the maintenance guy who'd come before, and our property management contact.

He was NOT PLEASED. His wife's job that day, very obviously to me, was to get my real impression of the management company while the owner asked some questions about why it was taking a week to even update me on next steps?

I told the wife, "We've never had a real problem with maintenance. Stuff's always gotten fixed."

"Have you needed it often?" she asked.

"Nope," I said because it was true.

When the whole apartment was getting torn up after the flood, the demo guy was 1) great and 2) informed me that all the finishes in the apartment were commonly used but also the high-end version. Yeah, they were all particle board and vinyl and what have you. But they were the top-notch versions of everything. I remembered thinking, "Wow, the dude who renovated this place gave a real shit."

We have not heard word one from anyone at the management company about our floor since around October. We have heard from the owner and his wife on a few occasions, calling to see if the next step of the plans had happened. Which is how I found out there were plans. Our contact at the management company (with 16 years experience, something she mentioned when she sent out her intro email at her hiring) had not given me any information.

A couple of weeks ago, our kitchen turned into a tiny swamp. There was water coming up through the fucked up floorboards. A pipe had frozen upstairs a couple of days before. There were four inches of glaze ice over everything.

We called the management company. We got an email back: "We are confirming with the owner how he wants to proceed."

I started cursing the owner's name up and down.

And then he showed up that night. In the ice and the snow. With it pouring sleet (literally pouring sleet). I thought he was being a control freak.

He looked at things, said, "I'll have to turn the water off." And then went upstairs to check on things there. He came back a few minutes later, needing to try and find the shut off. We couldn't locate it down here, either. He shut it off at the street, then took Sean out and showed him how to use the tool to turn it on and off.

"It's a very slow leak," he told us. "If you don't mind mopping up water when it comes up, you can turn the water on for short periods of time."

Two days with no water. The ice continued not to melt. I fell on the dog walk and slid into the side of a car (nothing serious). The owner showed up again when the roads were still barely passable. He had the leak fixed and the water back in by the end of the day. He apologized for the delay. He left the wall open so things could dry, and came back the next day to check things again.

He started to grow on me. He knows his shit. He works quietly. He tries to be as unobtrusive as possible. I sent my regards to his wife, for which he thanked me.

During these few days, I'm getting sporadic emails from the management company basically rehashing everything that had happened that day. Even though I'd heard him call them and explain things to them within half an hour of showing up each day.

So, they were in the loop.

And, yes, so were we.

But there's a way to do these things.

And acting like it's all brand new information to you when the email gets to me at six, after he's left again after apologizing for getting some mud on the floor because he's been in and out not only fixing the leak but also beating the shit out of the four inches of glaze ice with a shovel so he can clear the sidewalk for us. Which is one of those technical requirements that I don't expect of any owner or management company when it's below freezing multiple days in a row in a city where that does not happen regularly. Like, the official city policy during the weather was "please stay the fuck inside."

The contractors came to put the wall back together. The owner showed up to properly introduce them, then left them to it. They did good work as far as I could tell.

I've heard nothing from the management company for several days, and I continue to be very unimpressed by their current actions. Which is just additional unimpressed feelings since October when I got a call from the wife saying, "Did the contractor come out to measure?"

"Measure?"

"For the replacement floor."

"No, Ma'am," I said, not knowing until this phone call that a contractor had even been signed. "Last I heard anything was when the inspector came out."

"Did the company contact you about them?"

"Yes, but then the inspector didn't show the day he was supposed to, and we didn't hear why. He did show up a couple of days later."

The kind of pause you only get from a woman who knows how to use her powers for politeness, smoothing ruffled feathers, and fucking murdering someone. "I see. Okay. Thank you."

"I've worked on a lot of floors," the contractor told me yesterday as he wiped down all the places drywall dust and paste had gotten (everywhere; including the bottom of Bean's foot I discovered this morning). "You're definitely gonna need new floor where the leak was."

"Oh, yeah," I said, with a wave. "We need the whole thing replaced, actually. It's in work."

"Yeah, I noticed it was bubbling," the contractor says. "Not surprising. This is the cheapest vinyl floor you can get."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I've worked with the owner for years. I'm surprised he approved this."

About a week after the wife last called me, we got a letter in the mail from the owner. It read, in part:

...please copy us in all emails to the management company. We want to be fully aware when issues arise so they can be handled as quickly as possible...

Given all current evidence, I am beginning to suspect the problem was NOT the owner but the management company. As I have never worked in property management, I don't know who decides things like which flooring. However, having watched the owner over this last couple of weeks, I suspect the management company picked the flooring and the contractor to do it and the "dragging on" issue was the owner pushing for better quality.

I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that the owner was here today to paint the repaired wall and a strip of ceiling that has gone unfixed by the management company since before we told them the floor news.

I have been beyond happy with the speed of things with the owner in charge of repairs, and I've come to appreciate his dedication to keeping our place in good kit. He is proud of this place and wants it to show. He wants high-quality and good craftsmanship.

He also ended up not painting because the ceiling repair doesn't have the right texture when the lights are off. He is coming back tomorrow morning with the contractor so it gets done to his liking. "It can be difficult to match the texture of sheet rock," he told me. Having watched him work these past couple of weeks, I know he wants it done to a high standard that I appreciate as the tenant.

On the other hand. What an asshole.

[palmbleeder]

with a taste of a poison paradise,

when: sunday, 7pm.

where: marina funeral home - the morgue.

who: mourad ramzi.

status: oops!

content triggers: poisoning, religious guilt & general pondering, death (in relation to) grief, needles.

Myria had always made all too fun - even more than it usually was, at times. Mourad would hear the music first, softened by the walls separating them in other rooms he's working on and know she'd started her day. Danced along to it when he couldn’t keep her company or when she didn't require assistance in the labs where she takes charge for the most part; Mourad's own work mainly having much to do with directing and presentation.

Tonight and the nights prior since, he had honored her wishes by having Britney provide ample entertainment to her unlively audience and partly himself. He never minded it, however when it came to his own work ethic regarding handling the dead, Mourad's was a little different. He preferred the silence; wishing not to disturb them in the eternal slumber they've succumbed to in ways natural or recently, obscenely unnatural. It also came with personal veering on spiritual views, particularly when it came to handling those of his own religion; a crucial reason why he'd considered an associate degree in mortuary science, he figured the places he'll be in could always use more Muslims in their staff. that included Marina.

Half-jokingly, he'd taught River how to wash him if it was his time to go — ‘I wouldn't want it to be anyone else.’ but what he meant is that it couldn’t be anyone else, as the religion that added a deeper layer to their already-profound bond prohibits anyone else. He'd also reminded himself to keep contact with others capable, in case river couldn't go through with it. It's already so much he would have to do, having to lift him into his grave, all the way back home. he'd already notified his mother that he'd like to be buried there - not France, but home. in Cairo, where her late husband and his father lay, all the way in Egypt. right where it all started; his first life, their first loss. She wasn't too comfortable and half participated in those morbid conversations he'd start casually on occasion but so long as he made his intentions clear, he figured, and cut those with a joke aimed at both his mother and river, ‘Ah, and you'd also get to have me in white for once! isn't that what you've always wanted of me?’

Humming along to Toxic - banger, he'd say if he was normal - Mourad wheeled the second to last cadaver back into its locker and returned to his station with another, tirelessly preparing the body through the easier processes from inspections to wiring jaws and securing lids shut, pouring the embalming fluid into the machine (sweetly named the Cauldron) that stood waiting to roar to life. Just then, the door to the morgue chimed in. They'd hung a bell above as a joke to clock running spirits desperate for a second chance at a life and knowing he wasn't meant to be with company, Mourad peered over his shoulder thinking they'd found their first ghost friend.

Not quite, but a puzzling visit all the same, it seemed.

“I... didn’t think I’d be having a guest over or I would've tidied up, hello." Mourad laughed in his confusion, his brows drawn together, a playful glint in his eyes at his the familiar figure. “What are you doing here? you seem lost, my friend.”

He'd found himself in stranger encounters, he thought, and on a whim suggests the unwise when he piped up; rather rushed, seeing the time.

“Shit. I have to get done here. Just... you don't mind hanging back here, do you? — Yes, perfect! So long as you can stomach all of this, of course - but please careful not to touch anything.”

Almost comical, how they'd barely found a rhythm, how all has gone eerily quiet the second the Cauldron started brewing, even as Britney sang away in what seemed to be the longest song ever compared to what befell him and his living company of the night, how the sensation he'd grown accustomed with to his right is now closer behind, when Mourad felt a rather harsh stab into his neck.

"Ah... Fuck, what the.." Dumbly and slowly, he stumbled back, his hand flying to the offending spot and then everything rushed back; the context, the bodies, Myria, this cursed town. Too late when his side hits the station and he winced before instinctively grabbing at a flying hand latching onto his jaw.

"St...op, what the hell are you doing? What did you do-" confusing himself by his own interrogation in his panic, his heartbeat already racing in trampling, arrhythmic steps made worse by the adrenaline. what else are they doing, Mourad? Their grip on his jaw tightened, almost to keep him quiet but then strangely pulling his jaw apart; open, inviting to something he hadn't known until the other arm came in, holding the tube attached to the machine. No.

It took too much effort left in him to push off; a breathless struggle that he realized, a little after he'd finally managed to send them slamming into the cupboard behind and then leaving him there, that he'd been struggling that entire time. that he was no longer pulling in air into his body, that he'd been fighting a losing battle anyway.

The strangest he'd felt, like a hole sucking inwards into his chest, trapping him in, doubling him over, dragging him knees first onto the ground. His head lulls to the side and there it was, the needle in his sights. Emptied out into his neck what could only be what they'd conjured for the Cauldron. Mourad frowns, This is it, his palms lock onto his neck and he's punching out a few breaths he desperately needs when he remembered, Oh, fuck.

Ash-

Mourad tried to say it. tried to establish the line between himself and his maker, tried to get there. How could he forget?

Ash-h... Shit, shit, shit.

His hands flex as he struggled to draw out more air. His shoulders shake, mourad doesn't realize he's sobbing now. He'd imagined it all so differently; so peaceful, a slumber lowering him into the ground to wait until he's called over. A complete circle of a checkered life, that he'd made amends and made it all better - and he couldn't achieve it now, far too suffocated and overwhelmingly exhausted. An instilled fear he never realized would come to him this way, never thought he'd forget; If you can't say your Shahada, you will never find peace.

No - You have to, Mourad. this is for you and your father, for River to carry you over. His shoulders shake as he renews his resolve. C'mon, die as you lived.

Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa Allah, wa ash-hadu anna anna Muhammadan Rasulullah

Relived, Mourad slumped back and let himself fall way away, his mind swirling; his initial fear overpowered by a last sliver of joy that he did utter it. Not think it, not pray that counts in his slipping mind but that he did say it.

He did say it.

Au revoir. All is well.

Right?