#yellow glove cleaning services

[yellowglove1]

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[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Niffty Redesign🐛

Made my own take on Niffty for Fun!!!!!!!!💖 I def thought a lot on what to try with her!!!!

Pushed for a more 50’s Housewife aesthetic/hotel maid vibe. She’s wearing a pinafore apron which was very popular during that era and I took the poodle skirt idea and reworked it into the apron, but rather than a poodle it’s a bug 🐛. Also brought back warmer colors like the pilot look had. Pastel yellow was def a pop color!

Also added a name tag as to show she works for the hotel 🏨

Added more splotches and made them bigger on her apron. Polkadots were popular in that time and I think are cute(lot of her concepts had polka dots on her) plus I can see her wanting people to assume she’s a ladybug or Asian Lady Beetle 🐞 (@peeperscreeperz made a take of Niffty being that which is AMAZING and I considered making her that too but I ended up going a different route). I can see her also wanting them to give off flowers…only for most people to see them as blood stains.🌸🩸

Also gave her those iconic cleaning gloves 🧤. Shes the Hotels maid AND cook afterall 🧽 👩‍🍳

Gave her a bandana bow for the housewife and maid look and because I think it’s cute and lowkey gives off antennae. I LOVE the idea of her being a bug demon so I went with that. I was going for a subtle ambiguity of what she’s suppose to be(she’s hiding what she is).

Gave her warmer eye color back! Also made the pupil more leaf shaped 🍃.

Added gradient for her limbs.

Added extra limbs. Great for extra cleaning 🧹 🧼

Her hairs actually antennae…and extra legs 🦵

Gave her three fingers.

Made her eye bigger(bugs often got big eyes! Or for her case eye 👁️)

Added a lil bug instead of a poodle for her apron!🪳

For her color motif, went back to warmer colors and because for mine I’m going with a rainbow motif she’s Yellow💛🌈 the color known for its positives such as joy and friendship…but can also mean negative things such as Deceit, illness and often used as a warning color⚠️ it was also a popular color for Sci-Fi posters(she was based on B-Alien Movies)

Made her skin a kinda warm pastel orange🧡 I missed her having a warm palette but I also get why they changed it due to her roots 🇯🇵. So I went with orange!!!! Her hairs also a more brownish red-orange.

For her bug theme,

I went with something that I figure would connect her both to her ability to take down pests so well and Japanese origins. The Japanese Centipede! Centipedes are great for pest control but apparently to Japan they’re considered symbols of evil and rottenness, plus with how they look they often scare people even those they don’t pose serious threats to humans, which I think fits Niffty’s whole desire to be loved only to accidentally scare people away…shunned & unloved by a world she can’t seem to fit in💔

HUGE Spoiler alert!!!! Hazbin Hotel

With the reveal of Husk being once an Overlord I like to believe the same with Niffty but rather than souls(talked about this with @a-sterling-rose, she was an immensely powerful sinner like Alastor, but alas her form was far too big and scary for people to want to get close to and she was alone…until Alastor offered her a deal he’d provide a more approachable form in return for her eternal service)

A lot of her looks meant to be hiding what she is. Disguising her extra limbs as hair, her body’s color scheme based on a centipedes, poofy dress that could cover extra, even the bug design could be Interpreted as a long centipede. I was also going for a subtle sharp, mini legs for her apron ruffles, giving off her trying to look sweet and soft but could also be interpreted in another way…

I read and learned from a @lovesart23 redesign vid for her that, she was meant to be based on B-Alien Movies. LOVE that and I tried it myself(hardest part was figuring out what bug to make her and what themes to go with) but I ended up going for another Sci-Fi route. Kaiju/Giant Bug monsters. Creatures like Godzilla or those giant bugs creatures like “the Tingler” 1959(which was a centipede monster I read). I figure it’d connect well to both her struggles of fitting in but also her Japanese Roots.

Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy. They do not attack people because they want to, but because of their size and strength, mankind has no other choice but to defend himself. After several stories such as this, people end up having a kind of affection for the monsters. They end up caring about them."

— Ishir⁠ō Honda The Director of Godzilla

Plus some certain Kaijus could qualify as Aliens!.

There’s even a Yokai/demon based on the centipede know as the Ōkumade!

CW freaky Pictures of centipedes and Mice

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

I’ve also done Charlie, Vaggie and Angel🍎🦋🕷️

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 12

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: *SLOW BURN BUT THE MATCH IS SO LIT* You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

WC: 2600

Taglist: @cottoncandyloverrrr @zoros-fourth-sword @nothing-but-brass

Burning Hearts Chapter 12: Acts of Service

— — 

Training was on hold again.

The majority of the Heart Pirates had fallen ill with the stomach flu, leaving you, Law, and Bepo the only ones in normal physical condition. Law had attributed your collective good health to your immune systems and the fact that Bepo wasn’t a human. Whatever the reason, you were just happy you weren’t retching over the toilet every 20 minutes. 

You were at the stove most of the morning, simmering chicken and beef stocks to try and replenish the crew’s electrolytes. 

“I don’t know how many more puke buckets I can clean… didn’t you say the captain was working on some sort of medicine for this? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get this smell out of my fur…” Bepo comes lumbering into the kitchen wearing a comically large pair of yellow rubber gloves. 

“He’s been at it since last night.” You sigh as you stir the large pots on the stovetop. “He’s going to work himself sick and then it’ll just be the two of us.” 

“He better hurry up then, Penguin’s so pale it looks like he’s been lost at sea for weeks, and Uni sweat all the way through his mattress, so that’s ruined, and Ikkaku has been asleep for 20 hour I’m starting to think she might be dead! And-“ 

“I’m sure Law will figure it out, he always does.” You say as you throw your dish towel over your shoulder. 

Moments later, the metal door to the kitchen swings open and Law comes in with a tray of syringes, rubber gloves, and alcohol pads in hand. He looked out of breath and exhausted, but he managed a small, tired smile. 

“I got it. This should fix everyone by tomorrow.”

“Oh thank goodness, Captain! I’m so tired of smelling like barf. Should we administer the medications now?” Bepo asks with a sigh of relief. 

“Yes, come with me.” Law nods towards the door and the two take their leave to give the ailing crew their medicine. 

You smile and sit down at the kitchen table with your cup of tea. You relax into the chair and sip your tea after cracking your sore neck. There was an overwhelming sense of relief that washed over you, now that things can go back to relative normalcy here on the base. Realizing how much work you still had to get done, you finish your tea and head to the sink to clean up the dishes. 

“Hey.” You hear a familiar deep, tired voice from behind you. You jump a bit. 

You turn around as you wipe the last of the pots and pans dry. 

“Hey back. You jabbed everyone already?” You ask. 

“Yeah. Everyone should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Good. You look wiped, you should get some rest.” 

“I just might… and you? You’re not exactly fresh as a-“ Law begins to smirk.

“Don’t! Don’t say it. You’re not funny. And as much as I would love to relax for the rest of the afternoon, the garden is overrun with weeds due to neglecting it for your sickly crew members. I’ll probably be up to my ears in dirt for the rest of the day.” You sigh and take off your apron. 

“And if I helped you?”

“…what?”

“In the garden. Would it take less time if I helped you with the garden?”

“I… I mean yeah, but I doubt you’d enjoy doing the weeding…” You chuckle and go to grab your gardening gloves and a few buckets for the discarded weeds. 

“Well, if we both work a bit more, we can take the rest of the night off. It doesn’t seem fair that only one of us can rest tonight.”

“Yeah but you were up all night making the vaccine and-“

“You were in here with Bepo making food and scrubbing vomit off the floors… and the walls from what I hear…”

You shudder after being reminded of your harrowing past 48 hours. 

“Fine. I’m heading out there now. Grab some gloves and roll up your sleeves.” You smirk as you chuck the spare gloves at Law’s exposed, tattooed chest. 

— — 

Law looked very silly in a pair of green gardening gloves. They stuck out like sore thumbs against his lightweight blue summer jacket. 

“Ok rookie! I’m going to take care of the flowers since they are sensitive and require someone who knows what they’re doing. You sir, will be weeding the vegetable beds!” You push a plastic bucket into Law’s hands and walk towards the rose bushes. You begin preening your prized pink roses when you notice Law still standing yards behind you where you had left him. 

“… Something wrong?” You holler over your shoulder. 

“I… Uh, what do the weeds look like?” Law stares at the bottom of his bucket as he calls back to you awkwardly. 

“Gods… you are the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met…” You rise from your knees in the dirt and approach Law. You pull him by the jacket sleeve over to the carrots and broccoli that were growing in your vegetable beds. 

“Here.. Look.” You crouch down on your knees. “Anything that looks like grass, dandelions, or anything with spiky leaves like this milkweed…” You grab hold of an overgrown leaf that was strangling your poor little cauliflower. “This needs to go.”

You look back up to Law who was still standing next to you. 

“Make sense?”

“I think so.”

You rise to your feet. 

“Great. Hop to it, little bunny!” You smack his shoulder harshly and head back to your rose bush. 

Law sighs and drops to his knees, beginning to dig his gloved hands into the dirt. 

— —  

After a few hours, you finish tending to the rest of the garden and decide to check on Law’s progress with the produce. You approach him from behind and begin to notice the skin on the back of his neck. 

“Hey you, how’s it going- Oh my gods!” You exclaim. 

“What? What is it? Are you hurt?” Law jumps up and turns to face you. 

“Not me! The back of your neck! It’s so red! You’re sun burnt as shit!” You grab his shoulder and turn him around and inspect his neck further. You pull at the collar of his jacket with your two fingers, peering further down his shirt. 

“Shit you even burnt through your jacket. You pasty mother fucker… Go inside. I’ll cut some aloe and bring it to your office. Hurry, get! Before you turn into a crispy slab of bacon.” Law nods wordlessly and heads inside the base. 

You quickly grab your shears from beside your rose bush and haul them over to your giant aloe vera plant that sat happily in a large terracotta pot in the middle of the garden. 

“Sorry my baby, I’m gonna need a few of these… he’s torched pretty bad…” You whispered quietly to your plant as you cut its thick leaves and stick them under your arm. 

— — 

You head through the base with several long aloe leaves tucked in your armpit and a clean white tee shirt from the laundry room. You arrive at Law’s office door and push in without knocking. 

“Alright tomato boy, let’s get you fixed up.” You sigh as you walk in and plop your supplies down on the couch. You sit down next to the leaves and pat the spot next to you. “Come here.”

Law rises from his desk slowly and makes his way over to you. He turns his back to you as he sits down next to you on the leather sofa. 

“This might sting at first, okay?” You squeeze the aloe leaf from tip to tail, releasing its sticky goo out into your palm. 

“hmm.” Law nods. 

You begin applying the gel to his bright red neck.

“Fuck!” Law lurches forward and exclaims. 

“Hey, I said it would sting for a second! Relax… some warlord you are…” You giggle as you rub the gel into his skin. 

“Watch it…” Law warns. 

“What? I’m not the doctor that went out without sunscreen on an 85 degree day… Now I need you to take this off, I have to do the rest of your back or it won’t heal.” You tugged at the shoulders of his jacket. 

Law hesitates. 

You sense his unease. 

“Hey… it’s okay. It’s just me.” You chuckle. “Shit, you’ve already seen me naked anyway, this shouldn’t be a big deal.” You laugh remembering how he set nearly all of your bones back together months ago and sewed up your injuries from the landslide. 

Law sucks in a breath. He slides his jacket off his shoulder revealing his bare back. His skin was a shade of bright red excluding the large black tattoo of his Jolly Roger which you had never seen before. You can’t help but trace it lightly as you apply the sticky gel from your fingertips. 

“I didn’t know you had this one. It suits you.” You lower your voice as Law flinches away from your touch. 

“t-thanks… I didn’t realize I was burning this badly…” 

“It’s okay, happens to the best of us. I guess I should have realized how little time you spend out in the sun…” Law flinches against your fingers again as you rub more aloe into his skin. “You’re… you’re not really used to this, are you?” You inquire. 

“Used to what?” Law asks. 

“People touching you. I can tell. I do the same thing. Different reasons, I guess.” 

Law didn’t reply, only breathed heavily. There was a long silence. You continued slathering aloe gel all over Law’s sunburn, the flesh searing hot under your fingertips. 

“Gods, dude, you have a knot the size of the moon back here. Want me to get it out?” You dig your thumb lightly into the bulging, painful-seeming knot in his mid-back. 

Law scrunched his eyebrows in pain as you gently worked out the kink. “Shit, that fucking hurts.” He grits out. 

“I know, but I promise I can get it out and you’ll feel much better.” You say softly. 

Law grunts. 

“Do you trust me, Law?” You lean over his shoulder to ask more closely. 

Law hesitates. 

“Yes.” 

You smile. 

“Alright, deep breath in-“ You jam your thumbs into the knot and start pressing hard circles into it. 

“Fuck!!!” Law cries out. 

“I know, I know, it’s almost out.” You coo as you add more aloe to smooth the glide of your hands against his skin. Law continues to sigh and tense under your touch as you work to deftly relieve the tension in his back. 

“Ahh, shit.. where did you learn to do this?” Law asks through clenched teeth. 

“Oh this? My friend Usopp, he’s a nervous wreck, carries all his stress in his shoulders. Since our doctor has hooves, he isn’t exactly the best at working out muscle tension. Somebody had to pick up the slack, I guess.” You rub harder into the knot. 

“Nnng, fuck.” Law groans as the knot is so close to giving.

“Just a bit more, you can handle it.” You feel Law suddenly inhale sharply as soon as the words leave your lips. 

“You alright?” You withdraw your hands. Law looks down at his lap. 

“I-… Uh yeah. Keep going. I think it's almost gone.” 

“Right.” You continue your ministrations. “You know if you weren’t always sitting hunched over like a gargoyle, you might not have this problem.” You chide. 

Law couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I guess my posture leaves a little to be desired…” Law smiles. “Hey that’s much better, actually…” 

“Actually? You’re surprised I know what I’m doing?” You lean back and pull your hand to your chest and feign being wildly offended. 

“No it's not that, I mean-“ Law scrambled to try and make a recovery. 

“I’m just teasing.” You grab the folded white shirt and hand it to Law. “This should help the aloe absorb into your skin. You’ll be good as new in a day or two. Frankly, you might even be a little tan for once.” You say jokingly. 

“Whose shirt is this?” Law says as he unfolds and holds up the garment. 

“It was in the laundry room, it had to be one of yours. It isn’t a 6XL so I assumed it isn’t Bepo’s. Now shut up and put it on before anyone else gets stunned by those milky white washboard abs.” You wink. 

Law blushes deeply before he pulls the white tee over his head.

“Sorry I got so burnt, we could have gotten more done if you didn’t have to-“

“Hush now.” You interrupt. “We got far more done than if I had just been out there myself. Thank you for helping. It really made my life a lot easier. I appreciate it a lot. I’m just sorry you got toasted like a marshmallow in the process.” You look at your lap as Law turns to face you on the couch. 

“I can handle it.” 

“I know you can.” You smile again.

A few moments of awkward silence go by without making eye contact. 

“Daisy…”

“Yeah?” You look up. 

“Before.. when I.. um… You know that time from before when… and we… and I-” Law chokes and trips over his words.

“When you kissed me?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, that...” 

You smile at him softly. 

“What about it?” You ask. 

“Could I… Could I ask to try again? Properly, this time?” Law is still staring at his lap nervously. 

“What are you asking me, Law?” You cock your head to the side. 

“Can I kiss you?” Law spits out as he finally meets your gaze. 

You barely needed a second thought.

“yes…” You say quietly as you shuffle your body closer to his. 

Law lets out a heavy sigh and cups your cheek with a trembling hand. You eyes close and eventually your parted lips are met with Law’s as he draws you in to a gentle kiss. This time the kiss wasn’t frantic and rushed, it was soft and tentative. After a few moments of the briefest of touches, you begin to move your lips against his slightly chapped ones. It was clear he was following your lead, letting you have control of the situation. You bring your hands up to lace behind his sunburnt neck and pull him deeper into your mouth. He grunts softly at your touch and continues to try and match your movements. 

Law uses his free hand to grab at your waist, index and middle fingers slipping up your shirt unintentionally and gripping at your bare skin. You sigh at his calloused touch. He wasn’t a good kisser, but nothing you couldn’t fix with a bit of practice. You begin to tangle your fingers into the coarse hair at the base of his neck and ready yourself to swing onto his lap when-

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Startled, you pull back from each other and look towards the door. 

“Captain? The fire alarm is going off, I think Shachi tried to use the stove again!” 

You hear Bepo’s nervous voice from the other side of the door. 

“God damnit…” Law whispered. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well, we should probably save the base from burning down.” 

Law rolls his eyes. 

“What else is new.” He bemoans as he slips his jacket back on.

— — 

*Author's Note* HI Y'ALL HERE WE ARE. They like like each other hehehehehe. Thank you guys so much for reading and interacting with the story, it makes my day every time I get a notification that someone commented on it! Please feel free to let me know if you want to be on the tag list or have an idea for a chapter! Love y'all!

[lenakluthor]

Do you think Lena cleaned and cooked? Like... She's said too many times how private she is (like refusing therapy because she's private like... Honey, I got news for you) so would she be comfortable letting a stranger coming to her penthouse to clean up?

Or would she be in full cleaning mode over the weekends? (Hair up in a messy bun, yellow gloves on, brand new broom in hand, a vacuum cleaner nearby and a random Roomba making its way around with random classical music blasting while she cleans the shower)

honestly, i think lena would have a cleaning service. she's private, yes, but anything she wants to keep hidden would be put away (or locked away) before they arrived. she's not one to leave things out in the open, and her decor style is more sleek and minimal. she's not really a messy person, so the cleaning service is there to maintain. they dust, mop, vacuum, clean the windows, the bathroom, etc. they're not really going through her things, you know?

i do think that every once in a while she does help kara marathon clean kara's loft, though. that's where the messy buns, rubber gloves, and singing comes in. i bet kara even ropes her into a water fight with the sprayer from the sink, or throws a handful of suds at her.

[thestalwartheart]

stitch.

Rating: Teen & Up Words: 712 Relationship: James Bond/Q Tags: Hurt/comfort, wound care, developing relationship Summary:

Q does what he does best. Fixes. [Read on AO3.]

Thread, pull, loop, tie, tie again, and again, snip the thread.

Q’s hands don’t tremble anymore.

They’d shaken like leaves the first time. Like pale gossamer, ready to take flight. It had taken an enormous effort to keep them in place over the bloodied wound at Bond’s shoulder, to convince them to stay and do the job Bond was asking of them.

But this is not the first time. Q has lost count of how many times he’s done this now.

And his hands do not tremble.

Thread, pull, loop—

The desk lamp perched on the dining table is the only real light in the room, save for a few lamps that work in the service of ambience rather than clarity. It's a cold, shocking wash of sterile white light, and it makes the thing under it hideous. Bond's latest wound glows red and vivid, surrounded by iodine-yellowed skin.

Horrible. This never stops being horrible.

The cats meow quietly from their carriers, displeased at not being able to nose about in their own house.

Q no longer wastes his breath chastising Bond or telling him to go to Medical. They are long past that argument, over the hill and on the other side of it. Returning to it would take the kind of leg work that both of them are too exhausted to put in again.

Besides, under the influence of nearly a bottle of vodka and three days of exhaustion, Bond had once confessed how disorienting he found it, waking up in Medical, all stitched up and anaesthetised when the last clear memory in his head was full of blood and dust and sound.

I know where I am with you, he’d told Q, running his hand over a small cat scratch on Q’s wrist. I trust you.

—tie, tie again, and again—

“Does it hurt?” asks Q.

His voice is a hush. Any louder, and he thinks they’d both jump. It’s a redundant question. He’d been sure to numb the area before he went in with the needle and thread, but it never seems like enough. There was always something violent about this; poking, prodding and pulling at living skin. Q can’t imagine a numbing cream doing much to counter that violence.

“No.”

And yet.

Q isn’t sure he believes Bond, but he watches closely as the man takes another sip of vodka and sits through another stitch. He winces more at the vodka. Glen’s. The cheap stuff. Glorified paint stripper, as Bond likes to put it.

“Good.”

—snip the thread.

When the job is done — six stitches in all — Q covers them with a waterproof dressing. He turns off the glaring desk lamp, strips off his irritating, clingy disposable gloves and cleans up the gruesome detritus of wound care. When there are no longer any loose needles around, he lets the cats out of their carriers and watches while he’s washing his hands as Bond scratches them under the chin, murmuring sweet, sarcastic nothings into their gormless little faces. They are still in their knitted winter fashions, and for all Bond makes fun of Q for dressing his cats better than he dresses himself, the man certainly does like to tug at their pom poms and fix their hats.

When they are both settled on the couch — Q with a glass of red and Bond with an appropriately top-shelf whisky — Bond turns to him, flexes his injured arm and smiles.

“Not going to kiss it better?”

He’d asked that last time, too, and for whatever reason (likely a mission involving a closer call than usual and the delirium of high blood pressure), Q had acquiesced.

Best not make a habit of it, he thinks. But Bond’s eyes twinkle in the near-darkness, brighter and more engaging than any light Q owns. Then again.

Q leans forward and presses a slightly less than perfunctory kiss over the bandage on Bond’s forearm. In response, Bond threads his fingers through Q’s, considers his hand for a moment, and touches his lips to Q’s knuckles.

“Thank you, Q.”

His gratitude reverberates into Q’s skin. It sounds like it’s aimed at more than the clever hands before it.

Q sighs and wonders how long it’ll be before they’re at this again.

“Anytime, James.”

[talkfastlibrary]

A sneak peek to a Bradley fic I’ve been slowly working on for the last couple of months. I don’t want to post it until it’s completed but I’d love to know your thoughts!

It’s titled: Salt to the Sea

Bradley wakes at his usual time of four thirty, makes his coffee, adds going to the grocery store for some food to his laundry list of things to do and goes back out to fix the shutters. When he awoke, there was a notification from the dating app he used to meet Vanessa and sure enough, it was her asking if he’d like to get together again. His thumb hovered over the keyboard before he resolutely deleted the app.

It only causes trouble and he didn’t want to be known as the town’s player, especially the ballerina. He gathers his Bluetooth speaker and plays an old eighties playlist he made named after his dad. Hearing his favorite songs makes it feel like he’s with him.

He gets lost in his sanding until he feels alerted in his body that someone is behind him. He turns around and can’t believe his eyes but she’s there. The ballerina is on her bike wearing a pretty floral pink dress and reflective sunglasses. And she’s stopping her bike behind his Bronco, grabs something from her basket and steps off.

“Good morning,” she chirps, lifting her sunglasses up on her head.

Bradley gulps trying not to get lost in her eyes. They’re so big and blue.

“Morning,” he mumbles. He awkwardly sets his sander on the shutter.

“You’re the new guy in town, right?” she rests her hand on top of the thing in her hand. It’s something covered with a white towel.

“Yeah, I moved here at the beginning of the month. I’m Bradley.”

“Welcome to Doveport, Bradley,” she smiles and he swears his heart stops. “I brought you a blueberry pie, I hope you like blueberry?”

“Um, yeah, yeah I love blueberry. Um,” he goes to take the pie but then sees he still has his work gloves on. He removes them, wipes his hands on his jeans, then grabs the pie from her. Their pinkies brush in the slightest way. He wonders if she feels the electric spark like he does. “Thank you, that was nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. You’re cleaning up the place nicely,” she compliments, eying up the house. “I always thought hibiscus would look lovely against the pillars.”

Bradley curves his body towards the house and imagines the bright, colorful flowers in front of the porch. He remembers the varying oranges, pinks, yellows and purples of the hibiscus while he was in Hawaii.

“Yeah, they would actually,” he agrees. “They’d bring a nice Hawaiian tropic feel to the place.” He faces her again. “Um, I still have some fresh coffee inside. Would you like some?”

He’s choosing to ignore how many times he’s said ‘um’ while speaking with her and hopes she doesn’t notice.

She checks her watch on her left hand. It’s a dainty rose gold with a blush pink face, it winks at him in the light.

“I would but I don’t want to be late,” her tone is apologetic. When her big blue eyes meet his, he can see she truly is apologetic.

Then, he takes in her appearance. She’s wearing a pretty floral pink dress and a pair of nice white sandals. Her toes are painted pink and she has a few toe rings. Now, Bradley’s not saying he has a foot fetish, but he’s never seen cuter toes before.

“Where are you going, a wedding?”

“No,” she smiles. “Church. And I’m in with the babies this mornin’ but i wanted to properly welcome you to town on my way in.”

“Thank you. Apart from Walter and Shirley, this is the best welcome I’ve had.”

“Well, good. Would you like to accompany me? I attend the second service and that starts at 10:45.”

She stares up at him, dark blue eyes hopeful. He would love to accompany her anywhere in the world, but–

“Uhh, I’ve never really been to church before. Except for funerals.”

Too many funerals….

“Oh, that’s all right. The music is great and Pastor Wade always has funny puns. If you ever want to check it out, let me know.”

She heads back to her bike then Bradley remembers something.

“Hey, wait,” he takes a few steps towards her. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

A warm breeze lifts her hair, the sun shining gold in the auburn strands. It looks so soft and silky, Bradley won’t deny how he wants to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“I’m Ophelia. Have a good Sunday, Bradley. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

She turns her bike around, climbs on, then pedals from his driveway onto the road. Bradley stares after her until she disappears around the trees. Her blueberry pie is still in his hand. The bottom of the pan is still warm.

“Ophelia,” he murmurs. He loves how her name sounds like a song.

[theviridianbunny]

THE NOMAD AND THE LONE WOLF - PART 2

CHAPTER SUMMARY - Klara arrives home and goes in search of food - Service station food never satisfied the mutant… even if it were a cheap and easy way to fill her belly. AN: Yippie !! Chapter 2 is up!! Not Beta Read [we die like men] - sorry for any spelling and grammar errors - writing is hard but I'm trying my best !!!This chapter was bought to you by me struggling to sleep and trying to get the blorbo ideas down <3 you can read this chapter under the cut or at my ao3 by clicking here .. you can find the prev chapter here

Divider art is an edit of a commission I got from my dear friend @redmedic - go check out his work !!

The sun had set by the time Klara pulled up to the gates of the x mansion. After parking her landrover and making sure essental belonings were on her- she hopped out and made her way into her home.

The rain had stopped - but the cold breeze remained. Klara zipped her her teddy jacket before she walked from her land rover Into the mansion.

Bitterly cold days were on the horizon now - Klara was not ready... she was never ready for the winter...

Even though the sun had set - she kept her sunglasses on for now. There was something about the coffee coloured tint of the lenses that made the world a little calmer.

Upon entering - she closed the large wooden doors as quietly as she could. Pulling off her dark fingerless gloves and stuffing them into her pockets.. Quickly making a B-line for the mansions kitchen.

Klara was oh so hungry after that long drive. Service station food never satisfied the mutant... even if it were a cheap and easy way to fill her belly.

Opening the fridge - she gazed at its contense with hungry eyes- before instinctively grabbing a loaf of white bread and a jar of jam.

"Jam sandwich- that'll be good enough for now" she thought out loud. Closing the fridge door with a smile over her face. Turning on the balls of her feet - placing the bread and jam down on the clean surface.

Now, the next thing she needed now???

A butter knive - and a plate. Or maybe just a butter knive. A part of klara knew this sandwich wouldn't be around long enough to justify getting a plate out.

Reaching instinctively to a draw on her right - she yanked it open to find the cuttlery had been moved...

Klara rolled her eyes to herself. Lifting up her sunglasses from her eyes - popping them on her head. Yellow eyes scowling at the draw that now contained tea towels - tea towels !!! Of all things!!!

"Bet the boy scout moved everything around for the 20th God damn time this week-" she grumbled to herself.

Klara knew she had to get used to things being different- she came home so rarely nowadays that things were bound to change...

But it still bothered her. That would never change.

What came next was a sight to behold- Klara closing one draw and yanking open the next - and then the next - and then the next - until after what felt like forever... she found a knive.

After this ordeal - she really needed that sandwich. Maybe a second if the need arose. She also needed a coffee.

Klara crossed her fingers Scott hadn't moved the jar of coffee around too...

Soon - she finally sat down on one of the bar stools in the kitchen - jam sandwich in one hand and coffee in a mug that had "SORRY - DID I ROLL MY EYES OUT LOUD" printed on it in a deep blackberry purple.

This mug had been a joke gift from Logan. Gifted to her many years ago , when The pair had spent Christmas at the mansion with the rest of the staff.

A secret santa event had been organised for fun and for laughs. Klara would always fondly remember the smile on logan's face and how he laughed with her - once she had connected the dots... realising it was him who'd bought her the mug.

The memory washing over her now as she took a long sip of her coffee - Klara wondered where her fellow nomad was at this time.

She knew a new term of teaching had started. Klara wondered if Logan were actively avoiding the school at this time... klara knew that soon she would be greeted by many anew faces. New students and new teachers alike.

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a large hand over her shoulder and squeezing.. Klara jumping out of her skin ever slightly and almost spilling what was left of her coffee.

Then hearing this laugh. One she would recognise anywhere...

"Careful bubs- dont want to get coffee all over thoes jeans huh?" A low rich tonned voice joked to her.

"oHMygoD LOGAN HI-" Klara swivelled herself round on the bar stool with excitement - actually spilling what was left off her coffee this time. The brown nectar spilt over the breakfast bar -but Klara did not care as she stood and hugged the taller man. Excited to see him - this was a surprise for her.

A laugh esacaping Logan as Klara held her.

"Woah- Klara- bubs- its good to see you too-" he breathed- hugging his friend back - not as tightly as her - but it was still a nice hug.. right hand patting at the small of her back. Logan let his friend hold him for as long as she needed - before she let go.

Klara took in all of Logan - his warmth and how he smelt of leather and vaguely of cigagar smoke. This was so much more than platonic- oh lord - it was definitely... friends didn't take this time and take all those things in... right?

Klara brushed off the incoming onslaught of blurred boundary crossing doom. Focusing on the then and the now... it had been forever since the two had shared a moment like this.

" join me for a smoke on the roof?" Logan asked - reaching for his own box of smokes. The two making eye contact - Klara's egg yolk yellow meeting with Logan's lapis blue.

"Sure" Klara beamed- eyes then travelling to the coffee she had spilt - grumbling to herself "though... I better clean this up first" she gestured to the spilt coffee.

"OK bubs - meet you on the roof in 10?"

"Mhm- in 10-!" She answered- wandering over to the sink - turning the tap on and soaking sponge in soapy water..

And with that , Logan made his way out of the kitchen - hands in his the pockets of his brown leather Jacket.

And Klara??

She tried not to be so obvious as she checked out his butt in the flared jeans he wore.

[reds-self-ships]

Sketch: The First Draft

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

CHAPTER 1: Two Point Perspective

The Gotham City Police Department's patrol cars raced through the streets, lights flashing and sirens blaring even as they skidded to a halt outside of the First National Bank of Gotham.

As officers piled out of the police vans, aiming their guns at the bank's faux marble and glass front doors, Commissioner James Gordon nearly fell out of his patrol car, assuming his position alongside Renée Montoya as she aimed her own service weapon at the door.

A megaphone was needed to be heard over the wail of the sirens and the clanging of the bank's security alarms.

"GCPD!" called Gordon. "Drop your weapons and come out with your hands—"

The front of the bank promptly exploded into a ball of flame and a shower of rubble.

It was then that the snipers moved into position, the angry red glint of lasers converging onto the shadowed figures emerging from the cloud of smoke and dust.

Gordon held up a hand. "Hold your fire!" At least wait until you find out whether they're good, bad or just damn ugly before you shoot them.

As the dust settled, Gordon counted out loud to nobody in particular: "Four henchmen with guns and bags of cash, one civilian - a nightguard - as hostage. And—"

A silver dollar coin glinted momentarily in the headlights of the police car, before landing back down in the hand of its owner again.

With their other hand, they swung a heavy-looking and well-packed cloth sack of coins at one of the henchmen, almost toppling the man over.

"You idiot! That's for wrecking the whole joint!" snarled Two-Face.

"You were only supposed to blow the doors off," added Harvey Dent, Gotham's former district attorney.

The coin came up bad, then.

"Come on, Harvey, don't do anything dumb. If you surrender, the judge might go easy on you, get a nice room back at Arkham."

Harvey, or Two Face - it was harder and harder to tell these days - laughed. "That's unlikely."

The coins clinked in the bag as they landed down beside his feet. He grabbed the now-weeping nightguard and pointed a pistol towards his head, pulling back the hammer and putting his finger through the trigger. "Let's see if this guy's luck will come up then, huh?" he growled.

Harvey Dent's signature silver dollar flew high into the air. As Dent had his finger on the trigger of his megaphone, Gordon had his finger on the switch of his megaphone, reluctantly ready to give the order to reciprocate if Harvey or one of his goons did decide to open fire.

A large black blur whooshed overhead, landing straight into the fray. Fists thudded hard against flesh, something cracking as it was either fractured or dislocated.

The henchmen were picked off one by one, barely able to string a sentence together, let alone make any kind of fight back.

Two Face released his grip for the moment, which allowed the night guard to quickly dive out of harm's way.

As he turned around to face the threat, he was immediately met by the black-gloved hand of the Batman.

Two Face landed hard on the flat of his back, the gun falling from his hand before it was kicked away by a well-timed kick from Gotham's caped crusader.

The silver dollar rolled around for a moment before landing bad-side up. Dent's working eyelid closed and Two Face's great big yellow eyeball rolled back into his skull.

The commissioner breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Take 'em in!" The clean up operation could begin now, at least.

Montoya wiped her brow with her sleeve and holstered her service weapon again. "That could have ended badly."

"Tell me about it. If you hadn't have stepped in when you did, Batman, that could have been a bloodbath."

Batman spoke plainly. "It was fortunate that I was nearby."

"Still, seems a little clichéd for Harvey, though. A bank robbery of all things."

"Tuesday nights are when the First National Bank of Gotham gets its coin supply from the Federal Mint. It'd be the best time to hit any bank if you wanted to steal some silver dollars."

Montoya added: "Well he does like his silver dollars. That, and the fact that they're easier to circulate than dollar bills - serial numbers can be traced, after all."

"Maybe," said Gordon.

As the firefighters and paramedics moved in to treat the wounded, a patrol car that looked more banged up than usual drove in with siren blaring, screeching to a halt as it took out a strip of police tape.

Gotham city's second most famous Harvey - Detective Harvey Bullock - leapt out of his patrol car, kicking away an empty cola can that had decided to accompany him on the journey and brushing the creases in his coat.

"Nice of you to join us, Harvey," quipped Montoya.

"Where the hell were you?" asked Gordon.

"That's the thing, Commish," said Bullock, "I was on the other side of the city. I'd've radioed in to say I was coming but since Harley Quinn took a giant mallet to my car last week, the radio's been on the fritz since then. I can get messages, but I can't send messages if you know what I mean. I was actually escortin' her there, and when I went to hand in the transfer paperwork I saw Two Face in Arkham."

Gordon's glasses nearly fell off his face in shock. He looked over to Batman, who glanced at him, but kept listening. "But Bullock, Dent's literally right there."

"I'm tellin' ya, it was him."

Montoya looked around, before doubling back and running over to the spot where Two Face and his henchmen had been lying in a heap just a few moments ago.

"Commissioner," she said, "he's gone! Dent and his gang have vanished!"

At that moment, she could've sworn she even saw Batman raise an eyebrow underneath that cowl as he walked on over to examine the scene himself, Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock running to keep up.

"He was here, he was definitely right here. Did anyone see his gang getting up and leaving? Sudden smoke bombs or things levitating that shouldn't be? Anything at all?"

Every police officer, firefighter and paramedic stared at Batman in silence, doing nothing but shaking their heads. Strange things had happened in Gotham before, and this was another one to add onto the pile.

Gordon turned to Bullock, who immediately protested: "It was him! It was him, Commish, as sure as you're standing in front of me! And as much as that place practically has its own revolving door, there was no word of either him breaking out of there or anything happening at Blackgate."

The commissioner took off his glasses and pinched the top of the bridge of his nose. Another day, another migraine. "And here I thought that two Dents in one body was bad enough, now there's two Two Faces going about the place...I don't know what to think at all."

"It's definitely unusual. I'll keep an eye out." Batman reached into the air, the hook whizzing out from his grappling gun before he zipped along after it into the darkness of the Gotham night time.

[paimaniagalaxia]

FNAF AU- Clean Up Time

Ship: Springtrap x Self insert

Word count: 2,184

Summary: The after math of the events of FNAF 1, where a clean up crew is hired by Henry Emily to help refurbish and confiscate the animatronics.

Paige is apart of that clean up crew and decides to leave the rest of her crew mates to finish the job, all the while exploring the rest of the pizzaria. Only to end up in parts and services, to find the one and only William Afton. AKA, Springtrap.

CHAPTER ONE

It’s been too long since Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was opened back in the eighties. That the place was rotting and oozing with amalgamations of all sorts of crud and crap. Slimming down from the walls to the floor, leaving its leftovers all over the party room floor. That there was no way that this place could create that much build up in the past few years. Decades was more of the term that should be used for this run-down restaurant.

The owner, the only surviving owner, was wanting a clean up. To refurbish the place to its ‘former glory’ as he stated. And a bunch of other mumbo-jumbo.

I don’t know, I was only half paying attention. That the guys and I were only told to do was to clean. Pick up the scraps that were infesting the place and get out of there before sunrise. No further instructions or warning labels attached. That was the only weird part of the job, but I’ve done stranger jobs before this.

But before this, our little cleaning crew, ‘Raymond’s Cleaners’ was on the verge of bankruptcy. That not many people wanted a whole team to clean up the dirty side of this town as if it had nothing to hide. The owner charged too much, before ending up having a heart attack from the stress of owning such an expensive cleaning service.

That’s where Henry came into the picture.

He took us in, made us into the ‘Fazbear Funtime Cleaning Crew’. Of course it had to relate back to his animatronic creating days. This man was crazy-- But hey, the pay was good. There was no complaining there.

~

It took us a few hours to make it to the Pizzeria in question. The sign that signaled all the fun times that housed in that building was barely flickering. Showing the main icon of the place, Freddy Fazbear, shining away in all his dim-lit glory. Showing that this place can never die, as long as he was around.

It just gave a shiver down my spine.

Soon my crew, well-- Not technically my crew, I was just the scrubber and small detailer. To make sure all the extra crud and smaller details sparkled just as much. All the while the rest did the heavy lifting. There were a total of ten of us. Seven guys and three girls, including myself. Of course the guys did the main heavy lifting, and one of the larger females helped out.

I was the shortest and least strongest of the group. So hence I was left to do the smaller jobs. But hey, I was a mean cleaner when it comes to the restrooms. No one else was brave enough to clean blood and grime from diving her arm deep into a toilet.

Okay, no more TMI about my job.

---

“Paige! Paige!!” One of the crew members calls out to the woman writing in her journal.

“Quit writing or doodling or whatever, and get to clearing these tables out!”

A man with a gruff voice spoke through a muffle gas mask, as all of the Fazbear Funtime Cleaning Crew wore. With bright, neon yellow hazmat suits, and matching black rubber gloves and boots. All to avoid the blood and grime of this place.

Paige huffs as she shuts her book and unzips her suit, tucking the journal back into her deep sleeve pocket she had on the inside of her red flannel. Zipped it back up and started to yank the table clothes off of the tables. She kept quiet as the other members either picked up the chairs or scrubbed the floors.

She folded the table clothes with ease before setting it off into a plastic container, grabbed the label maker and typed in ‘party table cloths’, before sticking the label on top of the lid. Then shits the box up. A huff was heard through her mask.

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAK!

Paige jumps slightly as she turns her head over to a vacant hallway to the left side of the stage. They were in the main party room, the center of the building. As from the front was where the front desk was at. The right had the Men’s and Women's bathrooms and the kitchen. The left side had Pirate’s Cove and the arcade.

Towards the back was a hallway that led to the security office, breakrooms, and parts and services. Where the animatronics ever malfunction, get sent there. And it seems, from what Paige could tell, there was something or someone was back there. In that maze of a backroom.

“Paige! PAIGE!!” The same man that was calling out to her, angrily speaking her name. Was trying to signal her to do another job.

“In a minute! I’ll be back!” Paige waves her hand, swaying away whatever orders were about to be given to her back to the other crew member.

“Urgh! You’re always getting distracted, fine! Get lost!”

Paige rolls her eyes before entering down the long hallway that led to the back of the Pizzaria. There was hardly any light back here, as the circuit breaker was probably in the back-- Somewhere.

She kept a keen out as the lone crew member looked around in the dim hallways. There was a faint corpse smell, as if something has been dead for too long back here.

Then, at the corner of her goggled vision, there was the circuit breaker. Paige goes over and jimmies the lock off. The panel creaks open.

“That wasn’t the sound I’ve heard before. This was stuck for a while.”

Paige remarks to herself before reading the faded labels on the board she was staring at. Lost at the many words that seem to metal in her sights, trying to figure out what each one was trying to say back to her. That reading that much, overstimulated her mind.

Come to me… Come back to me…

Paige jumps before her hand slides a majority of the switches, lucky for her-- There were all to the backroom. As all the lights shine above her, loud and clear. Prompting the over-stimmed woman to cover her eyes. Those bright lights were her Achillies heel.

Come here… Come to me… Come to meee…

“Okaaay… Yikes.” Was all she could comment back.

As she wasn’t expecting someone else to order her around. Paige takes off her hood and mask, shaking her short brown hair about before it flips upward into place. Then sets her mask down on the ground, as that was definitely not gonna fit in her flannel pocket. Or her flashlight either, as that was set next to the mask as well.

That it was now time, who in the fuck was talking to her.

Paige decides to follow the corpse smell, as that was the only lead she could think of tracing. Before seeing the leftover blood stains, small drops on the ground. As they sputtered in a random pattern, but all trailed back to a certain room.

‘PARTS AND SERVICES’

The lone cleaning crew member shakes her head before placing her gloved hand on the door and rests an ear onto the dirty door. Trying to hear if anyone was behind there.

A few silent seconds went by, and there was a heavy coughing-- Followed by a dense heave. As if breathing was difficult to do. Constricting and tightening. As if someone’s lungs were punctured multiple times. Didn’t sound much fun to be stuck in that kind of situation. For who knows how long.

“Open the door, it shouldn’t be-- Cough cough locked…” 

The mysterious, pained voice spoke back. It sounded deep and gut wrenching. Not a horrible sound, but as if the voice was ready to spew its guts all over the checkered floor.

Paige freezes as she doesn't want to open the door. But the voice sounded in pain. And had to help. Her good-willed nature was getting the better of her common sense.

The door handle was gripped and pulled. Yank goes the door.

As the young woman stares in horror, at the display before her.

A tattered animatronic suit laid back against the wall. Muted dark greens were its color palette with a torn right ear. Red and blue wires stuck out of that torn ear as the other was fully intact, but limped down. Its optics flicker on and off before gazing upon Paige.

A heave of heavy breathing was heard back, to break the silence.

“Th-There you are… I heard you. The one who does listen.”

“The one who is here to rescu--”

SLAM!

The door shuts.

“Oh for fok sakes…”

Paige slams the door shut as she smacks her back against it. Panting heavily-- As she was terrified by the sight she just saw. Shaky breathing could be heard back from the otherside of the ‘Parts and Service’ room, where the animatronic horror sat.

“No no no, this wasn’t in the job description!!”

“What… What wasn’t in the job description…?” it spoke back.

Paige turns around. Hesitating wanting to speak back.

“Oh come now, it’s rude not to answer back… What wasn't in your job description…?”

Paige sighs as she rubs the back of her head.

“That there’s a messed up looking animatronic in the backroom…?”

“Okay, that’s just mean.” It spoke irritatedly back.

“Did you want me to cuss and be more blunt?”

“I’ll take the first comment…”

The animatronic sighs exasperated, not liking how this was turning out. But had to convince this woman to let him free, since it needed to move again.

“Look…” It spoke again. “I hadn’t been out for a while… A LONG while. Cough cough cough-- Can you… Can you tell me the year.?”

“The, the year?” Paige asks back. As that would be a strange thing to be asked.

“What year do you think this is?” She asks back.

“Hm… 1993…?” It answers back.

“It’s 2024…” Paige corrects him.

Silence was between them. Before the animatronic spoke again. It had to convince this miss to let him out, to fix him. That it has been too long since it has been stuck in this filthy place.

“Almost thirty years… Plus one.” It replies back.

“I’ve been away for so long, been trapped in here for too long… Tell me. What’s your name?”

“Paige.” She gave her name back.

“That’s a pretty name…”

“What’s yours?” Paige asks back.

Then there was a pause. It couldn’t give its real name, or else she would definitely leave this place-- That if she was the only one here. It could only catch a small glimpse of her uniform. There was… Was a Fazbear logo on it. And there was only one other person who would still carry this icon, oh what they made together.

Henry. Henry Emily…

If he told her about him, then what little trust they had would be snapped like a springlock.

Shudders

Never… Never again. It thinks to himself.

“Spring… Springtrap.” Springtrap came up for himself-- It was all it could come up with at the time. The painful memories could never leave him. Best to embrace it.

“Heh, hehe…” Paige giggles back, with a warm smile. 

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Springtrap twitches annoyed before grunting.

“It is! Open the door-- Please…”

Paige shakes her head, as she feels a wash of relief come over her body. Then, she opens the door. As soon as she enters inside, she gags from the putrid smell of a corpse.

“Yikes! What’s inside of your suit?!”

“Don’t ask.” Springtrap remarks back bluntly.

“I just did!” Paige yells back.

“Don’t worry about it, just… Do you know how to fix an animatronic suit? Specifically umm, a springlock suit?”

She nods before finding a toolbox on a metal rack, grabs it and kneels down in front of Springtrap.

“Henry gave us a mini rundown… Don’t know why, but I’ve paid attention to that part. It-- Intrigued me.” Paige explains before loosening some of the joints. As she didn’t want the corpse to come sputtering out. If it would even remain in one piece.

“Yes… Focus on the outside of the suit.”Springtrap encourages back before going in a coughing fit.

“Yikes… Germs.”

“Shut up.”

Paige raises her hands up as she keeps working on the outside joints. Getting them loosened, so that Springtrap could move about. Luckily any water that was once underneath the suit was all dried up, but left a large water stain behind.

While Paige was working, Springtrap couldn’t help but to lay his optics on her. That she was efficient with fixing its suit up, that it came so naturally to her. He wonders if Henry had another child after the loss of Emily. But he couldn’t ask of that-- It would be too personal and would reveal his actual identity. Their trust was on a rocky path, smoothing out gradually. The last thing he needed was her to trap him in here again, but in far worse condition.

Best he shuts up for now on that very subject.

This… This would be a start to something new.

[END OF CHAPTER ONE]

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 5: Murven, Divorce Song

Wanted to write but wasn't sure what I should write so here is a little angsty Murven ficlet. I listened to Exile in Guyville today for the first time in a while; this is inspired by Divorce Song but also doesn't really have the mood of Divorce Song so there you go.

Murphy/Raven, Modern AU, ~870 words

Written in about 27 minutes

*

What did he think? That somewhere along the way, their road trip up the coast, they'd fall in love? It's an awfully romantic notion, coming from him.

They get a late start, then lose their way, a wrong exit on the wrong highway and the steel-blue sky framed by the windshield, the fluttering of palm fronds at the edges of the roadway, the gathering clouds in shifting shades of gray. Murphy came to pick her up mid-morning. He'd stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her finish up her last-minute packing—stuff she'd put off because she was working last night, and cared for the work more. The best thing he could do was not lift a finger to help. He'd just get in the way. Still, it infuriated her to feel his eyes on her, watching and waiting.

"Almost ready, Reyes?" he'd drawled at her, and she'd thrown her duffel bag at his chest, and for a moment afterward they'd been caught together almost in the hall, continuously blocking each other's way with each step to the side. An exhausting moment.

She'd asked if he was fucking with her.

Isn't he always?

The plan was to leave early and get to Bellamy and Clarke's by the end of the day, but even before the wrong turn, she's sure it won't shake out that way. She's too tired to get behind the wheel, and Murphy only pretends to be a daredevil, obeys posted speed limits and tells her to get her feet off his dash. Maybe they'll get to Portland and the aura of romance will take them over. A wedding and all. Maybe as she grumbles, rearranges herself in the passenger seat, traces the edges of stacks of heavy clouds from over the ocean, she imagines as much, like some sort of sick indulgence. If she were really smart, like she tells herself she is, she'd never touch him.

Her phone runs out of batteries. His has no service. She forgot the map in the glove compartment of her car. The sky opens up wide, threatens to swallow them.

They have to stop for the night at a shady little place blinking neon VACANC-C-C-C-CY in the early dark and pouring rain: a motel with a big rectangular sign, barely legible in fading fluorescent. They hold their coats over their heads and splash the light into shards in the puddles on their way to the office. The rain is coming down so hard it's all Raven can hear in her own head: the thud of it on car roofs, the splatter of it on the asphalt. Inside, the motel is muddied with cheap yellow light. She stomps her feet on the welcome mate and beats at her jacket while Murphy shakes himself off like a dog.

She asks for two rooms without thinking. If it weren't for the map behind the greasy haired kid behind the counter, she wouldn't know what town they were in. Even now, the name doesn't ring a bell.

Murphy's standing close to her, glowering, cold. For a moment, his hand brushes against her back—low—like he forgot for a moment what role he was playing. What line he was using.

"You know, it would be cheaper—" he starts, as the kid fiddles around with the keys.

She keeps her gaze straight. The faded lines of the map, the off-yellow wall. "They don't have any twin beds left," she murmurs back. Sounds cold like unseasonable prickling rain even to her own ears. She takes her key in her hand and holds it tight so that the edges bite into her palm.

Their rooms are right next door to each other and for a while they stand under the awning, a bare bulb just above them encircling them in a stark halo of white. Her bag is in the stupid car. All she wants is a shower, the melding of running water and running water. A moment to feel clean. She starts to say I didn't mean anything by it, but it comes out, "What did you expect?"

He flinches, but it comes out as a scoff. Pale and shining wet, his hair flat against his face, and the rain so loud on the tin awning that it might drown him out, he answers, "Nothing," like a curse, a lie, and "Don't make me out to be the asshole here. I haven't done a goddamn thing."

They've been rejecting each other now for years. He'd say she's frightened. He'd say maybe there's something inevitable about them, something more than just the heat of human warmth when they stand close beneath the awning, shivering, not yet touching, except that her hand is grasping hard around the edge of his coat. Zipper teeth in one palm, silver key in the other.

She could just go in his room with him, let the other sit empty, but it wouldn't be for lust or anything as grand as love, but only to prove to him what a terrible idea they would be. Something raw and mean. Something she wants too much.

"You haven't," she answers, and lets go of his jacket, and lets herself into her room.

[aroworlds]

Hallo, Aro: Pillar

For the second day of @aggressivelyarospec​​‘s #aggressivelyarospectacular 2022 event, I have another Hallo, Aro story: a series of (mostly) flash fiction stories about allosexual aromantic characters navigating friendship, sexual attraction, aromanticism and the weight of amatonormative expectation.

Contains: A allo-aro woman who doesn't choose marriage and children ... and a society that expects she use her time in service to those who did.

Length: 1, 320 words.

Content advisory: This story focuses on the intersection between capitalism, misogyny, amatonormativity, classism and singleism in terms of how they impact non-partnering and non-parenting working-class adults (especially women and people forcibly categorised as "woman" by Western society) under capitalism. Please expect depictions of and/or references to these as well as general aro erasure, aro antagonism, heteronormativity and cisnormativity.

Animal bones, medical tools and cemeteries are casually mentioned in the setting.

The woman lingers at the alley entrance, peering left and right and left again, before pulling at her cloak's cowl. Only then does she make the turn, her steps swift and furtive. Most gods’ altars line crossways, thoroughfares and squares, their divinity owed public homage; some, lost amidst the city’s sprawl, lurk behind privies and warehouses. Such sacred spaces never moulder unvisited, but their worshippers seldom attend beneath the sun’s revealing light.

When fog creeps and moon fades, the desperate seek out gods few dare name.

She hurries, her full skirts swishing, around a pile of crates. Behind lies an alcove, mossy and damp, set into the wall dividing alley from boneyard. Ivy smothers both ancient stonework and looming sepulchre, veiling the god's image such that one sees little more than outstretched wings. Only yellowed papers and fallen leaves cushion the ground before the granite altar, but a soft glow illuminates worshippers' offerings and the god’s business: rusting hand bells, wire-bound bird bones, curved needles, empty glass phials.

A crow-black feather, carefully stitched onto a red ribbon, emerges from her pocket. She kneels and sets it by the smallest bell. “Please, I beg you listen…”

She scowls, shaking her head. A brown braid escapes her hood.

“No, I’m no priest! I’m Quick. I reckon the name suits. My cousin … none of you gods was listening when my aunt named her. Or you all split your sides laughing! Anyway, I’m a seamstress. The kind doing piece work in a tailor’s workhouse. The kind sewing seams so folk sing the tailor for his cuts and finishings.”

Quick hesitates, crooking her head. Nothing disturbs the alleyway behind her: only a tabby cat sits atop the crates, his yellow eyes examining the wall opposite.

“It’s tiring work, but I’ve guild-set hours, fifth days and holidays. And sewing suits me.” With gloved hands, she raises an unwieldy vine from the altar. Her breath mists the night air. “I mind the tailor and how he manages the other women. They’re married. Mothers with toddling babes, mostly. Their mothers, sisters, or partners tend their children while they work. This must be hard for them, but…”

She bends the vine back upon itself, weaving it into the mess of leaves shrouding the alcove’s left wall.

“When we’ve trousers to remake or shirts still to baste for the morrow’s fitting … they plead their babies and their partners. The tailor says he’s a proud family man, so he won’t hold family against his workers. Meaning when the eve-bell rings and work wants continuing, he begs me to stay. ‘Cause I’ve no partner or children, aren’t I best to?”

A withered twig cracks as Quick breaks it clean from the vine, stowing it inside her cloak's pocket.

“The tailor pays no guild’s cut on after-bell hours. So he won’t hire more seamstresses, the others go home, and I stay late. Again. He suggests he can’t keep me elsewise, which makes mockery of his singing about my good work.” Her voice roughens. “Mama … Mama chides my minding so much I daren’t speak of it, ‘cause she says I’m helping the tailor and the other women both. Aren’t I better to be kind and turn extra coin for the family, than sit idle at home?”

Her lips trembling, she turns to the altar. Never does she permit her fingers to touch older offerings, irrespective of rust and tarnish; instead, uncaring of her skirts and cloak, she brushes leaves, twigs, bird droppings and dirt from the granite slab.

“But I don’t! I scarce bang my boots before a sister hands off her latest babe or begs me feed her boys. I haven’t been home in weeks while the oldest nurses—and when the youngest sister takes ill and her children also need tending, there I go.” Quick utters a low laugh, shaking her head. “Until bed, I’m changing napkins or saving the cat from being poked. Sometimes just so they can be alone with their husbands! My sisters say a village should raise a child, and since Mama helps my brother’s wife when not doing for Papa, and my sisters’ husbands earn their rent, there's me. I’m to be kind to them, too--to be the village.”

“But I mind it. I mind.”

She bows her head, resting fisted hands in her lap.

“I want no husband. I want no children. I want … a house with a big bed for me and a lover—but they never pass the whole night in it. More like a regular guest than a partner, and I know how that’s awful!” Quick inhales, her cheeks flushed and eyes glistening. “I want time for reading, stitching, tatting, drawing—and coin enough for a score of lamps! Space to guest in a friend’s bed, some evenings, and have them guest in mine. No wifehood, no motherhood. They’d strangle me!”

She sits in wordlessness, breathing heavily.

The cat leaps from the topmost crate, lands and pads down the alleyway.

“I know that for truth, ‘cause I’m strangled now. I work late ‘cause the tailor chooses wives and mothers' leaving over me.” Quick shudders, her hands tightening. “I tend my sisters’ children ‘cause I’m no wife or mother, so I own nothing more important. I won’t be a partner or parent, so those who are expect I use my hours to help. And to escape their expecting? Marry and bear my own children! Only then are my refusals accepted!”

Her harsh, raucous cackle sends a startled cat skittering into the street.

“I’m why the tailor won’t hire another seamstress but sing himself for being a family man. I’m why my sisters have all their sons. I’m the pillar holding them up—making doable their homes, marriage, children, pride. I'm obliged to bear their weight … and why shouldn’t I, after refusing what we’re supposed to have? What good am I to anyone, elsewise? How am I naught but selfish, denying Papa the chance of granddaughters?”

A tear—hot, salty and grief-leaden—patters the alcove's pitted stone.

“I want to live for me, but not by leaving my family. I still want my sisters, Mama--just less of them! But even had I wage enough to leave, what next? Won’t another employer think the same? Won’t I be holding the neighbour’s crying babe? When nobody can live the way they’re obliged to want without spinster aunts shoring them up, where can I be?”

Quick sucks in another gulping breath, her voice wavering.

“If you’re a good and just god, even you won’t change this. Nothing right lies in making everyone be and think different for my wants, even if you could. Nothing right lies in upending everything, and that’s the worst thing, the very worst thing … that there’s no escape. None. Just a horrid knot binding us all, a knot in a world with no scissors. One I best ought to learn to not mind.”

Her shoulders slumping, she sags in upon herself. The fog thickens, gifting the statuette a halo of blue light, but Quick sits as if too worn and grief-struck to move. Only when her shivers threaten convulsions does she catch herself, blinking.

“Least you listen without chiding," she murmurs, and you never demanded a girl marry for your favour or called her selfish for choosing her own way. Other … other gods aren’t so kind. Even if they're reckoned good.” She grimaces, shaking her head. “Thank you. It’s easier to forget how I mind if I talk, sometimes. Least for a while.”

She stands, bows, tugs her hood as far over her cheeks as the fabric will allow, and retreats down the alleyway.

In the shadows of a corner unseen by mortal eyes, a weeping god cups his face in taloned hands.

For how long can he pay witness to the harms wrought upon his own before inaction may no longer be deemed “just”?

[semixfenz]

Professional Cleaning: Why Your Wedding Dress Deserves Expert Care

Your wedding dress has enormous emotional significance since it represents love and commitment. Professional Wedding Dress Cleaning London understands your desire to keep it for decades so you may share your memories with future generations. A bridal gown's cut, fabric, and embellishments are carefully considered, and it is critical to clean it correctly to maintain its beauty. While a wedding dress may be cleaned by immersing it in water, experienced dry cleaners pre-treat them to remove the offending chemicals before cleaning stained surfaces.

Hire professionals to clean your wedding dress

Cleaning your wedding dress involves great thought, and expert services produce the finest results. Expert BX Dry Cleaner services begin by removing any stains, which may need wet cleaning methods depending on the fabric. It is important to get your dress cleaned as soon as possible after the wedding to maintain its natural splendor. Professional Wedding Dress Cleaning St Albans offers important experience and judgment, assuring the best possible care for your gown. Consulting your dry cleaner for assistance is strongly encouraged, as they will most likely propose dry cleaning as the most dependable approach. Top dry cleaners will also skillfully wrap your wedding dress in acid-free paper and vacuum-seal the container to keep it intact.

 Why Wedding Dress Cleaning is Essential:

Preserving Every Detail: From exquisite lace to flowing silk, every wedding gown detail captures the big day's soul.

Post-Celebration Wear and Tear: Weddings frequently result in stained gowns due to dirt, makeup, food spills, and other factors.

Preventing Fabric Damage: Stains not only detract from the look of a garment, but they can also cause fabric damage if not handled.

Preventing Yellowing: Untreated portions of the garment may gradually become yellow, resulting in irreparable harm to its exquisite attractiveness.

Effective Stain Removal: Wedding dress washing is similar to dry-cleaning in that professional cleaners use specific procedures to remove both visible and invisible stains.

How to Properly Store Your Wedding Dress After Cleaning

To correctly keep your wedding dress after cleaning, make sure it is clean and totally dry. To avoid corrosion, store accessories such as belts and headbands with embellishments or simulated diamonds in a sealed plastic bag, and keep bags and shoes separate. Begin by properly cleaning your hands and putting on clean white cotton gloves. To keep the dress from losing its form, lightly fill the shoulders and breasts with acid-free tissue paper. Ideally, keep the dress flat in a suitable container, with assistance if necessary, and repeat the process for all accessories, including the veil. Inspect the dress and accessories once a year for stains and repair them right once to prevent additional damage. After inspecting everything with clean hands, fold the robe slightly differently each time to minimize creases. and stress on the fabric.

Summing up !!

Finding wedding gown experts is not too difficult, but it's still necessary to make an informed decision to prevent disappointments.  Contact us or visit our website BX Dry Cleaner right now to find out more about our wedding dress cleaning and preservation kits. Professional Wedding Dress Cleaning HARROW can spot-clean your wedding dress, efficiently eliminating oil, grease, and other stains.

[marutifinechemicals]

Safety Precautions for Handling Fuming Nitric Acid -Maruti Fine Chemicals

Fuming Nitric acid is a highly concentrated form of nitric acid that contains additional nitrogen dioxide, giving it a red or yellow color and producing strong fumes. It is a powerful oxidizing agent used in various industrial applications. However, handling Fuming Nitric acid requires strict safety precautions due to its highly corrosive and toxic nature. At Maruti Fine Chemicals, we prioritize safety and want to ensure you handle this substance with the utmost care. Here are some essential safety precautions for handling Fuming Nitric acid.

Proper Storage

Personal Protective Equipment (PPE)

When handling Fuming Nitric acid, always wear appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE). This includes:

Safety goggles to protect your eyes from splashes.

Chemical-resistant gloves to prevent skin contact.

Lab coat or apron to protect your clothing and skin.

Respiratory protection such as a mask or respirator if you are working in an area with poor ventilation or if fumes are present.

Ventilation

Ensure that you are working in a well-ventilated area when handling Fuming Nitric acid. Proper ventilation helps disperse harmful fumes and reduces the risk of inhalation. If possible, work under a fume hood to provide additional protection.

Handling Procedures

When handling Fuming Nitric acid, follow these procedures to minimize risks:

Slow and careful transfer: When transferring Fuming Nitric acid from one container to another, do it slowly and carefully to avoid spills and splashes.

Use appropriate tools: Always use tools and equipment that are resistant to corrosion and designed for use with highly corrosive substances.

Avoid direct contact: Never handle Fuming Nitric acid with bare hands. Always use gloves and other protective gear.

Emergency Procedures

Be prepared for emergencies by knowing what to do in case of an accident:

Skin contact: If Fuming Nitric acid comes into contact with your skin, immediately rinse the affected area with plenty of water for at least 15 minutes. Remove any contaminated clothing.

Eye contact: If the acid gets into your eyes, rinse them with water for at least 15 minutes and seek medical attention immediately.

Inhalation: If you inhale fumes, move to fresh air immediately and seek medical help if you experience difficulty breathing or irritation.

Spills: For small spills, neutralize the acid with a suitable neutralizing agent, such as baking soda, and clean up with appropriate materials. For larger spills, evacuate the area and seek professional assistance.

Purchasing and Disposal

When you purchase nitric acid, make sure to buy it from a reputable supplier like Maruti Fine Chemicals to ensure you are getting a high-quality product. Follow all regulations and guidelines for the disposal of Nitric acid fuming. Never pour it down the drain or dispose of it in regular trash. Contact local hazardous waste disposal services for proper disposal procedures.

Training and Awareness

Ensure that everyone who handles Fuming Nitric acid is properly trained and aware of the hazards and safety procedures. Regular safety training sessions and drills can help reinforce the importance of these precautions.

Conclusion:

Handling Fuming Nitric acid safely is of utmost importance due to its highly corrosive and toxic nature. By following proper storage guidelines, wearing appropriate PPE, ensuring good ventilation, and adhering to safe handling procedures, you can minimize the risks associated with this substance. At Maruti Fine Chemicals, we are committed to providing high-quality chemicals and ensuring the safety of our customers. Always prioritize safety when you purchase nitric acid and follow the recommended precautions to handle it safely.

[carltoncleaners]

The Ultimate Guide to Bridal Dress Cleaning by Carlton Cleaners

Introduction

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, and your bridal dress is a cherished symbol of that special occasion. After the celebrations, preserving the beauty and integrity of your wedding gown becomes paramount. That's where Carlton Cleaners comes in. Specializing in bridal dress cleaning, Carlton Cleaners offers professional services to ensure your gown remains as stunning as the day you wore it. In this guide, we'll explore the importance of bridal dress cleaning, the services provided by Carlton Cleaners, and tips for preserving your dress for generations to come.

Why Bridal Dress Cleaning is Essential

1. Stain Removal

Wedding dresses are prone to stains from makeup, food, drinks, and even grass and dirt from outdoor ceremonies. Prompt cleaning can prevent these stains from setting permanently.

2. Fabric Preservation

Over time, fabrics can yellow and degrade if not properly cared for. Professional cleaning helps maintain the original color and integrity of the fabric.

3. Preventing Mildew and Mold

Moisture trapped in the fabric can lead to mildew and mold growth. Proper cleaning and storage techniques eliminate this risk.

Carlton Cleaners' Bridal Dress Cleaning Services

Carlton Cleaners understands the sentimental and monetary value of your wedding gown. Their specialized bridal dress cleaning services are designed to address the unique needs of each gown.

1. Personalized Assessment

Every gown is unique, and Carlton Cleaners starts with a thorough assessment of the dress. This includes identifying the fabric type, embellishments, and specific areas that need attention.

2. Expert Cleaning Techniques

Using state-of-the-art cleaning methods, Carlton Cleaners ensures that each dress is cleaned with the utmost care. Techniques are tailored to the fabric and type of stains, avoiding harsh chemicals that could damage delicate materials.

3. Hand Cleaning for Delicate Areas

Delicate areas, especially those with intricate beading, lace, or embroidery, are often cleaned by hand. This meticulous approach ensures that embellishments are preserved.

4. Spot Treatment

Stubborn stains are treated with precision using spot cleaning techniques. This targeted approach ensures that stains are removed without compromising the integrity of the fabric.

5. Final Inspection and Finishing

After cleaning, each dress undergoes a final inspection to ensure all stains have been removed and the fabric is in pristine condition. Finishing touches, such as steaming and pressing, restore the dress to its original elegance.

Tips for Bridal Dress Preservation

Proper preservation is key to maintaining the beauty of your wedding gown for years to come. Here are some expert tips from Carlton Cleaners:

1. Store in a Cool, Dry Place

Humidity and temperature fluctuations can damage fabrics. Store your dress in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight.

2. Use Acid-Free Materials

Acid-free tissue paper and storage boxes prevent yellowing and degradation of the fabric. Carlton Cleaners provides these materials for optimal preservation.

3. Avoid Plastic Bags

Plastic bags can trap moisture, leading to mildew and mold. Instead, use a breathable garment bag for short-term storage and an acid-free box for long-term preservation.

4. Handle with Clean Hands

Natural oils and dirt from hands can transfer to the fabric. Always handle your dress with clean, dry hands or wear white cotton gloves.

5. Regular Inspections

Inspect your dress periodically to ensure it remains in good condition. Look for any signs of discoloration or damage and address them promptly.

Conclusion

Your wedding gown is more than just a dress; it's a cherished memory of your special day. With Carlton Cleaners' expert bridal dress cleaning services, you can ensure that your gown remains beautiful and pristine for years to come. Trust the professionals at Carlton Cleaners to provide the care and attention your dress deserves, so you can pass it down as a treasured heirloom for future generations.

For more information about their bridal dress cleaning services, visit Carlton Cleaners' website or contact their expert team today. Preserve your memories with the care and expertise of Carlton Cleaners.

[removalbeeconscious]

A Comprehensive Guide on Yellow Jacket Removal in Sonoma

Yellow jackets can be a persistent and troublesome issue, especially in regions like Sonoma. Dealing with these stinging insects requires a strategic approach to ensure the safety of your home and surroundings. In this blog post, we will explore effective methods for yellow jacket removal in Sonoma, providing you with valuable insights to tackle this challenge.

Identifying Yellow Jacket Nests:

Yellow jackets typically build nests in the ground, trees, or even within the structural components of buildings. Understanding their nesting habits is crucial for effective Yellow jacket removal Sonoma. Look for signs such as increased insect activity, especially during warmer months.

Assessing the Threat Level:

Before attempting removal, assess the threat level posed by the yellow jackets. If the nest is in a remote area and doesn't pose an immediate danger, consider professional assistance. If it's close to your living space, proceed cautiously.

Protective Gear:

Always prioritize safety. Wear protective clothing, including long sleeves, pants, gloves, and a beekeeper's veil if available. This reduces the risk of stings during the removal process.

DIY Removal Methods:

Dust Insecticides: Apply insecticidal dust into the nest entrance during the evening when the bees are less active. It’ll make your Yellow jacket removal Sonomaeasy.

Boiling Water: Pouring boiling water into the nest can be effective, especially for ground nests. Exercise caution and perform this task in the late evening.

Professional Yellow Jacket Removal Services:

If the nest is large, difficult to reach, or poses a significant threat, it's advisable to hire a professional pest control service. They have the expertise and specialized equipment to handle the situation safely.

Preventive Measures:

After removing the yellow jackets, focus on preventive measures to avoid future infestations. Seal potential entry points in your home, keep food sources secure, and regularly inspect your property for signs of new nests.

Emergency First Aid:

In case of stings, be prepared with basic first aid. Remove the stinger, clean the area with soap and water, and apply a cold compress. Seek medical attention if there's an allergic reaction.

Dealing with yellow jackets in Sonoma requires a proactive and safe approach. By following the guidelines outlined in this blog, you can effectively perform Yellow jacket removal Sonoma from your property and reduce the risk of stings. Whether you choose a DIY approach or opt for professional assistance, prioritizing safety and thorough removal is key to reclaiming your space from these pesky insects.

[oliviachows]

Mistakes to Avoid in Car Detailing.

Car detailing is a fastidious cycle that requires persistence and mind to accomplish top-notch results. It likewise includes dealing with synthetics that could be unsafe on the off chance that not took care of appropriately.

Detailers ought to continuously wear gloves and defensive eye gear while working with these synthetics. They ought to likewise peruse the security information sheets before utilizing them.

Need to do a perfect and safe Carwash in Kingston, Ontario, reach out to Maple Carwash and Detailing. They do full-service Carwash and Vacuum at $15.

Skipping the Pre-Wash Stage.

A normal car detailing routine can expand the life and presence of your car. It likewise can keep the requirement for exorbitant fixes from coincidental harm caused during cleaning or detailing. Yet, very much like whatever other undertaking, this one can inflict damage if you don't have any idea what you're doing or utilize some unacceptable items.

Fortunately, the present top-notch items guarantee that your careful endeavors don't go squandered. Everything necessary is persistence and care. You'll be compensated with a great sparkle and an immaculate inside.

Applying Wax Directly on the Surface.

Utilizing the right items is critical to keeping your car putting its best self forward. Car washing and detailing items are explicitly intended to chip away at explicit kinds of cars and surfaces, so it's critical to adhere to the guidelines and utilize recommended instruments to try not to harm your car.

While applying wax, make certain to spread it sparingly and equally. If you apply it too thickly, it very well may be challenging to eliminate once it dries to a dimness. Likewise, make sure to apply the wax on a perfect and dry surface.

Using Clay Bar Too Often.

Earth bars are utilized to lift implanted pollutants like tree sap, modern aftermath, and different particles that can cause an unpleasant surface on the unmistakable coat. Nonetheless, whenever utilized time after time, it can harm the paint by making miniature scratches.

To keep away from this, detailers utilize an earth bar oil to keep the bar from adhering to the paint. This grease likewise assists with eliminating any foreign substances the dirt bar might have proactively lifted from the outer layer of the paint.

To check if your paint is polluted, snatch a little plastic pack and run your hand across the outer layer of your car's paint. Assuming it feels unpleasant, it's an opportunity to earth bar the car.

Not Utilizing the Right Products.

Car detailing isn't just about doing right by your car; it's likewise about shielding it from harm and drawing out its life expectancy. Nonetheless, it's not difficult to commit errors while utilizing cleaning and detailing items.

One mix-up that numerous detailers make is washing a car in direct daylight. The intensity of the sun can create a wide range of issues for your car's paint and finish. For example, it can dry the cleaning items excessively fast, causing water spots. To keep away from this issue, consistently work in the shade. What's more, use cleaning items that are intended for cars.

Using the Wrong Brushes.

Numerous car devotees will concur that customary detailing can assist with safeguarding a car's appearance and broaden its life expectancy. In any case, not all detailing strategies are made equivalent. Mistaken techniques can prompt paint scratches, harm to upholstery, and water spots.

Perhaps the most well-known botch car detailers make is utilizing some unacceptable brushes. It's pivotal to involve various brushes for each phase of the cleaning system. For instance, red and yellow brushes are best for cleaning floor coverings, while white ones are ideally suited for upholstery. Likewise, never reuse a brush after it's been utilized on a messy piece of the car.

Using the wrong Wax.

Car Detailing is something beyond making your car look perfect. It's additionally about shielding your car from harm, dragging out its life expectancy, and keeping up with its worth. Tragically, various mix-ups can be made during the detailing system, and a significant number of them can harm your car's paint or inside.

To keep away from these normal slip-ups, it's critical to utilize the right items and follow the legitimate methods.