#bin chute

[ihasemermaterialshandling]

Manoeuvring Through A Bin Chute in Homes and Businesses

Development waste materials are disposed of in multistory buildings via construction bin chute, especially during construction or destruction. Rubbish chutes for construction are fastened to the building's exterior scaffolding. Construction trash is installed and then deposited into the hopper at each level. The trash is deposited into a skip bin or onto the ground by the chutes.

Construction waste can be moved by chain hoist from the structure to a skip bin on the ground securely and effectively with the use of a garbage chute. The idea is straightforward: chains strung outside a structure or scaffolding are used to connect many cylinder portions.

Explore the Advantages of Renting a Skip Bin to Get Rid of The Soil

Quick Management of Waste: No heavy lifting or soil transportation is required because skip bins are supplied straight to your area.

Time-Saving: By eliminating the need for several visits to the dump, skip bins save you time and effort.

Environmental Responsibilities: Melbourne skip bin companies follow tight environmental guidelines, guaranteeing that your dirt is disposed of correctly.

Variety of Sizes: Because skip bins are available in a range of sizes, you can select one that best fits the amount of dirt you need to get rid of.

Enhanced Efficiency and Elevated Capacity

Electric chain hoists are commonly used for heavy-duty, medium-duty, and light-duty applications because they make lifting and transferring weights easier. As there is no physical effort required, workers can spend less time changing the loads, which helps increase productivity and lessen tiredness compared to using a manual hoist.

As implied by the name, a battery-powered chain hoist has a motor attached to it. As a result, a single operator of a chain pulley block can only raise as much as possible, in contrast to manual hoists. Furthermore, an electric rope hoist facilitates cross-travel motion, making a variety of loads even easier to raise.

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[thedailymobile]

“Chute for the Stars”

[reader-from-another-dimension]

Hoh boy, another part? It's so over. This au is by the great @yuukirita! Check out their stuff!! Part 1 here :)

_______________________________

The first thing he felt upon waking up was that it was unreasonably cold. That and it was really, really dark. Bright blue optics blink, adjusting to the sight of the mouth of a trash chute, at least, that’s what he thinks is one.

Seeing as something is falling rapidly down and heading right towards him at max speed.

Wait. “OWW!” Metal hits metal, the sound echoes across the empty, dusty place, bouncing off the walls.

He held his face, the pain flared up multiple warning pop-ups, notifying him of the damage. He shifted upright, with another sudden flare of pain, felt something hitting his shoulder pad and falling down next to his hand with a small ‘clank’. Looking down, lo and behold, a yellow triangle-shaped piece of metal laid there.

A hand shot up his head to check, patting around, he felt another similarly shaped thing on the left side, nothing on the other side. Damn.

He sniffs, optics blurring with tears threatening to fall at any point.

It’s just a small little piece, sure, but it hurts. Ridiculous, really, he shouldn’t be tearing up at this, especially when he should’ve seen that junk falling down coming.

Wait, but how would he even know that?

He knows that, he knows this place.

Quickly, he decides to get out of the bin, you know, before another piece of trash comes down and knocks out the remaining triangle thing on his head.

He reached up at the rim of the trash bin and hauls himself out, landing on the ground with a huff. Just in time to hear another loud slam of trash falling down, hitting at where he had initially activated, phew.

Looking around, with every movement, he kicked up more and more dust from the floor. He sneezed and scrambled upright, stumbling a few times whilst trying to get used to his new, shaky limbs. Why is even standing difficult?

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know a lot of things. Like his name, for example. Or designation, what does that word even mean? That’s a long word, feels something like a name, but not really. What he does know, though, is that he is familiar with this place.

As he stumbled about, his bright, round optics awed at everything, eventually reaching a tall, looming door blocking the way out (?). It looks worn down, dented in many places and looking like someone rammed multiple times into the center of it, creating a small crack at the bottom corner.

He blinked, looking up, the panel next to the half-destroyed door was way too high up for him to reach, what would he even put in it anyways?

How does he even know what that is?

What the pit is going ON?

Letting out a frustrated sound, he crouched down on the dirt ground and squeezed his body through the crack, scratching the yellow paint on his body in the process, not that he minds.

With a few more wiggling, he finally got himself out and through the other side. He huffed, blowing the dust that is floating around away as he stands up, exploring the new area he just got access to.

It’s…the exact same as the other room. Blank, gray walls, looking old and in a similar state with the door. There were a few pictures lining the right wall, this time, all plastered with a blue and golden mech grinning and throwing a thumbs-up. He stares at the words along the pictures, ’Work hard for the Iacon cause!’.

Which, disappointing, but not too bad, he presumed. Pretty boring, if someone asks him.

And empty, and lonely. Cold, quiet.

He found that he hated the silence.

Luckily, he didn’t need to deal with the quietness for too long, because a voice rang out, jolting him into a squeak.

“Bee?”

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere with a unknown identity

A helping hand

Yandere policeman x F!reader Warning: Manipulation, mentions of not believing the victim. Summary: Right after your encounter with the masked man (This part), you head out and find yourself with an officer who strongly feels that he should be the one to help you.

The masked man had just left when it dawned on you what happened. Violated and angry you grab the money he left behind and hurry down to whatever garbage chute you could find. You had barely time to put your clothes on before you were out the door. It's late and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard. 

It's first when you step outside of the apartment building and the cold air hits you that you come to your senses. Today has been horrible and it seems that your bad luck is not over yet. Considering your options you come to the conclusion that you don't want to stay and the walk to one of your friends' apartments is not long. You sigh as you know you will have to tell her what happened. Something you don't initially want, but what other options do you really have? 

You dont walk for long before a police car spots you. You can imagine how odd you must look walking around with a stack of money and dressed in your pajamas. 

The two officers consist of a tall rather young man and a middle aged plump woman. With the lack of anything else to tell them, you explain what has happened to you. The unfiltered truth as to where you got the money from and why you are out on the streets dressed so poorly. Both the man and woman listen intently to your story and when you are done the woman says. 

“Okay, listen, we will solve this. I just have to make a call to the surrounding officers. But Kenny will keep an eye on you, understand?” The plump woman tells you before she returns to the car. Her face is turned away from the both of you as she talks into the comms. A minute goes by in silence. Then two. Then five and she is still talking. For every minute passing worry grows. 

Then around the corner speeds another police car in and stops on the other side of the road. A young blond man jumps out, his uniform looks slightly untidy as if he had just thrown them on. He gives a nod to Kenny before he heads for the woman in the car. They talk quietly for a moment before he walks up to the both of you. 

“I'll take over from here officer McCall.” I can't help but feel like Kenny is letting out a sigh of relief as he heads back to the car. Before they drive off the woman rolls down her window and tells you.  

“If you need more help, ask for Officer Reese.” You nod to her before they drive off. The man beside you lets out a sigh and nods in the direction that they drove off at.

“Some officers truly need more than just reprimands.” He says and shakes his head. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm going to be truly honest with you. Officer Reese had not so good intentions regarding how to handle your little…issue. But I won't go into detail about that.” He takes a deep breath before he places a hand on your shoulder and continues. “And the other officers won't help you either, I know how shallow they can be. But I want to help.” 

“Her, Officer Reese, she won't help me? I thought…” 

“She just said that to make you feel better. In reality she was talking about the loony bin over the comms.”

Your stomach turns at his words and you have to turn away, just to gather yourself. 

“But I will help.” He continues. 

“You would?” 

“Yes, but I think it's better if we keep it between us two, are you fine with that?” You nod and take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions together. 

“Good, how about I drive you back to your apartment and you tell me in detail everything that happened.” 

“I… I don't know if I want to be at home right now.” You say hesitantly. 

“Don't worry, honey. I'm patrolling these streets and I'll make sure no man gets even close to you.” He says and places his arm around you. “Aren't you cold? Come let's continue talking in the car.” He says as he leads you to his car. 

“Well, if you're helping, do you have any access to something that you could find fingerprints with?” 

“Eh, sure, but what are you going to use that for?” He asks as he leads you over the street. 

“For these, I thought maybe you could get his fingerprints, oh well, mine will be here too, but…” He laughs and carefully takes the money from you. 

“If you don't want to use it for yourself then sure I can have a look.” 

“Oh and by the way. I never caught your name.” 

“It's Robert, Officer Robert Finch.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Damage Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Summary: you're sent to work intel on a mission with two very combative men.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit in the airport. One piece of luggage. Simple. Easy. You travel light but not alone. Your company has yet to arrive.

Fellow travelers rush back and forth while others wait in queue for the coffee kiosk behind you or meander in hopes of an empty seat. The dark brew isn’t very good. It’s burnt and hollow. You push the cup away and mourn the five dollars for eight ounces of tripe.

You recognise the man, not only because you’ve seen his photo, but because he stands out despite his attempt at insignificance. Tall, blond, lithe but not too slender. He approaches and you stand. He looks around, right over your head. You likely don’t look how he would expect.

“Pine,” you call to him. His blue eyes narrow at you and he redirects. He rolls his bag with him and approaches with his hand extended, “Pine like the tree. Tall as one.”

He tilts his head curiously, “you’re Magenta?”

“I didn’t choose it,” you say.

“Angela?”

“Can’t leave the wee one,” you explain as you hike yourself back up on the tall chair. You bring the cup close again and turn it as you scowl at the brew. “Don’t recommend the coffee. Don’t know about the tea.”

“Hm,” he sits across from you. “Pity. Was hoping for a good cuppa before we head over the pond.”

You look at him and your cheek twitches. You put your hand to it to still it. His blue eyes twinkle.

“You like to hike? With a name like Pine, it’d be ironic, wouldn’t it?” You suggest.

A line forms above his brow, “suppose that would be. I enjoy a run now and then, prefer the coast.”

“I hear they’ve got bears over there. Never saw one. Only rats in New York,” you remark. “I lost a slice of pizza to one. Grimy git.”

“Hm, yes, a city one would hate to be lost in,” he muses.

“You’ve been?”

“A time or two. Not my favourite place.”

“I went to Canada a couple times. I saw a moose. Actually, saw a few. Meese? Have you seen their geese? They’re bloody vicious.” Your cheek keeps twitching. You give up. Nerves.

“Ah, I’ve flown over, not been,” he says. “You nervous of flying?”

“Little. It’s only the take-off that gets me. Went parachuting once and the instructor tricked me. Said the strap on my chute broke. Threw a dummy cord out. Right mad one. Should’ve known better than do a jump for twenty quid.” You chuckle and shake your head. “Haven’t been right since.”

“Sounds especially cruel,” he comments.

“I’ve known crueler,” you grin.

“Mm, yes, as have I,” his brows lift slightly. “So, what do you know about this Hansen character?”

“I know we should keep the chatter to a minimum about him. Not here,” you glance around, catching site of the man who’s not so subtle in his staring.

“You’ve done this before?” He asks.

“I work alone more often. First for having company,” you say quietly. “Your sister, she’s going to be so happy to see you."

He hesitates but smiles anyway, "oh, she will. It's been some time, hasn't it?"

You keep your eyes on him. He doesn't flinch. You're both overtly aware of the man who's oh so convieniently moved closer to grab sugar and napkins.

You lift your arm and check your watch, "look at that, boarding soon."

"Ah, yes, darling, wouldn't want to miss it," he stands and comes around to pull out your chair. You step down and reach for your bag. He has it first. "Allow new."

You take your coffee and dump it in a bin. He rolls both bags with him as you walk in stride.

"Grab my arm. Be natural," he girds.

You obey, putting your hands on his as he clings to your suitcase. You walk with him, a dulcet expression to hide your paranoia. You get to the gate and show your passes.

He lets go of the bags and turns to yawn into his elbow. As he does, he scans the area. You join the queue for the ramp and he leans in.

"He's been rerouted by security," Pine intones.

You nod and stay facing forward. Another twitch.

"You're good," he praises.

You give a soft smile. It's a true compliment. You're not a field agent. This isn't your typical assignment but you owe Angela the favour.

“Eh, sometimes they turn out to just be creeps,” you snort. “Never know with people.”

“No, you never do,” he agrees.

“They say it's cold. November and such,” you sway as the airport attendants mill around near the doors waiting to call for boarding. “Thanksgiving soon, or whathaveyou. Pity we never got in on the fun.”

He laughs again, “never much thought of it.”

“I wouldn't mind turkey. You can get fish at any chippy, but what about nice bird.”

“Oh, I don't recommend picking up birds at a chippy,” he hurls back.

You guffaw, “clever.”

“I like to think so.”

“Mm, yes, most agents I've met tend to have that idea about themselves,” you stretch your arms behind you and scope out the line. You let out a breath. “You seem the football type, eh?”

He seems stricken by the question, “might be.”

“Eh, don't you worry, I won't judge. Not out loud.”

“Right. I'll admit, not many of Angela's friends are so chatty,” he says.

“They wouldn't be but we've ten hours ahead of us. May as well jump right in,” you say.

“May as well,” he agrees. “If you must know, I root for Chelsea.”

“Ach,” you decry. “Well, perhaps we should find a more amiable topic.”

“I see. Spoken like a true Arsenal fan.”

“I'm warning you,” you retort. “I'm much nicer about the weather. Lovely day, isn't it?”

He laughs, “oh, fine day for flying.”

[thedroneranger]

Need a Favor

Rhett Abbott

Synopsis: Rhett does more than hurt his shoulder when he's bucked off a bull during competition. While his wellbeing is in question, your biggest hurdles are his family and his pesky ex that constantly call you into question.

Notes: My first foray outside Top Gun. I've had this kicking around for quite a while and finally got the inspiration to finish it. It felt Rhett-Outer Range coded, so here we are! Influenced by the Jelly Roll song Need a Favor.

Warnings: Bull riding, religion; religious inaccuracies; medical inaccuracies; mentions of blood.

Word count: 5.3k.

The arena was electric. The cheers of the crowd, the clattering of the chutes, the grunts of the bulls. There had to be more people in this arena than in all of Wyoming. 

Then it died.

The silence was deafening. My eyes never left his slumped form as I charged down the stands. People parted like the Red Sea, allowing me the most direct route. My legs were gracious, bracing me as I dropped the eight feet into the arena and then sprinted toward him.

The medics had yet to arrive and the wranglers stood back as I approached. I dropped to my knees at Rhett’s side. His body was contorted in an unnatural position. His hat on the ground beside him—crumpled. Blood trickled from his hairline.

It would be a miracle if he didn’t break his back. “Rhett? Baby?” My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch his shoulder. He didn’t move. My vision began to blur, and I did my best to contain the tears threatening at my waterline. Still shaking, I pressed two fingers on his neck just below his jaw. My entire body untensed as I felt a thready pulse. “He has a pulse,” I stated to myself. 

Then I saw it. 

A sizable puddle of blood. Panicked, I pushed him over to find the stain on his shirt blossoming near the bottom edge of his vest. Without a second thought, I shoved my hand between his vest and shirt until I felt a tear in the fabric and then jagged flesh the wound. 

The medics arrived and pulled me out of the way. One of the chute hands held me by the elbows as we watched Rhett be braced and loaded onto a stretcher. Then she handed me off to a paramedic who helped me into the ambulance. 

I sat quietly and watched the medic fuss over Rhett. He was stable—for now. “Do you want to hold his hand?” The man offered. All I could do was stare at him as I balled my hand—the drying blood pulling at my skin. Clad in rubber gloves, the medic tucked Rhett’s hand in mine. 

Sitting in the ambulance, clutching his hand, my vision began to blur again. Warm streaks painted my cheeks, and I felt the droplets as they leapt from my jaw. Tears dotted my jeans.

The medic was doing his best to soothe me while monitoring Rhett. His voice was white noise as I gazed at Rhett. He hadn’t moved. His mouth didn’t twitch. His eyes didn’t dart behind his lids. He didn’t squeeze my hand. 

Thankfully they had slowed the bleeding, but he was steadily soaking through gauze. 

It all felt surreal as we arrived at the hospital, exited the ambulance, and I stood in the hallway as his gurney disappeared through the emergency surgery doors. 

A breath left my body I had no idea I had been holding. Feeling was returning to my fingers and toes—reality setting in. All that was left was to wait. Wait to hear if Rhett made it out of surgery. Wait to hear if or how this would alter Rhett’s life.

Remembering I had a hand caked in blood, I looked for the nurses station. One of the nurses kindly took me to a bathroom and helped me scrub clean. She also pilfered me a scrub top. We put my stained shirt into the biohazard bin. 

Back in the waiting room, still shaky, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket. Just as I was heading to find a seat, I heard a familiar voice. “Hey! Hold on!” I turned to see the medic hurrying toward me. I kept eye contact as he approached. “I wanted to make sure you got these.” 

At his side, Rhett’s vest hung in one hand and my rosary sat in the palm of his other. Once it registered it was my rosary, my eyes widened. I looked between him and his palm. Then I then held out mine and he deposited the beads into it. “Thank you.” I had the smallest smile.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, handed me the vest, and then continued back to his rig.

I clutched the beads as I turned to continue further into the waiting room. Finding a somewhat secluded corner, I tucked the vest beside my chair and pulled out my phone. My eyes trained on my screen, scanned the list of Abbotts in my contacts. Ultimately, I decided to call the house in hopes Cecilia would pick up. 

My heart rate increased with each ring, and then…voicemail. Quickly, I punched the end button before dropping my phone in my lap. I plopped my rosary on top of it, and used both hands to rub my temples. 

What was my next move? 

Coffee. 

Coffee was the next move. Then maybe I would have the gumption, and the gusto, to try Cecilia again—or call Royal. 

This hospital was too small and too archaic for those fancy coffee vending machines. So I headed to the nurses station where the charge nurse pointed me in the direction of the cafeteria.

Nearing 10 p.m., the cafeteria was sparsely populated. A doctor here and there trying to conceal themselves, hoping for 15 minutes alone. A few workers were in the serving area, refreshing the limited offerings. A smile pulled my lips as I spotted the coffee.

While I paid for my drink, I heard the rain. Not just a light drizzle but a steady drumming of water. I stepped into the dining area and noticed the far end was a solarium. The rain streaked down the glass, distorting the view. Soothed by the sound, I walked over.

Sipping my coffee, I stared into the distance. I bet on a sunny day, it was a beautiful garden. Patients milling around with their visitors or their therapists coaching them through their post-op movement quota.

Maybe Rhett would be out there soon. Wobbling around with a cane or a walker under the watchful eye of a nurse or PT. Cussing under his breath because he “doesn’t need any help” but too polite to say anything aloud. I chuckled to myself as I turned to head back to the waiting room. The coffee was helping, but I still didn’t want to talk to Rhett’s family.

Somehow Cecilia was the least threatening Abbott. Hilarious, considering the first time I came to meet the Abbotts and have dinner Cecilia wouldn’t let me into the house. She and Rhett had a standoff—whisper bickering on the front porch and all. It was only when her granddaughter Amy grabbed my hand that she, begrudgingly, let me in.

The Abbotts didn’t strike me as overly religious. There were the usual hints here and there—a crucifix on the wall in the dining room, a bible in the end table drawer beside the couch. 

Cecilia proved to be the most faithful Abbott. She clearly believed in good and evil. Heaven and Hell. And to her, I was the devil. Brought into the Abbotts’ lives to test Rhett—lead him astray. 

If I were to succeed, Rhett might move off the ranch. Maybe leave Wabang, entirely. Desert the family. Lord knows if he could stay healthy, he’d be one hell of a bull rider. 

No matter what Cecilia thought of me, I needed to get a hold of her. Looking around the empty hallway, I stopped and pulled out my phone to try the house again. Still no answer. That woman really needed to get with the times and carry a cell phone.

Royal and I didn’t see eye-to-eye much, but Rhett was his son. I tapped his name and put the phone to my ear. I did my best to remain calm when he answered. Not wanting to waste anyone’s time, I first made sure he hadn’t already been contacted by the event staff or hospital.

Of course, Royal made a point to remind me Maria was listed as Rhett’s emergency contact and ask where she was in all this. I never knew how Maria managed to fly under the radar with the Abbotts. After all, we wanted the same things for Rhett. We both knew he could be doing so much more than mending fences and getting into bar fights.

Hell, the thought even crossed my mind to call Maria, but I couldn’t stomach her being here at the same time as the rest of the Abbotts and them doting on her. Plus, Rhett got quite warm under the collar when his family pitted us against one another.

Still unsure who would appear at the hospital, I was just glad that some of the Abbotts were en route. Feeling a little more at ease, I sipped my coffee as I pocketed my phone and wandered back to the waiting room.

My butt hadn’t even hit the cushion when someone was calling Rhett’s name. Immediately, I stood back up and made eye contact with whom I presumed to be the surgeon. “I’m here for Rhett Abbott!” I nearly tripped as I scrambled to the doctor. 

“Next of kin?” 

“Fiancée.” The lie rolled off my tongue so naturally. I backed it by giving my full name.

My heart felt like it was in my throat as I stared at the surgeon, waiting for him to continue. “That bull really did a number.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and crossed my arms. 

I did my best to listen as the surgeon explained. They were following concussion protocol since Rhett bashed heads with the bull and packed dirt. And getting gored how Rhett did was a freak accident—competition bull horns were always filed blunt. 

Overall, the damage to his internal organs appeared minimal. The bruising pain would take longer to subside than for the abrasions to heal. The only hiccup was Rhett still losing blood, so a vascular surgeon scrubbed in to assess him. 

Willing myself to be more hopeful than disappointed as the trauma surgeon disappeared, I sighed and shuffled back to my seat. 

It felt like an eternity as I finished my coffee and then stared into the bottom of the cup. Still no sign of the Abbotts, I decided to occupy myself by trekking back to the cafeteria. 

The rain was still pounding as I, again, took time to fantasize out the window. As I turned to leave, I nearly bumped into an older man. We exchanged pleasantries as he profusely apologized. 

“Coffee wouldn’t be the worst thing I wore today.” I tried to lighten the mood.

He eyed my scrub top and chuckled as he knelt on the floor for a second. “Does this belong to you?” He opened his palm to reveal my rosary. I shook my head as he deposited it into my hand. 

“How many Hail Marys to forgive dropping it on the floor.” 

“Well, that’s not my rodeo. I usually phone a friend.” I laughed softly at his response and thumbed the beads. “There’s a chapel on your way out if you want a few minutes to yourself. Or, if you want company, I’m happy to join you.” He paused. “I can also phone that friend.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a genuine smile. “I think I’ll spend some time one-on-one.” He nodded as we parted ways. 

The chaplain wasn’t kidding when he said the chapel was hidden. The door was the same color as the sterile hospital wall. The only giveaway was the stained glass window, which read as a painting if you weren’t paying attention. 

It was quaint. The front of the room was the focal point with a trio of stained glass panels. Raindrops ricocheted off the panes. I slid into the middle pew of the five rows. Still fiddling with my rosary, I stared at the windows. 

Clutching my beads, I folded my hands in the back of the pew in front of me. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about Rhett.

“Religion is more Ma’s thing, but the Sundays she does get me to church, it doesn’t seem to matter how you worship.” Oh, Rhett. The thought of his voice was comforting. 

Suddenly a tear hit my wrist and I sucked in a breath. “Please don't let me lose him.” I mumbled between sobs. My forehead rested on the backs of my thumbs as I let my tears freely fall.

Once I felt empty, I sat back on the bench and slid each bead between my index and middle finger as I said the corresponding prayer. It was amazing what you could remember when it was beaten into you. A smile curled my lips as I thought about the first time Rhett realized the scarring across my knuckles and wrists were from rulers. 

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I thought about the tenderness he showed as he kissed each of my knuckles and then my wrists. He made his way up my arms as he pulled me into his lap. Eventually my lips were on his with my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Fuck,” I said as tipped my head and rolled my eyes to keep the tears from continuing.

Just then, I heard the door. I turned to see Cecilia, of all people. It took all my might not to let loose a barking laugh.

I was more shocked when she slid into the pew beside me, leaving just a few inches of space between us. “Surprised it’s still standing? The altar isn’t on fire?” I joked.

She eyed the beads in my hands. “Isn’t that Rhett’s necklace?” 

“It’s mine.” I paused for a second. “And it’s not a necklace, it’s a rosary. And I lent them to Rhett to protect him when he rides,” I added. She turned her head to look directly at me. “Blessed at the Vatican.” Her eyebrow jutted up the faintest bit. 

I leaned slightly over toward her. “It’s the fallen ones that need a savior most, isn’t it?” I listened to the rain for a few seconds before continuing. “And we only talk to God when we need favors?” Rhett would hate that I was needling his mother but also be proud I was standing up for myself.

Cecilia broke eye contact as she thought about how to respond. Instead of words, she placed her hand over mine that was holding my rosary. I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Some of our prayers are the same.” She squeezed my hand as we bowed our heads. I followed her lead as we softly recited a prayer aloud. 

We were through our first set of Hail Marys when Royal walked in. “There’s news.” We jumped up, hand-in-hand. Royal noticed our physical attachment but he didn’t say anything as he turned to lead us out.

Perry and Amy were standing in the waiting room with the surgeon I spoke to earlier. Royal had to support Cecilia as the surgeon delivered cautiously optimistic news. Instinctively, I squeezed the beads in my hand. “When can we see him?” I blurted out.

“He hasn’t woken up, but you can visit him one at a time.” Amy bounced on the balls of her feet. “You can go accompanied by an adult,” the surgeon added, looking at her with a smile. He then turned to look at me. “Fiancée first?” All the Abbotts exchanged looks but no one challenged the title.

“Yes,”I said quickly and then herded the surgeon away.

A hand on the door knob, he looked at me. “Are you ready?” Silently, I nodded. Then he pushed the door open, allowing me through first. 

The room was soft lit and the only sound was Rhett’s heart monitor. Slowly, I walked to the bed. He looked peaceful. Tired but peaceful. 

Taken with Rhett, I didn’t even realize the surgeon let himself out. Quietly, I walked to the bedside. Rhett didn’t move, except for the rise and fall of his chest. His breaths were deep and even. 

They did their best to clean up his face. When he collided with the bull, it was face first so he ended up with a broken nose. The bruising was already apparent under his eyes. The stitches at his hairline were hardly noticeable. 

After a few minutes, I softly sat on the edge of his bed and gently tucked a curl behind his ear. His eye twitched and my hand stilled. He didn’t respond further, so I slipped my hand into his and rubbed the back with my thumb.

I sighed, continuing to watch his face. Selfishly, I wanted to stay here all night with him. However, at the very least, his mother and Amy needed to see him. 

With one last squeeze, I gently got off the bed and headed for the door. I looked back one more time before leaving.

After everyone had a chance to see Rhett, Royal and Perry decided to drive over and get Rhett’s truck from the arena. 

Amy and I stayed in the waiting room while Cecilia sat with her son. Amy was in good spirits, although Rhett had yet to wake up. She succumbed to curiosity and asked a million questions about Rhett. I did my best to answer every one. 

Finally, Perry and Royal returned. Trailing behind them was Maria. I stood as Amy ran over to greet her father. “I figured you would turn up here,” I said coldly to Maria as she stood directly in front of me. 

She shrugged. “Well, they called me directly, so I figured I should stop by and check in.”

“Where’d you come from? The moon? How are you just arriving if you were the first call?” I asked. “Did you even bother to call the Abbotts?”

“Of course, I called Cecilia,” she explained. “But she wasn’t home, and Royal didn’t pick up.”

“And Perry?” I pressed her. 

She lowered her voice. “I don’t call that piece of shit for anything.” She glared in his direction. “Isn’t it kind of weird Rhett hasn’t changed his emergency contact?” She looked back at me. “Maybe he wants to make sure it’s someone he can trust.” She smirked.

Before I could say anything, Perry approached us. He dropped Rhet’s truck keys in my hand. “Assuming you’re going to want to stay, being his fiancée and all.” I could feel the heat in my cheeks as he winked at me.

She tried not to appear obvious, but Maria’s eyes widened slightly and her gaze dropped to my hand. I could see her relax when she realized I wasn’t wearing a ring.

Just then, Royal, who had excused himself to say good night to Rhett and collect his wife, returned with Cecilia. “Maria!” Cecilia opened her arms to embrace her. 

However, Cecilia was focused on me during the interaction. “You’ll update us as soon as you hear?” Royal held out Cecilia’s coat, coaxing her to part with Maria. 

“Of course.” I nodded.

“We’ll plan to come back tomorrow afternoon,” Royal stated. 

“I’ll swing by, too,” Maria added.

“Ooh! We can come together!” Cecilia added. 

“Perfect.” Maria smiled.

It took all my energy to not roll my eyes. My attention was diverted when Amy threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I smiled and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. 

I waited for them to disappear through the doors, and then made my way to Rhett’s room. Light was beginning to peek through his blinds. He was still sound asleep. I tried my best to be quiet as I pushed the little cushioned sitting chair as close as possible to his bedside. Once seated, I sipped my coffee and told him about the night with his family. 

Eventually, I moved onto reminiscing about some of our shared memories. Feeling a little stiff, I changed positions, folding my legs under me in the chair and leaning forward so my stacked arms rested on the edge of his bed. With my chin resting on top of them, I watched him. 

Just being there gave me a sense of peace. The adrenaline was wearing off. My eyelids felt so heavy, which reminded me that I was coming up on 24 hours without sleep. It wouldn’t hurt to rest my eyes…

Rhett and I were laying in one of the pastures on the Abbott ranch. A beautiful day, the sun was warm on our faces. The back of Rhett’s fingers stroked my cheek, and I leaned into his touch. He kept saying my name as we looked at each other.

My eyes darted around behind my eyelids, and then shot open to see Rhett staring at me—he really was stroking my cheek and saying my name. Basking in his touch, I leaned into his fingers. The tiniest smile pulled a corner of his mouth. 

“Rhett.” I sounded groggy. He rasped my name in response. Leaning into his fingers one more time, I pulled away to get him his water cup beside his bed. 

After a few timid sips, he was damn near chugging. “Whoa, slow down. It’s not going anywhere.” He smiled as I put his cup back on the bedside table and sat down. Rhett brushed his finger along mine. In response, I put my hand over his.

I could feel the tears building. “I’m so glad you’re ok.” I leaned down and kissed the back of his palm. 

“Me, too.” He did his best to hold my hand. After a minute he said, “What’d I miss?” Clearly, his sarcasm hadn’t been broken. I couldn’t help but smile.

We enjoyed each other’s company until a nurse came to check his vitals and realized he was awake. Then I stood beside his bed and held his hand while nurses and doctors poked and prodded and questioned him. Rhett remained calm throughout the entire process—might’ve been the morphine.

Once the doctor was satisfied, the nurses continued to work, so I stepped out to get another coffee and call Cecilia, as promised. Again hoping to reach her directly, I called the house line. She answered on the first ring. She was holding back tears as I updated her. It was the first time I heard sheer happiness in the woman’s voice.

I soaked in every minute I could alone with Rhett. I was torn between giving Rhett a heads up about Maria or letting him find out when she sashayed into his room. “Rhett?” I was cross-legged in the chair, leaning against the side of his bed and holding his hand. 

He looked at me, waiting for me to continue. “Maria is coming to see you.” 

“What?” Surprise was evident in his voice.

I took a deep breath before continuing. “She’s still listed as your emergency contact, so she got a phone call to notify her you were injured,” I explained. “She showed up last night well after visiting hours.” He scoffed. “And Cecilia invited her back today.” 

Rhett groaned and shifted a little. “I can’t believe her.” 

My thumb soothed the back of his palm. “Maria is always trying to win you back.”

“I’m talking about my mother. She has to cut this shit out.” Rhett’s voice was tense, and I could feel it in his fingers.

“Don’t worry about them, Rhett.” We locked eyes. “It’ll be fine. I only mentioned it so that you weren’t completely caught off guard.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. A smile pulled the one corner of my mouth as I placed my free hand over our clasped ones.

We sat in silence until Amy bound through the door. “Uncle Rhett!” Both their faces lit up as she ran over. She hugged me after she came around the bed. Amy was small enough, I hoisted her onto Rhett’s bed to carefully hug him and then hold his hand. 

She was chattering a mile a minute when Cecilia and Royal came in. After greeting them, I excused myself to get a coffee.

As luck would have it, Maria was arriving. “Too scared to be in a room with me?” she asked. 

“Mhmm, I don’t like the smell of trash.”

She audibly laughed. “Your insults mean nothing” We held eye contact. “The Abbotts love me. And I know them like the back of hand. I can play ‘em like fiddles.” She scanned my face for a reaction—I remained stoic. 

“Cecilia thinks you’re the devil,” she continued. “Trying to lure her baby off the ranch.”

“And what exactly is it that she thinks you’re doing?” I retorted.

Maria smiled and shrugged. “I had my heyday. I wouldn’t possibly want to move away now. I’m ready to find a husband and settle down. I know there’s no place like Wabang.” Sarcasm colored her tone.

I laughed. “That’s for damn sure.” 

“Good luck overcoming that.” She huffed and bumped my shoulder as she passed. 

Just as she was about to cross the threshold into Rhett’s room, Cecilia popped out the door. It felt like slow motion as they collided. The lid popped off Maria’s coffee and scalding brown liquid dyed her baby pink blouse. 

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Cecilia cried. “Let’s get you cleaned up!” Cecilia took Maria by the elbow down the hall in the direction of the restrooms. Maria held the fabric away from skin as Cecilia muled her along. 

A shake of my head, I continued to the cafeteria for my own beverage.

On my way back, I stopped in the almost hidden chapel. During my previous visit, I’d noticed the bowl of holy water and wanted to splash some on my rosary to cleanse it before giving it back to Rhett. It was the best I could do without a priest. 

When I returned to Rhett’s room, Cecilia was sitting at his bedside. They were whispering in harsh tones. They immediately stopped as I entered. “I can leave.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. 

“No, no!” A smidge of desperation in Rhett’s voice. “Ma was just leaving.” Cecilia stood and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Rhett’s forehead.

She looked at me as she left. Her expression felt softer somehow. I waited until she completely exited the room before venturing over to my usual seat. Rhett immediately extended his hand. 

“I have something for you.” His interest was piqued. “Hold out your hand.” He did as he was told and I dropped the beads into it. 

“I was getting ready to ask the nurse about this.” He rubbed his thumb over the beads and closed his hand, bringing it to his heart. 

“The EMT saved them,” I added. 

“I think they saved me.” Rhett looked at me. 

“I think modern medicine saved you.”

“Don’t go all evolution over creation on me, now,” he shot back. “You gave these to me for a reason.” He was right. I rolled my eyes and moved to press my lips to his. “Mhmm, you shut me up like that more often,” he said as we parted. 

“Based on how hard you’re roasting me, it feels like you’ll be discharged any minute.” 

Sure enough, by the end of the day, Rhett was being wheeled to the passenger door of his truck.

Once he was home, Cecilia became his caretaker. She and I did come to an understanding that included me pre-cooking meals for Rhett. I was skeptical when she extended the use of their kitchen to prepare them. However, I gladly accepted, and the very next night, we all sat down to a meal I cooked for everyone as a thank you. 

“Before we dig in, how about we say grace?” Cecilia looked at Royal, who nodded in agreement. Everyone folded their hands around the table and bowed their heads. Cecilia called my name, and I looked up to meet her gaze. “Would you do the honors, since you made this meal?”

Rhett’s hand settled on my thigh. I could feel his eyes on me. “Of course,” I agreed with a small smile, which Cecilia returned. We all bowed our heads as I said grace. Amy was the first to join me, then Rhett and the rest of the Abbotts.

“Amen.” We all said in unison. 

“Thank you.” Cecilia looked at me with a genuine smile. 

“You’re welcome,” I replied. Rhett squeezed my thigh as we exchanged looks.

Dinner felt like a dream. Or a trap. Although I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, I felt oddly comfortable. Standing beside Cecilia washing dishes while she dried them seemed natural. As if we had been doing this for years.

I was wiping down the empty sink when I saw a vehicle approaching the house. There it was: the trap springing closed. Silently, I took a deep breath to brace myself. I didn’t say a word to Cecilia. Besides, she was likely expecting Maria. 

Knocking rang through the house. Cecilia poked her head out of the kitchen as Amy shouted, “I’ll get it!” and ran toward the door. Everyone seemed surprised by Maria’s presence, but Royal politely invited her to stay and enjoy the dessert she brought. 

“Let me slice it up!” I waited for Maria to catch sight of me. “Oh, you are here.” The light left her face as she sat a pie on the table.

“Doing your best to suck up to Cece and Royal?” she added as she walked toward me. I didn’t move as she got in my personal space and reached around me for a pie server. “Excuse my reach.” She withdrew, tool in hand, and walked back to the table. 

“Just making sure Rhett gets fed during recovery.” I leaned against the sink with my arms crossed. We briefly made eye contact as she made the first incision. It was silent as she put monstrous portions on each plate. 

“Oh!” Maria feigned surprise as she looked at the empty tin. “I wasn't expecting you to be here.” She loaded pie plates on her arms and disappeared into the dining room. 

Maria came back and grabbed the final plate. “If there is any left, you can have my sloppy seconds.” She winked and turned to head into the dining room. 

As she spun around, there was Cecilia. Before she knew what hit her, she was covered in pie. “My goodness, Maria!” Cecilia looked her up and down, and then motioned for me to pass a kitchen towel. In no rush, I tossed one in their direction.

Cecilia fussed over Maria and tried to clean her up but really just smeared it more into her shirt. “Well, looks like you have to settle for crumbs!” Cecilia added as she dropped some pie bits into the waste bin. 

Maria’s eyes narrowed as she looked between us. “I said I wasn’t going to stay long, and this feels like a sign that I really should get going.”

“I’m sure we’ll see you next time we’re at the bank!” Cecilia ushered her out. While she was herding Maria to the door, I found the broom and finished cleaning.

Cecilia came back as I was emptying the dust pan. When I turned around there were two plates of pie on the table. “She practically served that pie in quarters.” 

“Thank you,” I said as I came toward the table. 

“Finding the snakes in the garden can be tough,” she responded and handed me a plate. “You can call me Cece.” 

“Ok, Cece.” I tested it out as we made our way to the dining room. Rhett pulled my chair close to his as I sat down. Cecilia watched us as she folded her napkin on her lap. 

She cast an unnoticed glance at my hand as we ate—a reminder to make sure he knew where she kept his maternal grandmother’s wedding band so he could get it resized when he was ready.

Royal ran his finger along Cece’s, pulling her back to the present moment. Her mind ran from wedding rings to homesteads. Then she had a moment where she thought about having two daughters-in-law. “Please don’t let me lose her,” she whispered under her breath. 

With that favor, she returned her attention to those around the table.

Visit my masterlist for more | Sign up for my tag list!

A kind reminder: Likes work hard, but reblogs and comments work harder 😈

Tagging a few friends I've seen interact with Rhett content: @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @sunlightmurdock @ereardon @bobfloydsbabe @sebsxphia

[nostalgiclittlespace]

Little Space Gear: Masterlist

(Thanks @mystarrybrain15 for requesting this!)

For a lot of Littles, having gear is a very important part of regressing.  And there’s so many choices!  Food, clothes, toys, self-care–and the list goes on.  So, I thought I’d make a sort of masterlist of various gear, to hopefully give some inspiration for things you might want to add to your Little Space. 

Note, I doubt everyone uses everything on this list; we all have different preferences and needs, so use what’s comfortable for you.  Some regressors don’t use any gear at all, some use a lot; just do what makes you happy! Remember that regression doesn’t look a certain way, so you don’t have to use a specific set of gear to be valid.

Mostly, this is geared towards newer regressors, but I hope it can be helpful for anyone looking for ideas.  If you have any suggestions, then feel free to comment them and I’ll add them to the list! Happy regressing everyone!

-Marty 🎈

Pacifier

Pacifier clip

Communication cards (for nonverbal Littles)

iPad

Teether

Chewlery

Rattle

Diapers

Bubble Bath

Bath toys

Craft kits (I love the Crayola ones!)

Lotion

Baby/kid friendly soaps (the kinds that won’t sting your eyes!)

Ball pit

Playpen

Indoor slide

Play mat

Outdoor playset

Stuffed animals

Figure toys

Bubbles

Mobile

 A Little Space Journal

Stickers

Dolls

Coloring books

Crayons, markers, paints, etc

Doll house

 Kid-friendly/nostalgic video games

Chalk

A Little Space playlist

Movies/TV shows

 Snacks (fruit snacks, apple slices, carrots, candy, etc) 

Drinks (juice, milk, water, etc)

Sippy cup

Bottle

Straw cup

 Kids board/card games (Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, Uno, etc)

 Blanket

Storybooks

Audio books

Bib

Bath bombs

Crib

Backpack (for carrying other gear in)

Kids dishware

Fidget toys

 White noise machine or app

 Pajamas, onesies, or whatever clothes make you feel small

Kids apps

Busy board

 Puzzles

Activity books

Headphones

Tent

Magnet toys

Baby powder

Shape sorter

Ring stacker

Sensory bin

Kinetic sand

Musical instrument

Lego/Lego Duoplo

Blocks

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting people to go through my garbage?

I (18x) am an international student in Canada. Where I am from, recycling is not something that was ever made a big deal of or explained, but here it is expected and I was provided with both a garbage can and a recycling bin in my dorm room.

There is one other thing about me you should know, and it is that I am disabled and often have to wear diapers. This is not something I wanted anyone in my real life to know, and even my parents think I grew out of this a few years ago.

People have tried to explain recycling to me but I am still a little bit confused by it but I truly am trying. It is easy to remember that cardboard and metal go in the recycling, but I have a much harder time telling the difference between recyclable and non recyclable plastic. I know I am the AH for this, but I am much better at recycling than I was when I moved here and I am still learning.

A few days ago, I came back from my class and entered my room only to find my roommate (19f) sitting on the floor going through my garbage can! Before I even said anything she said that if I was too dumb to figure out what went in the garbage and what went in the recycling, I might as well have someone sort it for me and she was so mad! I said that that wasn’t fair, and that I deserved privacy, but she said that normal people didn’t throw out anything they needed to be ashamed of. She didn’t actually say anything about my diapers, but I think that she was implying that she knew about them when she said that. I don’t like the idea of her knowing and I don’t like the idea of her telling anyone else, but I don’t know how to tell if she even does know because she took the garbage bag she was looking through out to the garbage chute.

I tried to ask my friends about this but I don’t want to tell them about the real reason I don’t want people looking through my garbage and without knowing it they all say they don’t see what the big deal is and it sounds nice to have someone else worry about my garbage sorting so I don’t have to and at least I did not accidentally put recyclable water bottles in the garbage because of her!

So tumblr, knowing about my secret, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[missamyrisa2]

Aaah I didn't know other anons were paying attention to my embarrassing requests for scrubbies😳😭 Now I need to step up my game and think of more creative requests...

But also yes I agree 5 star yelp review for the tickle cleaning machine!!! Only drawback is a machine can't tickle talk me..... OR CAN IT??? (this is a challenge!)

from cleaning anon🧼🛁

Ooooh my yessss I have like a whole little troupe of cleaning anons nowww ~ I daresay my business will be booming when I have you all lined up on the conveyer to go in like a waterpark ride, once the strip-bot is done having her way with you of course, pulling away your clothes and tossing them into the bins while my techs start slapping rubber cuffs on your wrists before chasing you into the flume with their tickle sticks.

With a hummmmm the magnets in your cuffs are drawn up to keep your arms secure over your head so that the smirking operator can pull the crank and send you downnn the water chute, passing through gate after gate of ticklyyyy spraying jets for your presoak. As the ride slows you are treated to two previews. The desperate whimpering giggly gasps of the person ahead of you, just around the corner ~ and from a viewing window you can see the cleaning anon who completed their treatment, trembling and blushyyy pink as they're brought out for inspection to a crowd of techs with fluffy plumes.

Ahh but you're getting distracted and didn't even see the scan bots appear. All those red lights gliding up and down your body, making it tingle and wiggle. Probing brushies slide out to test your skin for imperfections. Klaxons wail every time they find a spot. The brush in your navel sets one off. The brushes going between your toes go off endlessly. A brush in each armpit goes off. Your back, your shoulders, even your tush are marked. The body map behind them, the cleansing plan, grows more complex by the second as it continuously updates.

Reaching an unheard of threshold, you aren't going around the curve to join those giggles, the floor instead opens and you are deposited for deep cleaning. The table below instantly reacts to the weight of your body and snatches your wrists and ankles with thick straps. With a buzzing sound the spherical denizen of this cleansing chamber floats into view.

"Convening cleaning intervening~!" The machine chirps in rhyme, rumbling as it produces a spider-like array of scrubbing brushes, spinning buffers, and gloved hands working in rubbing pairs to suds themselves up. Your squirms and struggles go entirely unnoticed as the hands begin rubbing your sides and legs and feet so the brushes can move in and begin their teasing cleansing, spinning and swirling about to buff all your sensitive skin.

"Overweening queening leaning~!" The machine taunts as you protest, the buffers moving up to tease at your neck and under your arms. The hands massage and work the tingly cleansing bubbles into your skin, thumbs rubbing at your hips and inner thighs, coming back around after the brushes with a slickening solution to give your skin a nice pink sheen.

"Careening well-meaning spring cleaning~!" With a chime new cleansers enter the sudsy fray, twirling fluffy puffs glistening with their oil and approaching your navel, your royal chest buttons and even your lower royal button. The machine dings happily as it begins working your most regal areas to a perfect cleansed shine, the puffs whirling and grazing along your buttons with the utmost care while the hands tease and taunt tracing your pinkened softened areas ~ along your sides and ribs and underarms, down your legs to each toe. All those loving strokes inspecting and verifying while the puffies dip in and out under the watchful teasing eye of the machine~

Which continues until a horn honks loudly indicating a flip. With a spin the table inverts and you find yourself strapped similarly with your tush presented for all those tools. And the process begins again, the machine chiming and beeping while the hands and brushes move about to suds and clean and buff your booty, your thigh-backs, behind your knees, over your back with special attention to the small, and another coating for your armpits from behind.

"Survening silk-screening dry-cleaning!" Plucked up from the table, you find yourself on a clothesline like frame, hanging by your magnetic cuffs as the machine retracts and presents two long silken sheets. Your wiggling trembling cleansed form is pressed between them, the soft material wicking away the remaining solutions while stimulating your skin. Every struggle and wiggle you make only furthers the sensation as the silks are held close to your helpless body. And of course, the hands can't help but taunt and bully with poking strokes through the sheets on your worst spots, just daring you to get all worked up as they caress around your thighs and royal buttons~

"Reconvening supervening screening~!" The machine announces as it retracts and floats high into the ceiling. As you watch it depart with a gloved hand waving, you look back down and are face to face with the smirking face of the quirky inspector.

"Hiii~!!" The boisterous energy is matched by an expression of loving contempt for her product. Snapping on a glove and inspecting your hanging body, she muses about "Hmmm. Mmmhmm. Uhhh-huhhh". With a pause, she pulls out a notepad, scratches something into it and has both the pad and pen drop carelessly as she reaches into her lab coat and produces a wireless magic wand. With a growing sadistic grin she activates the scanners and starts buzzing your most royal button. "Dirty little thing. Go on. Be naughty. Be nasty." She taunts, a thumb rubbing your side earnestly while the wand chases your button with buzzing tickly vibrations.

And as your giggling moans start to escape your resistant lips, you realize you'll be seeing that machine again very soon~

[ihasemermaterialshandling]

Streamlining Waste Management: The Role of a Bin Chute in High-Rise Buildings

In the bustling landscape of high-rise buildings, efficient waste management is paramount to maintaining cleanliness, hygiene, and sustainability. Enter the unsung hero of vertical waste disposal—the bin chute. Join us as we delve into the indispensable role bin chutes play in streamlining waste management within high-rise structures, ensuring a seamless and hygienic environment for residents and businesses alike.

Vertical Efficiency: Streamlining Waste Disposal

Bin chutes serve as vertical conduits for a chain hoist for waste disposal, streamlining the process and eliminating the need for residents to carry trash down multiple flights of stairs.

In high-rise buildings, where convenience is key, bin chutes provide a time-saving solution for residents and businesses to dispose of waste effortlessly.

Space Optimization: Maximizing Floor Space

Bin chutes contribute to space optimization within high-rise buildings by eliminating the need for individual trash receptacles on each floor.

With bin chutes discreetly integrated into the building's infrastructure, valuable floor space is preserved for other amenities, enhancing the overall functionality and aesthetic appeal of the premises.

Hygienic Solutions: Minimizing Odors and Pest Infestation

Bin chutes are equipped with features to minimize odors and prevent pest infestation, ensuring a hygienic environment within high-rise buildings.

Sealed doors, odor-control systems, and regular cleaning protocols help maintain cleanliness and curb the spread of germs, enhancing the overall living and working conditions for occupants.

Waste Segregation: Promoting Recycling and Sustainability

Bin chutes can facilitate waste segregation efforts by incorporating multiple compartments for different types of recyclables.

In alignment with sustainability initiatives, residents can easily separate recyclable materials from general waste, promoting eco-friendly practices and reducing the environmental footprint of high-rise buildings.

So, as we navigate the vertical realms of urban living, let us appreciate the invaluable contribution of bin chutes in streamlining waste management and shaping a cleaner, greener future for all.

  Source

[iriascend]

My friend gets really confused about the placement of our trash can every time he comes over so I'm, you know, doing science reconnaissance.

(bonus points for tagging where you're from etc.)

[justalildumpling]

chapter 26: the devil’s right hand men

masterlist || previous | next

pairing: haechan x fem! reader

synopsis: it’s no lie that haechan only started his college matchmaking business due to his nosy personality. it’s also no lie that he was a little jealous of everyone he had helped out as he had no love life of his own. well, that was until his childhood friend moved back and mysterious love notes started appearing in his matchmaking inbox… addressed to HIM?!

genre: social media au, college au, fluff, crack, one sided pining, best friends to lovers

warnings: swearing

note: if ur wondering why the garbage chute incident is so specific is because it actually happened irl💀 some rando threw hot oil down our apartment bin chute and it set on fire i-

taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))) ~ @daincty @yipyipmorals @n0hyuck @loveholicness @najaemin138 @kpopwh0r3 @sadisticfries @daegalfangirl @bettyschwallocksyee @pradagukkie @mworkswatermelon @cacaubs @liljeongseong @scftharu @sunflowerhae @theskzvibe @stopeatread @dearlyminhyung @rrnhyuck @rv7hsua @shwizhies @matchahyuck @seobecca @seungjiseyo @butterfliesinthenightsky @squishy-maimon @vantxx95 @aforlornmystery @luvenshiti @shxnz @txtingme @l33j3n8 @fleursxiao @dandelionxgal @hyvckswrld @rinrinslovebot @purenjuniverse @mqrkfrl @y3jiishot  @heavenly-seraphic  @ismileeprnc-responder @jenyoonoh @ckline35 @galacticpurpl3 @tyongspice1 @neosdaisy  @sundamariis @isabelleonabicycle @octubreuno @deehyuck @babyjenono

permanent taglist:  ~ @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @produmads @w3bqrl

[poppyandzena]

Poppy: "Spawn is an adult you guys, you need to stop treating saying I'm doing child abuse because they were an adult." Also Poppy: "Anyways yes we had a schedule for Spawn. People with ADHD work best with schedules, this is proven!! Spawn just couldn't complete it cause they were dicking around." As someone with ADHD, while schedules can help, it's not the end all, be all. I would say most of all it requires some flexibility and understanding. Poppy insists that schedules are proven to help people with ADHD, therefore it's good that they forced a schedule onto Spawn, and yet even when they talk about it they talk about how the schedule didn't work for Spawn and... well, blame Spawn for it not working. Almost as if they have disabilities that make their life a bit harder to keep to a schedule or something 乁( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ㄏ When I was a child, my 'schedule' for the day was basically this: school, come home and do homework, do three chores (written down on the fridge for me to complete because I legit couldn't remember when I was verbally told what chores to do the night before), and after that I was able to do whatever I wanted. I don't think regimented schedules help someone with ADHD, I think having certain things scheduled (such as a few chores, homework since it was important for school, etc) while also allowing for downtime is the best way to go. Even as an adult, there are certain things I try to keep to a schedule (certain days dedicated for chores, all bill due dates are written on a calendar and checked off as the month goes on, specific errands like groceries) but I also understand that some days I'm gonna wake up, have a bad brain day where I can't really do everything I want to do (and sometimes I can only really do one big thing a day), and I give myself the grace and understanding while also keeping in mind what is most important to get done. It's a balancing act. It's delicate. It's hard work. Every time I see the way Poppy talks about Spawn I just hope more and more that they're doing so much better without her... and I hope Poppy never gets to be in contact with them ever again.

I have ADHD and anxiety. Flexibility is best. I forget to eat more than I eat in general. My mental health improves when I'm given more control of my surroundings and my choices. My work gives me enough framework without dominating my life like I'm a sim without autonomy.

Us ADHD people work in what I call loopholes or cheats. I hate brushing my teeth so I brush my teeth in the shower to get it all done in one place. Or if I can't shower before I go to work, I have little disposable toothbrushes and sugar free gum in my desk. I hate the act of eating or preparing food. So instead of screwing myself over by making something I won't finish, I drink V8 100s since they're cheaper than the Naked brand and contain vegetables and fruits I wouldn't bother preparing on their own. I don't even own a bin for my food waste since I know I will procrastinate taking out the trash and stink up my home, so food waste is sent to the trash chute. I keep non-perishable snacks in reach so my blood sugar doesn't completely bottom out when I forget to eat.

Spawn is doing fine living without Zena and Poppy--not because they were "never disabled." They are very disabled. You know what disables you further? Having to do endless lists of labor that last for hours, sometimes without a working AC and little food in your body as your parents shame you for not "doing it quick enough." Being made to skip meals because you "missed your time." Having YOUR sports drinks consumed when you need those to keep your sodium up. Being barred from going to the bathroom for hours at a time. Being shamed for staying in your room but being screamed at by Zena for existing within ten feet of them. Having the internet cut off on purpose and then having to grovel to turn it back on when you need it to look for a job, as your parents bitch at you for not having a job.

[a-v-j]

Legit lore for Anti_nightmare 2.0😂👌

Anti and the boys: *on their phones*

past!auto: *walks by* anti, trash duty, it aint gonna throw itself away.

Anti: aww, i hate trash duty, hue, you do it.

Hue: hell nah brah. Sat you go.

Sat: no.

Ness: no.

Anti: rock, papers, scissors! *Everyone shows their pick* *anti loses* aww c'mon, the 2.0??? that's not fair!

Hue: *chuckles* dont be sore loser, ya lost.

*Later*

Anti: *drags a manageable weight of garbage* *opens trash chute*

???: .. remember me, anti?

Anti: hello? Who's that... *Spiraling mass of codes jump at him* *gets tackled to the ground* *gets up as anti_nightmare*

Anti_night: it feels so good to be in a body again *glitches to anti* anti_nightmare?! U-uh...howre ya bud? *Glitches to anti_night* not bad, but i know you and i are gonna have such a fun time together. We got a lot of catching up to do

Man im already feeling not so pump making this script to a comic 🥲 so here's the script only lol

I like the codes in the bin idea so thanks @katroo31 but instead of becoming his own thing or possessing another nightmare, I'll just have it possessing Anti again instead

So anti_night is possible to return and be controllable if Anti's duplicates arent in Anti, as mentioned in this post

Anti_nightmare is as goofy and unhinged almost like Sat. He's got none of nightmare's cold, unnerving, stoic, dark gent aura tho

And with anti_nightmare 2.0, Anti's personality has more control over and so he's a lot "goofier"(idk what word to call it) than before.

Think of a more exaggerated version of what he was

And there's no more sentient tentacles since Anti's duplicates were out when the merging happened, so anti could focus on keeping control on anti_nightmare.

self cannibalism is reduced but Anti_night might still wanna bite once in a while, probably some habit

Recap of anti_night 1.0 👇

Also had an idea for them to get an anti!cross

It will be a a cross already living the good ending of underverse or whatever and as he's enjoying his Quaso 🥐, he gets kidnapped by the gang, tied to a chair and forced to sit in the anti_error-void 👌

Also, anti!badsanses will be the meme-iest badsanses out there lol

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 6

#6- Dizziness/Vertigo

“Whoa!” May stumbled to the side and bumped into the bottom corner of a one of her favourite pictures of all five Parkers before life struck and they were thrust into the life of a family of three. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she fumbled and tried to stop it from falling, but no such luck.

“May?” Peter called out as he stepped out of his bedroom to the sound of glass breaking. “Are you o—?” He saw her leaning against the wall, clutching her now tender elbow and rushed toward her. “May?! What happened?”

“STOP!” No way was May letting Peter get cut because of her clumsiness. She put her hand out to stop Peter’s advance before he could get hurt. “Don’t come out here! There’s glass everywhere and you’re barefoot! Now please, let me take a breath and then I’ll get this taken care of.”  

Peter’s brow furrowed in concern and confusion. “Take a breath? May?” Peter noted that she looked more than a little pale. Something was wrong, and he didn’t need his spidey-senses to tell him that. “Did the glass cut you? Are you hurt?”

And he also didn’t need his spidey-senses to tell him that she was upset with herself. Her answer came in the form of a clenched jaw and an angry headshake ‘no.’

“Just—how’s about you take that breath while you stay put? I’m in a better spot to take care of this anyways...” He held his own while he waited to see what she’d do, then ran back to his room to grab his ratty sneakers once he saw that she was deferring to him. “You’re awesome, May!” he called back to her, “I’ll get this, easy peasy! You keep staying there!”

No reply came back, only a frustrated sigh as Peter threw on his shoes then tiptoed through the shards of glass to the kitchen. He quickly pulled out the small lined garbage can from under the sink before heading to the tiny utility closet in the kitchen to collect the broom and dustpan. “I think I got what I need,” he announced as he brought it to the hallway, “so let me get the worst of it, then I’ll grab your shoes for you, okay?”

May was still leaned heavily against the wall, eyes closed. “Sounds like a plan,” she said weakly, then waited patiently as Peter did a cursory cleaning up of the mess.

Peter tried not to be nervous about May’s strange behaviour, but something wasn’t jiving and he didn’t know how to bring it up. After a minute or so, though, he announced, “Et voila!” as he dumped the last of the glass into the bin. “Now give me a sec to get your shoes and—” Peter leaned the broom and dustpan against the wall to do a more thorough pass over once May was safe and shoed up, then went to rifle through the messy pile of shoes at the door. The flip flops May used to take the garbage to the disposal chute at the end of the hallway had to be there somewhere, he hoped. Simplicity was the key in moments like this.

“Peter?” May called out to him, suddenly sounding distressed.

 “May?” Peter peeked around the corner as she tilted over, “Shit!” He tossed the shoes away and caught her before she could tumble down to the floor. Never more grateful for his powers than he was in that moment, Peter shifted a little in order to gather his Aunt May up and carry her safely to the couch. “I’ve gotcha, May. Hang on for me... just hang on.”

May’s eyes were closed again by the time he’d laid her down, but she definitely hadn't lost consciousness. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she soothed, “I’m fine—I promise—I’m fine.”

Her calm tone and words did nothing for Peter as he interrupted, “You’re not fine, May. How can you even pretend when you obviously fell into the wall—and if I hadn’t been home, you’d be picking glass out of your feet and everywhere right now—if you even could! You could have hit your head or needed stitches or... I don’t even know what could have happened!”

May inhaled deep and opened her eyes. “Peter. Calm down,” she looked to Peter, a mix of concern and sternness. “I need you to listen to me.”

She paused and waited for Peter to do exactly that before she continued. “I said I’m fine and I meant it. It’s just some vertigo, but I’ve already called and gotten an appointment with my doctor for next Friday afternoon. I’m taking care of it.” She made sure he was still paying attention. “I’ll go see her, she’ll check things out, she’ll tell me it’s some weird inner ear thing, and everything will be fine. Are we clear?”

Peter whined and seated himself precariously at her side. “Why do you keep saying fine?—In fact, please, I’m begging of you to stop saying fine.” Peter then glared, “You know what I think when you use the word ‘fine.’”

And May glared right back. “Of course, I do! It’s the same thing I think of it every time I hear you use it, smart ass.” She playfully shoved him off the couch. “Now, give me a second for this to pass and I’ll order us some dinner. I’m feeling like a tonight’s a pizza night, agreed?”

Peter nodded as he stood and brushed himself off. “Agreed, but I can order it, just let me finish cleaning this up first.” Peter moved over to the hallway again, keeping an eye on May as he snapped up the broom to give the floor a second, better sweep to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He did a quick spot check, looking out for any larger shards that might have escaped his notice when he caught sight of the corner of a picture frame peeking out from the doorway to May’s bedroom. Peter bent to pick it up, sure to keep it flat to prevent any of the glass from spreading any further. “Geez, May!” he called out to her, “If you’d wanted to get rid of my pictures, all you had to do was—” Peter’s attempt at levity stopped short when he caught sight of the picture that had fallen.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Peter couldn’t answer. All the words he wanted to say were too stuck in his throat.

“Honey?” The silence was maddening, “Sweetheart?” May sat up faster than she should have then stood, taking only a moment to find a precarious balance using the arm of the couch. “Peter?” She caught sight of him right away, obviously, Peter stood there, staring solemnly at the damaged frame in his hand. “Oh.” What else could she say? She needed to make this right. “I’ll head to the thrift store tomorrow and find a new frame, alright? It’ll be back on the wall before you’re home from school tomorrow. I promise.”

Peter turned and stared at her in disbelief, tears brimming in his eyes. “May? Do you really think I’m worried about the frame?”

It was May’s turn to fall silent.

“I’m sorry, May, but everyone in this picture is gone—and what do you always say? ‘It’s just me and you?’” He chewed at his lip for a few seconds, “What if something really is wrong? What if it’s a stroke or a tumor or—” tears fell faster than Peter could swipe them away. He had to take a moment before he could speak again. “I can’t—” He inhaled deep then started again, “I can’t lose you, too, May. I just can’t!”

May reached out to take the photo reverently from his hands and placed it gently on the end table, then pulled her nephew into a frighteningly tight grip, “You listen here, Peter Benjamin Parker, I am not going anywhere. I will call my doctor’s office first thing in the morning and get them to put me on a cancellation list, okay? If it gets any worse, I’ll sneak into the ER and get one of the doctors to order some tests, even though you know that my boss will give me grief—” She pressed kiss to his cheek and whispered fiercely into his ear. “I will do anything I can to be here with you, okay? But, for now, I can only do what I can do.”  

Peter nodded as her burrowed his face into her neck and hugged her as tight as he dared, then stilled. “Hang on!” He pulled back just enough to see May’s face as he grinned big, “I know you can only do what you can do, but what if I can do something you can’t?!” Peter face twisted in thought, then he revised, “Well, I mean, you could do it too if you wanted to, but you won’t...”

Now she was concerned, “Peter? What are you thinking of?”

He smiled big and wiped the last of the tears from his face and gave her one last hug before releasing her. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Perfect! Then let me do this because I love you, okay? Because I need you safe?”

Her concern morphed to confusion. “Okay?”

Peter did his awkward fist pump thing, “Yesss!” He did a little happy dance, then bolted for his bedroom—only to stop short as glass crunched underfoot. He stared down at the floor. “Oh—maybe I’ll just give this that second sweeping first?”

May just chuckled and wondered what she was getting herself into.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. After Peter ushered her back to the couch, he got to work taking care of the last of May’s mess, then put the garbage bin back under the sink and supplies back where they belonged. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink, then wiped then dry on the back of his shirt as he came to join her on the couch. He exhaled slow, then Peter reached back and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.

“Peter?”

Peter offered up a crooked grin as he took hold of her hand with one hand and unlocked his cell with the other.

“Peter? What are you doing?”

Peter thumbed his way into his contacts, squeezed her hand not too tight, then pressed the top contact on the list.

“Peter. No.”

“Peter. Yes,” Peter replied as he listened to the call connect. “You said you trust me, right?”

“Of course I do!” May exclaimed.

“Good, then you’ll let me do—”

“Hey, kid? Don’t tell me. You’re out on patrol and you need one of the suits to get another parrot out of a tree?”

Peter let go of May’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close instead. “Ha ha, Mr. Stark! You’re hilarious. No, I don’t need a suit, but—if it’s not too much of a bother—” Peter clamped his mouth shut in surprise. It had never been easy to ask anything of the man, and they were just at the beginning of their ‘relationship?’ but for May, he could be brave. “Um, you see...” Peter drew in a big breath, “something’s going on with May and I’m wondering if she could come see one of the doctors at the tower, like, soon?”

Mr. Stark must have heard the urgency in Peter’s voice because he simply replied, “Anything for my favourite Parkers, kid.”

His voice shook with relief as he replied, “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

And then it was May’s turn to pull out of Peter’s arm and wrap him in her own as she heard Mr. Stark ask if he’d be able to talk to May for a minute.

With Peter’s lips pressed tightly and his chin quivering, he could only answer, “m-hm,” then tuck his face into May’s neck as she gently pulled the phone from his hands.

May took a deep breath of her own, realizing the gravity of the last twenty minutes, and then put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Tony...”

[m34gs]

Please tell me what sort of Saw trap each house warden in Twisted Wonderland would design if they were the mastermind in a Saw movie.

Hello friend! Well, this is a fun ask! I am actually very excited to get into this, ahahaha. You have no idea how eager I got when I read this ask. I literally went "AHA" and started grinning. I'm going to write each scenario out as if the Housewarden is a Jigsaw Apprentice, and I might even take it a little further and describe what kind of apprentice they would be.

I'm putting a cut, both for length and because these will get a bit graphic. Please see the tags for trigger/content warnings.

Riddle - Riddle is the Rule Boy, By the Book, Stick to the Pattern. The one who adamantly protests every time to the other Saw masterminds "It's not a trap, it's a TEST".

Because of this, Riddle's tests are not overly imaginative, but they get the job done. I think, due to the nature of his signature spell, Riddle would lean toward decapitation being the end result in his traps. It's easy, effective, and doesn't prolong suffering. I like to think he's not one to wish others to suffer. Indeed, if he was a Jigsaw Apprentice, he'd be the one to parrot John Kramer the most about learning to love and cherish the life you have and atoning for past mistakes.

The rules for Riddle's test would be simple. "Find the key to unlock your chains in a certain amount of time, or a saw will cut your head off". Of course, the tricky part is getting the key. No one escapes a Saw trap without some kind of mark, be it visible or invisible. The placement of the key I will leave up to the imagination, as it will have to be specific to the individual in the trap or it will mean nothing. (Keep in mind, canon placements have been: at the other end of the room needing a mad dash that puts co-victims in danger to get to it, in the stomach of a heavily sedated companion in the trap, surgically implanted inside the victim's own eye...etc.). If the victim survives, they are off the hook. Riddle wouldn't dare mess up that part of the game. If they die, he follows John's example and dutifully cuts a puzzle piece out of their flesh, the symbol of that person's "missing piece" that prevented them from winning the game(this is also how Jigsaw got his name).

Leona - Leona can do the job, he understands the assignment. He thinks John's a bit nuts, though. He's another one where there's not a whole lot of imagination involved; he designs the trap to get the job done, makes sure it meets the requirements (because he will not be given a bad grade on Jigsaw Traps, something apparently possible to achieve and normal to worry about?...), but it won't be overly complex, and he makes Ruggie and Jack do the muscle-work for him. Don't worry, he pays them well.

Leona's traps will probably involve some test of strength (keeping in mind the different physical capabilities of individuals, of course). I'm thinking something like a low tunnel filled with various-sized shards of broken glass the person has to crawl through to get to the exit, or climbing through a vent connected to an oven that is on max. heat to get out. Something like that, of course tweaked for the individual.

He makes Ruggie cut the puzzle piece. Ruggie doesn't mess around when it comes to his finances. He cuts every piece perfectly.

Azul - Let's be real, Azul doesn't mind suffering...as long as it's not his own. His traps are always complex, and he sees each new victim as a chance to one-up himself. And it's no problem getting his victims; Jade and Floyd help with that.

I think most of Azul's traps will involve the victim inflicting pain on themselves on purpose. Not just doing things that result in pain (such as crawl over glass) but actively cause themselves harm; probably ripping their own molars out or cutting off a limb, or something, and dropping it in a bin/chute to trigger the exit to open.

Jade and Floyd help with set-up...but Floyd is Not allowed to cut the puzzle pieces afterward. For obvious reasons.

Kalim - In order for Kalim to be an apprentice, he would need to have something awful and drastic happen to someone close to him that pushes him over the edge. When it comes to it, he sees the traps as a job, a duty. It's not something he enjoys and he always observes with a tired distaste but, because of whatever trauma pushed him into this life, he believes it's necessary.

He can't stand the sight of blood and brutality. Nor does he want to know they're dying a slow death. His victim is hooked up to a syringe pump, hands restrained, and they need to figure out the code to turn off the pump before time runs out (probably voice password or something; definitely based on important memories related to the reason they are in the trap, which is hinted at in the tape) or the syringe will rapidly infuse a lethal dose of potassium into their veins and they will go into cardiac arrest.

Jamil has to cut the puzzle piece because Kalim cannot stomach it.

Vil - Vil, like Kalim, needs to be of the mind that what he's doing is necessary, even if he doesn't like it. He has to believe that people need him to teach them in this way, or he won't be able to stomach it.

He also doesn't want a bloodbath; that's not his style. Vil would rather use poison. Poison for his victims, already injected/ingested, with an antidote they have to get...probably behind a locked door needing a combination password. But, in order to get the code, they will have to face what they've done and figure out what the code is, very similar to Kalim's style. However, unlike Kalim's, if the victim gives the wrong code the door will seal shut forever and the victim will be doomed. They need to get it right and they need to be certain.

Vil may request Rook's assistance with making sure people are brought in and the trap set up properly, but he cuts the puzzle piece himself. He believes it's his role, and he refuses to put that onto anyone else. It disgusts him, but he treats it like his cross to bear for the acts he is committing, because a part of him still feels uneasy about all of this and he hates looking at himself in the mirror some days.

Idia - Idia is so removed from the front lines of the traps, he's actually quite desensitized to the violence. He treats it a bit like his video games and he does try out a variety of different traps, each one extremely individualized. He's got all the info on his victims; every single trace of them online, their social security number, their bank statements, anything and everything that can be accessed via computer is his. He knows them inside and out. Every trap is an attempt to be more unique and "entertaining" than the last. It's questionable if he's even in it for the "righteousness" that John preaches, or if he got bored and decided this was an interesting way to pass the time.

All his traps are set up to run completely independently, and all are under video surveillance. I think Idia would get to the point that there's not enough moving parts for him if there's only one victim in the trap, so he starts doing bigger traps, with groups of people, where it's a challenge to try and predict how they all will react, how they would push each other's boundaries and if they would try to see the hints laid out for them or if they would misinterpret it (for anyone who's seen Jigsaw, think about the gun scene with the keys at the end. That kind of a hint. Idia would like to see who gets it). So, yeah, Idia probably builds a maze-trap with multiple little traps within it that the victims have to go through to get out.

While he hasn't yet created something that can cut the puzzle piece and deliver it to him, he has developed a little punch that he can bring to punch out the piece of the victim's flesh should they fail. It's the only time he's on-site after the trap has been set. (Ortho refused to do that part because the dead bodies made him sad.)

Malleus - Malleus believes he is helping people, and he's curious to see how far a person would go to save their own life. He thinks it's his job to bring out the worst and the best in the person in his trap to help them be better than they are now. He's not beyond pushing buttons and upping antes; he sees it as doing what he can to help someone value their life and overcome their own shortcomings.

A trap from Malleus is probably going to involve some form of self-mutilation, giving enough flesh or giving enough blood, but also some emotional pressure. He will bring their families into the traps; likely remotely so as not to harm the innocent, but to use as leverage to make someone push themselves more. He wants them to succeed. But he will not go easy on them. In order to succeed, they need to pull on their own inner strength.

He cuts the puzzle piece himself, but he's always sad when he has to. He feels less that the person has failed and more that he has failed to help them bring out their better self.

Thank you again for the ask, friend! I hope I answered to your satisfaction :D If you have any questions or comments to add, please let me know, I am always happy to expand on these kinds of things!