#floor cleaning dublin

[floorcleaningdublin]

Laminate Floor Cleaning

Laminate flooring is a popular choice for homeowners due to its durability, affordability, and resemblance to hardwood. While it is designed to withstand wear and tear, keeping laminate floors clean is essential to maintain their appearance and extend their lifespan. However, laminate flooring requires a specific cleaning routine, as its surface can be easily damaged by excess moisture or harsh cleaning agents. In this guide, we’ll cover the best practices for cleaning and maintaining laminate floors, including daily care, deep cleaning, and tips for tackling common stains.

Daily Maintenance of Laminate Floors

To preserve the appearance of your laminate floors, it’s important to incorporate daily cleaning habits. Dust, dirt, and debris can accumulate quickly, leading to scratches and dulling the finish over time. Here’s how to keep your laminate floors looking pristine on a daily basis:

Sweeping or Vacuuming One of the simplest and most effective ways to clean laminate floors is by sweeping or vacuuming daily. Use a soft-bristle broom or a vacuum cleaner with a hard floor attachment to remove dirt and dust without scratching the surface. Avoid using vacuums with beater bars, as they can damage the protective layer of the laminate.

Dry Mopping A microfiber dust mop is ideal for picking up fine dust and debris that sweeping or vacuuming may miss. Dry mopping is gentle on laminate floors and helps to keep them free from dirt buildup. It’s especially useful in high-traffic areas where dust accumulates quickly.

Clean Spills Immediately One of the biggest concerns with laminate flooring is moisture. If liquids are left to sit, they can seep between the seams of the laminate planks, causing swelling, warping, or even long-term damage. To prevent this, clean up spills immediately using a soft cloth or paper towel. Avoid using too much water when cleaning up the spill—laminate floors are not waterproof.

Weekly or Routine Cleaning of Laminate Floors

In addition to daily sweeping and mopping, your laminate floors will benefit from a more thorough cleaning at least once a week, depending on the level of foot traffic in your home. Here’s how to clean laminate floors properly without damaging the surface:

Use a Damp Mop For a deeper clean, damp mop the floors using a microfiber mop and a gentle cleaning solution. It’s crucial to wring the mop out thoroughly so that it is only slightly damp. Avoid using excessive water, as too much moisture can damage the laminate. There are specialized cleaners available for laminate floors, but a homemade solution of water and a few drops of mild dish soap can also work effectively.

Avoid Harsh Cleaners Never use harsh cleaners such as bleach, ammonia, or abrasive scrubbers on laminate floors. These products can strip the protective finish, leaving the surface vulnerable to scratches and dullness. Also, avoid waxes or polishes, as they can create a cloudy or greasy residue on the floor.

Spot-Clean Tough Spots For areas with sticky spots or stains, use a slightly damp cloth or a sponge to gently clean the affected area. A small amount of rubbing alcohol or vinegar diluted with water can be effective for removing stubborn stains, but always test it in an inconspicuous area first to ensure it doesn’t damage the floor.

Deep Cleaning Laminate Floors

Occasionally, laminate floors may need a more intensive deep cleaning, particularly in areas with heavy foot traffic or where dirt and grime have built up. However, deep cleaning must be done carefully to avoid damaging the surface.

Use a Steam Mop with Caution While many people opt for steam mops for deep cleaning, they are generally not recommended for laminate floors due to the potential for water damage. If you must use a steam mop, ensure it’s set to the lowest setting and avoid leaving it in one spot for too long. It’s best to check the manufacturer’s guidelines before using a steam mop on laminate flooring.

Use a Laminate Floor Cleaner For deep cleaning, use a cleaner specifically formulated for laminate floors. These cleaners are designed to remove grime without leaving behind residue or harming the surface. Follow the product’s instructions carefully, and make sure to rinse and dry the floor thoroughly after cleaning.

Stain Removal for Laminate Floors

Even with regular care, laminate floors may develop stains over time. Here’s how to tackle common types of stains on laminate flooring:

Ink or Marker Stains For ink or marker stains, use a soft cloth and a small amount of rubbing alcohol. Gently dab the stained area until the ink lifts. Be careful not to scrub too hard, as this could damage the laminate surface.

Grease or Oil Stains For grease or oil stains, use a mild dish soap mixed with warm water. Apply the solution to the stain using a soft cloth or sponge, then rinse and dry the area thoroughly.

Scuff Marks Scuff marks from shoes can be easily removed by gently rubbing the area with a damp cloth or an eraser designed for laminate floors.

Laminate floors are a durable and stylish choice for any home, but they require proper care to maintain their appearance and prevent damage. By sweeping or vacuuming daily, cleaning spills immediately, and using the right cleaning products, you can keep your laminate floors looking new for years to come. Regular maintenance and gentle cleaning methods are key to preserving the beauty and longevity of laminate flooring.

Laminate Floor Cleaning

[hannahssimblr]

We collect her on Saturday morning. Evie, in a vest and a denim skirt, seems cold as she clambers into the back seat of my car, rubbing her arms and bringing some of that early morning chill inside with her. Dew is still clinging to the patches of well trodden grass in the caravan park at this hour, before most souls have woken up baking in their tin can dwellings. A groundskeeper is soaking the flower beds with a rubber hose by the entrance as birds chirp.

“Looking very chipper for half seven in the morning.” Jen says to her accusingly.

“I don’t know, I’m just excited!”

“You morning people are all the same.” Jen has done nothing but complain about how early it is since I shook her out of bed fifteen minutes ago. She hasn’t eaten yet, and just pulled on whatever clothes she could find off the floor. She claims I’m a grumpy person, but there’s no human alive who is as cranky as Jen is if you catch her before nine in the morning. 

“I’m a morning person and it pisses her off,” I explain to our passenger, then to Jen, “Sorry that I want to get up to Dublin early so that you can have a nice day.”

Jen scowls, “Okay. Yeah. You said that already.”

“Just focus on the pancake breakfast we’ll have.”

“Yes, it will be delicious. Now shut your stupid smirky little mouth and drive us, taxi man.” She curls her legs up underneath her and shuts her eyes while I pull away from the curb. 

“Your car is very clean,” Evie says. She sits up very straight in the rear view, ankles together and hands folded neatly in her lap like she’s at a catholic mass. I’m amused by the juxtaposition of her perfect politeness while Jen is twisted up in the passenger seat snoring, scarlett hair sticking up like she’s been dragged sideways through a hedge. 

“It’s only clean because I barely use it. Trust me, if I did I’d be using it as a bin. There’d be no room for you back there with all of the KFC wrappers.”

She laughs, but I can’t tell if she’s just being gracious, “Well it’s a really nice car in my opinion. It’s so new!”

“I assume you don’t drive yet.”

“No, but I will the minute I’m eighteen. It’s hard to get anywhere at home without having a car, like. I won’t be driving around in anything like this though, that’s for certain.”

“Tullamore, huh?” I swish around a roundabout and onto the open road. Jen lightly bumps her head on the window and she grumbles but doesn’t wake. “What’s it like there?”

“Aw, are you serious? You’ve never been?”

“I, uh… no? Should I have?”

“I was joking. Nobody should ever set foot. It’s a total shithole,” she appears to get flustered by her own comment, “or, like, not really. Maybe that was harsh on Tullamore. I know that Shane likes it there, I don’t mean to talk it down, I just-”

“It’s fine, lots of people love Dublin, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t a shithole.”

“I like Dublin.”

“That’s because you don’t live there.”

“Well I’d much rather I did,” she presses her finger into the window, at the green pastures that whizz by, fields, cows, fences, the knotted briars of the country ditches. “That’s what it looks like at home. It’s the exact same as everywhere else, whereas a city is, like, you know. Different.”

“Some people might say the country is idyllic.”

“Hm.” 

I reach over Jen to the glove compartment where I’ve stowed a packet of jellies. Peach rings. I offer them to Evie and when she politely picks one out of the packet I tell her: “You can have more than one.”

She takes one other, and I stuff at least four into my mouth, “So you don’t like being a culchie, huh?”

“I’m not a real culchie.”

“Really? You live in a culchie town and you sound like a culchie, so, I mean… just calling a spade a spade here.”

“You think I sound like one?” Surprised, she leans forward into the space between the seats so she can study the side of my face. 

I shrug, “well, it’s just your accent is very strong.”

“Nobody has ever said that to me before.”

“That’s probably because you all sound the same as each other out there. In the wilds of the country,” I smirk, adding, “the bog.”

“You consider me a bog dweller now.”

“No, I think you’re a culchie who happens to live on the bog.”

“God, the idea of you thinking that makes me anxious.”

“Why?”

Jen stirs in her seat when the packet crinkles, “are you eating something?” she croaks, “gimme some,” she reaches for the jellies in my lap before I knock her hand away. 

“No sorry, these are for Evie.”

“No, c’mon, just one.”

“Okay, wait, stop grabbing,” I bat her off me and pick one out, “Let me check. Evie, can Jen have this?”

“What? Yes of course.”

“Hm, I don’t agree,” I pop it in my mouth and produce another, “what about this one?”

“Let me have it,” Jen growls. 

“Nah,” I say and press it into Evie’s palm, then block her with my arm when she tries to give it to Jen, “No, that one’s yours!”

“I want her to have it.”

“Nope, my car, my rules. You have to eat it.”

“God, Jude,” Jen says, “You’re really going to put me through it today, aren’t you?” She lunges for the sweets and I elbow her off me, citing reasons of obstructing visibility and causing hazardous driving conditions. She asks me if I ever fucked the driver’s theory manual. 

Evie giggles in the backseat so I whirl on her, “What are you cackling at, bog dweller?” 

“Nothing!” she insists as we zoom past the first blue motorway sign for Dublin city. “You two are just funny. Why? Is laughing banned in your car?” 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 19: STORMY WEATHER

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff, Smut

The following day…

There was something about this place, in the middle of nowhere, but yet close enough to the shore to take a stroll on the beach, which impressed you. You could see why Cillian liked it here and you most certainly appreciated him taking you somewhere like this.  It was idyllic and beautiful. The cottage fronted a backdrop of forest with towering pine trees, hundreds of years old, whispering into the wind, with a blanket of old rust pine needles covering the soft mossy earth.

The air felt incredibly clean and the hiss and sting of the millions of leafs being slapped with gentle raindrops falling onto them was rather calming.

The weather was not great. It was raining a lot while, yet, the air was syrupy and surprisingly warm for this time of the year. But, despite the rain and wind, Cillian and you went on several walks throughout the day after he cooked you some breakfast and, every time you left the cottage, you did not even encounter anyone else. It was just you and him and this, in your mind, was perfect.

Unlike James, Cillian was romantic and tender and his tenderness was something you loved about him a lot as no one else had ever shown you this kind of tenderness before.

He made these two days special for you, allowing you to escape from reality and the fact that, back in Dublin, you still had to keep your relationship a secret. Here, on the other hand, there was no need for secretary as the only person you eventually came across in the afternoon was a local ranger who walked the beach with his dog.

You too walked on the beach, hand in hand, while taking in the scenery and, just as you walked barefooted through the cold sand, the occasional brush of Cillian’s lips as he brought your hand to his mouth to kiss, sent shivers down your spine. It was such a simple but yet meaningful gesture and each time you stopped; a smile formed across his lips.

“I haven’t been as happy for a very long time” he told you as you saw his blue eyes looking over at you in awe. He was clearly unbothered by the increase in rain and, for some reason, so where you.

“Me neither” you admitted before bringing your hands up towards Cillian’s face and then running your fingers through his hair.

“In fact, I wish we could just stay here forever and live totally of the grit” you then chuckled while Cillian pulled you into his arms.

“Trust me babe, you will probably get bored of it after a while” he teased before pressing his lips onto yours for a passionate kiss until the heavens opened up.

‘”Fuck, we should probably get back” Cillian told you seeing that this was clearly an incoming storm and, by this point, you both knew that you better made a run for it and get to shelter.

***

After less than fifteen minutes, you arrived back at the cottage and dried yourself off in laughter before putting on some dry and comfortable clothes.

The cottage was still warm as the fire had been crackling for the past two hours. Cillian had stacked it up with some more wood before you left and quickly refilled it again, being the only source of heating.

“This is just perfect” you told him as you watched him in front of the fireplace, filling it with some more wood logs that had been left outside by the owners of the cottage.

“What is?” Cillian asked while turning around, seeing that you had placed a few warm blankets and pillows onto the floor in front of you so that you could sit closer by the fire.

“Everything!” you told Cillian while sitting down on the blankets, wearing no more than a cotton nightie and a cardigan, matched with some warm woollen socks. “Us being together, the cottage, the fire, the rain, the wind…just everything” you then told Cillian who, after giving you a quick kiss, wandered off into the kitchen.

“Well, I am glad that you aren’t too disappointed by the weather” Cillian chuckled while boiling some milk and making you your favourite drink, namely caramel hot chocolate with marshmallows, as suddenly, you heard a loud dash of thunder.

“Actually, I think that the weather itself is quite romantic, wouldn’t you say?” you giggled right after having startled yourself while listening to the storm raging outside.

“Yeah, sure, if you say so” Cillian said teased before he joined you on the blankets and handed you the large cup of caramel cocoa he had prepared for you as well as a small light blue box with the engraving “Tiffany” written atop of it.

“Happy Birthday babe” Cillian then said before kissing you gently and your chin dropped.

“If this is an engagement ring Cill, it’s way too fucking soon” you told him, causing Cillian to laugh.

“Relax! It’s not an engagement ring. Unfortunatly, I am still fucking married as you know” Cillian chuckled before explaining to you that he thought of jewellery as being an appropriate present for his girlfriend.

“You told me a while ago that no one ever gifted you jewellery before and that’s why you chose not to wear any. You said that it wouldn’t mean anything to you if you bought it yourself, so I hope that this will mean something at least” Cillian then said, explaining to you why he chose to gift you something he wouldn’t normally have chosen as a gift after such a short time.  

“Oh my god, you shouldn’t have Cillian! This is expensive and you are doing too much for me already” you told him while you opened the box and saw a beautiful necklace featuring an engraved pendant.

“Do you like it?” Cillian asked as his gesture made your eyes water up and all you could do for a moment was nod.

“I love it. Thank you!” you eventually told him as the lightning and thunder became stronger, and the rain was lashing against the glass of the windows.

“I love you Y/N” Cillian then told you before kissing you again while only one soft light remained to be working now, far across the room, as the others turned off again, for the fifth time that day.

“I love you too” you told Cillian as your lips drifted apart and he decided to check out the fuse box again, which is when you stopped him.

“No!” you told him as you were comfortable in the semi-dark room, sitting with your legs tucked under you, leaning against the pillows, and looking out.

“Leave it. It’s nice like this” you then went on to say while Cillian stopped and watched you for a moment.

“In fact, we should make the most of this very romantic scene, wouldn’t you say?” you then winked and, just as you did, your face was in profile, enthralled at the chaos outside as your simple cotton dress was clinging to your curves. It was mesmerising sight for him.

“We should” Cillian thus confirmed before approaching you again, this time from behind in order to help you with the clasp of your new necklace, which was something you were clearly struggling with as it had been caught up in the wool of your cardigan.

You took the cardigan off while Cillian untangled the neckless from it and then, eventually, you managed to put it on, closing the clasp at the back of your neck all while listening to the symphony of the storm, watching the flashes as they light up the world, inside and out.

Cillian then kissed you from behind. He kissed your neck first and then you turned around, allowing him to kiss your mouth and thus tasting the caramel on your sweet lips as your lips brushed and your tongues met before you indulged in a passionate kiss.

“You are so beautiful Y/N. I cannot get enough of you” Cillian whispered as he began to trace his fingers from your exposed shoulder, down your arm to the tips of your fingers before squeezing your hand and forcing his fingers in between yours.

“That’s good Cill, because I can’t get enough of you either” you told him as you could feel him growing hard against your back, which is also when he let go of your hand.

Cillian then brushed his fingers over your belly as he drew his hand up between your beautiful pert breasts and, of course, by that point, you longed for his touch and began to tingle between your thighs.

“That feels so nice. I love when you touch me” you moaned as, eventually, Cillian grabbed your lower breast beneath your cotton dress and felt your dime-sized nipple harden beneath his palm as he squeezed, before making you turn to the side and taking your other already engorged nipple into his mouth after pushing down the fabric covering it.

“Fuck, you have the most perfect breasts” Cillian told you and you let out a quiet moan in response which was all Cillian needed to continue further.

He took off your dress and his very own clothes all the same time, scattering them across the floor before he rolled you onto your back as you reached for his neck to pull him in for another heated kissing interlude.

His member was fully hardened now and pulsing against your thigh as he held both of your breasts in his hands and kissed between them before giving each of your nipples his full attention.

“Cillian, fuck” you moaned as you began to part your legs and then proceeded to move one of your feet to his now extremely sensitive cock, gently caressing the head and shaft and tickling his balls, while your hardened nipples were being tongued and nibbled.

“I need…” you then began to stammer as you sensed your flower becoming increasingly wet and hungry for attention.

“What do you need?” Cillian asked, seeing that you abandoned your sentence to give way for a low moan.

"I need you inside of me” you whispered in a breathy voice as you pushed Cillian off your belly and onto his back before rolling onto him.

“Not yet. Bring your pussy up here” Cillian told you while pulling you towards him and causing you to spread your legs over his torso. “I want to taste you first” he then said as he was looking up at your beautiful face and bouncy breasts while you tried to shuffle away from him in order to lie down.

“Uh uh, don’t lie down. Sit on my face!” Cillian demanded while holding you tight and you stared into his eyes and obediently began to shimmy up his body as your freshly waxed pussy moved within inches of his face.

“Now that’s fucking perfect” Cillian determined and you bit your lip, looking down at his excited eyes.

“You want me to…” you stammered, intending to question him about what he wanted you to do next which is when, without words, Cillian pulled your hips towards his lips, thereby abruptly positioning your glistening lady flower above his mouth.

He saw you looking down at him briefly, almost shocked, before your gorgeous orchid filled his whole line of sight, shimmering before him.

He then pulled you down towards his awaiting tongue and inhaled your womanhood deeply. Your smooth lips were inches from his nose and, within seconds, he lifted his head to bury your wet pussy fully into his face.

“Oh my fucking god” you gasped as Cillian tasted you and your sweet musk overwhelmed him.

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned as this must have been his favourite thing to do. Pleasuring you like this was intoxicating for him and, as he began to run his tongue up and down the inside of your silky soft labia, you shuddered out moan after moan.

You began to moan a little louder as Cillian' tongue was tracing out the letters of 'I Love You’ around your swelling clit and your legs soon wanted to give way, reminding you again of why you should have laid down instead.

You were ready and close to climax now and eventually moved up and down, grinding against Cillian' face like he was your personal sex toy while Cillian was clearly loving every minute of it, especially the sounds you were making when his tongue made direct contact with your most sensitive bud.

“Cum on my mouth babe. I want to taste you!” Cillian groaned as your juices began to flow more heavily now and you reached back with one hand on Cillian' other thigh while your other hand was pulling up and down on his now pulsating cock.

“Fuck” Cillian groaned against your mound, seeing how flexible all this dancing had made you as you arched your back.

“Oh god, Cillian” you moaned as Cillian continued to go to work on your beautiful pussy and sensitive clit with an incredible view as you leaned back, moving your other hand from his shaft to squeeze your breast before, finally, taking charge and slowly flipping around.

“What are you doing? I wasn’t done yet” Cillian complained cheekily before noticing that you repositioned yourself above his face.

“I know” you then winked before you went face down in to 69 position.

When you leaned forward to engulf him, your hair first tickled Cillian’s thighs and balls while you were giving him an incredible view of your gorgeous heart-shaped buttocks.

You then went down on him with unbridled enthusiasm, kissing his long, thick shaft and silky soft balls before running your tongue around the mushroom-shaped head and taking in his veiny pulsing cock fully to the hilt.

“Jesus Y/N” Cillian groaned as you came up for air and to tease the underside of his shaft with your tongue as his legs began to squirm.

At the same time, Cillian grabbed your hips to move your soaked pussy back to his awaiting mouth which, eventually, sent you over the edge.

With a loud moan around his cock, you came so hard that your juices gushed against Cillian’s lips whereupon he excitedly lapped up your sweet nectar until you could not take it anymore. You were quivering uncontrollably and eventually pulled away from him.

"Stop. I want to cum inside you” Cillian then told you as you wanted to resume sucking on his cock, but he had another idea and made you face him again. “Sit on my cock” he then groaned and you complied by positioning yourself on top of him.

You then began to insert his cock, cowgirl style, while grinding your sopping wet pussy back and forth as Cillian watched his thick head continually disappearing within you.

“Fuck that feels good” you moaned every time he bottomed out against your cervix and whilst it was slightly painful too, you enjoyed every second of it.

Pulling up slightly, you began to fuck him harder, pounding against his balls and rubbing his now extremely swollen head against your sensitive g-spot with every insertion.

“That’s it, babe. I love watching you ride me like this” Cillian groaned as he watched you fuck him, his thick cock going in and expanding your inner pussy lips with every thrust. Your juices were creamy and trickling down his shaft and he was having a difficult time resisting release in this position. It clearly was his weakness, you on top of him right after having eaten you out for almost half an hour. So, he lifted you up, pulled out of you quickly and then came around to face you before pushing you onto your back.

“Are you still not satisfied?” you moaned as Cillian opened your legs widely and pushed them both back to render your fully exposed.

“No. You just taste too fucking good” Cillian told you as he bends down and tastes your sex, licking you hard from side to side and pulling your silky hood back and then flicking against it with his tongue, rapidly and lightly.

Within five minutes though, Cillian could tell that you needed him inside again so he crawled up in between your spread open legs to penetrate you.

But, before he did, he placed a pillow beneath your buttocks and even though you were usure as to why he did this, you did not dare to question him as his eyes were filled with pure lust and hunger for you.

“Oh fuck! That’s deep!” you then moaned as he pushed his cock into you again and, this time, he bottomed out in one swift thrust, hitting your cervix and g-spot all at the same time.

“Too deep?” Cillian asked as he could feel it too and, when you shook your head and told him that it felt good, he began to thrust.

“Oh god yes” you moaned as you felt how hard and warm he was and Cillian couldn't believe how good it felt to hit your deepest inner point over and over again.

“I feel like I can feel you all the way in my stomach” you gasped as Cillian moved in and out of you consistently and with force, sliding his full length in and out, hitting your cervix and rubbing against your g-spot each time. If you were more aware of things, you would have been amazed by how steady and rhythmic he was that night, with his thrusts. In and out, in and out, deeper and deeper, pressing your crotches together, burying his stiff cock inside of your warm hole.

"Oh, god, Cillian!" you called out again as his strokes intensified. Your moans and groans grew louder as did his grunts.

As the minutes passed, your pace increased rapidly and both of your bodies were rolling and undulating in a languid rhythm. You probed each other's mouths eagerly as you could barely hold onto him, your hands desperately clutching at his sweat-slicked back.

Cillian’s solid body worked every muscle and sinew to drive the most pleasure from the moment and his hand gripped your outer thigh as your legs clamped to the side of his body.

Cillian then rolled up onto his knees and you grabbed the blanket beneath you hard and arched your back as he took hold of your hips and pulled you on to his cock over and over again.

“Fuck, this feels so good” Cillian groaned as the moist slapping of your bodies coming together was alternating and mixing with your gasps and heavy breaths.

"Yes. Fuck me harder Cillian. Fuck me as hard as you can” you then moaned as Cillian stole an appreciative look at his cock sliding into your swollen pussy before picking up the pace.

He rocked you harder and faster, his cock swelling painfully. Your ample, round breasts shuddered in circles with every stroke.

"Cillian!” you called out through the roughness in your throat and when you did manage to focus your eyes upon him, you were greeted with the image of a handsome, over-heated man, leaning over you and pouring his lust into you.

“I am so close” you eventually announced as it was sweltering hot in the room now.

“So am I babe. I can’t wait to fill you with my cum” Cillian groaned as he dug his fingers deep into your hips now. His thrusts grew even faster, harder, more erratic. He pulled and pushed at you roughly and you continued to hold his hair tightly.

“Cum inside me. Oh god yes” you moaned as your back strained to an impossibly high arch, Your head was rolling back over the pillow and you grit your teeth, parting them only to call out towards the ceiling.

"Cillian!” your voice was raw but still the sounds of your groans continued to grow louder.

Slapping flesh, strained moans and cries and the sounds of your lustful coupling were enough to wake the forest beyond the walls of the cottage. He leaned back on one hand, his other supporting your arching back and thrust upward, raising your butt high off the ground, hitting your cervix hard again this time and, eventually, you screamed.

Your body quaked and you felt Cillian fill you with his throbbing, swollen cock as, together, you climaxed. You were focused solely on Cillian now as he poured himself into you, arching and bucking and, just as he filled you with his cum, you felt an electric rush cursing through your body. Your fingers wrenched at his hair, your toes curled and your body tensed so hard, you thought you would explode.

Your bright eyes, rounded wide open along with your mouth and you cried out again.

You came hard a fast and Cillian could feel the sweet warmth and silkiness of your juices surrounding his cock. He grasped at your slick, soft hips pumping as long as he could. He grit his teeth and then raised his head as he filled you with yet another spurt of his seed. It seemed to burn and stream relentlessly as his throbbing cock unloaded everything it had built up.

Eventually though, your bodies started to relax. Almost painfully, both of your fingers eased their grasps. Cillian slumped on his knees and you lowered yourself down from the strained crescent you had shaped your body into. You felt him slide out of you and, just as he did, Cillian ran his hands through his damp hair, sucking in oxygen, feeling the strain on his ab muscles.

“This was incredible” you acknowledged as, after momentarily regaining your breaths, you looked at each other.

“It was. Fuck” Cillian cursed as he managed to smile first. His head was clearing and delirious thoughts were replaced by a feeling of overwhelming satisfaction while you relaxed against the pillows and pulled him down to join you.

“This is the best weekend ever and it isn’t even my birthday yet” you told him before Cillian cleared his throat said “No, not until Tuesday, but you may as well enjoy another few days of being twenty something” he joked, seeing that he still believed that you were going to turn thirty and, of course, when he said those words, your guilt crept back into your mind and you passed a few minutes in silence. You knew that you had to tell him but you did not want to ruin this moment, which is why you decided to put it off, again…

[ashbashsquashmabosh]

Went to the Boygenius show in Dublin yesterday and I'm trying to combat post concert amnesia by documenting everything before I forget it. So here's a bunch of the best bits

Openers

Phoebe just casually walking on stage in a hoodie to announce ye vagabonds and tell everyone to shut up while they're on

Muna have amazing stage presence like I already knew that but woooww

God bless whoever was in charge of the camera for all the beautiful shots of Jo I was struggling to breathe honestly

Katie's jacket was so low cut and tight

Naomis mic was ON

Katie crying during kind of girl

Phoebe silk chiffon verse, her voice was lighter and airier than I expected, everyone else came on for the 2nd chorus

No one in the crowd seemed to know Muna very well I heard them talking about "the bassist" and "the one with curly hair"

The energy was so good they are amazing performers

Katie being an "annoying American with Irish grandparents and a celtic tattoo" in her own words

Saw Catherine Clinch from An Cailin Ciun in the gold circle

Boygenius

Lucy resting her head on Phoebe's during without me without you ahhh so cute

Slippy floor on Phoebe's side of the stage, Julien checked it, Phoebe cleaning her hands with "purell' that's just funny to me cause it's so American

Julien telling the story of getting a minor chemical burn from just picking random things up in chemistry class, Lucy teasing her that she was the reason for eyewash in labs, Julien joking that she'd found her career.

Phoebe in her suit pacing around with her hands on her hips looking very Father

Everyone wore their suits, Julien took off the jacket halfway through and rolled up her sleeves it was awesome

Sound quality not amazing I would have loved to hear more of their harmonies, the balance of vocals to music was a little off in my opinion

The boys had to stop multiple times for people to be taken out, they passed around water

Julien sang the "best song love song you've ever heard", and "familiar characters" in Anticurse and I could not believeeee it

Lucy getting the words of bite the hand mixed up singing I can't see you in the first line instead of I can hear you and giggling about it

The band absolutely slapped, the trumpet was so good

Phoebe asking for the pics of everyones dogs before me and my dog

Julien giggling and screaming about the cute dogs

Julien playing the piano was amazing so beautiful omgggggg

Everyone being so respectful when phoebe asked for no phones, phoebe just sinking back into the crowd at the end of the song

The boys coming back on super fast for the encore and phoebe saying "we just go back there, get some water and high five, that's it"

Everyone saying they loved each other and Julien "dangling my feet off the edge of a tangent" but stopping herself because there was only one song left. What did she want to say????!!! I want to knowww

Lucy going down to the audience during salt In the wound to kiss the crowds hands

I underestimated how hard the songs would hit I was teary eyed for a good portion of the concert

Julien absolutely slayes the " gnashing my teeeeeeth like a child of Cain" part in Salt in the wound

Katie coming on for salt in the wound in a hoodie

Couldn't keep track of who kissed who all of the boys kissed each other I think

Phoobies

Everyone was on the ground in a pile kicking their legs in the air and then Julien got up again for some last minute zoomies to finish out the guitar

Katie trying to quietly leave the stage and Phoebe motioning for her to come back and take the last bow with them

Lucy and Julien hugging, piggybacking off the stage

Overall amazing show would 1000% go again, because I love Muna and boygenius so much I basically got 2 in 1 so def my favourite concert thus far

[wolfavens]

ghost car of barna road

track 3 - liberty belle 1/2

my manager greeted me in irish.

i blinked at the screen in mute panic. i couldn’t remember how to reply. words and languages collided in my brain. it was a car crash, baby, and in the end all that came out of my mouth was a prolonged aaah with no end in sight. a perfect visual representation would be a multilanguage tsunami, pouring out of my ears and pooling around my slippers on the dusty rug of my childhood bedroom.

i used to write those words down into a black notebook, watching you mock me from that dusty rug. you and your smug gaeltacht born grin. who would’ve thought i will forget them all by the time i’m 30.

“how did the move go?”

move. to galway. my hometown. i found my voice again and rushed out: “oh yeah! the move went okay. got here late last night. drive was smooth. not many cars around after midnight.”

“hehe, don’t get used to it. it’s a totally different story after 8am.”

we chatted for a while, arranging to meet in dublin next month when i was all settled in. won’t take long. all i needed was to get a flat, a car - did i need help with the flat? there are probably relocation programmes for employees available. no. i think i got it. did i tho?

we finished the call twenty minutes later. the fact i managed to scrape by enough words to at least tell him goodbye in irish seemed to cheer him up a bit.

i finished up some minor work tasks, sipping at the remainder of my mother’s disgusting herbal tea and took a short break to open the dusty unused storage areas of my childhood bedroom. i needed to clean up the old junk before moving in the new junk. i had to give one thing to my mother; she did an excellent job of preserving this place. if ever i managed to do something worthwhile with my life she could start charging fucking entry for this museum of fiadh kavanagh.

shaking my head i started pulling out old clothes and creating a pile on the floor. if she believed i still fit into these jeans i should be worried about early onset neurodegenerative diseases.

i was done with the columns and moving on to the hangers by the time she stuck her head in and quirked her dark eyebrows at me. “need any help?”

“mom, why the fuck did you keep all this?” i asked, showcasing fist-full of short gothic dresses. “aren’t you worried about clothes moths?”

ignoring my point she sat down on the bed, smiling. “oh, i though you might still like to keep some of it. it’s not like we need extra storage.”

“mom, look at me!” i threw another armful onto the pile, lifting my arms to indicate my age ravaged body. “how could i possibly fit into size four?! some of these are from the children’s section!”

“you look like a string, you could easily fit. it’s the cigarettes. they are not good for ya.”

i rolled my eyes. “i’m not even fucki…”

the feel of a familiar soft fabric beneath my fingertips made me stop midsentence. i pulled it out into the light with shaking fingers, heart racing against my ribcage. it looked huge in my palms. the faded graphics were barely visible in the shadowy light of my room. if you tried hard enough you could just barely make out the name of the band. distantly i heard my mom echo my name but i was stuck in the past, standing in the cold autumn rain by the open driver’s side window of your car.

“ooooh, i remember this one,” my mother said with a nostalgic smile.

i made a small sound at the back of my throat.

“it’s the donovan boy’s, isn’t it? i remember teasing him about it. i told him: young man, this is not a free laundry i run here! you know what he said to me?”

i nodded, whispering, “it’s not my fault yer daughter is a stinkin’ thief.”

she laughed. “little bastard. he was the worst influence on you. funny how he turned out. would never expect a son of deirdre donovan to make something of himself. i guess we owe it all to the wife. she…”

my body snapped back to action. i was moving away before she could say her name. putting the sweater on the bed next to her, i brushed my hands against my sweatpants and mumbled: “right, look we need to get rid of all this before i can unpack. do you know someone with skinny teenage children? ideally with a questionable fashion sense?”

“we can drive to the clothes recycling point.”

“grand! let’s do that after work.” i told her, kicking my way through the discarted clothes toward the closet and dumping whatever was left on top of the rest. “i need to get back to work now. i have a meeting in 20.”

“oh, ok. sorry.” she chuckled, standing up. “i will bring some bags to put all of this in.” she reached for the sweater on her way out and i jumped in to block her path on impulse.

“uh… where are you taking that?”

she blinked up at me, brown eyes surprised. “downstairs. i figured i could return it to the rightful owner rather than donate it to charity. although,” she giggled, pulling it apart for scale, “i doubt it will still fit him.”

she was gone before i could open my mouth, taking the sweater with her. my clenched fists unclenched with effort as i pushed the door closed and leaned my back against it. i was breathing too hard. the way you handed me that sweater through the driver’s side window on that rainy, a blast from the past; a ghostly memory. just enough to make me shudder.

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Apple Store! PARTIES: Regan and Van SUMMARY: After Regan and Van catch up (thread coming soon), the two of them head to the Apple Store to get Regan set up with a new phone. Van has ulterior motives.

“All iPhones are rectangle,” Van assured Regan with a smile.

Regan would give it to the Apple Store – they knew how to create a clean, almost sterile-looking environment. The floors shined. The walls were bare like the back of a tombstone. If only they got rid of all of the computers.

Van seemed to know what she was doing. So, uncertain, Regan followed Van up to the counter. As nice as this store was, she didn’t like the idea of an iPhone, but her Blackberry repair man was not responding to her messages, and she didn’t know of any other Blackberry specialists on the east coast. Ironically, there was one in Dublin that popped up in her searches. She panicked and snapped the laptop shut when she saw it. So Regan was willing to give this a try.  

And it was good practice. Because Regan forgot how to be anything other than a failure, so she was attempting to be something else now. Not a failure, not perfect, something in between, like a human. “Hello,” Regan greeted the boy at the register – little more than a pimply teenager. His nametag said John Pubik. Loathing filled her immediately and she wasn’t sure why. “I am looking for a phone. It must be durable, able to withstand a sc– humans. Obviously. Me. I am the human.” Her stomach burned red. She needed to take some of the heat off her. So she pointed at Van like she had previously been invisible. “This one, too. She is also a human. The phone is for me, though. Not the human. I mean, the other human.” Regan shook her head. “Forget the humans.” She never could. “Durable. Do you have that? And I would prefer a rectangular one.”

———

Van’s end goal when Regan had asked her for help in finding a new phone had been to install all of her favorite games onto it, that way she could pester the white haired woman into giving her hearts and recharges. Obviously the whole not using a blackberry thing was optimal, too. Who even used those anymore? Though, she had to guess that with an iPhone, Regan’s use of emojis would double— no, triple. Then again, that wasn’t her issue. Her issue was… getting Regan a new phone and installing Tsum Tsum and Candy Crush. Maybe even Honkai Star Rail. She looked at Regan out of the corner of her eye, deciding against the latter. Regan would take one look at Pom Pom and think about what it’d be like to see his bones, probably. 

She stood next to Regan quietly as John Pubik walked up to them. She remembered that last name. He had gone to high school with her, a couple of grades ahead. She was almost positive that his sister, Lorelai Pubik was now some like, mommy blogger or something. Yeah, that sounded right. Though, as Regan began to speak, discussions of being human ensnaring them, Van cleared her throat. She was human, but Regan was not. And Van was like, totally cool about that! Her best friend was a bear, and people she went to school with were turning into werewolves. Hell, John Pubik was probably a siren or something. Probably. She looked at him, looked at his reflection in a neighboring mirror. Okay, not a siren. 

“All iPhones are rectangle,” Van assured Regan with a smile. She pointed to the latest iPhone, “it’s going to need a lot of storage. She likes… storage.” Never mind it was for the games she would be downloading. “Needs all of the emojis. You can do that, right?” Van could just go and pick out the phone that Regan needed easily, but she seemed dead set on wasting this guy’s time. John Pubik looked between them, heaved a sigh, and motioned for them to both follow to the latest iPhone release. 

“The green one is nice, right? But they have just like, basic silver. You look like a basic silver person.” Van picked up the phone, the cord keeping it from being stolen, snapping it back into place. She withdrew her hand and rubbed her thumb from where it had pinched the skin. 

“All we got are rectangles, miss. Unless you want an Apple Watch. That’s a square.” 

God forbid Regan learn about apple watches. “We’re just looking for a phone.” She imagined Regan would ask, how do you even fit an apple into a watch? That’s absurd! Or maybe Ireland had changed her. Who knew. 

———

All phones were rectangles? An itch of embarrassment prickled at Regan’s skin as she followed Pubik and Van over to a display with some phones, which in her opinion cluttered up the space. She left these phone-related annoyances up to digital forensics. She did know about storage, though. And not just the kind that housed cadavers and files. “Yes, storage is important. It must fit the internet on it – a browser, are you familiar? – and many photos, as I never delete anything. You shouldn’t either. It will aid the death investigators when you die.” John stared, his mouth somewhere between a gape and a frown. 

A quick snap grabbed Regan’s attention. She gave Van a sideways look, but then studied the colors of the phones by her hands (and the color of her hand, which was slightly red). “Did the phone hurt you? Did he arrange for this?” Her lungs readied themselves. But she pieced together what happened when she saw the coiled cable. Regan reminded herself to focus, because she didn’t like John. She kept catching the intention to betray deep in his eyes. The reason was unclear.

Regan looked back and forth between the two phones again. The green was closer to the color of her (ex-)wings than it was a tempting shade of jade. So… “silver,” she confirmed, pleased with Van’s assessment. The child knew what she was doing. “You are good at this. You should work here.” Regan did not look at John. He shouldn’t work there.

Pubik eventually seemed to shake himself free of some shock. He was pale. Regan debated offering to get some water. John Pubik was fine, though. Regan didn’t know his lineage but she suspected the Pubiks were always fine, even if it was at the expense of others. She blinked at the thought. Where did that come from? Also, why did she even need emojis? She was not some child, who needed the aid of images to convey messages. 

Durable like bone, as it turned out, Pubik pressed on. “Right-o. A new, silver phone with storage and emojis. We can sure do that, ayup. All the models have emojis. Any of our phones, and any from the last dec–” He looked in Van’s direction and stopped talking. Weird. He cleared his throat and pivoted. “Yup. They’ll even update with the new ones every year, like the shaking heads in 17.4. Crazy it took them so long to make those ones, eh?” John seemed to be making an effort to inject some normalcy into the conversation. Regan only grew more confused. And harbored emoji opinions that had only needed a poke to be expressed. “Do you not control the emojis? Release more, faster. Add a liver. Animate them. Why do they not move?”

Pubik looked in Van’s direction again. He was sweating heavily. Again, Regan wondered about water. “Tell me if you feel faint,” she instructed him, which was a completely normal, human thing to say to a fellow human (even one who she suspected was disloyal). Regan stretched the iPhone closer to her face and flicked a finger against the glass screen, which seemed so fragile. It didn’t bode well. “I will purchase this. How many of these do I get per week? What are my options for plans? Emoji and otherwise.” Thank rot she had Van here to guide her.

———

Van wasn’t sure why Regan was explaining browsers to the phone sales guy, but that didn’t matter. He looked a little confused, but Van made no move to explain Regan’s… thought process (that was probably a good term!), because it would only send them in tight little circles, and Van wasn’t totally sure she wanted to go down that road. It would take a lot more energy to explain what she meant than it would to just let her say the things she wanted to say. It was probably better off that way, anyway. “You’re going to need like, a lot of storage.” How long did banshees live for? Awhile, right? Then again, Regan would be collecting new phones by the time she was gone, right? Van would be like, seventy, and Regan would be… how old was Regan now? Van’s mind wandered as she watched the salesman flounder beneath the array of questions Regan had. 

At her question, she shook her head. “I mean, no? I don’t— no?” She let out a short laugh, shooting the salesman, John Pubik, an apologetic glance. She didn’t need to apologize for Regan and she knew that, but it felt like she should. She was a little odd, and she could be off-putting. The only reason Van hadn’t found her as such was maybe because she liked her a bit like someone liked the shoes they couldn’t ever throw out. That was a great comparison, Van thought. 

“I don’t really want to work here.” She already dealt with tons of annoying people at Sly Slice. She could only imagine how annoying the people would be with technology. But this wasn’t about Regan, no way. Van thought Regan’s requests were… very like her. They were understandable! “I’m sure it’s like, a super cool place to work at though.” She looked at the array of phones on the desk after putting the one she had picked up back down. She was in the market for a new phone, too. The one she had bought off of Craigslist after breaking the one Erin had given her had a cracked screen and it was hard to tell exactly how much damage she was doing during boss fights in HSR. 

John Pubik went on to relay back exactly what Regan was looking for, but she was almost certain he was going to screw it all up, because she gave him a stern shake of her head as he began to veer into dangerous territory. God forbid Regan want a phone from every decade. That would be something she’d want, especially to test out what was optimal. Van couldn’t let that happen. She needed the most recent one, or maybe the one before that, but nothing in the past ten years. Absolutely not. 

“Nobody controls the emojis. I don’t think he has the power to do that.” She shot him a glance before she picked up another phone while Regan examined the one that fit her needs. “And you can get stickers that move. From the App Store. I’ll show you how.” She should be the one to set up Regan’s phone, probably. If this guy did it, he would do it wrong, and then it would be her problem later anyway. 

“Get per week? You want multiple phones?” John Pubik tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by Regan’s question. 

Again, Van interjected, “you can get an otterbox— no, it doesn’t have like, otters or otter things inside of it.” It would be something that she asked, and she just knew it. “It’s a case. For your phone. They’re the best. I had one on my old phone before it got stolen. They’re like, super expensive. You make doctor money, so it will be fine.” She smiled at John Pubik, then turned her attention back to Regan. “You only need one phone. One phone. One otter box. A screen protector. That’s what we’re here for. I’ll download you moving stickers.” And other things, but Regan didn’t need to know about those yet.

———

“I don’t care about stickers. Those are for children. I care about watching a liver because I cannot do that through other means.” Maybe Regan should have given the simulation baby stickers instead of that knife, though. Van, once more, seemed to know what she was doing, and Regan was grateful to have her right now. Maybe she could talk some sense into Pubik. How was this confusing? 

“Yes, multiple phones. Sometimes multiple per day. Your phones are poorly-constructed and the glass is thinner than the maggot-chewed epidermis of a four day old cadaver. You should be ashamed. So I need more than one.” He only looked more confused than before. This man was testing her. Regan continued, “You see, I used to be a loyal customer of the Blackberry phones. They are sturdy. The femurs of phones. But now they’re gone, and my choices are between an iPhone and Google, which I do not trust. They have a browser, by the way. Are you aware? Anyway, I–” 

She was cut off by Van mentioning a box of otters. “What stage of decomp–” Cut off again. It was just a phone case. Didn’t Van understand why she needed so many phones? It had nothing to do with the consistency of the edges, and everything to do with how breakable the screens were. Regan frowned down at the models. They would disappoint her within a day. Unless Van knew something she did not… and she did seem to be full of knowledge on the subject matter. Regan decided she would allow Van to make this call. “Fine. One phone, and the otter, and the livers.”

Regan had never seen a more obvious expression of relief than the one on Pubik’s face. He was the Google of humans. Untrustworthy. Pretended to know everything, but was likely full of inaccuracies and misdirections. He slipped away to get the phone Regan was apparently purchasing, and she looked at Van, raising an eyebrow. “He is confusing, hm?”

When Pubik returned, it was behind the counter, and that, too, seemed to spill relief over his face. Regan exchanged another odd look with Van. How was she supposed to get better at not being a banshee when she was meeting such suboptimal humans? 

“Your phone, miss. And I grabbed one of the Otterboxes from the back, free of charge. Do you need anything else? Like um, umm, there’s another store over there.” He pointed to the door. She realized he had grey pits on his white shirt. “Plenty of different Apple Stores! There’s another one over in Portland! And Augusta!” His eyes teared up. His grin did not reach them. His pimples were red. Everything about him said don’t come back. Regan measured him with no expression, staring, and the pimples grew redder. If Van said to do this… she handed over her credit card, though she hadn’t actually checked if her bank account had been emptied since coming back. It didn’t matter. 

As Pubik rang up the new phone, all Regan could think about (other than the sense of imminent betrayal she felt in her marrow) was that Pubik hadn’t wanted to work here. Regan couldn’t fathom why. Also, how did he know where he wanted and didn’t want to work? How did anyone know? She thought of medical school, the morgue, how everything just clicked in a way that fulfilled her and helped others, but… but what if it had all been because of what she was? What if she never actually wanted it, because she had been taught not to want? She couldn’t go back yet. She needed to try other things. This Regan was a free-thinker. An idea began to stir in her skull. And never quite finished stirring before she spoke it aloud.

She accepted the bag with her new phone and stuck the receipt in it, but did not walk away, even though Van seemed like she needed to. Regan looked straight at Pubik. “Hire me.”

[thetorchwoodarchive]

[img Fics That Haunt You [text is in horror movie poster font] A Rec Fest for Fics You Can't Stop In the center on a black background is an image of team torchwood. To their left are transparent logos for watpad and fanfiction.net. To their right are transparent logos for live journal and ao3]

Fics that haunt you -- a mix of fan and mod recs. Thank you for everyone who sent fics in!

the hands on the clock keep ticking by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 10235 | M)

They all knew it could happen to anyone. They’d all seen the proof. Even if it happened to a miniscule amount of the population, it was still a possibility. But they had grown complacent. They had forgotten that they too were also at the mercy of the Rift, that the Rift did not make an exception for those who knew its existence. They had forgotten until they were faced with it themselves. In which Gwen and Ianto get sent back to 1969 by the Rift.

Don't You Know For Years You've Haunted Me by virtualsilver (GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 12803 | T)

Gwen has inherited a recessive trait that has lurked in her ancestors' blood for generations: she is prescient. She can see flashes of where the timeline is heading and can feel when something - or someone - changes it. She tries to use her foreknowledge to change events for the better, but securing the outcome of her interventions proves to be a challenge.

I Sing the Body Electric by Paycheckgurl (OwenTosh, JackIanto | complete | 19069 | T)

In 2008, Team Torchwood investigates a series of robotics robberies. In an unknown time and place Ianto, Toshiko, and Owen wake up in a dark room. Their bodies seem to be strangely metallic. Which isn’t even the strangest development. The strangest development might be that they remember being dead. Or: Torchwood fix it. But they’re androids.

Separation Anxiety: The Continuing Adventures of Club Wales by pocky_slash (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 43412 | NR)

In which Jack is out of town, Andy has a case for Torchwood, Rhys makes pack lunches, and Gwen and Ianto put their detective skills to work.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by blackkat (JackIanto | complete | 9658 | E)

Ianto closes his eyes in Thames House, lungs full of choking alien gas, and opens them in his sister's house in Cardiff.

Management of Dead Bodies in Disaster Situations: A Field Manual by heddychaa (Gen | complete | 2193 | M)

Darragh Edmonds is a so-called "disaster specialist". Called to the site of tsunamis, earth quakes, floods, terrorist attacks, he takes up the grim task of putting order to human remains, and he does it well. Cleaning up after a biological attack on Thames House should make for a comparatively easy day for Darragh: after all, the bodies of Thames House have even been so considerate as to pile themselves right at the front door for him. That is, until he's sworn to secrecy and sent, alone, to collect two bodies from the building's eerie top floor.

Four, Five, Six by miss winterhill (JackIanto | complete | 1495 | M)

The corridor outside his thesis supervisor's office was cold, and he fought down the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him. As he waited, he tried to read the notices that fluttered on the board. There was a room to rent in the lower fourth. Someone was offering tutoring in mathematics; that one half-covered a poster about drugs. DRUGS WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE, written in big frightening letters. Ugh.

And Indeed There Will Be Time by kaydeefalls (JackIanto | complete | 42433 | T)

In 1919, Harriet Derbyshire was killed while investigating the disappearance of Torchwood Four in Dublin. In 2009, UNIT pulls a dying man out of the Irish Sea with a one-word message: Torchwood. Martha joins up with Jack's team in Cardiff to track down the errant branch of the organization -- before a time-traveling race of aliens can change the course of history as we know it.

Day Tripper by Gement (JackBessie | complete | 2360 | M)

Bessie's like any other companion: far from home, more than she appears, and always up for an adventure. And Jack Harkness really will seduce anything that moves.

A Vision Too Removed To Mention by pocky_slash (Gen | complete | 13920 | T)

In which Ianto is stuck in a time loop that feels more like hell.

Three Years From Now by LibidineTertius (JackIanto | Complete | 1660 | T)

If Jack keeps his eyes shut (then he doesn't see). Also, sex. Lots of sex.

don’t make me kill you, darling by princessoftheworlds (Gen | Complete | 603 | T)

Javic Thane carries out his next Time Agency assignment.

Stars by DinoDina (JackIanto | Complete | 4020 | G)

The night after Owen first dies, there's a new star in the sky. It's not there the next night, or the next, and Jack knows he's distracted, but he can't answer when Ianto asks if he's okay. He's not.

Chosen Well by Waldo (LisaIanto, JackIanto | Complete | 1707 | T)

"All of the… modifications have been removed, but really, she should be cremated.  Just in case we're wrong."

Note to Self: You’re Going to Forget All This by heddychaa (JackIanto | Complete | 2254 | M)

Three thousand years later, Jack doesn't remember much about the leather strap he wears around his wrist;  all he knows is that the device inside it needs to be repaired as soon as possible. Every year that passes he finds himself forgetting more and more, his mind collapsing under the weight of his own prolonged existence. So he does his best to follow the clues his younger self leaves him in the hopes they'll lead him somewhere that makes sense again. For now, that means one date, expressed as coordinates: 2009-08-23.

Space Dementia by chagyu (JackIanto, JohnIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 14799 | M)

Ianto and Jack seem to be drifting apart; the arrival of one Captain John Hart will either set them back on course or completely ruin them. Ianto's not so sure which, and frankly, if Jack keeps flirting with Gwen like that, he's preparing for the latter. Alternately, how Jack's ex-lover saves his current one.

These Happy Days by violetmessages (GwenRhys, JackIanto, GwenRhysJackIanto | Series | 22267 | G-T)

A series of non-chronological stories in which Ianto miraculously survives CoE in some fashion and Torchwood Three (plus Rhys and Anwen) settle down near the seaside. This series does not need to be read in order, or even in its entirety.

Janet’s Very Big Adventure by Beleriandings (Gen | Complete | 3290 | T)

One ordinary day, the wall of Janet's cell explodes.

yours was a heavy heart to carry by someawkwardprose (JackIanto | Complete | 2064 | T)

The thing about loving Jack is this: you cannot ever let him know.

Bad Case of Loving You by virtualsilver (JackIanto, SuzieMelody | Complete | 4891 | T)

The director of Torchwood One gets a call from Jack Harkness about some shady mind control program from the 1950s and has to go digging for old Torchwood secrets, only to find some unexpected revelations of a more personal nature along the way.

Happy Birthday, Ianto Jones by aliciajazmin (JackIanto, JackJohnIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 693 | T)

Ianto Jones is a sim, and today is his birthday.

Finding Ianto by Blackbird Song (Blackbird_Song) (JackIanto | Complete | 14906 | G)

A long time ahead, in a space bar far, far away, Jack gets a message he didn't expect.

Bilis Manger, the Demon, and the River by aliciajazmin (AbaddonBillis | complete | 1181 | E)

Bilis Manger enlists the help of his crush to help him get across a river. This is a river that they can only wade through together.

Six of Swords by Jackdaw816 (JackIanto, OwenTosh | complete | 600 | G)

The Torchwood team, but with swords

World and Enough Time (Stories From the Loop) by Jackdaw816 (JohnIanto | complete | 7224 | M)

This time loop ain't big enough for the both of them

Jack Harkness' Sexy School of Shooting™ by violetmessages (JackIanto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 1214 | T)

Jack has an excellent idea but no one else seems to think it's good. Only one way to prove them wrong.

Smile Like You Mean It by egg_agemythrusters (JackIanto | complete | 622 | G)

Jack Harkness had a smile like no other.

Dead On Arrival by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 13582 | M)

Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.

Hohnq by gwendolyncooper (JackIanto, John&Ianto | complete | 1911 | G)

It’s not really a normal day to walk into the Torchwood Hub and find a goose holding a knife, but it seems that’s the way Ianto Jones’ day is going to start.

Waking God by toldthestars (JackIanto | complete | 7692 | Not Rated)

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

keep your hand at eye level of your eyes by MonsterMince (GwenJohn | complete | 8331 | E)

Five years after the events of COE, Gwen still misses her team and what she had. It's not much of a life without them, and when Rhys takes Anwen away until Gwen's willing to move on, of course John Hart turns up with an offer that's too tempting to refuse: A way to raise Ianto from the dead.

left you both of the rings by princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 21188 | T)

Ianto and Jack are the dream couple—working side-by-side at Torchwood, protecting the world from alien threats alongside the rest of their team, living in domestic wedded bliss during their off hours. But when cracks begin to appear in the surface of Ianto’s perfect world, he’s forced to confront what he knows is real.

One Last Breath by Riennynn (JackIanto | complete | 3441 | Not Rated)

Yet another homicidal alien has Jack and Ianto trapped in an airtight storage locker. Jack has a plan to make sure they get rescued alive, but Ianto isn't going to like it.

Strayverse by NancyBrown (JackIanto, IantoOther(s) | complete, series | 93, 539 | Multiple Ratings; G-E) 

Amy recreated the universe and brought back the dead, but the dead don't fit there anymore.

Conditional Iteration by Beleriandings (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenIanto | series | 78, 082 | Multiple Ratings; G-E)

When Ianto dies on the floor of Thames House, time resets for him and Gwen. They soon realise that the two of them are stuck in a time loop, giving them another chance -- or as many chances as it takes -- to save the world's children from the 456.

it means something by MonsterMince (JackIanto, Gwen&Suzie, Jack&Owen, Jack&Tosh, Jack&Gwen | complete | 11316 | T)

Physically showing his team how much he cares about them is an HR nightmare, which is why Jack never passes up an opportunity to be a fake couple with his team. 5 times each member of the team had to pretend to be a couple with Jack, and one time the team pretended to be a polycule, featuring: Having fun with Suzie in couples' therapy; making an ex jealous with Owen; romancing Ianto in Serenity Plaza; taking a ballroom dance class with Tosh; and getting dressed with Gwen in hideously boring outfits picked out by Rex.

Herding Cats by blackkat (JackIanto, Non-Torchwood Ships | Series, complete | 8061 | G)

Ianto finds himself back from the dead and, apparently, in the position to double-cross a power-crazed Norse god intent on conquering the Earth by taking out a team of superheroes. Must be a Tuesday.

I just wanted you to watch me dissolve, slowly by MonsterMince (JackJohn | complete | 15417 | E)

If John had known the true cost he'd need to pay to cure Jack's immortality, he might not have paid it. (That's a lie.)

took a louisville slugger to both headlights by Flamingbluepanda (Implied Relationships | complete | 733 | G)

Ianto has a perfectly fine morning, then this happens

Jack VS the soul stealing toys by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto | complete | 457 | Not Rated)

Ianto is king of the furbies

The Bad Neighbor by Firesnap (Gen | complete | 30576 | T)

Rhys Williams knows there's something wrong with his neighbor. It's a shame no one seems to be listening to him.

The Author, The Scribe, The Archivist by MonsterMince (JackIanto, Gwen&Team, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 7530 | T)

The story of how Gwen Cooper helped Jack to never forget his team, with one scrapbook. (Or, Post-COE, Gwen finds Ianto’s scrapbook dedicated to Lisa, and sets about adding to it so she and Jack can remember him and the rest of their team. It works really, really well.)

Grief Lessons by elusive_eventuality (JackIanto | complete | 2936 | T)

"What groaning, what lament, what song of death, what dance of Hades shall I do?" ~ Euripides Or a CoE fix-it in five parts, one for every stage of grief.

A Tale of Two Universes by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto, LisaIanto, Gwen&Ianto, Ianto&Team, Ianto&Tosh, Yvonne&Ianto | complete | 2305 | T) 

In one universe Ianto Jones lives and in another he dies. Only it’s not quite that simple.

tell rock n' roll i'm alone again by paperclipbitch (OwenIanto, SuzieOwen, JackJohn, GwenRhys, ToshAdam | complete | 17055 | M)

Band!AU. In which Torchwood have just about made it though as it turns out that doesn’t fix anything, Owen would much rather punch Ianto than shag him (honestly), and absolutely everyone seems to be Jack’s ex boyfriend.

Caledfwlch by BricklingGhost (TeamGwenee) (JackIanto, GwenRhys, LisaIanto, OwenTosh, OwenKatie, Team | complete | 48456 | Not Rated) 

Jack has a lifetime ban from the afterlife for stealing, Owen's fiance is a right hag, Toshiko is playing children's games, Ianto has a vampire in the garden, and Gwen has a prophetic dog of death following her around for pets.

Everything I Know About the Earth by Sorrel (GwenOwen, GwenJack | complete | 16437 | M)

Spend too much time near the Rift, and who knows what might happen. Gwen's having strange dreams, and knowing things she couldn't possibly know. Things are about to change, and not really for the better. GwenOwen, implied GwenJack, mature.

Exhibit by Mirrankei (OwenTosh, JackIanto, | complete | 38701 | T)

Owen, Tosh, and Ianto find themselves kidnapped to the future. Stuck in space 2000 years in the future, they become part of an Earth exhibit in the station museum. But the portal that brought them is broken, and a visiting Time Lord smells a trap...

Unworn World by Amand_r, cruentum (JackJohn | complete | 10128 | Not Rated)

Jack thought that John'd been way too accommodating through this whole thing, and so he wasn't in the least surprised when the doctor told them that John was too far along in gestation for a procedure.

It Had to Be You by TheSigyn (JackIanto, JackJohn | complete | 12181 | M)

After the events of Children of Earth, Captain Jack runs to the only person who can help him; Captain John Hart. But this is not how John wanted it to be.

[ammg-old2]

The west coast of Ireland is famed for its wave-beaten shores and bare, stony mountains, where only a few stunted trees grow in hollows and valleys, bent by harsh storms blowing in from the North Atlantic.

The coastline, with its cold, clean winds and ever-changing skies, gives an impression of unspoiled, primal nature. In 2014, the Irish government designated a 1,550-mile tourist route along the coast, and called it “The Wild Atlantic Way.”

Yet, where generations of painters, poets and visitors have rhapsodized about the sublimity of nature and the scenic Irish countryside, ecologists see a man-made desert of grass, heather and ferns, cleared of most native species by close-grazing sheep that often pull grasses out by the roots.

As climate change threatens even more ecological disruption, a growing Irish “rewilding” movement is calling for the restoration of the native forests that once covered these lands, both as natural machines to capture atmospheric carbon, and to preserve and extend what remains of Ireland’s dwindling biodiversity.

Rewilding, the practice of bringing ravaged landscapes back to their original states, is well established in Britain, where numerous projects are underway. For Ireland, this would mean the re-creation of temperate forests of oak, birch, hazel and yew that once covered 80 percent of the land but now — after centuries of timber extraction, overgrazing and intensive farming — have been reduced to only 1 percent.

For some, rewilding began with a personal choice.

In 2009, Eoghan Daltún, a sculpture restorer, sold his house in Dublin to buy 33 acres of gnarled oaks and rugged hillside on the Beara Peninsula in County Cork, in the far southwest. Where local farmers had once raised a few cattle and sheep, he erected a fence to keep out feral goats and sika deer, two nonnative, invasive species that nibble undergrowth and saplings down to the roots, and kill older trees by gnawing away their bark.

One day in late spring, with the wind driving rain off the foaming ocean, he proudly showed off the results. Wood sorrel, dog violet and celandine were already in flower beneath the twisted branches of mature oak and birch, thickly draped in mosses, ferns and epiphytic plants. New shoots of oak, hawthorn and ash pushed up through the grass and dead ferns.

“The sheep and deer would eat those little saplings before they even started on the grass, so when the old trees eventually died, there’d be no new ones to replace them,” said Mr. Daltún, who wrote about his experiment in “An Irish Atlantic Rainforest,” a memoir. “But the native forest is returning here, all by itself. I don’t have to plant anything.”

Ireland has committed to increasing the total proportion of forested areas to 18 percent by 2050, from 11 percent currently. Yet this would still be well below the European Union average of 38 percent, and most of it would consist of commercial spruce and pine plantations that make up more than 90 percent of Ireland’s current woodlands.

Grown to be harvested within 30 to 40 years, these nonnative conifers are treated with chemicals that pollute groundwater and rivers. Ecologists say little can grow on a forest floor carpeted with dead needles and a desert for insects and native wildlife. And much of the carbon they store is released again when they are harvested.

It would be better for biodiversity and carbon sequestration to pay farmers and landowners to grow native trees and leave them unharvested, according to Padraic Fogarty, the campaign officer for the Irish Wildlife Trust. He cited the example of Costa Rica, which has reversed the Central American trend of deforestation by paying farmers to preserve and extend the rainforest.

Ray Ó Foghlú of Hometree, another rewilding organization, believes farmers could be paid not to plow or graze strips land that border remaining pockets of native woodland — often only a few trees and bushes — that cling to inaccessible hillsides or in the awkward corners of fields. Biologically rich, these microforests would, if left to themselves, quickly recolonize neighboring areas, Mr. Ó Foghlú believes. He himself recently bought nine acres of “scrubland” — home to sessile oaks (Ireland’s national tree), hazels, wood sorrel, blue bells and anemones.

“I pinch myself still that I own it,” he said. “It has a river running through it, and I can’t believe it’s mine, for the price of a second hand car these days.”

Irish rewilding enthusiasts look enviously at the highlands of Scotland, ecologically very similar to the west of Ireland, but where the concentration of ownership in the hands of a few hundred aristocrats and magnates allows rewilding at much greater scale.

Ecologically minded figures like the Danish billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen, Scotland’s largest private landowner, with 220,000 acres, can clear deer and livestock from tens of thousands of acres, allowing native growth to quickly regenerate. Eradicated native species, notably the European beaver, have also been reintroduced to Scotland to restore ecological balance.

In Ireland, where the average farm size is 83 acres, such large-scale rewilding would seem to be unfeasible. The big exception, so far, has been in the unlikely setting of County Meath, in the flat, highly fertile and intensively farmed east of the island, and in the unlikely person of Randal Plunkett, a New York-born filmmaker, vegan and death metal enthusiast.

Since Mr. Plunkett — better known, to some, as the 21st Baron of Dunsany — inherited his 1,700 acre ancestral estate in 2011, he has cleared it of livestock and left one-third to revert to unmanaged forest, complete with a wild herd of native red deer.

“Biodiversity is expanding dramatically,” said Mr. Plunkett, 30, standing in thick woodlands humming with bees and other busy insects. “At least one species has returned every year since we started. Pine martens. Red kites. Corncrakes. Peregrine falcons. Kestrels. Stoats. Woodpeckers. Otter. We think there’s salmon in the river again, for the first time in my life.”

One of his forebears, Sir Horace Plunkett, pioneered modern, industrial farming in Ireland early last century, encouraging small farmers to set up cooperatives and to mechanize their operations and use fertilizers and chemicals. Today, Randal Plunkett says, not everyone in this rich farming area is happy about his decision to abandon intensive agriculture, or to ban all hunting on the estate.

“It’s safe to say I’m not popular with the hunting crowd,” he said. “I’ve had death threats.”

Rewilding has its opponents. Ireland’s influential agribusiness lobbies are economically and culturally suspicious of suggestions that farmland should be allowed to revert to what they traditionally derided as “scrub.” People will always need food, they point out. In more marginal areas in the uplands and west, farmers argue recent regulations have reduced the numbers of sheep they can graze per acre, and that removing them altogether would harm existing biodiversity.

“If you leave an area ungrazed and unmanaged, you leave an area that’s at risk of being burned,” said Vincent Doddy, the president of the Irish Natura and Hill Farmers Association. “I think cattle and sheep are the most cost effective way of managing the land.”

Even on poor soil and small farms, where livestock production is sustainable only through government grants and second jobs, the title of farmer is still prized beyond its cash value.

“You’d have some of them who’d say, ‘Sheep are a part of my family tradition, and my identity, and it’s what I want to do,’” said Mr. Daltún, who himself keeps some cattle on his 33 acres. “But others would see the benefit of being paid for looking after the land, and letting it regenerate, and to have time to focus more on their other work or business.”

[neerasrealm]

My managers closed the store an hour early to try and get the kid's floor cleaned bc it was in such a bad state and even in those two hours we didn't get it fully cleared so they tried to make us stay even later and long story short it's 8:45 and I'm still in Dublin City fucking centre

[premiercontractcleaning]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Office Cleaning Service in Dublin

Finding the right office cleaning service in Dublin is crucial for maintaining a clean, healthy, and productive work environment. With many options available, it can be challenging to decide which service will best meet your specific needs. This comprehensive guide will walk you through everything you need to consider to make an informed decision, ensuring you choose the best office cleaning service for your business.

Why a Clean Office Matters

A clean office is more than just an aesthetic necessity; it’s a critical factor in creating a positive work environment. Studies show that a clean and well-organized workspace can significantly boost employee morale and productivity. Additionally, regular cleaning reduces the spread of germs and allergens, contributing to a healthier workplace.

Understanding Your Cleaning Needs

Before you begin your search for an office cleaning service in Dublin, it’s important to assess your specific needs. Consider the following:

Office Size and Layout: Larger offices or those with unique layouts may require specialized cleaning services.

Frequency of Cleaning: Determine how often you need cleaning services—daily, weekly, or bi-weekly.

Specific Areas of Focus: Identify high-traffic areas, kitchens, restrooms, and other spaces that may require more attention.

Specialized Cleaning Needs: Do you need services such as carpet cleaning, window washing, or eco-friendly cleaning products?

Understanding these needs will help you communicate your expectations clearly and ensure you find a service provider that can meet them.

Researching Office Cleaning Services in Dublin

When searching for an office cleaning service in Dublin, it’s essential to do thorough research. Here’s how to get started:

Seek Recommendations: Ask for recommendations from other businesses in Dublin. Word of mouth is often a reliable source of information.

Online Reviews and Testimonials: Check online reviews and testimonials on platforms like Google, Yelp, or Trustpilot to gauge the quality of service provided.

Compare Services: Make a list of potential cleaning companies and compare their offerings. Look for services that align with your needs and budget.

Verify Credentials: Ensure that the cleaning company is licensed, insured, and bonded. This protects you in case of any damages or accidents during the cleaning process.

Evaluating Cleaning Companies

Once you have a list of potential office cleaning services in Dublin, the next step is to evaluate them based on specific criteria:

Experience and Expertise

Look for companies with a proven track record in the industry. Experienced cleaners are more likely to understand the unique challenges of office cleaning and can provide high-quality service. Ask about the company’s history, their experience with similar clients, and the training their staff receives.

Service Offerings

Ensure the company offers a comprehensive range of services that meet your needs. This could include:

General Office Cleaning: Dusting, vacuuming, mopping, and sanitizing surfaces.

Deep Cleaning: Periodic deep cleaning services for carpets, upholstery, and hard-to-reach areas.

Specialized Cleaning: Services like window cleaning, floor polishing, and IT equipment cleaning.

Eco-Friendly Cleaning: Use of green cleaning products and practices.

Customer Service

Good customer service is a hallmark of a reputable cleaning company. Pay attention to how responsive the company is to your inquiries, how they handle requests, and their willingness to accommodate special needs. A company that values its clients will go the extra mile to ensure satisfaction.

Quality Assurance

Ask about the company’s quality assurance processes. Do they have supervisors who perform regular inspections? How do they handle feedback or complaints? A company with a strong quality control system is more likely to deliver consistent results.

Pricing and Contracts

While cost is an important consideration, it should not be the sole factor in your decision. Be wary of companies that offer prices significantly lower than the competition, as they may cut corners or provide subpar service. Instead, look for a company that offers transparent pricing and flexible contracts that allow you to scale services as needed.

The Importance of Eco-Friendly Cleaning

Sustainability is increasingly important for businesses in Dublin. Choosing an office cleaning service that uses eco-friendly products and practices can reduce your environmental footprint and contribute to a healthier workplace. Eco-friendly cleaning products are free from harsh chemicals, making them safer for your employees and the environment. Additionally, sustainable practices such as waste reduction and recycling can further enhance your company’s green credentials.

Communication and Flexibility

Effective communication is key to a successful partnership with your office cleaning service. Ensure that the company is easy to reach and responsive to your needs. They should be willing to adapt their services as your needs change, whether it’s adjusting the cleaning schedule, adding new services, or addressing specific concerns.

Making the Final Decision

After evaluating all the factors mentioned above, it’s time to make your final decision. Consider arranging a trial period with the cleaning company to assess their performance. This allows you to see firsthand how well they meet your expectations before committing to a long-term contract.

Remember, the best office cleaning service is one that not only meets your immediate needs but also offers reliability, flexibility, and excellent customer service. By taking the time to choose the right provider, you can ensure a clean, healthy, and productive work environment for your business.

[floorcleaningdublin]

Cleaning Terracotta Floors

Terracotta floors, known for their rustic charm and earthy warmth, are a popular flooring choice in Mediterranean-style homes and other traditional settings. Made from natural clay that’s baked to create its characteristic reddish-brown hue, terracotta tiles add timeless beauty to any space. However, because of their porous nature, terracotta tiles require regular cleaning and maintenance to preserve their appearance and prevent damage. In this guide, we’ll explore the best methods for cleaning terracotta floors, covering daily care, deep cleaning, and stain removal.

Daily Maintenance of Terracotta Floors

Terracotta floors are durable, but their porous nature makes them more susceptible to absorbing dirt and stains. Regular, gentle cleaning is essential to keep them looking their best.

Sweeping or Vacuuming Dust and debris can accumulate on terracotta floors, causing dullness and potential scratching over time. Use a soft-bristle broom or a vacuum cleaner with a hard floor attachment to sweep the floor daily. Avoid using vacuums with beater bars, as they can scratch the tile surface. A microfiber dust mop can also be a great option for picking up fine particles without causing damage.

Dry Mop Regularly To remove fine dust and keep the floor looking clean between wet cleaning sessions, use a dry microfiber mop. This will help maintain the tile’s natural shine and prevent the build-up of grime. Regular dry mopping is especially important in high-traffic areas where dirt can accumulate quickly.

Spot Clean Spills Immediately Since terracotta is porous, it can easily absorb liquids, leading to stains if spills are left unattended. If you spill something on your terracotta floor, wipe it up immediately using a damp cloth. For tougher spills, use a mild cleaning solution mixed with water and a soft sponge to gently scrub the area. Avoid letting water sit on the floor for too long, as excessive moisture can damage the tiles.

Weekly or Routine Cleaning of Terracotta Floors

Weekly cleaning helps remove deeper dirt and grime that sweeping or spot cleaning might miss. To keep terracotta floors looking pristine, follow these steps for routine cleaning:

Use a pH-Neutral Cleaner It’s important to use a gentle, pH-neutral cleaner specifically formulated for terracotta or stone floors. Harsh or acidic cleaners, like vinegar or bleach, can strip the tiles of their natural oils and cause them to become brittle or discolored over time.

Mop with Minimal Water Dip a soft mop into the cleaning solution and wring it out thoroughly before mopping the floor. Terracotta tiles can absorb moisture, so it’s important to avoid oversaturating them with water. Mop the floor in sections, ensuring even coverage without soaking the tiles. After mopping, allow the floor to dry completely to prevent water stains or damage.

Rinse and Dry the Floor After mopping with a cleaning solution, rinse the floor with clean water to remove any leftover residue. Dry the floor thoroughly using a microfiber cloth or towel to prevent water from seeping into the tiles.

Deep Cleaning Terracotta Floors

Over time, terracotta floors may develop stubborn stains, grime build-up, or dullness, especially if they haven’t been sealed properly. Deep cleaning can help restore the natural beauty of the tiles.

Use a Specialized Cleaner For heavily soiled terracotta floors, use a deep-cleaning product specifically designed for porous stone or terracotta tiles. Apply the cleaner according to the manufacturer’s instructions and allow it to sit for a few minutes to loosen dirt and grime.

Scrub with a Soft Brush Gently scrub the floor using a soft-bristle brush or a non-abrasive scrubbing pad. Focus on areas with visible stains or grime. Be careful not to scrub too harshly, as this could damage the tile surface.

Rinse and Dry the Floor Once the floor has been scrubbed, rinse thoroughly with clean water to remove any remaining cleaner. Dry the tiles completely to prevent water absorption and staining.

Stain Removal on Terracotta Floors

Even with regular care, terracotta floors may develop stains from spills or foot traffic. Here’s how to tackle common types of stains:

Oil or Grease Stains For oil or grease stains, apply a paste of baking soda and water to the affected area. Let it sit for several hours or overnight, then scrub gently with a soft brush and rinse with water.

Wine or Acidic Stains If acidic substances like wine or citrus juice leave stains, clean them using a mixture of water and a mild detergent. Scrub the stain gently and rinse thoroughly.

Water Spots To remove water spots, gently buff the affected area with a soft cloth. Sealing terracotta tiles helps prevent future water stains.

Terracotta floors offer natural beauty and rustic charm, but they require regular cleaning and maintenance to protect their surface. By incorporating daily sweeping, weekly mopping with pH-neutral cleaners, and occasional deep cleaning, you can keep your terracotta floors looking vibrant and beautiful for years. Remember to clean spills immediately and avoid harsh chemicals that can damage the porous tiles. With proper care, terracotta floors can maintain their warmth and character for decades.

Terracotta Floor Cleaning

[hannahssimblr]

Clóda is waiting on the couch when I come back with fingers drumming on her knees, “There’s orange juice on the floor,” she points out. “Did someone spill it?”

“Oh, sh- yeah, Ivy did. I haven’t had a chance to clean it yet.”

“Do you need help?”

“God, no, it’s fine, I’ll just-” I dip into the bathroom and yank some toilet paper off the roll and then start layering it over the spill. God, this is embarrassing. Why did I invite her into this mess? She shouldn't be seeing any of this. The house was supposed to be clean and fragrant with some cool music playing and maybe even one of my mother’s less fancy and less noticeable candles lit on the shelf, but no, here I am on my knees beside Clóda, mopping up orange juice with toilet paper that is rapidly disintegrating and turning to mush in my hands.

To add insult to injury she says, “how’s the whole babysitting thing going?”

“Yeah amazingly. So good.”

She looks around her again and I fear that she will spot something else that’s gone wrong, but she just says, “This beach house is pretty nice.”

“Yeah we’re lucky.”

“Do your parents, um, do they have good jobs?”

“Yeah, you could say that I suppose, my dad’s a dentist and my mom is an actuary.”

“What is that?”

I shrug, “Basically she works in insurance, it’s very boring.”

“I actually used to always wonder who owned this house. I’d see it every time I was walking to the end of the beach, but like, it’s shut up all winter so I never really knew anything except for that some wealthy family from Dublin owns it.”

“We’re not that wealthy,” I gather the soaking tissue in my hands and go and dump it into a waste paper basket. “Probably about the same as you, huh? Didn’t you say that your dad owns the boat club?”

“It’s in the family, yeah, but that’s the only business we own now since we had to sell the restaurant in town.”

“Oh now you have just one business?” I slump down next to her and make sure that our elbows are touching, “I didn’t know you were lowly peasants. God, how do you survive off that?”

“Shut up,” she smirks at me, “It’s not all great, with the recession and all..”

“Yeah the recession,” I roll my eyes, “It’s always the recession this and the recession that these days, isn’t it?”

“Yeah it’s so boring, I don’t care about economics or anything like that.”

“Same. I never pay attention in business class.” I spring forward and grab the TV remote from the table, trying to be very cool and play off the fact that it is now sticky after Ivy mauled it with her child-hands. “You want to watch a movie?”

“Okay.”

“What kind?”

“Do you have the movie channels?”

“Yeah all of them.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah.”

“At your holiday house?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re wealthier than I am then.”

I laugh, “Come on, let’s pick a movie. What’s on? Oh look, Ocean’s Thirteen is there, or… Bruce Almighty.”

“What about P.S I love you?”

I flick it on without hesitation, “Yeah sure.”

She laughs in disbelief, “Really?”

“Why not?” We’re not looking for Oscar winners here, just some background noise, and anyway, sometimes I secretly don’t mind chick flicks that much, at least it offers some ambient background noise instead of the gunshots and helicopters that are always in the films I watch with the guys. Obviously I love those kinds of movies, but girls aren't often as enthusiastic.

I sit back and drape my arm over the back of the couch. Not touching her, not yet, but enough to break any awkward tension and dissipate any confusion she may have about why I invited her over. See, I’m slick like that.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” I murmur as the opening credits roll. 

“As if. He thinks I’m at Rachel’s house. You know he actually asked me about you earlier when you came by the boat club.”

“Was he wondering if I work out?” 

She laughs, “No, he was all like ‘who was that young fella hovering around the door?’ and all, he says you look rough.”

“‘Rough’?”

“I think it’s the shaved head, makes you look like a skanger.” 

I pretend to be shocked, “A skanger? I’m no skanger.”

“Well I know that, but you look like one when you don’t have any hair.”

I run a hand over my head. There’s nothing I can do about it now. “And Rachel? Does she know that you’re supposed to be with her?”

Clóda shifts guiltily, “Um, no. She’s mad at me actually, so I haven’t talked to her in a few days.”

I shift in close to face her. I shouldn’t be addicted to teen girl drama but it’s fascinating. The things they say and do to one another are always crazy, it’s true psychological warfare. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

“Oh, just, you know.”

“You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“She’s annoyed because she called first dibs.”

“On?”

She blushes bright pink and looks away, and I understand that this is about me. They should probably be more relaxed about this kind of thing, because Shane fancied Clóda too but I got there first. There’s no hard feelings, it’s just how it works, and I think girls might have an easier time if they got on board and accepted things like this.

“Did you tell her that I said I don’t fancy her?”

“No, do you think I should? I’ll tell her that you think she’s annoying or something.”

“Um, no, don't tell her that.”

“She is annoying though.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Clóda scoffs, “She is, she, like, copies everything I do. If I curl my hair, she curls her hair, if my nails are purple then her nails are purple, she has no originality. It just annoys me so much.”

“Yeah that sounds tough, I guess, but if you wanna tell her as much then you have to say that it’s you that thinks it, not me. I don’t want to get involved.”

“Do boys have this type of drama?”

“No.”

“Right… I’m sorry for bringing it up, you probably think it sounds really stupid.”

“I don’t, it’s okay, you can chat to me about it if you want.”

“Well, okay then,” she says, and launches immediately into a ten minute tirade about Rachel and how annoying she is, and how this relates to and ties in with some other girls at their school in some friend group they’re in, and I try my best to stay engaged but it’s frankly confusing. I can’t keep track of who’s who, and sometimes it’s Clóda herself, the main focus of all of these stories, who seems to be in the wrong. She keeps saying things like “Do you know what I’m saying?” and I don’t, but I suppose it’s okay and I can just nod along because what’s important is that she’s here and the things about her that are nice make any doubts I may have about her dissipate and float away for now. Like her eyes, hazel, the beauty spot on her chin and that view of the side of her neck when she tucks her hair behind her ear. When I picture myself putting my mouth there her words don't really matter. 

The next time she looks up at me through long, black lashes she trails off, her sentence dies on her lips because she knows I have stopped listening. She knows I am going to kiss her, and I am, because I’ve already subscribed to the idea that kissing her would be so nice. 

She watches my hand as I move to push a piece of her hair away from her face and then locks her eyes on me as I lean in and press my lips to hers, and while the idea is nice, so nice, the reality is different. It is wet and messy and she’s still not very good at this. I don't know why I half expected her to have improved in the last week, but it’s alright because I’m two things, I’m patient and I’m a good teacher.

“Like this,” I murmur, drawing back with her face in my hands and dotting kisses to her mouth. 

Her breath hitches, “Am I bad?”

“No, I'm just trying to show you how I like it.”

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket and I ignore it. I don’t know why she is so eager to unhinge her jaw and shove her entire tongue in my mouth, but I’m not letting her. Every time she tries I pull back and start again as the phone stops ringing. Then it begins again. 

Clóda sounds dazed, “Is someone ringing you?”

“Never mind it.” We kiss more as it vibrates furiously against my thigh.

“It’s kind of distracting.”

“Really?” 

“Mm.”

I grumble to myself and pull it out of my pocket to see Joe calling, and I pull a face. This guy should not be calling me. Preferably he wouldn’t even have this kind of access to me past six PM, or actually, my number at all, but I answer it anyway. 

“Yeah?”

“Hey man.”

I pause for several incredulous seconds, “Yeah, hey. What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much man, how are you?”

“Why are you ringing me?”

“Oh! I think Jen wants you to come and get her.”

“Jen?” I sit up straight letting Clóda’s hands and legs drop away from me. “What’s wrong?”

“We dunno, man. She’s just crying and shit. She just says that she wants you to come over.”

“Where are you?” 

“My brother’s house.”

I pinch the skin between my eyebrows, “Did you- did she-” I’m hyper aware of Clóda listening to my every word, “Is she, um, intoxicated?”

“Yeah man, she took a couple yokes and then started freaking out, I dunno. She’s outside crying and asking for you.”

“You left her outside?”

“That’s just where she was.”

“Can you put her on the phone?”

“Um, she can’t really talk, she’s kinda hypo- hyp- she’s gasping really hard.”

“Okay, I’m coming,”

 I stand up as Clóda watches me. “Where?” She says as I finish up the phone call. 

I move through the room frantically grabbing keys, money, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry but I have to go and get Jen. She’s at a party tonight and she’s not feeling well,” I instinctively reach to paw at the front of my hair though it isn’t there anymore. “This is terrible, I know, I wish-”

“You want me to stay here?” She glances around awkwardly. 

“Well… yeah, you know, I can’t leave my sister in the house on her own, and Jen needs to be brought home, I promise that I won’t be long, the house she’s at is just down in the village, like ten minutes each way, and-”

“Yeah I suppose, I-”

“As a huge favour?” I interject desperately, “Can you just stay? I’ll owe you one, and you don’t have to do anything, just sit here for like, twenty minutes, half an hour max and I’ll be back.”

“I have to be home by eleven.”

“I’ll be back before then.”

“Um. Okay.”

“Yeah, great, finish the movie, um… thank you so much, seriously. I’ll be right back.” I rush up the stairs and out the front door. This is bad. This is genuinely terrible, but there’s nothing that I can do about it, so I push all thoughts about what is happening to the back of my mind and climb onto my bicycle. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[paintingdublin]

Is It Cheaper to Paint Your Own Room? Understanding the True Costs of DIY Painting

When you scroll through images of beautifully renovated homes, the urge to grab a paintbrush and transform your own space can be irresistible. After all, DIY projects like applying a fresh coat of paint on your walls seem like a fun and affordable way to refresh your home. But is it cheaper to paint your own room as compared to hiring professionals in Dublin?

Before embarking on this home improvement project, it’s vital to fully understand the upfront costs and potential hidden expenses, as well as the long-term implications of choosing DIY over professional work. Let’s explore what these considerations mean for your wallet and your home.

What Are the Upfront Costs of Painting Your Own Room?

Jumping into DIY painting requires more than just buying a tin of paint. Your shopping list will likely include various brushes, rollers, paint trays, and perhaps even a ladder. The initial cost here can quickly add up, depending on the quality of the materials you choose. High-quality brushes and rollers, while offering better coverage and durability, do come with a heftier price tag.

Beyond the basic tools, consider the preparation materials required before you even begin to paint. This might include primer, putty for filling in holes and cracks, sandpaper, and a range of cleaning supplies to ensure that walls are pristine and ready for a coat of paint.

Furthermore, don’t overlook essential protective gear such as drop cloths, maskers, and safety glasses. These items protect both you and your furniture from splashes and spills.

Ultimately, choosing between cost and quality is a tough battle. Opting for cheaper materials might save you upfront but can lead to poor paint application and potentially more expenses in follow-up corrections.

All these factors contribute to the true cost of a DIY paint job. It’s important to acknowledge them when deciding whether to undertake a painting project yourself or to hire professionals who come equipped with the right tools, skills, and materials to do the job efficiently and to a high standard.

The Unseen Costs and Considerations of DIY Room Painting

When it comes to painting a room, there’s more to consider than just the price of materials. For one, consider the value of your own time. House painting, whether interior or exterior parts, isn’t just about applying a coat or two of paint. It involves preparation, such as cleaning walls, taping edges, and possibly even priming. These tasks are time-consuming, and if you’re new to painting, the learning curve can add even more hours to the clock. Hence, the opportunity cost—what you give up in terms of time that could be spent doing other potentially beneficial activities—can be significant.

Also, the skill level required for a professional-looking finish should not be underestimated. Messy edges and uneven coats are common mistakes for the untrained painter. And imagine discovering halfway through that the colour or finish isn’t what you wanted after all! Correcting such errors not only costs more money but also additional time and effort. Not to mention, there are safety and health considerations, such as proper ventilation and the physical strain of repetitive motion and prolonged standing.

Beyond these, there’s the potential for unforeseen challenges. Uneven walls, water stains, or cracks might require extra effort and materials to address them. These issues can significantly increase the time and cost of the project. Additionally, the risk of damaging furniture, floors, or other belongings is higher with inexperienced painters. There’s also the cleanup process, which can be time-consuming and messy, adding to the overall burden of DIY painting.

Ultimately, while DIY painting can be rewarding, it’s essential to weigh these hidden costs and challenges against the potential savings. The stress associated with these unforeseen issues can diminish the overall enjoyment of the project. For many people, hiring a professional painter in Dublin might prove to be a more efficient and less stressful option.

Is It Cheaper to Paint Your Own Room?

Now, let’s tackle the pressing question: does painting your own room truly save money?

To answer this, it’s crucial to compare the costs of both options realistically. While the initial outlay for paint and supplies might seem lower for DIY, factor in the cost of your time, potential mistakes, and the purchase of additional materials.

Here’s a DIY room painting cost breakdown:

Paint: €50-€150 per gallon, depending on brand and quality

Brushes, rollers, and trays: €50-€100

Drop cloths, tape, and other supplies: €20-€50

Potential additional costs: €50-€150 (for extra paint, supplies, or repairs)

Total estimated cost for DIY: €170-€400

On the other hand, professional painters typically charge an hourly rate or a fixed price. While costs can vary based on factors such as location, room size, and paint quality, you can generally expect to pay between €250 and €500 for a small room in Ireland. This might seem like a significant upfront investment, but it includes labour, materials, and expertise. Interestingly, when you factor in the cost of paint, supplies, your time, and potential mistakes, the overall expense of DIY painting for a small room can be comparable to hiring a professional.

Beyond the financial aspect, consider the stress levels involved. DIY painting can be a source of frustration if you encounter unexpected challenges or if the results don’t meet your expectations. Professional painters have the experience to handle problems efficiently and deliver a finish that exceeds your vision.

In conclusion, the age-old question of whether it’s cheaper to paint your own room or hire a pro doesn’t have a one-size-fits-all answer. While DIY painting can offer potential cost savings, the hidden expenses of time, materials, and potential mistakes can quickly add up. On the other hand, experienced painters provide expertise, efficiency, and a guaranteed quality finish, often for a comparable price.

Ultimately, the best decision depends on your individual circumstances, priorities, and desired outcome. To make an informed decision, it’s essential to consider your budget, time constraints, skill level, and the desired outcome for your space. By carefully evaluating these factors, you can determine whether the potential benefits of DIY painting outweigh the potential drawbacks or if hiring a pro is the most suitable option for your project.

Thinking of taking on the project to paint your own room but want to ensure a professional finish? Take the hassle out of DIY and let our experienced residential painters in Dublin handle it. Call us today on 086 608 1817 or click here to schedule a consultation!

[theohonohan]

Unlocking

These images show a corridor on the ground floor of the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Since a major intervention which was implemented between 2008 and 2018 by the architect David Chipperfield, this corridor forms part of the public circulation routes of the building. One thing that is not, perhaps, clear, is that this corridor used to have a lower ceiling, or, to be more precise, it had a higher floor. Chipperfield had the York stone floor lowered by a couple of feet. You can see the evidence of this in the seven new courses of bricks immediately above floor level. They are subtly distinguishable from the rest of the brickwork. Visitors walking on the new stone floor are wading knee-deep in the old fabric. The space isn't exactly airy, but the proportions have been made grander, and a corridor that was previously interrupted by a flight of steps now has level access.

The architectural notion of raising the ceiling is noble and idealistic. The labour of lowering a stone floor, in contrast, is tiresome and seems to go against materialistic common sense. On the one hand we have the smooth, effortless route that has been created for the public, on the other, the toil of the workmen who cleared it.

Chipperfield has remarked

"The more you work with museums, the more you realise that the responsibility you have is to unlock things, to make things easier. Most museums don't take that as their first mandate: they mostly see the opportunity to 'do architecture'.

However humble and low-key Chipperfield believes it to be, the notion of "unlocking" has become trendy in architecture. It appeared, for example, in the title of an exhibition about housing in Dublin in 2022.

Unlocking is a familliar action, and usually gives access to something, but if I'm not mistaken, this new usage owes something to video game culture. In a game, unlocking is associated with achievements, and with gaining privileges or resources. Most typically, what is unlocked is an ability or an item: a racing game, for example might reserve access to certain desirable cars for players who successfully complete particular races. Unlocking connotes the release of some stock or potential.

This idea of unlocking as a release might be why the term is attractive to architects who are concerned with the supply of housing: it's pleasant to believe that the new houses are already "out there" in some sense (say, in the form of designs) and are just being held back by a small and soluble problem, something that could be addressed as easily as turning a key.

When what is unlocked is an unlimited supply of a previously scarce item, there is a sense of freedom. The idea of unlocking the door to a treasure chamber connects the action of unlocking with profusion. For Chipperfield, unlocking is about freedom, too, but more about removing blockages or impediments, making a clean sweep and doing away with narrow spaces or low passages that twist and turn. It is about opening up the circulation of a building and an institution—not just the concrete circulation of people and objects, but the conceptual circulation of ideas and projects.

It is a relative process—a totally unlocked space would have no constraining structure at all, and moving from point A to point B would always just involve proceeding along a straight line. A totally locked space prevents all movement. The most rational option is a grid layout, like Manhattan, where every trip just involves some easy to remember number horizontal and so many vertical steps. But the grid's purity and sacrifice of all architectural particularity to order and progress make it, too, an extreme choice.

Commenting on his work with Robbrecht and Daem on the Whitechapel Gallery, William Mann observed:

In the best museums and galleries one finds one's way through a series of rooms, where the artefacts are carefully lit and set off by calm backgrounds. A degree of repetition helps navigation, some variation helps orientation.

These are recognizable as the basic principles of wayfinding. A grid is easy to navigate, but orientation poses a problem—every cell or intersection looks the same. For Mann, the spaces of a. museum should aim to facilitate wayfinding by neither being too uniform nor too idiosyncratic.

In the 70s, the Italian radical architectural practice Superstudio imagined the unfolding of generic Cartesian grids across the whole surface of the planet. In their world, much as in the world of motorways and air travel, it's easy to get anywhere you want to go, but sometimes difficult to tell the difference between places. The standard white cube of the art gallery explicitly creates a placeless, neutral context, much like a cell in an infinite rectilinear grid, or like one of the hotel rooms in an infinite hotel. Being given the key to such a space is less an unlocking of wonderful things, and more of an allocation of a minimum place in existence. Unlocking is only an exciting thing if there's something interesting behind the door.

In many cases, institutions are very interesting—too interesting. To undertake a masterplan for an institution can entail opening a can of worms. A brainy architect is required to untangle the existing arrangement of a building or an institution complex. The design process can and must be involved, but the end result should as simple and straightforward as possible—for the end users, if not for the long-suffering builders who have to make it happen. The building must not only work for all of its users, but it must function as an adequate representation of the institution, in the same way as a piece of media such as a website would. In a sense both buildings and websites are masks as well as inhabitable places, giving impressions to their users as well as operating in a more mundane and practical way.

Le Corbusier asserted that "simplicity is a concentrate". It is the result of boiling down all the existing and desired aspects of the building. This final simplicity reflects all of the constraints—it is not freely chosen. That is what makes it a concentrate. It is a reduction rather than a confection.

Without the true involvement of an architect, a large institutional building risks growing by accretion, getting more complex and less coherent, exhibiting what architects sometimes dismiss as an 'additive' logic. Architecture's function, as unlocker, is to aid in integration and negotiation, so that the resulting new state of the building makes sense. The rational work of the unlocker is a kind of hygiene first, and a form of expression second. A good architect balances the necessary clarity and serial ordering of grids and axes with the more particular qualities and characters of the spaces and forms they connect. In other words, they make the spaces of the institution accessible, and put them into communication with each other, without nullifying the identity of those spaces.

[jasonp01]

8 Security Facilities That Make Preschools Safe

So, your child’s preschool promises good care and optimum attention, which are pretty much all you wanted. But children are gullible and need a totally safe environment outside home to be comfortable with new people and have fun.  It’s your duty to ensure that your child’s preschool has proper safety and security measures. Go through the following security facilities reputed preschools have for children’s wellbeing.

8 security facilities preschools should have

1. Biometric system for Guardians: Schools nowadays have biometric systems that record fingerprints of guardians after admission of the child is completed. Always choose such a school that allows entrance only when the identity of the guardian concerned matches with the data in biometric system of the school. 

2. ID Proof for Parents: You may have multiple people in your family  accompany the child to and from school. Keeping guardian ID cards allows school authorities to keep a tab on who is coming to take children back home.  Some schools allow a maximum of two people from each family to have ID cards for their children. Each ID card has a unique code with which the school identifies you as the guardian and hands over the child. This is a pretty neat and safe method. 

3. Cleanliness of Classroom Floors

Children learn various physical activities and thus, spend a lot of time on the floor of the classroom. During parent-teacher meetings, inquire if the classrooms and the floor are cleaned after every shift.  Ask the authorities if classroom floors are covered with carpets to save children from dirt and diseases and maintain a totally hygienic environment.

4. Security Drills  Would your child be safe if a fire breaks out at the school? Some schools involve parents about their security systems in case of an emergency, such as a weekly fire drilling session.  Make it a point to attend these sessions so that you see children learn safety precautions and decisions in front of you. This way you’d be able to trust the school.  

5. Smoke detectors A mishap can be prevented if smoke detectors, fire alarms and heat detectors work perfectly. Don’t hesitate to ask security staff to demonstrate if smoke detectors inside school premises are active and react to even the smallest of flames or smoke.  No compromise on the operations of these facilities should be allowed as they give the first signal to teachers, guards and school authorities to usher kids to safety. Schools should also have a proper supply of fire extinguishers as one must not wait for the fire department to help in dangerous situations like these.

6. Safe  toys

Security of preschoolers is incomplete without checking whether the toys they play with are age-appropriate. Insist on a classroom visit at the preschool to verify if the toys have sharp edges and hard surfaces. Insist on removal of such articles and also toys that create loops, or have ropes and create dust.

7. GPRS tracked transport  Like the GPS systems of private transportation nowadays, you should be able to trace the routes and destination of your child entering the school bus. Schools should have a GPRS (General Packet Radio Service) system that monitors routes and speed of buses so that the buses can be tracked by them as well as the parents concerned. Besides, installation of CCTV cameras inside the school buses are also needed to check the conduct and behavior of everyone inside the bus on route. Security of your children is a very serious concern and schools having the facilities mentioned above can help you relax and focus on other things while your child is away at school. 

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