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[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important. 

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here. 

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t. 

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?” 

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others  were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

 You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up. 

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there.  Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression. 

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment.  Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always. 

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill,  just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

 Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

..

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating  around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you. 

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused. 

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice.  “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket.  It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.” 

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen. 

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.” 

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

 “And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess. 

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they? 

 The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly. 

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things. 

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be.  “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him. 

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.  

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is. 

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”  

“Are you sure?”  he presses, voice tight. 

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”  

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake.  Another item to add on your growing list. 

-

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing.  All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself  is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed. 

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good. 

“Do you need something?” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other.  He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

 Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws.  You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea. 

“I thought everyone went home.” You say. 

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer. 

He’s pretty.  And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life. 

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.” 

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat.  “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause. 

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again. 

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.” 

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

[russellsppttemplates]

Omg the dad Oscar blurb was sooo cute can we have one of him being in the house with the kids on his own like his first full day of being in charge and the kids are like maybe we should ask mum when something doesn’t work out

Note: thank you for taking the time to leave a tiny message 🫶

"Can we play outside, daddy?", Lucas asked as he stepped into the living room with a football on his hand. It was the first full day that you had gone back to work after having baby Jack, and because Oscar was home still, he said he wouldn't mind being on his own with the boys.

Currently, he was lulling Jack to sleep, the little boy snuggled on his chest with the help of the sling carefully strapped around their bodies, "I'm putting the baby to sleep, buddy, how about I watch you score some goals on the net from here?", he suggested, knowing that moving around before he fell into deep sleep wasn't ideal and ensuring that he wouldn't wake up.

Lucas nodded as he went to the garden, putting on some shoes and kicking the ball on the grass.

"You could fall asleep too, you know?", Oscar touched his youngest son's cheek softly as big, wide open hazel eyes looked at him, "How is it that you keep me and mummy up all night and then don't sleep during the day either? It's time to sleep, little fella, yes it is", he cooed, tapping his back gently and walking around the decking, nodding and flashing a thumbs up at Lucas whenever he scored a goal.

By lunchtime, Oscar had managed to put Jack down for a nap, and considering the baby had been sleeping for just Iver twenty minutes, he had plenty of time to have some alone time with Lucas, keeping an eye on the baby through the monitor.

"Does pasta sound good?", Oscar asked the young boy, "yes, please!", he smiled, "with tomato sauce and cheese!".

Oscar giggled and got started on cooking, letting the pasta boil and grabbing one of the frozen jars of sauce you had batch cooked a few weeks ago for moments like these. Once it was all underway, he got back to the living room and helped Lucas with his Lego blocks, "I want to make a garage like yours", he smiled as he gathered the orange, black and grey block, starting to build it as they watched Bluey on TV.

"Time's up for the pasta", Oscar said as he got up, "can we eat here, daddy, please?", Lucas pouted as best as he could to convince his to have lunch on the living room coffee table.

"Mummy doesn't like it when we eat here, and we're eating tomato sauce, if it falls on the carpet, it won't be good, Lucas", Oscar reasoned, "but I'll be extra careful, I promise!", he nodded as Oscar finally said yes.

When Oscar brought the plates to the table, the monitor showed a fussing Jack in his cot, "I'm going to get him, be careful with the food, okay?", Oscar warned as Jack sat as close to the table as he could to make sure he didn't let anything fall or drip where it wasn't supposed to.

"You're really going through some sleep regression, aren't you, cheeky boy?", Oscar said as Jack as wide awake when he got to the bedroom. Changing his diaper and stopping by the kitchen to get a bottle for your son, Oscar got back to the living room.

"I didn't spill anything, daddy, see?", Lucas showed him, the carpet white and the table clean as he had eaten half of his plate already, "Good job, buddy!".

He should've seen it coming, but he still trusted his reflexes. Turns out a couple of nights without sleeping properly really puts a dent on your skills as he watched Jack grab the fork on his plate only to let it fall on the cream pillow he had to support his legs, "uh-oh, mummy is not going to like that", Lucas whispered.

"This needs to go on the washing machine, now!", Oscar gasped, laying Jack on carpeted floor surrounded by some blankets and pillows just in case he decided he wanted to learn how to roll over and cause even more trouble than his father was already in.

"Stain remover, then wash liquid", Oscar mumbled as he read an online forum about tomato stain removal, dumping all the products on the washing machine before closing it and starting the cycle, "do you think it will work?", Oscar asked Lucas, "daddy really hopes it will work".

"Shouldn't we call mummy? Maybe she knows what to do", your son suggested, "if we remove the stain on our own, it will be fine. Mummy won't even need to know this happened".

A washing cycle later and another futile attempt at getting Jack to sleep on Oscar's chest, your three boys stood in front of the washing machine, the originally cream pillow now various shades of pink and red depending how far the spot you looked at was from the stain.

"Don't worry, daddy, mummy won't be mad at you", Lucas somewhat tried to comfort his father, rubbing his hand on his back.

The minute you set foot in the house, you called for your boys, "mummy!", Lucas ran to hug you, "how was your day, my love?", you asked, "did you get up to anything nice?", you asked as you made your way to the kitchen, stopping by the laundry room when you saw the light was on.

"Let me just - oh", you said as you looked at the pillow inside the dryer, "it's was not my fault, it was daddy who let it slip!", Lucas raised his arms, taking on the fully innocent role.

"It was Jack believe or not, sweetheart!", you heard your husband say as he approached, your baby boy on his hip.

Making grabby hands at him, you rested him on your hip and kissed his cheeks, "what did you do, little monkey?", you giggled.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[peachymilkandcream]

Movie! William Afton NSFW Alphabet

(A/N: The NSFW Alphabets are their canon events I cannot stop this I'm sorry T-T Also please read the warnings, I don't care if it's fucked my guy literally stuffed children into suits he's fucked up.)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, age difference etc.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) William is surprisingly considerate, when he has the time to be. Most of his life is wrapped up in the chaos of covering up murders and coming up with new machines that sometimes sex just becomes stress relief and he doesn't have time for more. However when he can be convinced to take time away he really does try and care about his wife and make sure she feels clean and comfortable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Deranged psychos and their hands are a thing I'm telling you. The power in behind them is 100% a secret turn on they won't admit. And when you've made your career the work of your hands, (like child murders and a booming business) you can't help but pick that as the favourite. For her, he's not super partial but he really likes her hair, gripping it, pulling it, is what he daydreams about.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Let's just saw how else did they have four kids, cmon now. ;)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) While it's not inherently sexual William really loves putting fear into others, and he 100% has a r*pe fantasy that he puts her through often. (Although for her he doesn't tell her that's what happening so it's 'authentic') This includes fake home invasions as well when he gets bored of vanilla sex and wants to "spice things up". Poor girl lives in fear daily.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He has some before they met, mostly teenage mistakes when he had the time. After he started his career it was rare he did simply because of time. He knows enough of what he's doing, he knows how to make himself feel good and that's all that matters right?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) My guy is a ride or die missionary, reverse cowgirl is the only other he'll consider. Anything else is just uncomfortable in his opinion, and again it's about what feels best for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) William's very erratic so it really depends on the mood he's in, how his day has gone if this kids annoy him. He has been known to be more humorous on occasion but it's not often.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Let's be honest William only gets his hair cut because his wife does it, he doesn't have the time to take care of himself like he should, those are precious moments that could go to his work. So no, he is not well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) This again depends on the occasion, usually it's just stress relief so it's quick and usually not very romantic, but if it's a special occasion like an anniversary or birthday then he'll be way more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Same as with his hair, he honestly just never has time XD

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Big somnophilia fan, probably a slight breeding kink, lingerie (especially stockings), hair pulling, choking, gagging, knife play 100% (he's a serial killer, I had to).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere in the house really, anywhere he can get a moment alone. He used to enjoy when she distracted him in his workshop in the basement but now those old parts bring back haunting memories...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Her being a mother to his children, it warms his little black heart and gets him going. As well as any new sets of lingerie she buys or he buys for her.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) She wouldn't but if she tried to dominate him, he would nope the fuck out of there. My guy is an S tier misogynist and believes his wife should be beneath him literally and figuratively.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He prefers receiving simply because it plays into the whole gagging thing. Her gagging on his dick as he face fucks her is so hot to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) As stated before it depends on the occasion, special moments require more slow and sensual whereas annoyance or hurry is fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) His whole life is about quickies, having just enough time to get himself off is what he usually does.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He takes too many risks, if he's not careful he's going to end up hurting her.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Obviously when he was younger it was more, but now he's a one or two rounds at most guy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No no never, no matter what it is he's come to not trust machines around his loved ones anymore.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) If he's in a goofy mood he will, but most of the time he doesn't have time to sit and tease her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He's actually quite loud, groaning and even soft whimpers are his specialty.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) William has a thing for stockings because that's the first thing he saw her in and he started fantasizing how her thighs would jiggle in them while he was eating her out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) I'd say he's above average, not too much but enough, he's slightly thick with a few smaller veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) His drive has really changed from wanting to have sex to wanted her to relieve stress. So because of all the stress he's under, it's pretty high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) William is out like a light after, dreaming about his victims or how he disposed of bodies. Solid sleeper while his wife lays awake plagued by waking nightmares of her own.

[haalfpipe]

Well-developed, well-nourished white male in no acute distress.

This is what she writes about me. Look, as your sponsor, I need you to write this down. All of it. Word for word. Don’t try to make sense of anything I say, just write. When you’re confused, keep writing. Tired, keep writing. Cravings, for God’s sake just keep writing. Because if it works for you, it might work for somebody else.

Now go back to that note.

She’s my primary care physician, the woman who's seen me since I outgrew a pediatrician. She sits there with her legs folded together in knobs and branches poking through bright blue doctor fabric, and a suspicious thickness around her belly. She's the same as any other anorexic physician who eats only something with oats she poured from a blender.

Write this down—this is how you should be eating.

If she’s your doctor, you don’t feel better after reading her notes. That's if you remember to find them in her office’s digital patient portal, where after every visit they’re posted on the other side of a forgotten login and a compromised password.

Write this down—read about yourself.

It will be midnight, lying in your bed with your phone glowing at your chest. Picture an otter on its back. Swiping through, passing content from one thumb to another like the screen is a stack of cash, except you're counting fifteen second clips of billionaire porn. Supercars. Island waterfalls. French-press coffee on private jets. Squats and deadlifts and protein powders beaming into your eyes from a girl with perfect pores and skin vacuum-sealed against her clavicle.

Every fifth swipe is an ad.

A reminder.

Refrigerated ship-to-home ingredients—remember to pack lunch.

Swipe up.

High-yield online savings—pay your credit card bill.

Swipe up.

Cable-knit sweaters on some Macedonian model—do laundry.

Swipe up.

Machine-surfaced cast iron—run the dishwasher.

Swipe up.

Anymore, this is why you read the portmanteau digitox. Pause your social media for a week, the usual prescription. Put down your phone and try to work on impulse control just to discover you haven’t eaten anything green, and you’re still in the same clothes with an overdue balance on your credit card.

Your grade school teachers tried to teach you the habit of using a spiral-bound calendar. Now all you need is phone streaming a river of social media as you fall asleep.

Swipe up.

Lying here in the dark and your life support is a lithium battery glued to a glowing rectangle.

Swipe up.

Grounding your bare feet in water without sunscreen on a hot day in the mountains—schedule your booster shot.

Swipe.

Wet coffee grounds into cute countertop compost bins—it’s Monday. The trash should be at the curb.

Swipe.

Robot vacuums for pile carpet—clean your floors. And when you see it, remember that your shitty old vacuum has a filter bag with a lifespan.

Swipe up. Swipe right.

Until you’re unconscious.

Wake up and your phone is down on the carpet, smeared with oily fingerprints in the shape of a cross.

Swipe.

This is content that wakes you up.

Swipe.

Content that keeps you alive.

Swipe.

You’ll watch the same shit again tomorrow.

Swipe.

Another night and your thumbs make streaks right and downward until you watch an ad for a metabolism diet that reminds you of poor appetite reminds you of weight loss reminds you of a balance scale and a stainless sink with a floor pedal. The gaunt doctor’s notes and your decade of symptoms are on the other side of a login somewhere behind all these crucifix-shaped smears.

Swipe.

Reading about yourself and why you aren’t going to die gets you through a few days. But you feel like the way she sits there with all her machines and her complete sentences perfectly typed into a keyboard are missing something. The way you might miss your own addiction. Like I did. I didn't know I was an addict until after my first meeting.

Write this down—find a meeting.

In recovery, you wake up to your phone but the real-life support is downstairs on the fridge: a full calendar, a dry erase board with dented corners you can grab when you're in the kitchen section of a savings store. It comes with battle scars just as much as you’d expect from colliding with errant wheels, the magnetic corners trying to grab onto every shopping cart that comes too close. Underpaid employees tire of wedging it back onto a shelf because for shoppers a blank calendar is too much commitment even at a discount, and it's too big and boring and cheap to steal. Not that anyone would care. It’s five rows, seven columns, a sequence of days that never change tattooed in cute cursive across the top.

In recovery, you see a blank calendar and it just means you haven't yet been told what to do. You put it on your fridge. Let it observe every moment of the day, every time you leave the house, or empty the trash, the dishwasher, like somehow it will learn your entire week, until you're awake the next morning and surprise, it's still blank. At midnight when you open the thick, insulated door and the cold light rips out into the dark kitchen, it's there, caught in the beam. It might as well be found in a searchlight, flattened against the side of some dumpster, hiding from its destiny: thirty-five squares of graffiti in vibrant dry-erase marker, instructions squeezed wherever they fit.

Eventually you’re just some kid who can't color inside the lines, smearing it with bright letters, thick from bent tips of markers always dropping and rolling under the refrigerator. When it’s finally numbered, you’ll need a quote-a-day paper pad showing the date in tall digits leaning off the page at you when you open the refrigerator for milk. This way every morning you have to interact with the calendar. Tear off the old sheet of digits for another and find the square it matches.

It says, twenty-two.

A new day.

A new set of instructions.

A new inspiration to forget.

Today’s italicized quotation will stick because this is Monday.

It says, chance favors the prepared mind. The corner of the date pad says Louis Pasteur. The reason you don’t get sick from the milk.

Before it was clung onto our kitchen monolith, my calendar began on my phone as a progress tracker. If you’re burdened with the twelve step curse of recovery, the meetings and your therapy will refer to this as a habit tracker. It’s how you’re supposed to visualize an accumulation of effort. How you’re supposed to feel normal when you look backward. Everyday is another responsibility you were never taught, but on Sunday at least you washed the bedding. You never see how much goes into a normal life until you’re doing none of it. Somebody has to tell you that you’re living in trash and the blanket over your laundry smells so much like air freshener it stinks.

Somebody has to tell you to get out of bed.

Buy a new toothbrush.

Open the windows.

Go to the interview.

Eat.

Put down your phone.

That today is your mother’s birthday.

Somebody has to save you. And then you owe her your life. You get married.

Swipe to thirteen years later, and recovery doesn’t matter. Try telling someone you just met that you've been clean for thirteen years. Nobody cares. Picture showing up to defend a decade-long dissertation of research to have your advisor say thanks, it no longer counts toward your grade. You can dry-clean your academic attire, like everyone else. She tosses it onto a stack of papers sunk into her carpet with its own footprint, a white pillar, the size of a trash can. Still, you want her to least read it. You want anybody to read it.

If you’re like me, what you want is somebody to start a pot of coffee after dinner and stare at you across the kitchen table while it gets hot. You want somebody to talk with all night until the sun comes back.

If you’re like me, you don’t stop talking. Somebody finally sits down and drops a nickel at your booth and they have to let the song play.

This is the jukebox full of fresh vinyl.

I didn't want to have to tell you any of this. Nobody else needs to know anything here.

This is the note accidentally left unlocked.

This is the essay that ends up shredded in the back of a mobile secure destruction truck.

This is the long form note written in couples' therapy to wrinkle up for a waste basket, never to be read.

This is the confession after the crime found scribbled in a notebook when all the neighbors say they never saw it coming. If they did, then there wouldn't be a vacant house ribboned with yellow tape and an overgrown lawn to explain to all the divorced pickleball women when they come over for cocktails.

What I'm trying to say is none of this matters anymore.

I haven’t done anything wrong. There hasn’t been a crime. I don’t have the time. There’s no space for it on my calendar. After work I’m showering and brushing my clothes with horsehair so the hard water doesn’t fade the blacks to grey on waistbands and seams. Then I’m reaching into the fridge and cooking dinner and the dry erase marker says I’m exchanging table decorations for the new season, spring. Outside in the dark I’ll use a flashlight and leaf blower to clear fallen seed pods out of potted plants. The kitchen drawer will be out of dish towels and it’ll be one in the morning before those will be ironed and folded.

Write this down—never landscape with sycamores.

If you’re like me, you’re too tired to do anything wrong.

It’s because I’ve been on step twelve for so long. That's how they pull you in, with their logos and websites and filtered headshots of mentors and their about-us sections, seining through the candidate swamp of deadbeats as wide as freeways across the city. The dozen secrets to success that can be yours if you act now, no signature required.

A fresh start. Anonymous.

You can learn all the reasons addiction is ruining your life and how much better you’ll be in recovery. By step one you’ll sleep better, they tell you. By step six you’ll be giving presentations at work, they tell you. What they don’t tell you is by step twelve you should be growing the pyramid. Sponsor the kid who bags your groceries. In recovery, his bagging will be a little sloppier. Eggs on the bottom, untrimmed carrot tops flowering like pampas grass from sacks of wrinkled paper. For eight hours of bagging, his eyes follow the backs of his hands. He never looks up. Because in recovery he feels like shit.

What they don’t tell you about recovery is a lot.

What they don't tell you is that after step twelve, there's nothing. It’s just more step twelve. More meetings. More relapses. Until you’re dead. After I turn out to be your sponsor, then after years of me and a therapist telling you what to do, one day you find yourself at the curb outside a meeting like they just signed you out of the hospital and stuck you in a wheelchair on the sidewalk.

Hospitals have to get rid of you.

It's for liability.

You're discharged, but until they get you to the curb, they're on the hook for your life. The administrators don’t care about a junkie until they need his bed for the next admission from a crowded emergency lobby. For a few days your entire world is one hundred square feet between four walls with a sealed window and a mechanical bedframe. You have your own bathroom. There’s a whiteboard showing names of physicians you never see. It’s a different sort of dry erase calendar with notes in three sections: Today. Tomorrow. Future.

In recovery, planning ahead feels like predicting the future.

To fix you, people in scrubs who aren’t nurses bring trays with pills in little cups of wax paper, made for ketchup. Every pill is constipating. That, and the immobility of lying in bed until your back aches. This is why there are wall stud-mounted steel handles around the toilet. You get microwaved meals, and hourly visits from exhausted nurses wearing too much concealer smeared over their bad skin.

You like it inside the sterile room, baseboards to ceiling in taupe, and a floor drain in the bathroom. You wish you could stay. But this is what real care feels like—being discarded, thrown back out onto the street.

Anymore, your friends are all stoned, you say this to the nice nurse that you want coming with you. To bring you little stacks of cups at home. She uses your face to unlock your phone and dials an emergency contact. She props you in a wheelchair still wrinkled in the seat from her last castaway. She starts pushing. What you don't know is that after twelve hours of babysitting a floor of invalids and texting her ex in the supply closet, she'll collapse at her apartment with shitty alcohol, neglect her kid, rub one out and fall asleep with the television. Her own pile of laundry stinks of air freshener. And after a week with that botched fantasy you'll want her pushing you out again, faster, you’ll kick your legs straight out when you see the double doors beneath the exit sign. You’re thinking all this and then the wheelchair's at the street, she sets the brakes, puts a hand on your back and bolts you upright. Right beside the trash bins.

Swipe to this blithering milksop balancing on the curb waiting for my emergency contact to show up with a fast food bag of burgers because that’s exactly how this whole thing happened.

Write this down—fast food is what started this.

I'll get to the beginning. What ended up being the beginning.

There's one thing the alcoholics, junkies, and sex addicts in recovery won't tell you in their propaganda. I hate to ruin the surprise: walk into a meeting, and this is the rest of your boring ass life that nobody will ever care about. It says it right there in the branding. Anonymous. There’s no background check. Nobody asks to see track marks, or a collapsed septum. All you have to do is show up and give a name. Every week it isn’t any different. It’s a United Methodist rec room that hosted a day camp of kids with sticky fingers making crafts before organizers got there at sunset to unfold a card table and plug in a coffee percolator, a big trophy passed between support groups. Except instead of a bright Stanley Cup this is a storm-tossed aluminum bombshell that means your quiet gathering of church sponsorship has made it. Men's groups. Yard sales. Slow-read Bible study. Blood drives. Tonight it's with a room full of enablers. Because at some point they all relapse. That's why they keep coming back. Two dozen strangers who all share the same passion means the best networking opportunity junkies can get.

Swipe to a room full of cravings triggered by one of these caffeine dispensers looking like it was pulled from the basement of some parish.

Write this down—you’ll have meetings on Tuesdays. No matter what. This is what they call them.

No matter what, you make time for it.

No matter what, you attend.

No matter what, someone from last week is missing.

For me, recovery is never more than arms' length away. Even now, on my nightstand, where instead of an orange bottle of pills with a label showing the name of a hospice patient I'll never meet, there's a wallet as thick as an Uno deck and right next to it is a small leather journal with a checklist of everything I have to do not to sink. A calendar of instructions to-go. It's the same journal I've used since step four.

At first, the steps feel good. After your first meeting you might as well be twelve years old, and wide awake the night before a vacation. You’re going somewhere new. For a few days you walk upright with great posture. See yourself in the mirror of a department store where you’re trying on new shirts and you realize you have shoulders. It's a proud moment when you can check step one off your list. The first three go pretty fast and then you get stuck on step four. The moral inventory. All the lies, betrayals, and cheating, all the people you've hurt and jobs you've lost. You have to open a note on your phone and start typing. A rap sheet of all your sins, synced with cloud storage. That way every dumbass moment of your life is right there beneath your passcode.

I'm always writing things down. Journaling. Calendaring. Staying clean means keeping busy, having something to look forward to, always wanting to see tomorrow. It's when tomorrow doesn't matter that you give in. Find your local NA schedule and poke your head through the wrong door at the community center for that room full of liars calling itself a No-Matter-What meeting and tell me if it looks like any of them care about tomorrow.

Before relapse, most of them get lost in responsibility piling up at home. Picture Sisyphus. There's no reward for your work. When you stop feeling perfect for zero effort—that's addiction—daily routines are labor. In recovery, suddenly it all matters. Nobody wants another day of it. So you offload it from your brain, suspend your decision-making ability. Turn yourself into an implement. If you don't have to remember what to do next, then while you're at the sink soaking the sweat stains out of your new shirts, you're free to daydream about eventually sleeping in again. Because there's always more.

There's the alarm clock to wake you.

There's a duvet to fold.

There's clothing to launder.

There are dishes to wash.

Carpets to vacuum.

Now go back to your thirty-five squares and start writing—

Blow the leaves.

Put gas in the car.

Pack a lunch box.

Buy groceries.

Pay the utilities.

Today it's all on the calendar and the dry erase bleeds together in a way your brain can't decipher. No square is big enough. Cram all this in between five, eight-hour minimum wage workdays crutched by black coffee and chewing gum and next time you're washing shirts you'll daydream about not waking up.

After enough of step twelve, addicts in recovery suffer an increased chance of relapse, a brief glimpse at being high and productive. The meetings will call this functional addiction, the sustained twilight before once again losing your footing, being fired, and going broke. Keep going to meetings, and therapy, and tell yourself to keep trying but eventually everyone gives up running to the sunset, the sinking reminder that you can do everything right and still fail. You need structure. Somebody has to tell you what to do. There's a blank calendar to fill.

Swipe to when you bring home the dented thing, still wearing its torn shrink-wrap. At first, you won’t unwrap it. Thinking two weeks out might as well be next year. Nobody can see that far ahead. You put these thirty-five blank squares on the fridge and walk away. You’ll start writing tomorrow. Today, grab a sheet of paper and fold a single crease, forming two pages that will tell you what to do. Make a checklist for right now. After a week, replace this with a notebook so you can flip back to yesterday’s completed list, then another one from seven pages ago, or sixty pages ago.

Like everything else, at first a list makes you feel good. You write down everything you have to do and draw a little empty square next to it where you can scratch a check mark. What the meetings and therapy won’t call this is the Dunning-Kruger effect. We won’t tell you to overestimate your own success as you check off all the to-dos for which nobody else needs reminders.

We won’t tell you, but this is what happens. With every box, give yourself a gold star.

Write this down.

Brush your teeth—check.

Make coffee—check.

Turn off the coffee pot—check.

Remember your wallet—check.

Close the garage door—check.

Finally, you're getting somewhere. Every day, it's the same list, telling you what to do. The same set of successes. Because before, you were barely able to find the door out of the house in the morning.

By the end, every box is inked and you get to see just how much filled your day. Everything in your life becomes an item on a list. A direction. Something to achieve. You get to see the set of instructions for your life.

Everything becomes a step. One step closer to the completed pages of your boring life and knowing that tomorrow you have to start at the top of the same stupid blank page with a new list. Then another the next day. Then next week. And the month after that. Until you're dead.

Like normal people.

It's been a long time since you felt normal.

Everyday you're charging upright into a rough surf of surprises heaving themselves against you. Look back at your little piece of paper. It'll tell you where to go next. Plan out every minute from the moment you make coffee in the morning until you’re home and you step into the garage after a shower to grab the electric leaf blower and surprise, it’s dead.

Write this down—plug in leaf blower.

It needs to be cabled to a heavy charger that gets hot and smells like ozone. The one-hour charge is just enough time for the clocks in your house to be suddenly louder. The carpet is more matted than it was yesterday. In the walls, all the plumbing squeaks with hard water and suddenly it’s caked inside the mesh aerators of every faucet.

Write this down—polish the hardwood.

Electric mop the high-traffic carpets.

Soak the stainless faucets in vinegar.

From the size of my list, our house looks like Xanadu.

Find another achievement. Check another box. Until one day in the middle of it all you're on a ladder in your bedroom replacing a smoke alarm with a ten-year battery and you realize you'll be up on this ladder maybe five more times before you're dead.

One day when you’re off work you get back to the calendar and pair it with the date pad of quotes. It feels smooth, the unused dry-erase surface. To make progress, you have to fill it. Thirty-five blank squares.

For monthly maintenance, pick a square.

For laundry, pick five squares.

Bedding, pick two squares.

Clean the oven.

Then the bathrooms.

Vacuum.

After a few months the neat printing is full of abbreviated instructions, and you can't see any outlines between the white blocks. Each day dissolves into the next. In the morning you see it when you get to the fridge for milk and tear open the next quotation.

Louis Pasteur’s quotation.

What I’m prepared for is running out of ink, and dry erase markers.

What I’m trying to say is—let’s hope this works. Recovery is what got me into this whole mess. Recovery, and McDonald's.

[nagdabbit]

a song that will dig into my bones (14/?)

Chapters: One, Two, (outtake),Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen 

words: 3.5k

jon moxley/bryan danielson, eddie kingston

in which some friends have a long conversation and bryan is a shitstirrer with oat milk where his self preservation should be

(also on ao3)

.

"Thought I said I didn't wanna see you 'til February," Jon barked, catching Wheeler by the back of his hoodie before he could make it all the way to the front desk. He dragged the kid back toward the door, "Go home, idiot."

Wheeler stumbled a few steps, before he began trying to fight free. It was a losing battle, it usually was, but he was making quite the effort. "Hey! I heard you—I did, but—listen, Jon—"

"I'll listen in, like, three weeks." 

"Nope, you gotta—you got like five minutes to listen, before hurricane Eddie shows up!"

"Thank you for the heads up, but that ain't anythin' new an' you know it."

Wheeler gave a good struggle for a few more steps, sneakers scuffing across the thin carpet, then changed tactics. His head disappeared before Jon caught up with what he was doing, and he wriggled his way out of the hoodie. "Okay, gimme like three minutes, okay?" he asked, darting toward the desk with a head of staticky hair.

"Thirty seconds and I'm gonna throw you out on your ass," Jon warned, and threw the empty hoodie at the kid's face. 

He gave Jon an annoyed look, but didn't argue. "Okay, so, first of all, congrats on having sex, or whatever. Good job, knew you could do it," Wheeler started, then jumped even further out of range when Jon swatted at him. "Second, your boyfriend has absolutely no sense of self preservation. None. Just—nothing. Where self preservation is supposed to be, there's just, like, oat milk and carrots or something."

Jon leaned back against the front window, crossing his arms over his chest. His boyfriend. So much for keeping secrets. "You're saying that like it's a bad thing and not, like, endearing."

Wheeler made a face and tilted his head a little. "Well it's—it's really something all right."

"Alright, lay it on me," Jon muttered, rolling his eyes. "What did he do?"

"So Bryan decided to—I mean, he knows you, obviously, so he knows you probably didn't bother to text your best friend about, in Eddie's words, 'sleeping the enemy,'" he said in a rush, even including the bunny ears. "And, as you know, Eddie hates Bryan, has poor impulse control, and a tendency to lash out. Right?"

Jon sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. "And Eddie decided to come visit so he can yell it to my face," he finished. Of course he would rather yell at Jon's face than send him a few angry texts. Probably got on a plane the moment he could. 

Wheeler gave him an apologetic wince of a smile. "He's been angrily texting me from his Uber. You got, like, five minutes."

"You could have called," Jon grumbled, and went to flip the sign back to closed. He didn't really need Eddie scaring off customers. Not again, anyway.

"I did, and you didn't answer. I even tried the shop line, but you haven't even turned off the answering machine yet." When he looked back, Wheeler looked worried, chewing on his lip. "Do you want me to stay and play ref?"

"No, no. Go home. He'll just feel attacked if you're here." He stepped aside and waved Wheeler toward the door. "And put your hoodie back on, it's freezing out."

"Yes, dad." He rolled his eyes, but did as he had been told, shoving his head into the thick fabric. "But, really, seriously," he muttered, shoving his arms into their proper place, "let me know if you need help. Okay? I know how he gets."

"It'll be fine. Go home or you're grounded," he muttered, without any real heat. He caught Wheeler around the neck as he passed, hugging him in some kind of halfhearted choke for a moment before shoving him away. "Thanks, kid."

"Yeah, yeah. Lemme know if you need help cleaning up after the storm," he joked, but didn't bother to hide his actual concern. 

"It'll be fine," he insisted, again. And it probably would be, even if Eddie needed to throw a little fit about it. He could usually talk himself down with a few choice threats and a good pace. He'd done it plenty enough through the years.

True to Wheeler's warning, Eddie thundered in not two minutes later, brow pulled low and dangerous. He wasn't half as scary as he thought he was, but the last time he gave Jon that dark of a scowl, they'd been in a ring beating the shit out of each other.

He sighed and gave the man a little wave. "Hey."

"Got somethin' you wanna tell me?" 

"Nah, not really," he muttered, not that Eddie really needed any actual confirmation from him. 

"Fuckin' Danielson?!" Eddie threw his hands in the air, "I figured you two'd get around to fuckin' one'a these days, but boyfriend?! And I had to hear it from him?!"

"Are you done?" he asked, dryly.

"No, sweetheart, m'just gettin' started." He paced the room, hands clenched into fists at his side. "I can't fuckin' believe you."

"I really dunno why you're pissed at me. You knew this was gonna happen before I even did," Jon pointed out, thinking back to the last time Eddie decided to throw a fit about Bryan. "And we agreed that you'd trust me when it came to him, right? Why are you makin' such a stink now?"

"'Cause I'd hoped you had taste."

"Really? Taste?" He raised his eyebrows at the man, "I'm friends with you, and you thought I had taste?"

"Oh, fuck you. You two deserve each other," he groused, anger slowly dropping away with a sigh. He scuffed his feet as he continued his pacing. He kicked the nearest bookcase for good measure. "If you're gonna go and fall for somebody, I expect to hear it from you, not the weird gremlin you fell in love with."

"When was the last time I called you on purpose?"

"The last time somethin' important happened." He glowered at Jon, all his venom dampened by the clouds of worry. "We talked about this, an' you agreed you'd start tellin' us when important shit happens. And not just bad important shit, either."

"And I haven't walked that back! Just because my idiot jumped the fuckin' gun, doesn't mean I wouldn't've told you first." 

"Well you didn't tell me."

"Because Bry an' I didn't do a whole lotta talkin' last week, not 'til it was time for him to fly out." He shrugged, a little at a loss. Was he supposed to be angry? Upset? He'd wanted to set the pace, but that had been taken out of his hands. Fuck else was he supposed to do? "We decided to take a couple weeks and think about what we wanted, and not rush head first into anything like a pair'a idiots."

"Coulda fooled me."

He gave Eddie as sincere a look as he could manage, "I'm sorry we didn't consult before we fucked. I'll be sure to let you know next time."

"Oh, fuck you," Eddie snapped. He growled and tore the hat off his head, throwing it at Jon before he even had a chance to think about dodging.

Jon let it slap uselessly against his chest, not even bothering to bat the thing away. "Well, what d'you want me to say?"

"I don't fuckin' know, I dunno, I don't. It's a little late for you to say what I want you t'say," he snapped, still pacing a ditch into the floor. "You couldn't even fuckin' just tell me."

"I'm sorry I wanted to keep this for myself for a little while. But this isn't your fuckin' relationship, it's mine," Jon said, slowly. Eddie flinched, just a little, but it got him to stop fuming for a few moments. "I'm sorry my idiot decided to jump the gun, and take that choice outta my hands. You'd've heard it from me, otherwise. So calm the fuck down and stop throwin' a goddamn hissy in my fuckin' shop, please."

All the fight left Eddie in an instant. "Does he make you happy?"

"It's been a week," he laughed, rolling his eyes. "But, yeah. He does. I mean, he's been hangin' around here long enough that you've seen it for yourself—whether you wanted to or not. You might not like him, but you can trust him."

"Well, m'not gonna go that far," Eddie muttered, face scrunched up in a grimace. "He's still a prick."

"So are you."

"You ain't makin' a good case, Moxie."

"Fine, trust him not to hurt me, or whatever it is you're so damn worried about." 

"He's gotta fight me first," he grumbled, petulantly crossing his arms across his chest.

He blinked at Eddie trying to make the words make sense. They'd already beat the living hell out of each other once, and it had been beautiful. 

But that had been work. That had been title shots and records and long-held grudges. It had been over and done before he'd even shown up at Jon's shop. Hell, before Jon had even given himself enough free time to even sit and catch up on the product.

It had been beautiful, and brutal, and everything he missed about being in a ring. Everything he wanted to keep out of his shop, keep his distance from so it didn't hurt. Everything he wanted to forget.

"You wanna fight him again."

"He wants me to trust him, he's gotta fuckin' earn it, man."

Like a father polishing his shotgun on prom night. Jon rolled his eyes as hard as he could and dug his phone out of his pocket, dialing his other idiot.

"Oh, so you do know how t'use a fuckin' phone," Eddie muttered, tossing his hands in the air. "That all it takes? Somebody to suck all the anti-social out through your dick, and suddenly you know how t'communicate?"

He shrugged and hit the speaker button, listening to the staticky ring echo through the quiet shop. "I'm not not sayin' that."

Eddie made a face. "Gross."

"Hey, you asked," he snarked back, as the call connected.

"Well this is a surprise," Bryan greeted, all warmth and honey. The way he always was for Jon.

"Hey, babe, I know you're busy, but Eddie wants a match," he announced, cheerfully.

Bryan was silent for a few moments. "Okay. Is there a new reason, or the usual?"

"I think he wants to fight for my honor this time."

"I did not say that," Eddie grumbled, sending Jon a dark glower.

"You didn't have to," Jon snapped back, and rolled his eyes again. He was gonna strain something at the rate he was going. "So, you wanna fight my best friend for the right to hold my hand, or whatever?"

"Oh my god, Mox."

On the other end of the line, Bryan snickered. Jon could picture it, the wide grin, the crickles at the corners of his eyes. Smug fucker. "Time and place, Kingston. I'll be there."

"I think this is some'a that toxic masculinity Wheeler always talks about, an' I hope you both know that," he muttered, and rolled his eyes again. Of course they'd just keep on going, wouldn't back down, no matter how much Jon wanted them to. "Either a'you do real damage to each other, we're gonna have a problem. You got me?"

Eddie waved him off with a distracted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," as he furiously typed out a text. 

"You think this will help?"

"That's a strong word for it." He left Eddie to his scheming, and wandered into his workshop, turning off the speaker so he could keep the warmth of Bryan's voice all to himself. "I'm gonna give him the same warning I'm giving' you, 'cause I know what you're both like, but don't harm him. Bleed all you want, slap each other's nips off, whatever. I don't give a shit which a'you fucks wins, I really don't, but I ain't playin' nursemaid if there are any broken bones."

"I'm not promising anything, because I don't trust him," Bryan reasoned, and it was—almost gentle. "He tries to kill me, I'm gonna kill him first."

"You're not winnin' back any brownie points, right now," Jon grumbled. He could feel a headache starting in his temples, tightening a band of pressure around his skull. 

"My point is, I'll play by the rules if he does. But I'm not gonna put money on it," Bryan said, simply.

"You put him on the shelf, you better not show your face 'round here for a long while," Jon warned, pacing across the room. 

Bryan made an offended little sound. "And what if—"

"I already told you I'm givin' him the same warning, babe, don't start with me," he snapped, raising his voice a little louder than he intended. "I'm not takin' sides 'less I have to. I'm just sayin' you two dipshits better not gimme a reason. Okay?"

A frustrated sigh, "He's just going to—"

"Just—please, Bry."

Another sigh, another thud as he hit whatever it was he wanted to take his own annoyance out on. "I won't escalate anything," he promised, then paused. "Again. I won't escalate anything again. How's that?"

Jon sighed. He surrounded himself with violent, stubborn, shitstirring dickheads. "I'm holdin' you to that."

"You're lucky I like you."

"You're goddamn right I am, luckiest man alive, but I'll still dump your ass if you hurt my brother," he said with as much finality as he could muster. "Am I understood?"

He was silent another moment. "You should be bossier when—"

"Don't you try an' distract me by bein' cute, Bry, I wanna hear you say it. Am I understood?"

"Yes, I get it. I won't make it worse than it already is."

"Thank you."

"Can we go back to that part where you boss me ar—"

"Bryan."

He sighed across the line, "Just trying for some levity."

"Try it when my two favorite people aren't about to literally fight." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "This play backfired on me. I kinda hoped you'd both hear how stupid you sounded and cool off."

"You know us both better than that," Bryan chided, gently. "But, I will try to play nice. That's all I'm promising."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks."

"Stop expecting the worst, Jon. This is what we do. You haven't been out of the game long enough to forget that."

"Maybe, but this ain't some friendly competition, and you damn well know that, too." He slumped down into his chair, tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, "I thought we said we were gonna take a couple weeks before we broke the news. I thought we did that whole 'adults talkin' about shit' thing to avoid trouble."

"In my defense," Bryan started, and Jon readied another eyeroll, "he started it."

"So, what, he was hecklin' you and you thought it was a good idea to let him know about us just to piss him off more?" 

Bryan hesitated for a long moment. "I wouldn't say I thought it was a good idea," he admitted.

Jon laughed before he could stop himself. He'd surrounded himself with children. "You're the worst. The absolute fuckin' worst."

"Maybe. But you chose me."

"Yeah, but you started it," he snarked back, shaking his head fondly. "I should be so fuckin' mad at you, ya know."

"Am I on your shitlist?"

"Babe, you are my shitlist," he grumbled, and got a laughter for his trouble. "Please, behave. You get your ass beat for mouthin' off, I'm not gonna kiss it better."

"Yes, you will," Bryan laughed, warm and golden honey in Jon's ear. "I'll see you next week, okay? I'll text you when I make it to the hotel."

"I still think you should stay here, with me, but whatever, sure. See you next week," Jon grumbled, just for show. "Bye, babe."

"You're disgusting."

He heaved a sigh and shot Eddie an unimpressed look. 

Eddie looked annoyed where he stood in the doorway. "You got no business bein' all lovey dovey like that."

"You better get all your whining out now, I'm not gonna keep puttin' up with it." He sighed and tossed his phone onto the desk, "This goddamn match better be the end of it."

"It ain't gonna make me like him."

"M'not asking you to! I just want you to stop fuckin' actin' like I'm too stupid to know what the fuck I'm doing."

Eddie flinched again. He glanced away and glowered at the floor, teeth grinding down on something.

"C'mon. Use your words," Jon goaded, just to be an asshole. 

His lip lifted in a little snarl, but he didn’t turn his gaze back toward Jon. "I don't wanna see you get hurt."

"Then stop acting like it's fuckin' inevitable," he begged, trying to get Eddie to just listen. "The rate you're going, if I end up hurt, it'll be your doing before it's Bryan's."

Fucker had the audacity to look offended. Like he was innocent. Like he hadn't spent months giving disapproving looks and snide comments. Like he hadn't spent months acting like Jon was too weak to take care of himself. "I would not."

"You think it doesn't hurt when you come in here, spoutin' shit like this?" he asked, eyebrows raised. He met Eddie's eyes, made him look. "You're my best friend, and you barge in here actin' like I'm too stupid to know any better. Like I'm too fuckin' lovedumb to stand up for myself. Like I couldn't fight if I had to."

"I do fuckin' not think—"

"Are you about to invalidate my fuckin' feelings by tellin' me you didn't mean to? That you didn't intend to hurt me?" He hadn't gone to therapy long, didn't exactly give himself the schedule for it, but he remembered some of his doc's lessons. The difference between meaning well, and doing well. "You gonna tell me I can't get just as fuckin' mad as you, all 'cause you didn't mean to call me a fuckin' idiot?"

"I liked you better when you were still emotionally constipated," Eddie muttered, shoulders slumping. "I don't think you're stupid, I just don't trust him."

"And until you can get evidence to back that up, stop takin' it out on me. And that means, stop makin' me play fuckin' mediator, too. You're an adult. Fuckin' act like it," Jon grumbled. He stood and crossed the short distance, hauling Eddie in by the scruff of his neck. "The world ain't endin' just because I got a boyfriend, so stop acting like it."

"Did it have to be him, though?" It was muffled where he'd pressed his face into Jon's shoulder.

"'Course it did. It was a done deal the moment he showed up, and you know it." He gently shoved Eddie back, "Don't keep givin' him shit—not unless he starts it. Okay?" Jon, insisted. Just because he liked the guy, didn't mean he wasn't fully aware of Bryan's love of shit stirring.

Even still slumped as he was, Jon could see the little spark of mischief in Eddie. "So you're sayin' I can still give him shit."

"If…"

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Only if he starts it."

"Same goes for him, ya know. You go after him, he's allowed to hit back."

Eddie made a face. "I don't like you anymore."

"Bullshit." He gave Eddie another light shove toward the door. "Now, are you gonna run the register, or not?"

He relaxed a little, back on familiar ground. He flapped a hand at Jon and turned toward the shop. "Yeah, yeah, fuckin' hard ass."

"If you don't scare off any customers, we'll go to the gym later," Jon promised. "You can beat me up and everything."

Eddie swatted at him one final time. "I don't wanna beat you up."

"Then shut up for five fuckin' minutes and let me be happy," he shot back, hoping the point would finally fucking stick. He sighed and shook his head, waving Eddie off. "If Thompson comes in for a pick up, remind 'im I quoted him three months on the job, not three weeks."

He immediately perked up. "Can I yell?"

"Only if he pushes," Jon said, sternly. "If you can behave 'til lunchtime, I'll send you on some errands this afternoon. Deal?"

"Only if you promise to stop working at 6," Eddie shot back, but without much heat behind it. Like he realized, halfway through, that he didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to making anymore demands on Jon.

It was almost normal. Almost back to the standard bickering he was used to. Just on the edge of being back on solid footing.

He watched Eddie for a few moments, as he set about opening the shop back up, and ached. 

He hadn't ever expected Eddie and Bryan to get along. Not before, and certainly not after. But he'd hoped they'd at least be normal about shit. Wouldn't put him in the middle of everything. 

He understood Eddie just fine. Understood Bryan, too, thank fuck. Understood their fears and anger, the need to snip at each other. To bite and to bite back. Their desires to defend and protect Jon—even if they were both bassackwards in how they went about it. He understood each of them. It was the Eddie and Bryan Situation he had so much trouble navigating. 

He sighed again and turned back toward his desk, ready to bury himself back beneath his pile of work. People may not have made much fucking sense to him, but at least books did.

[froggyogata]

YuusakuOgata text hehe

I decided to bring here my first translated text for my favorite pairing, it's cute and romantic so enjoy!

————————

Returning home.

The week before the project deadline is always horrible because of the amount of work - Ogata leaves so early that the sun has yet to rise, and arrives at midnight. It's still two days until X-Day, it's Wednesday night, and he can barely keep his eyes open, staying in reality solely thanks to his own stubbornness and the five cups of strong coffee he drank during the day. His body is so tired that it no longer even suffers from heartburn - the coffee poured into his empty stomach during the minute breaks has long since replaced his blood. It circulates slowly through his veins, pounding in his temples with a dull familiar pain as he climbs into the back seat of a corporate cab and stares thoughtlessly out the window all the way home. His nervous system, overwhelmed by deadlines and the hundreds of calculations he literally inhales into himself along with oxygen during the work day, won't allow him to pass out from fatigue-he needs a shower, a bed, and Yuusaku to close his eyes and fall into a dead sleep until the next nasty alarm clock rings.

"Two days," the thought swirls smoothly in his emptied head, like a lone fish in a huge aquarium that hasn't been cleaned in a long time. 

When the cab stops at the driveway, Ogata says goodbye to the faceless driver and moves on autopilot, stubbornly shifting his feet forward. Space is fragmented into frames, the film has long been chewed up and torn in places, and if you ask him how he got to the apartment, bypassing the lobby and waiting for the slow-moving elevator, he will not remember. Only the isolated flashes of light from the bright lamps under the ceiling, the quiet trill of the arriving elevator, and the rustle of the carpets underfoot. Before the door to the apartment, he pauses for a moment, panting, waiting for them to part before him-as all the doors in the office do, and his tired brain logically expects the same from the usual doors. Then, after two heavy sighs, Ogata reaches into his pocket and finds the keys, takes a long time to try on the lock, and finally, after opening it, enters the apartment, trying not to make any noise.

He is greeted by darkness and the delicious smells of food from the kitchen - Yuusaku has long been asleep, the door to their bedroom is invitingly ajar, and Ogata catches a long promising glance at the doorway, knowing that he will go in very soon. This knowledge gives him the strength to move - he rambles into the kitchen, picks up a plate wrapped in foil and towel from the table, finds a spoon in the dryer, and eats right there, leaning against the countertop - yesterday he fell asleep right there at the table, and is not going to make such a tactical mistake again. The food - today it's noodles and breaded chicken, still warm and smelling like heaven - melts on his tongue and falls into his stomach so easily, as if Ogata's body were a bottomless abyss filled with fatigue. Trying to chew at least some of the food and feeling even more exhausted from it, he copes in a few minutes and, quietly putting the dishes in the sink, rambles to the shower.

Throwing one last wistful glance at the tub, Ogata quickly rinsed himself under the shower and brushed his teeth - he had neither the energy nor the time for a full bath, but on Saturday... saturday was his long-awaited day off, and he could at least lie in hot water for half a day and recuperate. Yuusaku would probably offer to help him wash his hair, and then something nice and frothy would come out, and he wanted it damn bad. 

"All the more reason to live to see Saturday" - Ogata hummed, turned off the light, slowly pulled on the homemade pants Yuusaku had left in the washing machine. And finally moved towards the bedroom in the dark from memory, without turning on the light.

They live on the penultimate floor and do not use dark curtains in the bedroom - the night light of the city is just enough to see that Yuusaku habitually sleeps on the left side of the bed, leaving the right side by the wall for Ogata. In the last few steps to the bed, Ogata's legs are already beginning to buckle with fatigue, but as he climbs over Yuusaku, Ogata does not allow himself to pile on top of him, and relaxes only the moment his body touches the mattress. 

Yuusaku, who had been breathing deeply and slowly a second before, immediately sighs softly, turns to him, blindly pulls his arms with the blanket wrapped around them toward him, and pulls him into his arms, embracing him. After one long, dark and warm moment, Ogata finds himself somewhere among the folds of the blanket. Now Yuusaku has one arm under his head, the other on his waist, his legs intertwined, and Yuusaku's nose gently tucked into his hair. Muttering an unintelligible greeting, Yuusaku exhales warmly and sleepily, snuggling closer to him for a moment, and Ogata feels the fingers on his waist move several times, stroking his skin. Darkness, soft and silent, envelops them, the room, this tiny world, one for two, hiding everything around them except the bed. Feeling his eyes gradually close, Ogata hugs Yuusaku and whispers contentedly:

- I'm home. Thank you. 

His head finally stops hurting, the pounding in his temples subsides, and Ogata physically feels his body slowly relaxing, soaking up the heat. Yuusaku beside him is big and measured, his soft firm skin under his palms feels so familiar, and Ogata is pleased to press himself against it, exhaling. The last of his strength leaves him, his head empties, even his legs stop humming.

- I will always be waiting for you, ani-sama, - Yuusaku mutters barely audible, without even waking up, runs his nose over her temple, kisses at random with soft dry lips somewhere on her forehead, and Ogata reflexively smiles, burrowing deeper into his arms and squinting happily. There, in the cramped darkness, after a few seconds he finally lets himself fall asleep, slipping into the soft darkness of tired but restful dreams. He knows he will be cuddled until morning, and it makes him sleep peacefully, knowing that nightmares will not disturb him. 

Saturday is still two days away, and he needs the strength to spend the weekend not just trying to get some sleep. Yuusaku, after all, will also have the weekend off, and Ogata intends to return at least some of the care that his brother has surrounded him with throughout this crazy week.

[megcheese]

My latest creation:

I made this two-piece outfit for our Hunger Games theme party. Instead of going literal and recreating a gown or outfit from one of the movies, I decided to just create a bold and eye-catching look. The skirt and top are from a Vogue pattern I picked up a few years ago. When I brought the pattern, I bought the houndstooth as well knowing that would be a good look but wasn't sure what to do for the top. Those of you who have known me for a while might be thinking that color combo looks familiar on me.

It's not just a repeat of my wedding gown colors, the top is made with the same fabric as the sash! The sash pieces were long, leaving lots of usable leftover fabric; more than enough to make a top.

The tiny mirrors were inspired by a dress I saw in an ad from Sak's. I've worked with sequins quite a bit and often have people who think I sewed each sequin on individually rather than buying a fabric covered in sequins. Well, this time I did hand sew each individual mirror.

I'm kind of against hand sewing since a machine does most things better and will use embroidery needles for hand tasks because they're blunter and have larger eyes. But this fabric was too fine so I had to bust out the tiny and sharp hand needles.

Which brings me to the disaster portion of my story...

10:30 pm Friday night, I had put the sewing project down next to me on the couch for a minute to look at my phone. All week I'd been sewing leaned over to one side so Charlie could snuggle in my lap while I work. My obliques were sore enough that I was trying to remember which move in which workout I'd done this week that get that way. None. I was just sitting crooked all week to accommodate snuggle boi.

So! My sewing was on the couch right next to me, with the thread and needle dangling off the edge. I use the double thread technique so the needle is secured and can't come off without breaking the thread. And I catch Charlie chomping on that dangling thread. I scold him and grab the thread and pull. But he pulled back and the thread snapped. And he ran away. At once I'm thinking, "where's the needle?" And start checking the floor where he'd been standing. Michael heard me holler so he went to the cat and saw Charlie gagging in the hall. A little saliva or bile was coughed up but no needle! Now I'm absolutely freaking out and calling the emergency vet only to find out they're not just closed for the evening, they're closed until Sunday. And I read about what happens if your cat ingests something sharp like a needle and now neither Michael or I can go to sleep.

The cat was acting normal so we did go to bed (but not until two am) and I talked to his regular vet first thing in the morning. And we pack up and go to the emergency vet at Cornell over an hour away. And of course Charlie poops in his crate while I'm driving so I have to clean that up in a Burger King parking lot that I knew was right off the 81 in Tully.

The vets were able to see Charlie, take an x-ray, and determine that the needle could likely be removed via endoscopy. Meanwhile, I still need to finish sewing these tiny mirrors for the party the same night. So I'm the crazy lady who's like, "My cat swallowed a sewing needle!" All while continuing to sew with another needle with the same characteristics in the waiting room. I even pulled it out in the exam room with the vet to show the way the needle was attached to the thread and describe how the thread would have to have broken in two places for the cat to have swallowed thread as well.

Seeing the x-ray with the needle was kind of a relief. Up until then, part of me thought maybe the needle was lost in the carpet at home and I was overreacting. Nope, this naughty boy did in fact swallow the needle and spending the day at the vet was the correct choice.

Here's my healthy boi, needle free, happy and recovering at home. We finally got to leave Cornell around four pm, after Charlie woke up from anesthesia. The endoscopy doc offered me the needle to take home but I politely declined. I was excited to see it though. They also confirmed no trauma to the esophagus or stomach, so he's going to recover well.

Moral of the story: don't let your cat swallow a sewing needle.

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

This still works on adults, btw.

The place I worked at before this had a really nice, modern building with lovely surroundings. Pay was great, benefits were fantastic. And it turned some people into what I can only describe as arrogant shit goblins to anyone they perceived as lesser.

The lunch staff was relatively spared, as they decided via committee what was on the menu beyond drinks and chocolate bars, and also how stingy they were with your portion size.

Maintenance could shut down part of the park around the building if it got too messy, and put your non-lethal repair request all the way down to the end of the wait list, so there was some calculation involved in the disrespect they faced.

But the cleaners? Some people decided those were free game. And in ludicrous ways. Trash was thrown on the floor instead of the waste basket 5 steps away. Sorting it, as these people did at home? Not happening. Someone put up signs to not take hot drinks in carpeted areas and it only seemed to motivate people to take their coffee break there. Let's not even mention the toilets.

There was very little in way of cleaning desk-based employees could be forced to do beyond take out trash. There were protections in place describing exactly which tasks were part of your contract and which weren't. This was mainly to keep interns from being hazed and managers from shoving off responsibilities, and it seemed to backfire spectacularly.

Until someone had the bright idea that cleaners had those same protections. They had been hired to clean the office space of responsible adults with a certain expected amount of manners. Not be the live-in maid of Gordon in Sales.

Your group had a chronic un-sorter? Your room was regularly found with the floor covered in tissues? Welp, guess you weren't part of the cleaners' responsibility anymore for a month or two. Have fun figuring out where the trash goes after the bin is full, because you will be reported if you start filling up the trash of others groups so they don't have space for their own. Oh, you want your floors cleaned and the desks sanitized? Put in a request, and wait for there to be a supervisor ready to confirm there's no tripping hazards as were reported last time. Yes, every time.

Toilet stalls covered in bodily fluids? Sink area regularly pollocked with liquid soap? Yeah, those restrooms were closed for "maintenance" now. How long? Doesn't matter to you. Next wing has other ones. Enjoy your walk.

The coffee stains on carpet could and did result in the really, really, REALLY nice coffee machine nearest to the area being removed. You could get a jug of black coffee from the cafeteria, if you were willing to make the trek. No perishables allowed to be stored in offices, too much of a biohazard, so no latte or cappuccino for you. Sugar? That attracts ants, don't keep that in your cubby! Maybe go up or down a floor to someone else's break room, listen to the rumors about why "your" machine got taken away.

Same could be done with dishwashers--and the crockery that came with them--or fridges or vending machines.

By the time I got there, the on-boarding talk included a pre-emptive "there will be natural consequences if custodial staff is not respected". Failure to heed that warning was swiftly called out by coworkers, albeit a bit more grumpily by those who felt like their place of work should come with their own personal punching bag. Some types were so far gone that they ignored that, too, and then complained to their supervisors about it. They were respectfully informed which comforts were stipulated in their contract, and which ones could only be provided in a work environment that allowed all staff to work according to theirs.

Most people adapted without issue.

So how do I know this wasn't all hugely exaggerated rumor?

One section of the building was kept for external contractors and inspectors. You'd be banished redirected there if your space was temporarily unavailable, or for some seminars. In the six years I worked there, there were maybe two of them were the trash was collected, maybe three months where the toilets were accessible and I think less than six weeks where the break area was more than a sink and some empty cupboards.

im always thinking about that post where someones grandma said “some people have never cleaned a bathroom and it shows” bc it does show

[tidytray]

The Essential Guide to Drip Pans: Benefits, Uses, and How They Differ from Drip Trays

A drip pan is a plain, yet very essential tool used for the catch and containment of liquids that may leak, drip, or spill from various appliances, machinery, or vehicles. Commonly shaped as a shallow tray with raised edges, it keeps liquids from leaking onto floors, countertops, or other surfaces. Drip pans are usually made with durable materials like plastic, metal, or rubber and come in various sizes, depending on usage. 

Advantages of the Drip Pans

Prevents Mess and Stains: It catches leaks before they hit the floor, thus saving time doing repeated cleaning.

Protects Surfaces: Actively forming a barrier between leaking fluids, hence preventing damage to concrete, tiles, and carpets.

Safety: When there is liquid spillage, especially oils, slippery surfaces may pose hazardous situations. Drip pans would prevent such hazards and therefore reduce the chances of falling or getting injured.

Safety with Environment: Most industries fall in the automobile and industrial genre, which deal with hazardous chemicals. A drip pan helps collect these fluids for proper disposal without polluting the environment.

Cost-Efficient: A drip pan is a cheap investment compared to the cost of repairing or replacing an affected surface by a leakage.

Places Drip Pans Are Used

Car Maintenance: To collect oil, coolant, and other fluids involved in the automobile maintenance and repair process. 

Home Appliances: Appliances like refrigerators, dishwashers, and air conditioners may leak due to malfunction or condensation. So they are installed underneath such domestic appliances to collect excess water which could otherwise damage flooring.

Industrial Equipment: Various equipment and machines housed in industrial rooms or workshops produce oil, coolant, etc. and liquid spills may arise. 

Oil Drip Tray vs Oil Drip Pan

1. Design and Structure

Most oil drip trays have shallow edges and quite a large surface area so that drips can be caught in the area over which they occur. Drip trays are usually used where constant drips or multiple drips should occur over an extensive length, such as under cars or for heavy industrial equipment.

A drip pan is more deep and compact. They are designed for catching concentrated spills or leaks. They tend to focus on catching fluid from a defined location, like beneath a point of leakage.

2. Usage

Oil trays are used in garages, repair shops, or under large industrial machines where wide area coverage is required to capture. 

Drip pans are used in highly concentrated maintenance situations, like under oil filters or right below the engine when performing an oil change. 

3. Capacity

Oil trays afford a wider surface area, they usually hold more fluid, but the shallow sides mean they may not be able to contain extensive pools of liquid.

Drip pans have deeper sides and are used to contain greater volumes of fluid in the event of sudden, concentrated leaks.

Conclusion

Drip pans and drip trays have been in use in preventing oil or liquid spills in various settings. They can be found within the confines of your home appliance or the automotive garages. Both of them serve the same purpose, only differing through their design or application, thereby making each one suitable for situations. Knowledge of such differences is what makes a difference in choosing which one among them best works for you. 

[ritikanegi07]

Carpet Shampooing Services: Why Your Home Needs It

Carpets add warmth, comfort, and style to our homes, but over time they can accumulate dirt, stains, and Odors. Regular vacuuming helps, but sometimes your carpet needs a deeper clean. That's where carpet shampooing services come into play. Carpet shampooing is one of the most effective ways to refresh your carpets, extending their life and restoring their beauty.

Why Carpet Shampooing?

While vacuuming removes surface dirt and dust, it doesn’t always reach deep into the fibers of the carpet. Over time, dirt, allergens, and even bacteria can build up, leading to unpleasant smells, faded colors, and potential health issues. Carpet shampooing offers a thorough cleaning that removes deep-seated dirt and grime.

Here’s why you should consider professional carpet shampooing services:

Deep Cleaning: Shampooing penetrates the carpet fibers, removing stubborn dirt, dust mites, allergens, and stains.

Improved Air Quality: Carpets can trap dust and allergens, which can affect indoor air quality. Shampooing helps eliminate these particles, leaving the air cleaner and healthier.

Longer Carpet Life: Regular cleaning extends the life of your carpets by preventing dirt buildup, which can cause fibers to break down over time.

Stain and Odor Removal: Stains and pet odors can be tough to remove. Shampooing helps break down these residues, leaving your carpets looking and smelling fresh.

How Does Carpet Shampooing Work?

Carpet shampooing involves using a special cleaning solution that is massaged into the carpet with a brush or a machine. This solution works to break down the dirt, grease, and grime trapped in the fibers. Then, the carpet is thoroughly rinsed and the excess water is extracted, leaving it clean and slightly damp.

Here’s a quick breakdown of the process:

Pre-inspection: A technician will examine your carpet to identify any areas of concern, such as stains or worn areas.

Pre-treatment: Stubborn spots and high-traffic areas may be treated with a pre-cleaning solution to loosen dirt.

Shampooing: The carpet shampoo is applied and agitated to remove dirt, grime, and stains from deep within the fibers.

Rinsing: Once the shampoo has worked its magic, the carpet is rinsed with clean water to remove any remaining solution.

Water Extraction: Powerful machines are used to extract water, ensuring the carpet dries quickly.

Final Inspection: After the cleaning, a technician will review the results with you, ensuring everything is spotless.

Benefits of Hiring Professional Carpet Shampooing Services

While there are DIY options for shampooing carpets, hiring a professional service comes with several advantages:

Expertise: Trained technicians know how to handle different carpet materials and stains without causing damage.

Efficient and Time-Saving: Professionals use high-powered equipment that cleans faster and more thoroughly than DIY methods.

Safe Cleaning Products: Professionals use eco-friendly, non-toxic cleaning solutions that are safe for pets, kids, and the environment.

Consistent Results: With a professional service, you can expect consistently clean, soft, and fresh carpets every time.

How Often Should You Shampoo Your Carpet?

The frequency of carpet shampooing depends on several factors, such as foot traffic, pets, and whether anyone in the home suffers from allergies. As a general rule:

Every 6-12 months: For most households, carpet shampooing once or twice a year is recommended.

Every 3-6 months: Homes with pets, children, or high traffic may need more frequent cleanings.

Spot cleaning: In between shampooing, spot-clean any stains to keep your carpet looking fresh.

Conclusion

Carpet shampooing is essential for maintaining a clean, healthy, and long-lasting carpet. Whether you have stubborn stains, pet Odors, or just want to refresh your floors, professional carpet shampooing services can make a big difference. So, if your carpets are looking a little worse for wear, it might be time to consider a deep clean to bring them back to life.

Your home—and your carpets—will thank you!

[zvacuum]

Your Destination for High-Performance, Allergy-Friendly Sebo Vacuum Cleaners

SEBO Airbelt K2 Kombi Vacuum Cleaner

The SEBO Airbelt K2 Kombi is a compact, powerful canister vacuum that offers high-quality cleaning with a user-friendly design. This model is ideal for homes with hard floors and low-pile carpets, offering a powerful motor, lightweight manoeuvrability, and quiet operation. Here’s a detailed breakdown of its key features and benefits:

Compact and Lightweight Design: the K2 Kombi is highly portable and easy to carry up stairs or between rooms.

Efficient Filtration System: SEBO’s advanced three-layer filtration traps dust and allergens, making this model a great choice for allergy sufferers.

Airbelt Bumper Technology: The SEBO Airbelt protects walls and furniture from scuffs and scratches, keeping your home and belongings safe.

Kombi Floor Head: This unique feature allows for smooth transitions between surfaces, including hardwood floors and low-pile carpets.

Easy to Use Controls: The SEBO Airbelt K2 Kombi comes with simple, intuitive controls that make it user-friendly.

This model is perfect for those looking for an efficient, reliable vacuum in a compact form, especially in homes with hard flooring.

SEBO E2 Vacuum Cleaner

The SEBO E2 is a versatile canister vacuum designed to handle a variety of cleaning challenges. Featuring a strong filtration system, powerful suction, and user-friendly controls, the E2 is suitable for medium-sized homes with multiple floor types. Here’s what sets the SEBO E2 apart:

Two-Motor System: Separates the power between suction and brush rolls, maximising performance on all surfaces.

Highly Efficient Filtration: The multi-layer filtration system captures 99.9% of allergens, making it ideal for homes with pets or allergy sufferers.

Flexible Hose and Reach: With a long power cord and hose, the E2 covers larger spaces without frequent outlet changes.

Easy Brushroll Maintenance: This model offers quick access for cleaning the brush roll, making maintenance simple and straightforward

Durable Build Quality: SEBO vacuums are known for their durability, and the E2 model is no exception, offering years of reliable service.

With robust features and user-friendly design, the SEBO E2 is a fantastic option for homes with various surfaces needing a flexible, high-performance vacuum.

SEBO Dealers

Offer to dealers specific service, extensive experience and a variety of products. This way a buyer gets his best vacuum after analysing from the dealers whether to acquire it or not. Being a SEBO dealers entails several benefits

Knowledgeable Products: Each of these dealers is extensively experienced regarding SEBO machines with differences between models through comparative reviews to get to one.

Live Demonstrations: Through live demonstrations SEBO demonstrates how its range of products will work at all stages.

Authorised repairs and service can only be done by SEBO dealers; this will guarantee that your warranty is valid.

Exclusivity on deals and promotions: Most authorised dealers of SEBO offer some exclusive discounts and promotions.

Customer support: Dealers also provide customer support in solving problems and giving usage tips to get the most from the SEBO vacuum.

SEBO Airbelt E2

The SEBO Airbelt E2 is an advanced canister vacuum with an emphasis on filtration and ease of use. This model is designed for homes needing versatile, high-quality cleaning with low maintenance. Here’s a breakdown of its highlights:

Exceptional Filtration: The Airbelt E2 features hospital-grade filtration, perfect for families with allergies or asthma.

Airbelt Bumper Protection: The SEBO Airbelt system prevents accidental damage to walls and furniture, keeping your home looking pristine.

Compact and Quiet Operation: This vacuum operates quietly, making it ideal for households where noise is a concern.

Multiple Attachments: Comes with various attachments, including a crevice tool, upholstery nozzle, and dusting brush.

User-Friendly Controls: The E2 is designed for ease, with ergonomic handles and straightforward control settings.

For homes looking for a quiet, effective vacuum with superior filtration, the SEBO Airbelt E2 is an excellent choice.

SEBO Vacuum Cleaners

SEBO Vacuums are renowned for their quality, durability, and innovative features, with a range of models suited for different household needs. SEBO vacuums deliver reliable performance across various cleaning situations:

High-Quality Filtration Systems: All SEBO models offer advanced filtration, which captures over 99% of allergens.

Durability and Longevity: SEBO vacuums are built to last, with rugged components and sturdy construction.

Easy Maintenance: SEBO vacuums are designed for simple brushroll cleaning, dust bag changes, and minimal upkeep.

Diverse Range of Models: SEBO offers canister, upright, and compact models, providing solutions for various floor types and room sizes.

Customer-Focused Design: Features like ergonomic handles, quiet operation, and versatile attachments make SEBO vacuums easy to use.

SEBO’s reputation for quality and performance makes these vacuums a preferred choice among homeowners and professionals alike.

SEBO E3 Premium Vacuum Cleaner

The SEBO E3 Premium is a high-end vacuum cleaner known for its powerful suction, advanced filtration, and versatility. This model is perfect for homes with mixed floor types, pets, and allergy concerns. Here’s an in-depth look at the E3 Premium’s features:

Powerful Suction: Equipped with a high-performance motor, the E3 Premium effectively lifts dirt and debris from carpets and hard floors.

Advanced Filtration: Hospital-grade filtration captures allergens and improves indoor air quality.

Premium Build Quality: Constructed with SEBO’s top-tier materials, ensuring years of reliable use.

Quiet and Efficient Operation: Runs quietly compared to many other models, making it suitable for family homes.

Wide Range of Attachments: Includes multiple tools for upholstery, stairs, and hard-to-reach areas.

Ideal for larger homes with a variety of flooring types, the SEBO E3 Premium is a top-tier vacuum cleaner for demanding cleaning needs.

SEBO Felix Premium Upright Vacuum Cleaner

The SEBO Felix Premium is an upright vacuum designed for powerful performance, flexibility, and advanced filtration. This model is particularly well-suited for homes with multiple floor types, offering adjustability and superior cleaning power. Here’s what makes the SEBO Felix Premium stand out:

Flexible Swivel Neck: Allows for easy manoeuvrability around furniture and in tight spaces.

Height Adjustable Power Head: Adapts to various floor types, from carpets to hardwood, ensuring optimal cleaning on all surfaces.

Hospital-Grade Filtration: Equipped with a high-efficiency filtration system, perfect for homes with allergy sufferers.

Ergonomic Design: Lightweight and easy to handle, designed for prolonged use without discomfort.

Convertible for Hard Floors: Easily transitions from carpet cleaning to hard floors with a removable power head.

The SEBO Felix Premium combines versatility with a robust design, making it ideal for homes with different flooring needs.

Sebo Automatic X4 Pet Vacuum Cleaner

The Sebo Automatic X4 Pet Vacuum Cleaner is specifically designed to tackle pet hair and allergens, making it an ideal choice for households with furry friends. This powerful, upright vacuum features advanced filtration, including a hospital-grade filter, to capture fine dust and allergens effectively. With its automatic height adjustment, the X4 Pet seamlessly transitions between carpets and hard floors, delivering optimal cleaning power for every surface. Equipped with an extra-wide cleaning head and tools tailored for pet hair removal, the X4 Pet makes cleaning faster and easier.

Automatic height adjustment: for seamless transitions between carpet and hard floors.

Powerful filtration system: with hospital-grade filter to trap fine dust and allergens.

Extra-wide cleaning head: for faster cleaning on large surfaces.

Sebo Airbelt E1 Canister Vacuum

Compact and efficient, the Sebo Airbelt E1 Canister Vacuum offers a sleek design and powerful performance. This lightweight vacuum is perfect for small spaces and apartments, delivering excellent suction on various flooring types. Its unique “airbelt” bumper protects walls and furniture while cleaning, while the hospital-grade S-Class filtration system ensures a cleaner, allergen-free environment. The E1 is easy to manoeuvre, making it an excellent choice for users looking for efficiency and convenience.

Compact and lightweight design, ideal for small spaces and apartments.

Provides strong suction for effective cleaning on various flooring types.

Unique “airbelt” bumper protects walls and furniture from scuffs.

Sebo Airbelt E3 Canister Vacuum

The Sebo Airbelt E3 Canister Vacuum combines style and performance in one versatile package. Designed for larger homes, it offers a powerful motor and an electric powerhead that effectively lifts dirt, pet hair, and debris from carpets and hard floors. This model features a three-step filtration system, including S-Class filtration, to provide a healthier home environment. With the iconic “airbelt” bumper, the Sebo airbelt E3 protects your walls and furniture, and its ergonomic handle allows for comfortable control, making deep cleaning a breeze.

Ergonomic handle for comfortable control and easy manoeuvring.

Ideal for larger homes requiring powerful, versatile cleaning.

Sebo Airbelt K3 Premium Canister Vacuum

Description: The Sebo Airbelt K3 Premium is a compact canister vacuum that packs a punch. It includes a powerhead for deep carpet cleaning and is particularly effective on low- to medium-pile carpets. Its “airbelt” bumper prevents scuffs and scratches on walls and furniture, while the S-Class filtration system captures allergens, making it perfect for allergy sufferers. With adjustable suction control and a lightweight design, Sebo airbelt K3 Premium provides powerful, versatile cleaning in a user-friendly format.

S-Class filtration system captures allergens, beneficial for allergy sufferers.

Adjustable suction control and lightweight for convenient use.

Sebo Airbelt K3 Description:

The Sebo Airbelt K3 Canister Vacuum is designed for those who need versatility and power in one compact package. This vacuum provides excellent performance on both carpets and hard floors, and its lightweight design makes it easy to manoeuvre. It features Sebo’s “airbelt” bumper to protect walls and furniture and includes advanced filtration for a healthier living environment. With an adjustable suction setting, K3 offers personalised cleaning control for different surfaces around the home.

Powerful cleaning in a compact, lightweight design.

Effective on both carpets and hard floors.

Airbelt bumper offers protection for walls and furniture.

Features advanced filtration for a healthier indoor environment.

Sebo Vacuums Near Me

Looking to invest in a high-quality Sebo vacuum? Finding a local store where you can experience the superior performance of Sebo vacuums in person can help you make the right choice. Local retailers carry a wide selection, including models suited for homes with pets, options for allergy-sensitive households, and compact designs for smaller spaces. Sebo vacuums are known for their durability, exceptional filtration, and powerful cleaning capabilities, with options like the Automatic X4 Pet and Airbelt series (E1, E3, and K3). Visit a store nearby to explore Sebo vacuums near me and find the perfect fit for your home.

A range of models available, from pet-friendly uprights to compact canisters.

Experts at local Sebo retailers can provide demos and advice based on your needs.

Models include the Sebo Automatic X4 Pet and Airbelt series (E1, E3, and K3).

Try out Sebo vacuums in-store for an informed, personalised buying experience.

Sebo Vacuum Cleaner

Sebo vacuum cleaners are renowned for their high-performance suction, durable construction, and exceptional filtration capabilities, making them a top choice for households seeking effective, allergy-friendly cleaning solutions. Each model, whether upright or canister, is designed with innovative features like automatic height adjustment, hospital-grade S-Class filtration, and user-friendly controls to deliver an efficient, hassle-free cleaning experience. With specialised options for pet owners and models suited for both carpets and hard floors, Sebo vacuums cater to a variety of home environments. If you’re looking for reliability and quality, consider the benefits of a Sebo vacuum cleaner.

Vacuum Cleaner Sebo

Sebo vacuum cleaners are renowned for their high-quality design, durability, and innovative features. From upright models like the Sebo Automatic X4 Pet to versatile canister options like the Airbelt E1, E3, and K3, each Sebo vacuum is designed to deliver efficient, powerful cleaning for any home. Vacuum cleaner sebo are equipped with hospital-grade filtration to capture allergens and improve indoor air quality. Known for reliability and ease of maintenance, Sebo vacuums are ideal for households looking for a long-term investment in home cleanliness and health.

Equipped with hospital-grade filtration to capture allergens and improve air quality.

Ideal for users seeking a reliable, easy-to-maintain vacuum.

Designed to provide powerful and efficient cleaning for a healthier home environment.

Conclusion

ZVacuum.com offers a comprehensive selection of Sebo vacuums designed to meet the diverse needs of every home. With models tailored for pet owners, allergy-sensitive households, and those seeking high-powered cleaning solutions, Sebo vacuums combine durability, advanced filtration, and ease of use. ZVacuum.com provides detailed product descriptions, expert insights, and helpful guides to ensure you find the best Sebo model for your lifestyle. choose a Sebo vacuum that will keep your home clean and healthy for years to come.

[kevinwingo]

Why Angel Care is the Top Choice for Premier Carpet Cleaning in Antioch, CA

Angel Care stands out as the top choice for premier carpet cleaning in Antioch, CA, due to its exceptional service and eco-friendly products. Customers appreciate their attention to detail and commitment to customer satisfaction.

Carpets often face wear and tear from daily life, requiring effective cleaning solutions. Angel Care specializes in revitalizing carpets, ensuring they look fresh and vibrant. With a focus on using safe, eco-friendly cleaning products, the company prioritizes both cleanliness and health.

Their trained professionals employ advanced techniques to tackle tough stains and odors. Residents of Antioch trust Angel Care for its reliability and professionalism. Choosing Angel Care means investing in the longevity of your carpets while supporting a local business dedicated to quality service. Enjoy a cleaner, healthier home with their expert care.

Introduction To Angel

Angel Care stands out as the best choice in Antioch, CA. They provide top-quality carpet cleaning services that exceed customer expectations. With years of experience, they focus on delivering exceptional results. Their team is skilled and dedicated, ensuring every job is done right.

Pristine Reputation In Antioch

Angel Care boasts a stellar reputation in the Antioch community. Clients rave about their services and often recommend them to friends and family. Here are some reasons for their outstanding reputation:

Expert Technicians: Trained professionals handle every task.

Customer Satisfaction: High satisfaction rates among clients.

Positive Reviews: Numerous five-star ratings online.

Their commitment to quality shines through in every project. They treat each home with care, ensuring no damage to floors or furniture.

Commitment To Quality Service

Angel Care prioritizes quality in every aspect of their work. They use advanced equipment and eco-friendly products. This ensures a deep clean without harmful chemicals. Here’s how they maintain their high standards:

Thorough Cleaning Process: They follow a detailed step-by-step process.

Regular Training: Staff receive ongoing training in the latest techniques.

Customer Feedback: They actively seek and implement client suggestions.

Angel Care’s commitment to quality makes them a trusted name. They understand the importance of a clean carpet for health and comfort.

Advanced Cleaning Technology

Angel Care uses cutting-edge technology for carpet cleaning. This ensures deep cleaning and excellent results. Clients in Antioch, CA, love the benefits of our advanced methods.

State-of-the-art Equipment

Our team uses the latest equipment for carpet cleaning. This equipment removes dirt, stains, and allergens effectively.

High-Pressure Steam Cleaners: Penetrate deep into fibers.

Powerful Extractors: Remove excess moisture quickly.

Specialized Brushes: Agitate and loosen debris.

Our machines are designed for various carpet types. They ensure no damage occurs during the cleaning process.

Eco-friendly Cleaning Solutions

We prioritize health and safety with our eco-friendly products. Our cleaning solutions are safe for kids and pets.

FeatureBenefitNon-Toxic IngredientsSafe for family and pets.BiodegradableEnvironmentally friendly.Effective Stain RemovalRemoves tough stains without harsh chemicals.

Our eco-friendly solutions clean carpets deeply. They protect your home and the planet.

Expertise In Carpet Care

Angel Care stands out as the top choice for carpet cleaning in Antioch, CA. Their expertise in carpet care is unmatched. Experienced technicians and specialized methods ensure carpets look new.

Trained Professional Technicians

At Angel Care, all technicians undergo rigorous training. They learn effective cleaning techniques and safety protocols. This training ensures high-quality results every time. Here are some key features of their technicians:

Certified in advanced carpet cleaning methods

Knowledgeable about various carpet materials

Skilled in stain removal and odor elimination

Friendly and professional customer service

Specialization In Various Carpet Types

Different carpets require different care. Angel Care specializes in all types of carpets. They handle everything from wool to synthetic fibers. Each material needs unique cleaning methods. Here’s a quick overview:

Carpet TypeSpecialized Cleaning MethodWoolGentle steam cleaningNylonHot water extractionPolyesterLow moisture cleaningBerberSpecialized spot cleaning

Choosing the right method is vital. It protects the carpet while ensuring cleanliness. Angel Care’s experts know how to treat each carpet type.

Customer-centric Approach

Angel Care stands out with its customer-centric approach. Every client receives tailored services. This focus ensures satisfaction and quality.

Personalized Cleaning Plans

Angel Care creates personalized cleaning plans for each customer. Each home is unique. Services adapt to specific needs.

Initial consultation to assess needs

Customized cleaning options

Flexible scheduling

Special attention to high-traffic areas

This approach guarantees effective cleaning solutions. Clients feel valued and understood.

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Angel Care offers a satisfaction guarantee. This promise builds trust with clients. If clients aren’t happy, Angel Care makes it right.

Key benefits include:

Free re-cleaning if unsatisfied

Quick response to concerns

Friendly and knowledgeable staff

Clients can rest easy knowing their needs are a top priority. This commitment sets Angel Care apart in Antioch, CA.

Health And Safety Standards

Angel Care prioritizes health and safety. Their carpet cleaning methods ensure a safe home. Clean carpets lead to a healthier environment for everyone.

Allergen And Bacteria Removal

Carpets trap allergens and bacteria. Dust mites, pet dander, and mold thrive in carpets. Angel Care uses powerful techniques to remove these harmful particles.

High-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filtration

Eco-friendly cleaning solutions

Deep steam cleaning

These methods eliminate allergens effectively. Cleaner carpets mean fewer allergy symptoms. Families can breathe easier with Angel Care.

Safe For Children And Pets

Angel Care uses safe products for kids and pets. Their cleaning solutions are non-toxic and hypoallergenic.

FeatureBenefitsNon-toxic CleanersSafe for children and petsHypoallergenic SolutionsReduces allergic reactionsFast Drying TimeMinimizes risk of slips and falls

Parents can relax knowing their kids are safe. Pets can roam freely without worry. Choose Angel Care for a clean and safe home.

Read more.

[brownfamilychemdry]

Don’t Get Tricked by Steam Cleaning, Treat Yourself to Chem Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction!

Don’t Get Tricked by Steam Cleaning, Treat Yourself to Chem Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction!

Regularly cleaning the surfaces in your home is essential for your wellbeing. It removes dirt and stains, eliminates allergens that can contribute to allergies or illness, and overall makes your space healthier for you and your family. All cleaning methods are not created equal however, and getting your carpets, hardwood floors or upholstery cleaned by traditional steam cleaning methods can cause more harm than good. Read on to learn how Chem‑Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction process is safer and more effective than traditional steam cleaning.

Why Steam Cleaning Is Not the Best Option for Your Home Steam cleaning is a popular method of removing dirt and stains from the surfaces in your home. But, did you know that it may be causing more harm to your home than good? Here’s how:

Pre-treatment for steam cleaning involves spraying your carpet with a cleaning solution to break down dirt and stains, often using harsh chemicals that are harmful to your children or pets. Hot water is then ejected from the steam cleaner at high speeds to both lift the stain and disinfect the surfaces in your home. Finally, a vacuum-like machine is used to extract the water from your carpets once they have been cleaned. While this method has been used for years, it is not the most effective way to deep clean the surfaces in your home. Not only are harsh chemicals used that are dangerous for both humans and pets, but more water is used than necessary to dilute the chemicals which makes drying surfaces difficult. This can lead to waiting days for your home to fully dry and can even cause mold and mildew to build up beneath the surface of your carpets.

Choose Chem-Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction Instead! Chem-Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction process is not only safer for your home and family, but also more effective than traditional steam cleaning practices and won’t leave excess water or residue behind. Here’s how Hot Carbonated Extraction works:

A green certified, eco-friendly carbonated cleaning solution is applied to the surface being cleaned. The carbonation in the solution brings dirt and stains to the surface of your carpets or upholstery. The solution is then agitated using a brush to lift the dirt and stains effectively, without using harsh chemicals to eliminate them. An extraction process is then used to lift both the solution and any dirt or stains from the surfaces in your home. Because of the faster drying times that Chem-Dry’s Hot Carbonated Extraction provides, the green certified, safe cleaning solution that is used, and the fact that Hot Carbonated Extraction lifts and removes stains just as easily as steam cleaning does, treat yourself to a Chem-Dry clean today. Call your local Brown Family Chem-Dry at (760) 452-9449 for a free quote or to schedule an appointment today.

[tanyamittal123]

Experience the Best Sofa Cleaning Services in Delhi

Sofas are an integral part of any living space. They provide comfort, style, and a cozy place to relax. However, over time, they can accumulate dust, stains, pet hair, and even allergens, which can make them look dull and unhygienic. Regular sofa cleaning is essential not only to maintain their appearance but also to ensure the health and hygiene of your home. If you're in Delhi and looking for professional cleaning, Best Sofa Cleaning Services in Delhi by Delhi Cleaning Services is your go-to solution.

Why Professional Sofa Cleaning Matters

Sofas are a significant investment in your home, and keeping them clean can extend their life and ensure a healthier environment. Here’s why opting for professional sofa cleaning is a smart decision:

Deep Cleaning for Hygiene Sofas are prone to absorbing dust, spills, pet dander, and bacteria over time. Regular vacuuming isn’t enough to remove deep-seated grime. Professional cleaning reaches into the fibers, eliminating dirt and allergens, providing a cleaner, healthier environment for you and your family.

Stain Removal Accidental spills from coffee, wine, or food can leave tough stains on your sofas. Delhi Cleaning Services uses advanced stain removal techniques to get rid of even the most stubborn marks, restoring your sofa’s original beauty.

Odor Elimination Sofas can trap odors from pets, food, or simply from everyday use. Professional cleaning helps eliminate these unpleasant smells, leaving your furniture smelling fresh and clean.

Increases Sofa Longevity Dust and dirt can break down the fibers in your upholstery over time, making your sofas look worn out. Regular professional cleaning helps preserve the fabric and ensures that your sofas look new for longer.

Safe Cleaning Techniques Not all fabrics are the same, and some can be damaged by harsh cleaning agents. Delhi Cleaning Services uses eco-friendly and safe cleaning solutions that protect your upholstery while delivering a deep clean.

Why Choose Delhi Cleaning Services?

When it comes to finding the best sofa cleaning services in Delhi, Delhi Cleaning Services is a name you can trust. Here’s why:

Experienced Professionals: With years of experience in upholstery and carpet cleaning, their team knows exactly how to handle different types of sofa fabrics, ensuring a thorough and careful cleaning.

Advanced Cleaning Equipment: They use cutting-edge equipment that removes dirt, allergens, and stains effectively without damaging the upholstery. Their techniques ensure a deep clean that regular home cleaning methods simply cannot achieve.

Affordable and Transparent Pricing: Delhi Cleaning Services offers competitive rates without compromising on quality. You can get the best services at reasonable prices, and they are transparent about the costs upfront.

Environmentally Friendly Products: The cleaning products used by Delhi Cleaning Services are safe for your family, pets, and the environment. These solutions are tough on dirt but gentle on your upholstery.

Quick and Efficient Service: They understand the importance of time and offer quick turnaround times for their sofa cleaning services. Whether you need a one-time cleaning or regular maintenance, they work efficiently to meet your needs.

The Sofa Cleaning Process

At Delhi Cleaning Services, the sofa cleaning process is thorough and designed to provide the best results. Here’s what you can expect when you hire their services:

Initial Inspection Their team begins with a detailed inspection of your sofa to identify specific cleaning requirements based on the fabric type and the level of dirt or stains.

Pre-Cleaning Treatment Specially formulated cleaning agents are applied to loosen dirt, oils, and stains from the upholstery, ensuring maximum effectiveness during the cleaning process.

Deep Cleaning Using advanced cleaning machines, they deep clean the fabric, extracting dirt, dust, and allergens. The method used depends on the type of fabric to ensure that it is both effective and safe.

Stain Treatment Any remaining stubborn stains are treated with specialized products to ensure they are completely removed.

Deodorization To finish off, the sofa is deodorized, leaving it fresh and free from any lingering odors.

Final Inspection After cleaning, their team conducts a final inspection to ensure the sofa is spotless and all areas have been properly cleaned.

Benefits of Regular Sofa Cleaning

Having your sofas professionally cleaned regularly offers many benefits, including:

Improved Air Quality: Clean sofas mean fewer allergens, dust, and bacteria circulating in the air, which improves the overall air quality in your home.

Enhanced Appearance: Regular cleaning keeps your sofa looking fresh and new, maintaining the aesthetic appeal of your living space.

Prolonged Lifespan: Professional cleaning helps prevent the breakdown of fabric fibers, ensuring your sofa lasts longer.

Healthier Living Space: Removing dust mites, bacteria, and allergens makes your home a healthier place for everyone, especially for those with allergies or respiratory issues.

Contact Delhi Cleaning Services for Sofa Cleaning

If you want to refresh your sofas and improve the hygiene of your living space, Delhi Cleaning Services offers the best sofa cleaning services in Delhi. Their professional and efficient cleaning will make your sofas look as good as new, improving both the appearance and the health of your home.

Book your sofa cleaning appointment today and let Delhi Cleaning Services bring your furniture back to life with their expert care!

[denverhomecleaner]

Say Goodbye to Lingering Odors in Your Home

Keeping your home fresh is essential, but sometimes stubborn odors can linger despite your best efforts. Whether it’s your couch, fireplace, carpet, or washing machine, bad smells can make your space less inviting. In this blog, we’ll explore how to effectively remove persistent odors from various parts of your home using natural methods, commercial products, and professional solutions. With these tips, your home will smell fresh and clean in no time!

How to Get Smell Out of Couch

Your couch is one of the most used pieces of furniture in your home, and it can easily trap odors from pets, food spills, and everyday use. Fortunately, there are several ways to freshen it up without much hassle.

Assess the Odor

Before diving into cleaning, assess where the odor is coming from. Pet accidents, food spills, and mildew can all cause different types of smells. Remove cushions and check the crevices for crumbs or stains that could be contributing to the odor.

Natural Methods

One of the best natural remedies is baking soda. Sprinkle it generously on your couch, focusing on the areas with the strongest odors. Leave it for several hours or overnight, then vacuum it up. Baking soda works by absorbing odors, leaving your couch smelling fresh. You can even add essential oils like lavender or peppermint to the baking soda for an extra fresh scent.

Vinegar is another powerful natural deodorizer. Mix equal parts water and white vinegar, lightly mist the solution over the couch, and let it air dry. Be sure not to oversaturate the fabric, as this can cause mold. Test a small hidden area first to make sure the fabric won’t discolor.

Commercial Products

For tougher odors, commercial enzymatic cleaners are effective, especially for pet-related smells. These cleaners break down the proteins in urine, feces, and other organic stains, eliminating the source of the odor rather than just masking it. You can also use odor-neutralizing sprays for quick fixes to keep your couch smelling fresh.

Deep Clean for Stubborn Odors

If the odor persists, it may be time for a deep clean. Steam cleaning is a great way to penetrate the fabric, lifting dirt, and odor-causing particles from deep within the cushions. Always check the care instructions on your couch before using steam.

For more detailed steps on refreshing your couch, read our guide on how to get smell out of couch.

2. How to Get Fireplace Smell Out of House

While a fireplace can make your home feel cozy, it can also leave behind unpleasant smoky odors that are hard to eliminate. Here’s how to neutralize those lingering smells.

Understanding Fireplace Odors

The key culprits of fireplace smells are creosote buildup, moisture in the chimney, and leftover ashes. These can mix together to create an overpowering smoky or musty odor that lingers in your home.

Regular Cleaning and Maintenance

Regular cleaning is the best defense against fireplace smells. After each use, remove the ashes and wood debris from the fireplace. A vacuum designed for ashes or a dustpan and brush will help keep the area clean. It’s also crucial to hire a professional chimney sweep at least once a year to remove creosote buildup and inspect the chimney for any structural issues.

Enhancing Ventilation

Proper ventilation is crucial when using your fireplace. Make sure the damper is functioning correctly and that your chimney is free from blockages. Improving the airflow with an exhaust fan or opening a window while using the fireplace will help reduce smoke buildup indoors.

For more detailed tips on eliminating fireplace odors, check out our guide on how to get fireplace smell out of the house.

3. How to Get Dog Smell Out of Carpet

Dogs are wonderful companions, but they can leave behind strong odors in your carpet. Here’s how to remove dog smells effectively and keep your carpets fresh.

Where Do Dog Smells Come From?

Dog smells often come from oils, dirt, and even urine that gets trapped in the carpet fibers. Carpets can easily absorb these odors, making it difficult to get rid of them without proper cleaning.

DIY Solutions

One of the easiest DIY methods to remove dog smells is by sprinkling baking soda on the carpet. Let it sit for 15 to 30 minutes to absorb the odors, then vacuum it up. For more stubborn smells, mix equal parts white vinegar and water and spray it lightly over the affected area. The vinegar will help neutralize the odor without leaving a lingering smell.

Commercial Products

If DIY solutions don’t fully remove the smell, commercial enzymatic cleaners are designed specifically to break down the bacteria that cause pet odors. These cleaners not only neutralize the smell but also prevent it from returning.

Professional Help

For deeply embedded smells, professional carpet cleaning services can make a significant difference. They use industrial-strength equipment and pet-friendly cleaners to remove tough stains and odors, leaving your carpet smelling fresh and clean.

To learn more about pet odor removal, check out our full article on how to get dog smell out of carpet.

4. How to Remove Stagnant Water Smell from Washing Machine

A washing machine that smells like stagnant water can make your laundry smell less than fresh. The culprit is often mold, mildew, or detergent residue buildup. Here’s how to eliminate that smell for good.

Step 1: Clean the Drum

Run an empty cycle with two cups of white vinegar on the hottest setting. The vinegar will break down grime and neutralize odors. Afterward, run another cycle with baking soda to further deodorize the machine.

Step 2: Clean the Detergent Drawer and Gasket

Remove the detergent drawer and soak it in warm water with vinegar. Scrub away any residue with an old toothbrush. Similarly, clean the rubber gasket around the door, as this is a common place for mold to grow.

Step 3: Clean the Filter

The filter, usually located at the bottom of the machine, can trap lint, dirt, and water, contributing to the smell. Remove the filter, clean out any debris, and soak it in soapy water before placing it back.

Step 4: Prevent Future Odors

To prevent odors from returning, leave the door open between washes to allow the machine to dry out. Additionally, run a hot water cycle with vinegar every few weeks to keep the machine fresh.

For more detailed instructions, visit our article on how to remove stagnant water smell from washing machine.

Conclusion: Keeping Your Home Odor-Free

Bad odors can significantly impact the comfort of your home, but with regular maintenance and the right cleaning methods, you can keep them at bay. Whether it’s your couch, carpet, fireplace, or washing machine, there are effective solutions to remove odors and prevent them from returning. By incorporating these tips into your routine, you can enjoy a fresh-smelling home all year round.

If the odors in your home persist despite your efforts, consider reaching out to professional cleaning services. At Family First Cleaning & Home Care, we offer expert solutions to tackle even the toughest odors, ensuring your home remains a pleasant and inviting space. And there you have it – a complete guide to maintaining a clean and fresh home! From tackling stubborn odors to keeping those hard-to-reach spots spotless, you’re now equipped with everything you need to maintain a pristine living space. If you’re ready to take things back to the beginning and start the journey anew, be sure to check out our first blog in the series.