#washroom shower

[essco-bathware]

High-quality shower for your modern bathroom at the best price from ESSCO by Jaquar Group. Choose from a range of latest bathroom showers, hand showers, rainfall, and overhead showerheads.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Just thought up a really good basis for a Gweather fic, but it's almost 7am and really need to get some sleep.

Making a note here for future me: Make an outline for this idea. You know the one.

[jaygaeze]

[tankerfishthesimp]

my room is such a mess tho wtf

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[severussnape-prince]

Do you guys ever wonder about the mundane things in Harry Potter? As far as I know, they didn't really adopt mundane technology & habits. Did they have plumbing systems? I would say no; after why would they when they can just use a banishment charm? Or a chamber bot with an automatic banishment charm in it. And for showers there's argumenti/a bath with a automatic argumenti spell.

Idk about toothbrushes tho, some type of cleaning spell. But how did wizarding children clean their teeth before they got their wands? A potion? Something with a cleaning spell that they stuck in their mouths? Considering the wizarding world's aversion to plastic, I can't imagine they had toothbrushes.

[thehyperrequiem]

Just a little Toppat Clan Headcanon

In the Toppat Airship, there is a huge washroom that is like a public washroom, but with sinks, showers, and bathtubs (Bathhouse kind).

And the showering schedules are pretty much basic; The Boys go in the showers on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, while the Girls go in the on showers Tuesdays and Thursdays, and both Boys and Girls go in the showers on the Weekends.

When girls go in showers, it is calm in the washrooms, but when guys go in the showers, it becomes chaotic with their activities that doesn't involve fistfights, but rather fun activities like playing games, play pranks, anything that is out of the ordinary. And of course, everyone respects the rules of the showers; once they are done getting dried from being cleaned, they put things away, put their clothes on after their personal hygiene, and get back to work once they got out of the washroom.

Now, Right Hand Man usually go in the washrooms to join in manly fun, but sometimes he gets permission from his chief to go to his personal washroom for anything special for him and Reg, like a little hangout section of a couple, how sweet!

So yeah, hope you guys like it! 🚿

[ubervillez]

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

First day of class today and I hiked up my big boy pants and asked my teachers to call me TK instead of my legal name, which they were very accommodating of, first role call before i got to talk to them was my legal name but afternoon class they called on TK and it made me all 🥰🥰🥰

[k12academics]

We focus on efficient, environment friendly and high-tech equipment oriented towards the highest hygiene standards in an effort to give our clientes the best tools to face the challenges of the new normality.

[coffentyme]

Working at a campground is a double edged sword. I get to work in a campground which is great, however, people are really starting to get on my nerves.

[neganium]

I need to brush my teeth. But now that I've got it into my head to do, I cannot brush without flossing first. But I can't floss without cutting my nails, bc I don't have access to/the means to use a nail brush regularly, and so cannot assume that they're very clean. But I don't want to cut my nails right now, bc it's late, and I am tired for some reason, and when they're this long it's kind of a chore, even if it's not much of one. And when I cut them I also have to file them, bc otherwise the ends would be too rough and feel bad when they inevitably brush against something. I am too tired for any of that shit right now. But my teeth are dirty due to my negligence, and my mouth feels bad- not sore or anything; more like a constant low level of irritation, sort of like an itch. Maybe slightly sore in a way so mild it doesn't even register as pain so much as uncomfortable background noise that I can easily ignore if I'm too focused on something else.

Speaking of focus, my mom has the annoying habit of telling me that I have to focus on these things, that I have to make a habit of it; as if that's something I am capable of doing. Just because she thinks it should be easy for me, or at the very least she desperately wants me to and thinks that if she pesters me enough I'll stop being "lazy" and magically turn my life around, that doesn't mean that it's ever going to happen without serious, possibly medicated, help.

Tonight I am just resigned to being miserable. I cannot brush without flossing, after all, and I cannot floss until my long and probably dirty nails have been reduced to something more manageable, which I do not have the energy to facilitate tonight, bc trimming also means filing, and I cannot do it any other way.

[cubiclecentre]

Shower Cubicle Size

Discover the perfect fit for your space with Washroom Cubicles range of shower cubicle sizes. From compact designs ideal for cozy bathrooms to spacious options for luxurious indulgence, explore our selection at our website and transform your showering experience today.

[happyleech]

Me: gets up to feed the pets

Lou (cat): it's 530 am why the FUCK isn't someone having a shower, with me in the room, or sitting on the toilet, petting me???

[d1stalker]

A Peaceful Repose [Logan Howlett]

Summary: After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you

Warnings: clingy logan, showering together, sooo much fluff WC: 1.6k - MASTERLIST

----

The door of your apartment slowly creaks open, followed by the sound of a familiar, heavy tread against the wooden floor. Your heart skips a beat, in both relief and excitement—Logan’s back. 

But as he steps into the room, the sight of him makes you pause. He looks every bit as exhausted as you imagined, but it’s more than that. His clothes are torn and stained with dirt and dried blood, and a faint, musty smell of sweat and grime clings to him. His normally fierce gaze is dulled with fatigue, and the well-kept scruff on his face has grown wilder, more unkempt.

Your nose wrinkles slightly as you take in the full picture. “Logan…” you start, hesitating as he drops his bag on the floor with a loud thud. He catches your expression, and despite everything, he smirks, though it’s softer than usual, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and rough, but filled with a warmth that makes your heart swell.

“I missed you too,” you reply, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close despite the state he’s in. The embrace is tight, almost desperate, and you feel the stiffness in his muscles, the way his body seems to sag against yours, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him upright. And as much as you want to melt into him, as much as you want to rest your head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent, the feel of the grit against your skin pulls you back.

“Logan, you need a shower.” Your voice gently chides as you lean back to look up at him, your hands smoothing over his chest before you brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers grazing the sweat-dampened strands.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as he holds you, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek. “I just wanna hold you,” he grumbles, his face nuzzling into your hair.

You tilt your head back a bit, giving him a fond, but pointed look. “Not like this, you don’t,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek before wrinkling your nose again. “Seriously, babe, you stink.”

His mouth quirks into a tired, yet genuine smile, a rare sight that always makes your heart flutter. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he mutters, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

“Go on,” you urge, giving him a gentle nudge toward the washroom. 

But Logan doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you a look, one that’s almost boyish in its vulnerability. “Can you come with me?” he asks, almost begging. “I’ve missed you… a lot.”

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes seem to plead with you, makes it impossible to refuse. You sigh, pretending to be more exasperated than you are, but the truth is, you’ve missed him just as much. “Alright, alright,” you relent, rolling your eyes playfully. “We’ll get cleaned up.”

A hint of relief washes over his features as he takes your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the steam begins to rise around you.

You turn to face him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you say softly, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

His hands cover yours, guiding them as he helps you pull the fabric over his head, his gaze never leaving your face. You can’t help but notice the remnants of bruises and cuts scattered across his body, and your heart aches to see him like this, knowing the toll the mission must have taken on him.

When he’s finally undressed, you shed your clothes quickly and step into the shower. Logan wraps his arms around your waist as he presses his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he takes in the moment.

The warm water cascades over both of you, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing with your own. There’s a stillness between you, a moment suspended in time where nothing else exists but the two of you.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs affectionately, gazing down at you with a quiet longing. 

“Me too,” you echo your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy of the moment. You reach for the soap, lathering it between your hands, the bubbles forming quickly as the scent of fresh citrus fills the air.

Logan watches you with an almost reverent expression as you begin to work the soap across his chest, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. His skin, though scarred and battered, is warm beneath your touch, the tension slowly melting away under the soothing rhythm of your hands.

He lets out a low, contented hum as you wash him, his eyes slipping closed as he leans into your touch. “That feels good,” he breathes, the words rumbling through his chest. 

You smile quietly, taking your time as you work your way across his torso, roaming every inch of him. When you reach his shoulders, you pause, stepping a little closer so you can run your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp.

The sound he lets out is almost a groan, and you can feel his body relax even further as your fingers work through the tangles in his hair. You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s a lazy, unhurried gesture, one that speaks of comfort, and Logan responds immediately, turning his head slightly to capture your lips.

The kiss is slow, achingly slow, devoid of the usual urgency or passion, but instead filled with something deeper—love, trust, and a profound sense of belonging. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you find yourself sighing at the familiar taste of him.

When you finally pull back, your breath mingles with his, and he opens his eyes to meet yours. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slide from your waist up to your back, pulling you so close into his orbit that there’s no space left between you. He holds you like this, his chin resting on the top of your head as the water continues to pour over both of you. It’s not about desire, but rather a need to feel you close, to reassure himself that you’re here, safe and sound in his arms.

You continue to wash him, your hands moving slowly and gently over his body, lathering his hair with care as the water rinses away the grime of the mission. Every so often, Logan presses a soft kiss to your forehead or the top of your head, small gestures of affection that make your heart ache with how much you love him.

As you wash the soap from his hair, you reach up to run your fingers through it one last time, making sure it’s clean. You notice his eyes are half-closed as his head begins to droop down toward your shoulder.

“You’re going to fall asleep standing up,” you tease gently, running your hands down his chest before stepping back to grab the showerhead, directing the water over his shoulders and back.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs thickly with drowsiness. “You’ve got magic hands.”

After you’ve both rinsed off, you turn off the shower and reach for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before grabbing one for Logan. He takes it from you with a small, grateful smile, quickly drying off before he wraps the towel around his waist. But before you can do the same, he brings you into his arms again, his damp skin cool against yours as he holds you close.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he leads you towards the bed. He pulls back the covers, and the two of you climb in, still damp from the shower. Logan pulls you close, his strong arms encircling you as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck.

The scent of fresh soap and clean skin fills the air, and you can feel the last bits of tension leaving his body as he settles into the bed, his breathing evening out as the warmth of your embrace soothes him.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles.

“So are you,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Your fingers trace soothing circles on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Logan hums in satisfaction, his arms tightening around you as he presses closer. 

“You’re my everything,” he whispers.

You turn in his arms so you can face him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your thumb brushing over his heart in a slow, soothing motion. 

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing and the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand. You feel completely safe, completely loved, wrapped up in his arms, and you know that he feels the same. 

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and filled with affection. “Don’t ever leave me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Never,” you assure. “I’ll always be here.”

Logan lets out a deep, contented sigh, pressing a final kiss to your temple. And as the warmth of his embrace lulls you into sleep, you can’t help but think about how you were always meant to be here, by his side.

----