#when it was livable clutter
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Something I don't think we talk about enough related to kids are some of the reasons their spaces tend to be messy. And thinking back to my own childhood, I think a big part of it is that most kids don't get a say in their own organization systems. Parents will design a space that makes sense to them and dictate where things should go and what being clean and organized looks like, regardless of whether it makes sense.
#my mom was constantly annoyed with me because my writing stuff lived in a pile on the floor#but i literally did not have a space for it#the drawers were all full#the shelves mostly held trinkets that were pretties gifted to me and not even things i cared about#i had no space that was MINE#so the things i cared about lived on the floor#my sister got to redo our room after i moved out#but only partially#she still had to work around those things#still couldn't use the shelves#still couldn't have it exactly as she wanted#just an approximation#and i know several friends who had similar situations of never having a clean enough space for their parents#when it was livable clutter
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Look, there are only so many dimly-lit screenshots of sims spritzing mold on carpet that should absolutely be thrown away I can comfortably inflict on myself and others. Instead of a bunch of progress posts, let me recount their first couple days — yes, literal days — for you here, if you're curious.
They kicked things off in the kitchen (establishing their base of operations) and moved out from there. There were technically no mold piles on the lot when they moved in, but with all the filthy surfaces and debug piles of trash mold did not take long to spawn. And for the next 48+ hours, Cassie and Wendell were dazed, and I was confused:
"Where the fuck is the mold?!" *moves approximately 74 different debug trash piles and misc. floor clutter items* "Ah, there you are, fucker."
They cooked and ate their meals outside at the fire pit (also previously filled with trash) and I gave them special cleaning outfits, because the mold-battling getup, while incredibly fashionable, is for some reason not available in CAS...?
Every time I thought we had won our battle against the mold piles, another dazed moodlet popped up. I both love and hate the fact that it's so hard to find the mold. This house is really only slightly cluttered (by my standards anyway) as I've actively used it for gameplay in this save several times now. I can't begin to imagine playing this lot challenge in a heavily cluttered or way larger home.
But! Genuinely, I found the maddening-ness to be quite fun! I could have just as easily removed the lot challenge or shift-clicked all the surfaces clean, but it was fun to have a new way for sims to make their house actually livable. There's a lot to grumble about For Rent about, and the realism of battling mold certainly isn't everyone's cup of tea please for the love of god no one drink this tea, but I personally like this addition to the game and am glad to have an excuse to integrate it into the world of Rebuild A City without besetting everyone with a mold issue suddenly. Moving into an abandoned building? You've got some cleaning to do!
#just rambling about for rent under the cut#rebuild a city#ts4 bacc#5_21#ts4#ts4 gameplay#cassie butcher#wendell green#meemaw the cat#cw: mold
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All those years of expertise made piecing together a new Breakdown almost a game. There was a terrible, exhilarating pleasure in the exercise. A guilt and desperate want coiled in his tanks as his processor wove together all its knowledge of anatomy, surgery and medicine.
Or, a post-canon Knock Out attempts to bring his partner back from the dead. [Frankenstein kobd au]
fic below the cut
Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.
“So, uh, I know it’s bare bones but it’s the best we have for now.”
Knock Out, without looking, could feel the uncomfortable wince Bumblebee gave at the arrival of their “new medbay.” Even he could see it was not quite up to the standard that had initially been promised.
‘Empty storeroom’ would be a better descriptor.
Crates and dust filled most of the space; three medslabs in various states of disrepair were being used as shelves for additional storage. Wires hung from the ceiling, sparking at the cuts as the auxiliary power attempted to light the secondary overhead lights. Rust had started to eat away at the enamel paint of the support beams. It was nothing a buff and repaint couldn’t fix but as of now, it only added to its dilapidated aesthetic.
Knock Out couldn’t say this was what he envisioned his life would be like when he joined the Autobots. Then again, with most of Cybertron looking even worse than this, the medbay and the conjoined rest of their new headquarters looked pristine in comparison. The Autobots were dead set on restoring Cybertron to its former glory and it meant reconstructed efforts and a proper headquarters.
Or really, reacquainting themselves with their old command headquarters back before they had fled Cybertron.
The old Autobot base in Iacon had been heavily damaged by time and war. Knock Out was surprised Megatron hadn’t flattened it to the ground before departing. As it was, he was thankful the structure remained.
While the entire building needed to be patched and repaired, and all of the equipment was probably defective and defunct, it was more secure than any other building currently on Cybertron. It still had all its walls, it had a functioning roof, and- most importantly -it had a nearly intact medbay. Not many other structures on Cybertron could claim the same. In the few short cycles since taking back possession of their old base, most of the refuse and grime had been cleared away, making it mostly livable - far more so than the fading light of the Nemesis as structural cracks made the ship a ticking time bomb to collapse.
It wasn’t perfect, but nothing really would be. Not for a while.
Maybe Ratchet had the right idea in staying on Earth.
“It’ll take some time to clean up,” Ultra Magnus added stiffly, as if it weren’t already apparent.
The words drifted in and out of Knock Out’s audials as he walked further into the cluttered medbay. He peeked between the crates to see some monitoring equipment shoved against the walls. They all looked outdated, probably wouldn’t even turn on. They were pre-war and seemed to have been forgotten to the past, much like most of Cybertron had once the planet died. It was amazing that they survived in any capacity; even if they were nonfunctional, they could at least be scrapped for parts.
Knock Out was not unfamiliar with the process. Before the Nemesis and its shiny, new tech, he and- they had scavenged for a lot of equipment. Being on their own had made them crafty and resourceful. It made them survivors.
Some survivors, Knock Out thought bitterly, desperately ignoring the cold, empty space next to him.
“Smokescreen can help you clear this out,” Ultra Magnus continued in his curt professional tone. There was a small beginnings of a protest from the young mech but a stern, quiet reprimand must have been issued because it was silenced before becoming anything more.
Knock Out could feel optics on him- waiting for him -so he gave a quick affirmative nod and a muted hum. It would take them ages to clear this out, not to mention most of it was probably scrap. He did not relish the task nor did he feel particularly motivated to do…anything. Joining the Autobots had been survival instinct kicking in but now that the adrenaline was gone and quiet had taken over, Knock Out wondered what there was to even survive for.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Bumblebee quietly said and there was a shuffle of pedes as they left through the medbay doors.
The doors shut with a sound thud. Quiet echoed in the weight of their exit. Knowing a certain young speedster had been left in his care, the silence couldn’t last long-
“So, where do we begin, Doc?”
Knock Out turned his helm and for half a nano-klik, his spark stalled at the flash of blue, before his processor came back to him and he realized it was too warm a hue, too shiny a finish, and too alive a mech. Disappointment was quickly overcome by grief that was immediately squashed and quelled for apathy. There was no point getting misty-eyed in front of his little reluctant helper.
His optics raked over Smokescreen leaning against a not-so-modest stack of crates. Despite his relaxed, “cool-guy” pose, Knock Out watched how Smokescreen’s doorwings twitched in eager anticipation, his digits tapping idly as he waited for Knock Out’s response. He was not a mech known to sit still for very long or holding much patience.
“Don’t care,” Knock Out threw out flippantly, mildly amused how expressive the young mech was as his eager smirk shifted to disappointment.
“Right,” Smokescreen muttered with a small pout. His disappointment at Knock Out’s lack of enthusiasm only quieted him for half a klik. “So, are we just tossing it all out, or…?”
Knock Out let out a lengthy, dramatic sigh. In truth, it came out more tired than he cared to admit. He finally turned around, leaning his hip against the cluttered medslab. He looked at his clawed digits in a show of disinterest.
“We’ll start sorting it into stacks. Anything broken or rusted over, toss. Anything that looks marginally salvageable, I’ll look through. Once we clear off a corner, we can start organization-” Smokescreen let out a complaining groan but Knock Out continued, “-and sanitation unless you would enjoy a rust infection when you inevitably end up on my medslab.”
“Fine, fine,” Smokescreen huffed, shuffling his pedes in his reluctance to actually work. “Honestly, if it gets me off patrol duty with Sir Rules and Regulation, I’ll take whatever you got.”
Yes, Knock Out had heard Smokescreen’s numerous complaints about their newest Second in Command.
“Being a good little soldier means following your commander’s orders. That’s why I chose an occupation that allows me to be my own boss.”
“You suggesting I become a medic?” Smokescreen grinned. “Oh! I can be your assistant!”
As soon as the words were out of Smokescreen’s mouth, any remaining banter Knock Out held died in his intake. He turned, busying himself with a crate of welding patches, half of which were rotting away with rust decay.
“I’m not looking for an apprentice,” Knock Out muttered. “Better ask Ratchet.”
Smokescreen let out a soft grumble but didn’t press further. He may not know the source of Knock Out’s shift in tone, but the kid knew how to take the hint and- most of the time -knew when to keep his intake shut. That much Knock Out could appreciate out of the young, rash speedster. It's what made Smokescreen a marginal step above the rest of the Autobots, at least by Knock Out’s records.
It’s not that his time with the Autobots had been entirely bad. Despite his short stint in the brig, they had been painfully cordial with Knock Out since taking him in. With Ratchet deciding to stay on that horrible dust and rust planet, their need for a medic superseded any ill feelings towards him. They were still there; the distrustful looks from Arcee and the downright obstinance from Wheeljack. It still beat whatever awkward friendliness that Bumblebee attempted to broach with him or the downright militant authority Ultra Magnus made every interaction. None of these were as bad as Bulkhead, who opted for the worst option: sympathy.
It had taken the ex-wrecker less than one solar cycle to corner Knock Out in the halls of their new headquarters to…to… apologize? Sympathize?
“I’m sorry about Breakdown. ‘Know you guys were close and-”
Knock Out hadn’t let it go any further than that. He had cut Bulkhead down with a sharp smile and deadly thank you. Bulkhead didn’t have the mettle to bring it up again and quite frankly, Knock Out was fine with that. He was tired of the pitying glances and somber looks.
Smokescreen was the only one to act as if nothing had happened. Then again, Smokescreen was the only one that had never known Breakdown, only catching a few glimpses of the walking puppet he had become. It was perhaps the only reason Knock Out could tolerate the younger bot.
“So,” Smokescreen started again, “medical device or torture equipment?”
Knock Out turned to see the speedster holding up a rusted to scrap Energon Infusor. “Depends on whose servos it’s in.”
It was a rather basic device, used to give localized shots of med-grade energon to a damaged site in order to jumpstart self repair. It looked more dangerous than it was to the untrained optic, appearing not too dissimilar to a rudimentary blaster.
Smokescreen snorted a small laugh, gently setting the instrument back into the box. “Right, figure in yours it’d be both.”
Smokescreen also wasn’t afraid to be blunt with Knock Out and go tit for tat. Knock Out found he far preferred that over the wide optics and grim expressions every time Knock Out said anything. Smokescreen, as naive and innocent as he was, had a semblance of a sense of humor, even if it bordered on childish at times.
It took them nearly an entire solar cycle before they managed to clear off half the medbay and unearthed a set of doors on the other end.
“Doctor’s quarters,” Smokescreen whistled impressed as the doors opened to reveal a large habsuite. “Lucky. It’s twice as big as mine.”
“Interesting choice of words, kid.”
“Not like that!” Smokescreen yelped. “The room is just big. Scrap, even Bee’s isn’t that big.”
Knock Out was tempted to tease the speedster about how he knew the details of their new leader’s hab but decided Smokescreen could embarrass himself enough on his own. Knock Out didn’t need to tease him much further, lest he ruin the only somewhat amicable relationship he had.
“It’s for multiple berths. All of the medical staff are supposed to rotate here between their shifts.”
“Oh,” Smokescreen murmured. “That would explain the two berths. Oh! What if you pushed them together into a mega-berth? That’d be pretty sick.”
Knock Out genuinely couldn’t keep the laugh in on that one, chuckling as the younger bot’s door wings fluttered in excitement, pleased by the positive reaction.
“Yes, I suppose I could do that.”
Most likely, he’d just leave it as is. The medical officer berths were already large enough, fitted for larger frames than his own sleek style. On the Nemesis it had been more than enough to fit himself and-
“Let’s call it here for today,” Knock Out suggested, turning pede and walking out. He could hear Smokescreen shuffling to catch up. “I’m sure Ultra Magnus, if not our dear leader, expects a detailed report.”
“Of all the garbage we found?” Smokescreen groaned.
“Inventoried and categorized alphabetically too.”
Smokescreen just groaned louder as they headed towards the command center.
—
Nights were quaint. Homey. Every evening refueling was done communally; all the remaining Autobots gathered in the open mess hall and, despite its great size, all squeezed together at one long table. Knock Out had not been surprised to learn their sense of family extended to even refuel schedules, but was a little shocked he was expected to do the same. Like a good newly-instated Autobot, he ducked his helm and stuck as far to the edge of the table as he could.
This evening was no different. Knock Out watched with distaste as Wheeljack baited Smokescreen and Bumblebee with exaggerated tales of heroism. His booming voice reverberated in the otherwise empty hall, though no one seemed to mind. Bulkhead chimed in with equal bravado while Arcee rolled her optics with a small grin. Ultra Magnus hung close, scoffing at every inaccurate detail through sips of his energon but ultimately making no corrections. Knock Out kept himself as far away as he could, unfortunately still within audial range but distinctly alone. Aside from his brief report with Ultra Magnus on their less than ideal medicinal supply levels, the group had turned inward, leaving him alone. It suited Knock Out fine. It was just a simple reminder he would never really be one of them.
He sipped his energon in light, even intakes. The movement was more mechanical than for actual consumption. Knock Out had a distinct lack of hunger, despite his HUD showing him his fuel levels at all times. He maintained them as needed but the action always felt forced.
Then again, everything felt forced. And it was exhausting to keep up appearances. Not that it mattered now, with all optics glued to Wheeljack.
“We had our backs against the rubble. It was do or die,” Wheeljack boasted. “Bulkhead and his rescue team were still on their way and it was just me and Seaspray fighting for our lives.”
Knock Out had heard about enough of this exaggerated, drawn out tale and stood from his seat. The medbay was calling, or more accurately the berth in the medic quarters. He passed the rest of the table; Acree looked up to watch him pass, the rest far too engrossed to pay him much notice... until Wheeljack caught sight of his glossy red finish.
“Leaving the party so soon?” Wheeljack interrupted his own story. “I was getting to the good part with ol’ Breakdown.”
Knock Out froze, optics darting over to meet the self-proclaimed Wrecker. He couldn’t tell by the mech’s cocky smile if the gesture was supposed to be genuine or a biting snipe but Knock Out took it like a stab to his spark.
No one, with the horrid exception of Bulkhead, had the gall to bring Breakdown’s name up to Knock Out. The entirety of the Autobots had been happy to forget he had ever existed. Knock Out had been fine with that and hadn't wanted the alternative. They didn’t know his partner and they never would. Knock Out didn’t want false sympathy and he didn’t want to share Breakdown’s memory with any of them. Breakdown…was his. No one else’s. They didn’t have the right to speak his name, the history to lay any claim to him, the years of pain and anguish and affection and companionship to ever speak of him.
And yet, Wheeljack did so with that smarmy smirk plastered across his faceplates, begging Knock Out to react.
Anger that had been coiling around his spark lashed out viciously, his denta bared in a vile snarl.
“Keep his name out of your mouth or I’ll be happy to remove that glossa of yours.”
Instantly, the room turned cold. In his periphery, Knock Out could see both Arcee and Ultra Magnus brace themselves for a fight. Bulkhead put a servo on Wheeljack’s shoulder to pull him back.
“Knock Out-“ Acree began but Wheeljack cut in.
“What, Sweetspark?” Wheeljack grinned, ready for a fight. Keep your cool. He’s trying to egg you on. “Thought you’d be happy to hear old war stories about your buddy before he lost his helm and turned rogue-”
Knock Out had not seen the work Airachnid had done to Breakdown, only the product pieced back together by the vile humans. They hadn’t even bothered to properly patch up their shoddy welding job, displaying the slash scars like a mockery of the body they had found. Wheeljack couldn’t possibly have known Airchanid had literally chopped off Breakdown’s helm, but it still hit too close, still hurt too deep.
“Don’t speak about things of which you do not know,” Knock Out threatened with a sharp hiss.
Arcee stood up at his words, blaster ready at the draw. Knock Out narrowed his optics. Of course, the Autobots would stand for their own before him. Disgust rolled down his frame as he relaxed his strut. He turned his helm from Wheeljack and the rest of the Autobots who all watched him with silent worry.
“Just make sure you tell it right,” Knock Out said, keeping his voice light and jovial, despite its cutting undertone. He needed to leave. Get out before he truly did something he’d regret. He was supposed to play the good Autobot. It was the only card left in his hand. “After all, I distinctly remember Breakdown knocking both your afts down.”
With that, Knock Out turned and walked out. As soon as the doors to the mess hall shut, he let the remaining composure drain from him. His servos curled into tight fists as rage burned through him.
He wanted to scream and yell and rip anything that laid in his path. This was not what he wanted from life, not how he pictured his happy ending. He wasn’t supposed to be here with the Autobots, subjected to their distrust and scrutiny. He was supposed to be with his partner. Breakdown was supposed to be here with him, by his side. They were supposed to survive together. Always together, never apart.
This wasn’t the future he had been promised, the life he had fought for.
Deep, aching loneliness ate away at his rage, leaving him hollow. Knock Out let his fists loosen as he scrubbed his faceplates tiredly. Quietly, he shuffled towards the medbay, through its clutter, to the rusted, dark sleep quarters. He fell into the nearest bed, trying not to think about how big and vast the berth felt, how it was never like that before, how it shouldn’t be like that, how it was never supposed to be like that.
He had lost his patience for their jokes, their jests, the false sympathy and condescension concealed as kindness. He was tired. So fragging tired.
But it didn’t matter. On the morrow, he would rise and continue forward. Grin and bear it.
There was no other choice.
—
Knock Out did not relish scouting duties any more than he did cleaning up the medbay. The only benefit was being able to spin his wheels and get out of the cramped confines of their newly re-established headquarters. It would have been even better if-
“How far out is this place, Mags?” Wheeljack’s obnoxious voice boomed over their shared comm link. Knock Out held back a sneer as the white and green vehicle sped up beside him. Behind, Bulkhead and Smokescreen followed close leaving Ultra Magnus in the front of their scouting convoy.
“A little further,” came a short, curt response. Ultra Magnus truly was not one to waste words.
“Where are we going?” Smokescreen chimed in, his tone doing little to hide his impatience.
Ultra Magnus took a moment to answer, clearly displeased to be debriefing while on the road but deeming it necessary.
“An old Decepticon stronghold. Long abandoned, probably right before the war took us off-world,” Ultra Magnus explained. “Arcee found it the other day and our mission is to sweep the building for information, supplies or anything else of importance.”
“Oh yippie,” Smokescreen grumbled. “Dumpster diving.”
Wheeljack and Bulkhead broke out into sniggering laughs while Ultra Magnus started a lengthy rant on the importance of maintaining proper stock of supplies. Knock Out blissfully tuned them out, lowering the channel until their voices were barely a whisper.
The empty wastes of Cybertron were anything but peaceful, but the quiet they offered was one that Knock Out found himself craving more with every cycle he spent with the Autobots. He didn’t want to be a part of their laughter, their banter, their happiness. Despite all they lost, they kept moving and Knock Out just couldn’t understand why. Or how.
He was only pulled back from his thoughts as Ultra Magnus’s rear lights blinded him in their deep red glow, the hauler coming to a stop. Smokescreen, who had probably not been paying attention, came to a screeching halt just before crashing into their mission leader. He flipped out of his alt form with a slightly embarrassed look which only deepened as Wheeljack joined him, slapping a servo on the kid’s back with a laugh. Bulkhead knocked them both on the helm as Ultra Magnus scoffed at the display. No one paid Knock Out much mind as he came out of his alt and surveyed the building before him.
“Quite the stronghold,” Bulkhead said, optics scanning the building with distaste. “‘Bet it's armed to the Pits.”
“We’re going to split into groups and take anything of value. Bulkhead and Wheeljack, I want you two combing through the armory and stockrooms. Take everything you can and we can sort through it later. Smokescreen, you are coming with me to the Command Center. I want to make sure any communication memos or intel haven’t been left behind. Knock Out, you’ll sweep the medbay. I’ll leave it to your expertise. Smokescreen will join you once we finish up in the Command Center. Everyone clear?”
Before anyone could speak up, Ultra Magnus’s comm went off. The old Leader of the Wreckers blinked as he checked his HUD. He held up a single digit as he began to walk away for a semblance of privacy. Knock Out heard him mutter a quiet, “Yes, Bumblebee?” before he went out of range.
“Guess we’re on hold,” Knock Out hummed, optics scanning the others. “Anyone know any waiting games?”
Immediately, an air of tension was cast over the group. As much as they may play as if Knock Out was not present, it was difficult to ignore him. Knock Out would give it to Smokescreen though, the kid tried his might as he set about whistling a poor rendition of an Earth pop song, optics surveying the stronghold to avoid acknowledging the rest of the group. A few cycles had passed since Knock Out’s confrontation with Wheeljack but evidently it had left its mark. Bulkhead only cast him one pitying glance before settling beside Smokescreen, armor clamped down tight.
Knock Out let out a quiet scoff and turned to walk off. A quiet cough had him stopping at once.
“Hey, Red.”
Knock Out didn’t even have a chance to pretend he hadn’t heard Wheeljack as a black servo clapped him on the shoulder. “A word?”
Knock Out narrowed his optics and gave a controlled nod of his helm, glossa pinched between his denta. Over Wheeljack���s shoulder, he could see Bulkhead pulling Smokescreen away, distracting the kid to give them a moment of privacy. Knock Out held back his sneer.
“Look, about the other night,” Wheeljack started, voice low and lacking its usual bravado. “I know he is a sensitive topic for you.” Wheeljack couldn’t meet his optics, focusing on Knock Out’s shoulder tire instead. “‘Shouldn’t have brought him up. ‘Shouldn’t have egged you on. I was being kind of a crankshaft about it and it wasn’t right.”
There was a pause for silence. Knock Out didn’t take the opportunity to speak, watching as Wheeljack’s faceplates twitched. Clearly the wrecker wanted to be absolved of his guilt but Knock Out couldn’t find it in him to be charitable.
“I didn’t know y’all were like that. You know, partners and all. Like me and Bulk, I guess. ‘Surprised you didn’t leap across the table and clock me.”
“Believe me, the temptation is still there,” Knock Out hissed.
Wheeljack let out a laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. He squeezed Knock Out's shoulder and Knock Out wanted nothing more than to slap it off, but he stayed his hand. “‘Wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Wheeljack let out a sigh, using his other hand to rub his optics. “Look, this is my fragged up way of sayin’ sorry, alright? I’ll keep his name out of my mouth. You’re one of us now and it ain’t right for me to treat you like you aren’t. I want us to be square. So…we good?”
No.
“Peachy.”
Wheeljack didn’t look surprised by Knock Out’s less than keen response. Thankfully, he didn’t press, releasing Knock Out’s shoulder and taking a step back.
“Alright. Good. If…slag, if you ever want to talk about it. Well, Bulkhead’s always free and… I guess I am too.”
Knock Out couldn’t think of a worse act of torture, including getting hit by a literal train again. This conversation was already painful enough, he didn’t really need a repeat event to talk about his feelings. With slagging Bulkhead. He didn’t want to reminisce about the past, he didn’t want to share his memories. He wanted to move on. But for all the steps it felt like he was taking forward, tethered hooks would pull him right back and remind him: Breakdown is gone and you are all alone.
Knock Out watched Wheeljack make his quiet retreat to Bulkhead and Smokescreen. Bulkhead raised both optic ridges which Wheeljack answered with a muted shrug. Knock Out had to avert his gaze as Bulkhead wound his arm around Wheeljack’s neck, bringing him in close.
The absence of Breakdown never felt more palpable than now. Knock Out swallowed the static build up in his intake and cast his eyes out to the waste and ruin of Cybertron, biding his time until Ultra Magnus returned.
–
Knock Out had never been in a base quite like this Decepticon bunker. Clearly, it had been built in the midst of war, the layout haphazard and prioritizing security over functionality. Even getting in had been a hassle with its giant iron doors blocking the entrance. Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead had worked on the doors for nearly two breems before their commander finally conceded to Wheeljack’s suggestion of explosives.
Thankfully, it had done the trick, as well as blowing up the remaining armaments that had somehow survived Cybertron’s death. Once the smoke cleared and Ultra Magnus deemed the facility safe for entry, their squad made their way through the rubble.
It was a dismal, grim sight. Knock Out had seen this scenario thousands of times before on both Cybertron and his home city on Velocitron. Offlined and rusted away mechs lined the walls, crumbling blasters still held in their hands. Impact blasts and bullets riddled their chassis, their spilled energon staining the ground they died protecting. Their efforts wasted and their memories long forgotten.
The youngest of their group winced and averted his gaze while the more seasoned veterans moved through without a second glance. Perhaps by habit or maybe ingrained programming, Knock Out scanned the deceased.
His background processes cataloged their injuries and ventured estimates to the cause and time of their deaths. Knock Out ignored these readouts, more interested in a secondary scan that pulled up their Decepticon identification badges. He had been downloaded with the latest roster when onboarding the Nemesis per protocol but now found a sickening fascination in watching their status change from MIA to DECEASED.
Knock Out felt the grim reminder of when he had watched Breakdown’s status change, though back then his scans had been confused by the parasite inhabiting his frame. Knock Out, in the privacy of his own hab and once Silas had stopped screaming, manually changed the status to DECEASED despite the program’s insistence his partner still lived.
He was the last of the group to reach the end of the hall, his squad waiting patiently.
“‘You know any of them?” Smokescreen asked in tactless curiosity.
Bulkhead and Wheeljack had both reached out to nudge him but Knock Out spoke first.
“No, I was stationed on Kalis before taking a position off-planet.”
In truth, he and Breakdown had fled Cybertron and the war entirely, stealing a small cruiser and going planet-hoping for a few thousand years before joining back up with the Decepticons once again. But no one in their group needed those additional details.
Ultra Magnus cleared his intake, drawing their attention. “We’ll split here. I’m sending you the building schematics from what the Iacon records held before the building was converted. Proceed with caution and alert our channel if you find anything.”
They all gave quiet nods and split. Wheeljack and Bulkhead took the diverting pathway to the right while Ultra Magnus pulled apart the doors to the command center for himself and Smokescreen to slip through. Left alone, Knock Out pulled up the blueprints.
The medbay was not centrally located. Knock Out was surprised when viewing the schematics that the medbay was in the lowest level, isolated to its own floor deep underground. It was atypical of what Knock Out had experienced throughout his tenure with the Decepticons. It wasn’t advisable, not when the medbay was one of the more crucial facilities in any base of operation. Knock Out skimmed through the rest of the floor plan, trying to find a reason for its isolation, but ultimately found none. The only silver lining was an elevator with the sole purpose of transport between the medbay and the main floor, bypassing the several floors between.
He took said lift down, marveling that it still worked. Then again, Bulkhead and Wheeljack had been working on reestablishing Iacon’s powergrid for a while now and it appears their hard work had paid off. Knock Out didn’t have the spark to thank them for their efforts, but he certainly didn’t mind the luxury of it all. He only questioned the structural integrity of the elevator halfway down but cast the thought away as quickly as it had come. Self-preservation held little important to him as of late and he didn’t want to think about the circumstances of that any further.
Knock Out expected a disaster upon entering the medbay. He expected it to be in a similar state as his own: filled to the brim with rust, dust and piles of scrap. He expected boxes of useless equipment and records of mechs no more. He even braced himself to find the entire level caved in and destroyed.
He was not expecting to find a graveyard.
Dead, lifeless shells of armored plating and wires greeted Knock Out as he stepped off the lift. Lifeless optics greeted him, unmoving and ever watching. His optics scanned the room, and once again, his medical protocols scanned for signs of life even though Knock Out knew there had not been a living spark in here for vorns.
Sure enough, his HUD flashed before him for visual feed findings. 21 mechs: all deceased, their status neatly updated as it identified over half of the mechs he had scanned. Before it could begin running through the initial visual diagnostic reports for each individual mech, Knock Out shut it down. There was no need for such extensive data. Not when it took only a mech with half a functioning processor to see these mechs had not fallen in battle or had come to their injuries; they had been sent here to be butchered.
Each of the five medberths were lined up with deceased mechs in various states of disrepair. Disrepair may have been a gross understatement. Limbs were missing- amputated, not removed at the joint socket but sawed off haphazardly and violently. Quite a few had their chests and stomachs cracked open with hydraulic spreaders. On Earth, Knock Out had heard of a similar tool dubbed The Jaws of Life. In this case, it looked as if the tool had been the deadly finishing blow for the mechs on the slab.
From their wounds, their internals spilled out in a sea of rotting energon and corrosive rust. In just a furtive glance, Knock Out saw several integral parts had been ripped out and removed. Most prominently, their t-cogs.
Thick cables were used to strap the mechs to their slabs. One had tried to rip it off, dying with their hand enclosed around the restraint. Another seemed to have tried to wriggle out, the cable being pulled so tight it had begun to dent the armor plating, tearing into their frame.
All this told Knock Out was these mechs had been alive at the time of their unfortunate surgeries and they surely perished during their operations. With enough energon loss and organ removal, it wouldn’t take long for them to offline.
And those were just the mechs on the berths. Many were thrown to the floor, broken into pieces with their wires pouring from their severed corpses. One was missing a helm, which Knock Out looked across to find poised on one of the countertops, a dried pool of energon gluing it to the surface. Its optics had been surgically removed, mouth still agape and missing several sections of denta.
It was not all that laid on the countertop. Clear acrylic containers lined the counters and shelving units, each filled with various Cybertronian parts: mismatched optics staring at all corners of the room, denta and glossa pressed together into its own monstrous smile, digits and wires tangled in knots. Whole arms and weapon systems were stacked in rusting piles, the energon from their detachment still staining the plating.
This was no medbay, never truly fitted to be one. It was a chop shop.
Knock Out had heard tales of such medbays before. Supplies were limited during times of war and scavenging was not unheard of, even in-house. When too many resources would be needed to save a life, it was sometimes more efficient to snuff them out and take what could be used to save another, more important, one. Clearly, the medic in charge here had not been adverse to such tactics. Judging by the vast supply of decaying parts scattered across the medbay, they may have even enjoyed the task.
Clearly, it had not ended well, Knock Out thought as grayed white and red plating caught his optics. He trekked forward, stepping over crushed and dismembered frames to look down at what he wanted to assume was the CMO of this facility. A flight frame, somewhere between Starscream’s slight, angular build and Dreadwing’s bulkier, armored specs. This one now laid deceased, unseeing optics staring at the ceilings, intake crushed by the mech collapsed on top of them.
Knock Out leaned over to peer at the other mech, a tank-former with a giant, gaping hole in the center of their chest, right through the spark. Knock Out could see the exit wound. Whatever had pierced through had been serrated, the edges of the hole jagged and torn. It reminded Knock Out of his own rotary saw. In haste, it could leave quite the ghastly wound.
Funny enough, the tank mech seemed to be mostly whole- aside from the hole through the chest. If anything, his plating was pristine. Mint condition for resale or repurpose. Perhaps this one had been a commander of sorts, then again, Knock Out would be a little surprised to see a grounder is a leadership position.
Not that it had mattered all that much in the end.
Knock Out knelt down beside the macabre pair, entangled for eternity- or until the Autobots got around to clearing out this bunker and leveling it to be reused for Cybertron’s reconstruction…but that didn’t have the same poeticism behind it.
Then again, Knock Out was creating romantics out of naught. The medic and the brute, he had heard that tale before and couldn’t help apply it to the duo before him. At least these two had the good fortune to leave the mortal plane together. Some weren’t as lucky.
With a sharp nudge, Knock Out managed to push the tank off the medic. It resulted in a horrid screech of metal on metal and a hefty crash as the tank fell to its side, curled beside the medic. In the dim light, the tank’s plating could almost be mistaken for blue, especially in contrast with the faded medic’s red.
Sticky, sharp static balled in his intake. Knock Out pulled from his crouch and took a step back. He shuttered his optics and took a deep, steadying intake.
Breakdown was dead. His body was thrown from the Nemesis and rotting somewhere on Earth. His spark was now back with the Allspark. He was dead, gone.
Knock Out needed to get that through his processor; to stop looking for his partner when he knew he was gone; to stop searching for a hope that he wasn’t alone; to stop chasing a non-existent ghost.
Onlining his optics, Knock Out stared down at the tank. In truth, this mech and Breakdown looked nothing alike. Aside from the bulkiness of their frames, the similarities sharply declined.
Where Breakdown had been formatted with six heavy tread tires, this tank had thick tracks that compacted along his shoulders as opposed to being dispersed along the ligaments. Rather than Breakdown’s coppery orange faceplates, this mech’s was covered, leaving two slits for the optics to peer through. Even the coloration of their plating, that blue Knock Out had seen really giving way to a deep purplish sheen on black. It would take some reconstructive surgery to make them appear anything alike.
Nothing a little paint wouldn’t fix. It wouldn’t even take much to reshape the abdominal plating. If I break the chest armor into six pieces, I can remold it to Breakdown's frame specs. The tracks would have to go but finding the right tires wouldn’t be too hard with all the parts available here-
Knock Out blinked, his frame stalling as he stopped that thought-tree sharply in its tracks. What the frag was he even thinking?
Creeping dread crawled across his plating, its sickly tentacles carrying a deathly chill. He had to avert his gaze in case those thoughts tried to branch again.
“Primus, what is this?”
Knock Out turned his helm to see Smokescreen standing at the threshold, digits gripping the frame of the elevator shaft opening. The young speedster’s optics were blown wide as he took in the violent sight. Panic and terror filled his optics as his processor slowly grasped the scene.
Knock Out almost pitied the kid. A late bloomer into the war, he hadn’t seen much of the darker sides. He never saw the starvation, the infighting, the point where all hope was lost and morality had to step aside for survival.
“Chop shop. Organ harvesting,” Knock Out hummed, his own spark still hammering heavily in his chest. “No longer operational. It seems our little grim reaper here met his match.” With a forced smirk, Knock Out added, “They never take it well when you tell them they are being scrapped for parts.”
“Really?” Smokescreen croaked, his voice weak and shaken.
Knock Out raised an optic ridge. “It’s a joke, kid. They don’t usually tell-”
“No,” Smokescreen muttered, optics tracing along the walls of the medbay, “they really scrap living mechs for parts?”
Primus, the kid looked like he was about to purge his tanks. Knock Out stood up and approached. Softness…was not something he was accustomed to. Reassurance even less so. But the last thing he wanted to do was watch the little hero wannabe make an even bigger mess of this disaster zone.
“War isn’t all battles and glory like your pals want you to think it is. There is very little time for celebration when you are trying to find enough energon to make it to the next battlefield or find enough parts to keep your partner whole.”
Smokescreen said nothing to this and simply bobbed his helm. Apparently, this scene was too much for him.
“If you need to step outside, I can take care of this,” Knock Out lowered his voice. “I won’t be long. Everything here is rotting and broken.” It’d be a miracle if he could salvage anything.
Smokescreen gave another soft nod of his helm but didn’t move. Knock Out wondered if his joints were locked up.
“Did you ever have to do this?” Smokescreen asked quietly after a moment.
“Do you want the truth?” Knock Out asked, cocking his helm to the side.
Smokescreen gave one more muted nod, unable to meet his gaze.
“Yes,” Knock Out whispered. “And worse.” He had cut open living mechs for parts; he had tortured and maimed prisoners in order to find precious resources just so he and Breakdown could make it a few more cycles; he had siphoned mechs of their precious energon just in the hopes of keeping Breakdown’s spark going. “Not that it did any good in the end,” Knock Out muttered, more to himself than to Smokescreen. Breakdown still perished despite every rotten thing Knock Out had done to keep him going and every terrible deed he’d done as an act of vengeance. In the end, it was for nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Smokescreen said quietly, a trembling servo reaching out to touch Knock Out arm. “It ain’t much, but I’m sorry.”
The instinctual urge to bat him away was quelled with the sickly hue crawling up the kid’s faceplates.
“Go purge your tanks,” Knock Out waved off gently. “Maybe ‘medic’ isn’t your calling.”
Smokescreen gave him a wiry grin. “Just give me a second and I’ll be good.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, a shudder wracked through the racer’s body and he clapped a hand over his mouth. A moment passed before he let out a shaky exvent. “I take it you get used to the gore?”
“Most of the time,” Knock Out shrugged. “Cutting people open for a living will do that to you. Just take it easy. I won’t be long.”
Leaving Smokescreen at the threshold, Knock Out turned back to the room. He took a steady invent as he went back towards the center, trying to shake off the chill crawling over his plating.
He avoided looking at the tank and medic in the center of the room, leaving his back to them as he searched through the chop shop. He grabbed a few tools that he thought he might be able to clear the rust from and snagged the datadrive from the medic’s console. It was brittle and probably a dud but the Autobots wouldn’t be able to say he hadn’t tried. He even managed to find a few patch kits that looked in adequate condition.
He avoided taking any of the harvested parts. The Autobots would surely throw a fit if they knew where the materials had come from and even Knock Out could agree that they were not that desperate.
But…if it did turn to that, Knock Out knew where he could find the right parts.
Once he grabbed what he could, Knock Out wheeled out of the chop shop, grabbing Smokescreen and taking the lift back up to the rest of the base. All the while, he ignored the dead, blank stare of the tankformer’s corpse.
#kobd#knock out#breakdown#tfp#transformers#remember that poll from over a year ago...i finally did it#my fics#maccadam
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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #408
I rearranged my art room today to make it a little more livable. My art room has a sink. It's super cluttered with epoxy equipment right now, but I'll get to that tomorrow. Here's how the rest of it turned out:
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...If you look closely, you'll see Hoshi, the black void on the bed next to Bubbles, my orca plush. And on the chair in the nook is Mogwai. Feel free to say hello!
I'm pretty happy with how this rearrangement turned out. Everything I need is right here, at my fingertips. All my crafty things, a customizable metal shelf that I can use both as a desk and as a means of storage, my laptop, my clothes, my essentials for going out, and all that jazz.
I had to do a lot of tidying and rearranging of things to make this work. The shoulder and ribs hurt a lot less than I expected, given the number of heavy things I moved. I guess this most recent exercise K gave me is really working out. It stretches out the muscles between the ribs and the pelvis; apparently, those are extremely compressed on my right side. I can feel it when I do it; on the left side, the stretch is easy. But on the right side, everything is tight, and doing this stretch is terribly painful.
But! It wasn't as painful to do it today as it was when he gave it to me! So there's that.
...I'm trying to be upbeat and chipper. I'm not sure how well it's working, though. But I can get used to this. I'll be okay.
I made some white bean salad today!! Specifically, I like to make Great Northern Beans; they're my favorite kind of bean so far! I like to serve them chilled. This time, I drizzled them with a bit of olive oil and sprinkled it with garlic powder, salt, and parsley! It's amazingly tasty for something so simple! Check it out!!
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I also made a bowl full of rice, kimchi, and pre-cooked frozen meatballs; you just thaw them out in the microwave! I got 4 different varieties a while back – Italian, Homestyle Italian (they're just bigger, I think), Angus, and Swedish. I think that of these, my favorite is Swedish!
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I applied for 5 more state jobs today; I'm up to 21 applications total being out. Hopefully one of them will get back to me. Though I don't know when that'll be, if ever. I'll check the website again tomorrow; hopefully there will be more openings.
Aside from that, I mostly just worked on my weird crafty project thingy. I have 5 thingies now, and I'm working on a 6th. I guess I'll just keep going until I run out of materials. It'll be a while before I run out of materials, so I'll have something to do for a while, and this pleases me.
On Saturday, I think I might try biking to work. I know it's cold and stuff, but... I really don't wanna use gas right now, for reasons I'm not gonna explain here. Besides, it'll be a good workout for my legs; goodness knows they could use it.
Not sure what else to write today. Just taking things one step at a time, at least for now, I guess.
...And what are you up to? I heard through the grapevine that you, for whatever reason, have an animation in which you give a young chocobo some nice scritches. I was delighted by this; I'm hoping this bodes well for the kinds of choices you'll make in the final part of your remade story. I know that maybe it's just wishful thinking. Still, I... I hope you'll make good choices. I don't want to lose another pillar around which I've built my life.
So, tell me... have you pet any particularly adorable young chocobos lately...?
I guess that's it for today.
I love you. Please stay safe out there in the world, all right? I'm counting on you to make it out of all your things okay. I can't... I can't lose you. Selfish as that probably sounds.
I'll write again tomorrow.
Your friend, Lumine
#sephiroth#ThankYouFFVIIDevs#ThankYouFF7Devs#ThankYouSephiroth#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy vii crisis core#final fantasy 7 crisis core#final fantasy crisis core#ffvii crisis core#ff7 crisis core#crisis core#ff7r#final fantasy vii remake#final fantasy 7 remake#ffvii remake#ff7 remake#final fantasy vii rebirth#final fantasy 7 rebirth#ffvii rebirth#ff7 rebirth#final fantasy 7 ever crisis#ffvii ever crisis#ff7 ever crisis#ffvii first soldier#isolated days#a new normal#wholesome
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360° Landscaping Tour
Landscaping and outdoor decorating is usually the very last thing I do when building, but I'm obsessed with the deck and yard of this house and I couldn't stop until I completed it. The downstairs portion is done as well, so the house is livable. I just need to finish the second floor and the basement.
I love how this property is in the middle of nowhere. It reminds me a lot of where I grew up. I also know Brindleton Bay is meant to be a little coastal town, but my headcanon is that Brindleton Bay is actually a bedroom community located just outside the city proper of a mid-sized Atlantic Canadian city that is very much like the one where I live in real life.
(Yeah, I know EA probably intended it to be Maine, but I'm Canadian and it's Nova Scotia to me, okay?)
I will do a full photo tour when the whole house is decorated inside. I'm probably also going to put it on the Gallery, since the only CC in it are a few bits of clutter.
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july challenge!
new month, new mindset.
starting today, monday july 1st:
- drinking water constantly and in replace of snacking!!!
- (try to) go for a walk every day
outside, on a track, on a treadmil, around a mall- doesn’t matter! just get some steps in. and there’s no excuse now that summer is here!
- find a diet/calorie intake that works for YOU.
high res, low res, omad, fasting, whatever you like best…and STICK WITH IT! don’t feel pressured to do a diet that you don’t feel comfortable with. (i.e. eating less than you think you should/want, or eating more than you should/want. it goes both ways!) only you know your body and what you’re capable of the most.
- make an inspo/mood board to visualize your goals and help you reach them 💞
i liveeee on pinterest !!
- have a positive mindset.
there is SO much negativity in this community and it makes a lot of people feel down about themselves. it’s time to switch the stigma- let’s visualize how great we are going to feel once we reach our goals, fill our days with things that make us happy, and spend time with friends who help you take your mind off your negative feelings 💞
good things come to those who wait.
- keep your space clean
i struggle with this a LOT. but i noticed that my mood improves when my room is cozy and livable, not cluttered and messy with barely anywhere to walk or lay down on my bed. cleaning your room also helps keep your mind off food 😗
- read a new book/ start a new podcast series
any other readers here? i personally love romance, romantasy, the ACOTAR series, smut (lmao). there are so many benefits to reading. it truly transports you to a whole different world which is the best for when you’re overwhelmed with food noise in your head. food noise is what a lot of us deal with- it’s the constant thought of “what am i going to eat next? WHEN am i going to eat next? how many calories have i had today? how many do i have left? i shouldn’t have eaten that. i’m craving this that and the other…” etc. listening to a podcast also help subside food noise. i like funny podcasts and story time episodes! :)
i try and follow everyone who follows me back (no minors please!)
i just want you to know that you’re not alone. and we are capable of so much more than we think 💞
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#thinspø#tw thinspi#orthorexx#@na vent#@n@ thoughts#ed log#@n@ diary#ed rant#0rth0#tw ed diet#ed behaviour tw#tw restriction#thinspp#tw ana diary
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I want my home livable Again
How did things get this bad?
This is a five year long depression mess. I bought a house with a couple of friends several years ago. I was the ONLY one cleaning, which was annoying but manageable. And then my ESA got cancer and eventually passed away.
After that, I struggled with taking care of myself. I became overwhelmed with cleaning up after everyone and stopped cleaning common areas. The messier it got, the more depressed and overwhelmed I got. I've spoken with my roommates about cleaning up after themselves and their pets, they said they would but never did. The kitchen became unusable and I ate fast food almost exclusively for about a year.
I moved everything into my bedroom. My room slowly became as bad as the rest of the house.
I got a mini fridge, tabletop oven, my own dishes, and a single tabletop burner so I could cook in my room and stop eating so much fast food. It helped me feel like I had more control over my life and cooking made me feel a little bit better.
I also make art, all my hobbies are in this room. It's an overwhelming amount of stuff here. I have more clothes than anyone would ever need to own. I also have way too many books.
I impulse buy things when I get stressed. It's a bad coping mechanism that I'm working on fixing because it just adds to the clutter.
Two years ago I met my partner and we've been living in an apartment together. I'm in a better place mentally now but he lost his job recently (he has a new job but it pays half as much as the old one) so we're going to move into my house once our lease is up because I can't afford rent AND the mortgage.
He's offered to help me clean but I'm too embarassed to let him see this. I want to get my room decluttered and cleaned before I get his help with the rest of the house.
I'm hoping to remodel the house eventually so I can separate our space from my roommates' living space.
But for now I'm documenting my cleaning journey. I feel like this blog will help me and others feel less alone in the struggle of recovering from hoarding
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#Hoarding#Audhd#Depression mess#cleaning#hoarders#adhd#actually autistic#decluttering#Emergency cleaning#Pet death
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The trouble with storage containers is that they inevitably become tables and shelves. To get into them you have to move everything that has been set on top of them, and even if you are 100% sure that the thing you want is in there it becomes “too much bother” to get at.
Add in the necessity to store a wide hodge podge of stuff in many containers (to many to write an inventory on the outside) and the inability to see into the containers….
Back before the floor problems when everything was in shelves or stacked it was sooooo much easier. Sure I still had to “dig” stuff out, BUT I always knew where stuff was. I’d remember I kept that over there, or this would be stored with that, or I’d simply be able to see the dang thing!
Plus, geez, storage containers that hide away all the texture and color of life us so depressing!!
Looking at overstuffed shelves I could spot something that would send my mind off onto dozens of paths of imagination, or maybe just remind me to revisit the thing. It felt like living inside a physical manifestation of my mind. It was cozy and sparkling with life.
Now I have walls of grey (or blue or black or pink) storage containers. Boring. Dull. Lifeless. Hiding everything.
Well, everything but the newest things. Things I don’t have a storage container for yet or in constant use. Thank god for those things to keep this place livable.
People think this sort of thing is neat, or even organized, but I need to SEE my stuff!! Order and emptiness kills my soul.
Before I die let me please get to free my things again! More than repaired floors, electricity, proper plumbing, even hot water on demand….. I want my lovely clutter back!!!
(too many years of this now. Way, way too many. Ten years next year since the floor collapse stole my bedroom/act of personal expression/ancient tomb as living space/what my brother called the archive. I loved the “chaos” of my bedroom so much I used to take lots of photos of it! LOL)
#my day#life#clutter#clutter is beautiful#death to decluttering#my brain needs stimulation not the fucking void#I HATE the spartan bullshit people aspire to#I’d rather live with a so called horder than a sophisticate in a spartan white nothingness#seriously if I have not a single object I’d have to paint every surface to compensate#Rocks feathers animal skulls cool sticks fill the need to too#I need things to see and preferably touch
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So there's a post on here, a quite popular one, that likens mental and physical recovery to cleaning a trashed house. I always liked that post, the way it describes recovery as a process that gets easier with practice but doesn't ever really become simpler, It made things i was confused about some much clearer to me.
That post helped me specifically understand because I had so much experience cleaning barely habitable houses. For most of my childhood I was tasked with cleaning jobs that were far outside of a normal 5-15 year old's skill set.
The actual post will say it a lot better than I can here but something about the process of starting at the entryway and working you're way in, learning new techniques, buying new tools, but ultimately accepting that with every room you clean, you will have to drag the mess through the rest of the house and end up getting all the clean places dirty again. That resonated with me.
Some backstory, I grew up with young and broke parents. Many of my early living conditions were filthy apartments and half-renovated farm sheds. I was cleaning almost as soon as I could walk. I had to learn fast. As I got older and our homes improved but it was because my father worked all the time and was almost never home, and when he was he was working side hustles. My mother was a bedridden depressed woman for many years. I had to learn to clean up after an adult's depression nest and myself and my own sister's mess.
I wasn't totally alone in it. My father, for all his absence, was practically a dream housewife when he was around. He could cook and clean and do repairs all at the same time in a horrible overstressed whirlwind. I had to pay attention in order to learn, but more than that I had to keep up with his pace. Just eight years old and tiny and underfoot, trying to learn the cleaning patterns of a grown man in a full tilt adhd hyperfocus cleaning session.
But I did learn. I learned to keep the clutter out of sight, To scrub away the worst of it. I learned to make games out of cleaning to get any help from my sister. Learned how to make throwing trash in the can from a stepstool several feet away into a competitive sport. I learned how to bribe her, and how to pace her, an episode of her favorite show for half a rack of dishes. I learned how to make ramen just the way she liked and trade it for a toybox filled up.
I even got not one but two full time jobs as a house keeper.
But that was before I had started to deal with serious health problems. Now I'm too sick to work. I struggle with making sure I just get up in the mornings and contribute something to the household. Part of my mind is stuck in a shame loop of becoming my mother and the other is preoccupied with the knowledge that my life has gone absolutely nowhere.
This fucking house has become my whole world the same way it always did in the summers when I stopped going to school and mom stopped getting out of bed. Every day I wake up and I do the work. Some days are harder than others. Some days I can even muster up some pride for what I do. It's been two godamn years and I'm finally getting to some of the deeper stuff. I got rid of the broken recliner. Mom is finally ready to throw out her dead uncle's stuff so there's more clutter I can clear away.
Every day I clean the same mess and some days I do impressive things like burning all the wood in the yard.
And it does look good. There's so much less clutter, and I've redecorated. Moved the furniture. Fixed up the yard.
But the carpet is still disgusting. It will never stop reeking of dog. And the floors coming apart and the dishwasher is slowly sinking into the floor and I know in my core that this place is decrepit and no amount of cleaning will make it livable in the long run.
And I don't really know how that became such an apt description of my life but it is. Because I've spent all my life knowing that I'd have to maintain my own mind, I knew how bad that your head could get, I've seen it. But my body is failing on me now too and I don't know how much cleaning you can do on a house if the ceiling is splitting and the floors are falling through.
#totally trauma dumping on main#I'd apologize but I think saying sorry one more time is going to make me do something wildly inappropriate#vent post#Adhd#chronic illness#chronic fatigue
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Home Care: Making a Difference in your Elder's Aging Life
Matters involving parents’ aging condition are major concerns among siblings specifically when their elders live on their own away from them and visits become a struggle because of distance. If during a visit, a parent or both of them exhibit signs of difficulties attending to their daily needs or managing even simple household routines, it is probably the right time to think of their living situation. It should also trigger you to gather the whole family and plan for the appropriate care for your elders.
Because the aging population is growing at a fast rate, elder care services are also sprouting in every corner, making it easier for you to find one just perfect for your parents’ needs. Sending them away from home to senior facilities would somehow be a viable choice especially if it would be impractical and out of the question for you and your siblings to accommodate your parents in your own home. But the thing is, most old people disapprove of living outside the comfort and familiarity of their own homes, and as much as possible, they want to preserve their independence and dignity as they age.
If this kind of situation arises, you and the rest of your family can make your parents’ aging life an uncomplicated one by discussing with them the changes that would inevitably take place. You can always opt for home care, a senior care service that provides the necessary assistance for your loved ones within the convenience of their own home.
Providing loved ones with home care
Even if you commit yourself to taking care of your elders, you’ll find it really taxing and the need for assistance is welcome especially when you must run your own errand or you need to attend to important matters. Home care provided by professional caregivers could alleviate some of your burdens, particularly with daily living tasks of bathing, grooming, eating, toileting, and even shopping. If you live far from your parents, home care gives you peace of mind that your parents have a companion and that somebody is taking care of them and attending to their needs. For as long as your parents do not experience serious health problems that require nursing homes, home care is the best option for their living accommodation.
Providing a safe and elder-friendly home
Once, the family has decided to give the elder a home care, the next thing you should consider is making the house more livable and less prone to accidents if not totally free from them. This means redesigning your parent’s house to create a living space perfect for their aging at home. Floors should be maintained with skid-free wax and if you must have rugs, make sure that they are secured with tacks. Their bathroom and toilet must have enough space to move about taking into consideration that they might need a wheelchair in the future. Mount grab bars in their bathroom, kitchen or in any place you deem necessary. Remove clutters especially in hallways that would possibly make your elders stumble. Install security and communication gadgets so your loved ones can easily get help when needed.
Aging of elders at home need not be complicated and worrisome as long as you give it a great deal of thoughts and serious planning. A home care with a professional caregiver and a living space designed to fit their needs are just about the essentials for your parents to endure and enjoy their twilight years.
Welcome to Stepping Up for Seniors, a dedicated organization committed to making a positive impact in the lives of low-income seniors who require assistance yet lack the essential family support and financial resources to access the help they need. Our mission is simple but profound - to provide a helping hand and bring hope to those in their golden years who might otherwise be left without the vital support they deserve.
Our organization is not just a helping hand; we are a lifeline for low-income seniors seeking support and care. With a team of dedicated professionals and a network of compassionate volunteers, we work tirelessly to make a meaningful difference in the lives of seniors who have walked a long and challenging journey.
Join us in our mission to lift the spirits of low-income seniors and provide them with the care and resources they deserve. Together, we can make a profound impact, ensuring that every senior in our community can enjoy their golden years with grace, respect, and joy.
Explore our website to learn more about our programs and discover how you can get involved in Stepping Up for Seniors. Let's step up together for those who have paved the way for us and deserve to be cherished in their retirement years.
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5, 20, 43 for Salem?
Thank you so much! 🤗
[CP2077 OC Asks]
5. are they religious or spiritual in any way?
Salem is very spiritual, but he's not very religious. He prefers to keep the concept of God, or any deity for that matter, secular from his own beliefs. It's just not for him. He is heavily into the occult, however, and borrows practices/beliefs from various mystic philosophies that he's drawn to. Salem practices witchcraft, he's believes in fate, past lives and soulmates. He studies astrology, tarot, and believes in spiritual energies in others and the surrounding natural world around him. I can ramble on and on about Salem and his belief system 🤭 All this to say, Salem is my most spiritual out of all my other OC’s.
20. where do they currently live? describe their home.
I'm so excited for this question, I've been trying to design Salem's apartment for the longest time 😂Sadly, I can't come up with anything visually decent, so descriptions it is! I hope I can do it justice.
Salem lives in an apartment building in Northside. It’s similar to the in-game Maelstrom apartment in terms of aesthetics but it’s a bit bigger and more livable (and slightly better maintained). It’s a 1 bedroom, 1 bath floor plan. Small yet spacious enough for him and his stuff. It has a heavy industrial vibe, with exposed brick walls, metal railings, etc.
It's messy as you'd expect it to be from someone like Salem. Worn clothes thrown on the bedroom floor, his coffee table is covered in empty cans, his rolling tray, a bong, half-read tarot spreads, etc. But it's not over crowded or cluttered to the point where it's an issue.
His decor fits his own style too. If someone were to step into his apartment, there's an immediate "Ah yeah, this is definitely Salem's space" thought. He has art on the walls that he has commissioned himself or has been given to him by fans/friends as well as various posters of various bands and musicians he genuinely is a fan of. There are little oddities and curiosities on his shelves, such as crystals, creepy little statues, things like that.
The lighting is kinda dark and somewhat dim, he tends to keep his windows closed with the curtains drawn shut, especially in his bedroom. But he'll let in a little sunlight from time to time when he needs to.
What always seems to throw guests off is how his apartment smells. It always smells nice, since he usually has incense burning either for meditation, rituals/spells or to just relax. However, there's also a noticeable weed smell lingering, so it's definitely subjective. 🤭
His favorite spot in his home is his work area. He has a corner of his living room reserved for his desk and his recording equipment. His set up might look cluttered, with all his notes scattered about as well as even more empty cans, a full ashtray and various shards here and there, but he knows exactly where everything is.
43. describe their ideal date.
Salem is not one that can easily be 'wined and dined'. He doesn't like big, expensive, excessive dates. It just turns him off and it feels very artificial and false to him. He's far more into 1x1 dates, so group dates probably aren't the best way either.
To Salem, it doesn't really matter what the setting is or what it is they're doing, as long as he gets to be with that person. He wants to get to know them, see what they're like, how they present themselves to him and how they engage in the activity their doing. It could be something as quiet and intimate as going out for a drive together, away from everyone else. Or something loud and rowdy like going to a show together or causing trouble at some bar. 🖤
#thank you so much and im so sorry this was a massive info dump dskjfhglsjdk#ʟᴏʀᴇ ⋆┊ꜱᴠʟᴇᴍ#ᴏᴄ ⋆┊ꜱᴠʟᴇᴍ
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Expert House Cleaning Services in Singapore – Affordable & Hassle-Free
A clean and organized home not only looks great but also promotes a healthier living environment. However, keeping up with house cleaning can be challenging, especially with a busy lifestyle. That’s where SG House Cleaning comes in! We provide professional and affordable house cleaning services in Singapore, ensuring your home stays fresh, spotless, and hygienic.
Why Choose Professional House Cleaning?
While regular cleaning helps maintain your home, professional cleaning goes the extra mile by tackling hidden dust, allergens, and bacteria. Here’s why hiring expert cleaners is a smart choice:
✅ Saves Time & Effort
No more spending weekends scrubbing and dusting! Let our professional cleaners handle the work while you enjoy your free time.
✅ Deep & Thorough Cleaning
We use high-quality equipment and eco-friendly cleaning solutions to ensure a spotless and healthy home.
✅ Tailored Cleaning Solutions
From one-time deep cleaning to weekly or monthly maintenance, we offer flexible plans to suit your needs.
✅ Trusted & Experienced Cleaners
Our team is well-trained, background-checked, and committed to delivering high-quality service.
Our House Cleaning Services
At SG House Cleaning, we provide a wide range of services to keep your home in top condition:
🏡 Regular Home Cleaning
Routine dusting, sweeping, mopping, and sanitizing to maintain a tidy home.
🏠 Deep Cleaning
A thorough and detailed cleaning, including hard-to-reach areas, to remove dirt and grime.
🚪 Move-In/Move-Out Cleaning
Get your new home ready before moving in or leave your current home spotless when moving out.
🛏️ Spring Cleaning
Refresh your space with a seasonal deep clean to eliminate accumulated dust and clutter.
🏢 Post-Renovation Cleaning
Clear away construction dust and debris for a clean and livable space after renovations.
Why Choose SG House Cleaning?
✔ Affordable & Transparent Pricing – No hidden fees, just great value. ✔ Eco-Friendly Cleaning Products – Safe for kids and pets. ✔ Experienced & Professional Cleaners – Reliable and highly trained staff. ✔ Convenient Booking Options – Choose a cleaning schedule that works for you.
Book Your House Cleaning Service Today!
Enjoy a cleaner, healthier home with SG House Cleaning. Get in touch with us today!
📍 Visit us: SG House Cleaning Services 📅 Book Now for a Spotless Home!
Let us take care of the cleaning while you relax! ✨
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How to Prepare Your Home for an FHA Loan Appraisal
One critical step is the FHA Loan Appraisal when you're preparing to sell your home or purchase one with an FHA loan loan loan. This appraisal isn’t just about determining the property's market value—it also ensures that the home meets the Federal Housing Administration's (FHA) minimum property standards for safety and livability.
Preparing your home for an FHA Loan Appraisal can save you time, reduce the risk of delays, and help the transaction proceed smoothly. Here's a checklist to help you make sure your property is ready for the appraisal process.
1. Address Structural Issues
An FHA Loan Appraisal focuses heavily on structural integrity. Ensure your home is free from significant cracks, foundation issues, or structural defects. Appraisers will also check for problems like sagging roofs, uneven floors, or leaning walls. If any issues exist, hire a contractor to address them before the appraisal.
2. Ensure Electrical and Plumbing Systems Are Functional
The home’s electrical and plumbing systems must be in good working order. Check that:
All outlets, switches, and fixtures work correctly.
Plumbing is leak-free, and water flows adequately from faucets.
The water heater is in good condition and appropriately installed.
Faulty systems can lead to an appraisal failure, so it's worth calling a professional if repairs are needed.
3. Verify Heating and Cooling Systems
Your heating system must be functional, as the FHA requires homes to have adequate heat for safety and comfort. If you have an HVAC system, ensure that both heating and cooling units are operational. Window air conditioning units are not required, but heating systems are non-negotiable for an FHA appraisal.
4. Address Safety Concerns
Safety is a cornerstone of FHA appraisals. Consider the following points to ensure compliance:
Repair broken windows or damaged stairs.
Install smoke detectors on each floor and near bedrooms.
Secure handrails on all staircases.
Remove any trip hazards, such as loose carpets or exposed wiring.
Appraisers look for anything that might pose a risk to future occupants, so addressing these concerns is essential.
5. Check for Lead-Based Paint
If your home was built before 1978, the appraiser will check for lead-based paint hazards. Peeling or chipped paint must be repaired. Use lead-safe practices or hire a certified contractor to ensure compliance with FHA guidelines.
6. Examine the Roof and Exterior
The roof is a key area of inspection in an FHA Loan Appraisal. It must:
Be free from leaks or significant damage.
Have a remaining life expectancy of at least two years.
Protect the home adequately from weather conditions.
Additionally, the exterior should be free from significant defects, and the property should have proper drainage to avoid water pooling near the foundation.
7. Ensure Livable Conditions
An FHA appraisal assesses whether the home is livable. Make sure the property has:
Access to safe drinking water.
Working utilities like gas, electricity, and water.
Functional kitchen appliances (if included in the sale).
Appraisers mainly focus on ensuring the home is habitable for the future occupants.
8. Provide Clear Access and Visibility
Ensure appraisers can easily access all areas of the home, including attics, basements, and crawl spaces. Clear away clutter and debris, and ensure locks or doors to these areas are functional.
9. Clean and Maintain the Property
While cleanliness isn’t an FHA requirement, presenting a well-maintained home can create a positive impression and make the appraiser's job easier. Tidy up the yard, repair any visible cosmetic issues, and declutter spaces for better visibility.
Final Thoughts!
Preparing your home for an FHA Loan Appraisal and ensuring it meets FHA minimum property standards is crucial for a smooth and successful transaction. Addressing structural, safety, and functional issues in advance can avoid potential delays and set the stage for a favourable appraisal.
If you seek expert guidance and reliable appraisal services, consider contacting requestREappraisals. They specialise in FHA Loan Appraisal and Home Value Appraisal services, ensuring accuracy and professionalism at every step.
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What is a multi-generational home? A multi-generational home is one where multiple generations of a single family reside. This means that grandparents, parents and children alike must learn to share a space, and this could create a variety of challenges that must be addressed and overcome. There’s obviously the matter of generational lifestyles that might clash from time to time, but one of the bigger concerns for these households is how to properly store their many personal belongings. Let’s explore why multi-generational homes should consider portable storage containers. The Storage Container Solution for Your Generational Family Multi-generational housing is becoming more and more common. There are a number of factors that contribute to this type of household sharing. Economic conditions and caregiving responsibilities are chief among those factors. That’s why storage needs can quickly become an issue. With so many residents vying for limited space based on their own demands and needs, it can create very real tension. This is where a portable storage unit can make a big difference and alleviate some of those tensions. To start with, multi-generational homes often have a cluttered look and for more reasons than the obvious. With so many belongings from two or three different generations at a time, a home can become a bit overwhelming for family and friends alike. With a portable storage container on-site, a family can store items according to their diverse needs and wants. This means less clutter while also making a home more presentable and livable. Many multi-generational families consider selling their current home and investing in a larger one. While that reads well on paper, it does present logistical challenges and it’s not a good short-term solution. The suggestion here would be to start simple and work towards that goal, if still reasonable in the end. As for that simple start? In a tight situation like this, nothing beats the convenience and affordability of an on-site portable storage container. Multi-generational homes often have a lot of back-and-forth moving. Someone moves in only to move out later in the year. The reality is that these living arrangements are often more fluid than not. This is where an on-site portable storage container stands out as a winning option. Our storage units are a true help when it comes to temporary residential situations. If elderly family members have mobility issues then accessing parts of the home could become problematic. This could make it difficult for those family members to reach home storage areas such as basements or attics. Medical supplies could also be stored in one of our secure and environmentally friendly storage containers. Don’t gloss over the matter of seasonal items and decorations. These belongings can take up a lot of space in the home only to be used for a few weeks out of the year. Just imagine if that space was to be liberated for more agreeable and practical family needs. If your multi-generational household is bursting at the seams, just give us a call. Our storage containers are feature-rich and are the perfect solution for all of your storage needs. Read the full article
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Post Construction Cleaning Services in Abu Dhabi: Tips for Commercial and Residential Cleaning
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Construction projects, whether commercial or residential, leave behind a significant amount of debris, dust, and clutter. Post-construction cleaning is essential to ensure that the space is safe, usable, and visually appealing. In Abu Dhabi, where standards for cleanliness are high, hiring professional post-construction cleaning services is the best way to meet these expectations. Here are some expert tips to optimize cleaning for both commercial and residential properties.
Why Post Construction Cleaning is Crucial
Safety: Construction dust and debris can pose health hazards. Proper cleaning ensures the safety of inhabitants and workers.
Enhanced Aesthetics: A thorough cleaning brings out the true beauty of your newly constructed or renovated space.
Compliance: Many commercial spaces in Abu Dhabi must adhere to strict hygiene and safety regulations.
Tips for Post Construction Cleaning
For Commercial Spaces
Create a Cleaning Checklist: Identify all areas that require attention, including HVAC systems, windows, floors, and walls.
Use Professional-Grade Equipment: Commercial spaces often have larger areas and unique cleaning requirements. Industrial vacuums and pressure washers are invaluable.
Focus on High-Traffic Areas: Pay extra attention to areas like lobbies, staircases, and restrooms.
Dispose of Debris Properly: Follow Abu Dhabi’s waste disposal guidelines to avoid fines and environmental harm.
For Residential Spaces
Start with Dust Removal: Use microfiber cloths and HEPA vacuum cleaners to capture fine dust particles.
Clean Fixtures and Fittings: Pay attention to light fixtures, cabinets, and built-in appliances.
Polish Windows and Mirrors: Use streak-free cleaning solutions to make glass surfaces sparkle.
Sanitize Surfaces: Kitchen counters, sinks, and bathrooms should be thoroughly sanitized to ensure hygiene.
Benefits of Hiring Professional Services
Professional post-construction cleaning services in Abu Dhabi bring expertise, specialized equipment, and trained staff to handle the challenges of post-construction cleaning efficiently. They can save you time and ensure the highest standards of cleanliness.
Choose the Right Service in Abu Dhabi
When selecting a cleaning service, look for:
Experience: Choose a company with a proven track record in both commercial and residential cleaning.
Eco-Friendly Solutions: Opt for services that use environmentally friendly cleaning products.
Customizable Packages: A good service will tailor their cleaning to suit your specific needs.
conclusion
Post-construction cleaning is a critical step in turning your newly built or renovated property into a livable or workable space. Whether you’re managing a commercial project or preparing your home, following these tips or hiring professional post-construction cleaning services in Abu Dhabi will ensure a hassle-free experience.
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