#Common furnace issues

[furnacerepair7]

How to Handle Emergency Furnace Repair with Confidence

Understanding Emergency Furnace Repair: A Step-by-Step Guide When your furnace breaks down unexpectedly, it can be a stressful and potentially dangerous situation, especially during the cold winter months. Understanding how to handle emergency furnace repairs with confidence is crucial for maintaining a safe and comfortable home environment. This guide will provide you with the knowledge and…

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four

chapter five | fights. fondness. fury.

his pov;

I followed close behind Y/N, almost like a lost puppy. She led the way while I walked after her, holding numerous bags full of random vegetables, grains, and dairy products. I felt bad but Y/N insisted on using the money I lent her to pay for the groceries. I told her I'd be happy to cover this but she gave me a firm 'no' and told me that a dinner guest shouldn't have to pay for their meal. It was inhumane- improper, she said. I smiled. I loved how persistent she could be.

As we turned the corner, she reached deep into the pocket of her backpack and pulled out a rusted key. The sight of her home appeared in the distance. I've never been inside. I've only ever seen what it looked like from an outside perspective. I was thrilled to finally be a part of Y/N's personal life. I was always separate from this part but now, I was finally being let in.

Her home appeared closer within seconds which took me as a shock. She lived closer than I had originally realized. Clearing my throat, I scooped the bags into my arms, hugging them against my chest. I rested my chin atop the quart of milk and looked down at the girl as she struggled to jam the key inside the lock. "Anything I need to watch out for?" I asked, taking a step closer to her.

Shaking her head, she was finally able to unlock the door. "No, just be nice. Use manners."

"Do I not already?" I asked, taken aback.

"Use them more often."

I nodded my head, clenching my jaw.

Y/N looked up at me, somehow being able to sense how nervous I was. I gulped and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Relax, Buggers," She hummed as she nudged me with her elbow. A warm smile wafted over my face and I shrugged my shoulders back, listening to her simple yet helpful words of advice. "Just be yourself."

"I've never had anyone tell me that before."

"Why?"

Just before I could answer, the door was pushed open and Y/N's mother appeared, smiling at the both of us. I stayed still as my friend walked ahead of me, slipping her shoes off beside the open door. I remained frozen, wielding the bags of groceries close to me. Why was I so scared? Why was I not moving?

"Is he not going to come in?" Her mother whispered to Y/N.

"Buggy, come inside."

With those words, I snapped out of my horrified trance and listened to her, walking in. The door was shut behind me and I took a second to admire everything around me.

To the left of me was the kitchen. A small counter wrapped around, two barstools sitting underneath it. A bowl of fruit sat atop. The kitchen was tiny with two burners, one of which held a tea kettle. The refrigerator was marked with scratches and what seemed to be dents. I frowned. I wonder what happened.

To my right was a staircase leading upstairs, to what I'm presuming was Y/N's bedroom and an extra room now that her mother moved downstairs. In front of me was a large wooden table with two matching chairs and then past that, a couch lined with assorted blankets. Built into the stone wall was a fireplace that was burning brightly, the flames crackling. I'm glad she could have a furnace or some type of heat to keep her warm at night. Especially during these times, hypothermia was fairly common. I was thankful it wouldn't be an issue for her.

After examining my surroundings, my eyes trailed back to the lovely woman next to me who started to grab items from my arms. I apologized and set the rest of the bags on the countertop, helping both her and her mother to unload them.

"How much was all of this?" Her mother asked as she grabbed a bag of tomatoes, staring closely at them.

"Not much."

"Did he pay?" She met my gaze for a second then looked back down.

"No, I did."

"Why didn't he pay?"

"Mom-" Y/N nudged her mother's shoulder, shaking her head. "Don't say anything like that. It's rude."

She held her hands up in defense. "My apologies." Her eyes rolled.

I decided to let them be and ventured into the living room. I took a seat on the couch, resting my arm atop the back of it. I leaned back and admired the crackling flames. More bickering was heard from behind me and I cringed. Poor girl.

"Is he gonna help make dinner?" I heard her mother whisper after she questioned if my nose was real or not. I grimaced.

"You can ask him yourself! Talk to him. I'm going to go get changed. I'll be right back," Y/N announced. As I turned my head, I watched the young girl walk up the staircase. Her mother was staring at me, forcing a smile.

"Come help me."

I gave a firm nod, pressed my hands to my thighs, and pushed myself up and off of the couch. I headed into the kitchen and smiled down at her. "What can I help with?"

"Chop those tomatoes and the onions."

"Okay," I said with a smile. I grabbed a knife from the small rack and slipped my gloves off, stuffing them into the left pocket of my coat. I wielded the knife and started to slice the tomatoes. "Diced? Chopped?"

"Diced, please."

An uncomfortable silence fell and I raised my head in hopes of seeing Y/N walking down the stairs but she remained invisible. I gulped and turned my head to face her mother who was measuring a few cups of water. I cleared my throat. "Thank you for inviting me over for dinner."

"I've heard a lot about you. I wanted to see if you lived up to the expectations."

"What has been said?"

"Only good things."

I smiled. I'm glad Y/N thought so highly of me. "She's said good things about you, too."

Her mom let out a gutty chuckle. "Yeah! That's funny. She hates me."

"No, she doesn't. She loves you."

"She sure has a hefty way of showing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Ya know how kids are. Disrespectful, defiant. She's no different."

I frowned. "How is she disrespectful?"

"Talks illy of her father. A man who aspired to be more and she shames him for that. I'll never understand it."

I scooped the tomatoes into a small bowl and then started to chop the onions, constantly blinking so I wouldn't cry. The smell burned my nose and eyes. I wanted to give my opinion on the matter but due to my dinner invitation, I didn't deem it to be seen fit. I stayed quiet and listened to her complaints. When Y/N finally appeared, it felt like a breath of fresh air to see her angelic self walk down the stairway. I found myself to be entranced with her beauty.

She changed into a sundress, the fabric matching her eyes. I smiled at the sight, biting my bottom lip. I was so distracted by her goddess look that I didn't feel the blade of the knife cut into my finger. With my clouded mind, I was also unable to use my devil fruit ability to stop the blade from cutting me. As soon as I felt it, I jumped back and dropped the knife. My blood pooled on the white cutting board and I winced, grabbing a towel from the stove to wrap around my wound. Y/N noticed this and hurried towards me, frowning. "What happened?"

I blinked and shook my head. "I just cut my finger, that's all. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you're bleeding."

"Yeah, but-"

"Follow me, come here." She led me over to the other side of the counter and sat me down on a barstool. She disappeared into a small closet before reappearing with a small wooden box. I held my finger, feeling a pulse beat through my hand. Her mom watched with a troubled expression. I ignored her look and turned to gaze up at Y/N who was finally taller than me. I smirked.

She dug through the box and pulled out a bandage.

"Thank you, nurse," I whispered while she wrapped the bandage around my finger after disinfecting it with alcohol. "It feels a lot better."

"Don't mention it,'' She said softly. "Be careful next time."

"No promises." I winked.

As she turned around, I noticed that the dress was sheer. I don't know if she realized that but I didn't want to sound like a pervert by telling her. But I felt like a pervert by not telling her. I chewed on my lower lip and looked down at my finger.

Part of me wished she kissed my finger, but I knew I was asking too much.

Rising from the seat, I resumed cutting vegetables while the girl set the table. She pulled a barstool over and slid it next to one of the chairs. I watched her momentarily before scooping the remaining sliced peppers and garlic into the small bowl. I carried it over to her mother. "Here you go."

"Thank you," She patted my hand and then started to sift them into the pot of chicken stock. I backed up and leaned back against the counter, folding my arms over my chest. "What should I call you? Y/N's mom?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Evelyn."

"Nice to meet you, Evelyn."

I caught Y/N looking over at me. I met her gaze and smiled as she mouthed a quick 'thank you'.

I whispered 'you're welcome' in return, winking at her.

-=-

her pov;

It was a nice sight to see my mother and Buggy getting along so far. My mother was a troubling woman. While I loved her, she always had ulterior motives. She never did anything out of the kindness of her own heart. So while watching her interact with my new friend, I tried my best to predict what would happen. But there were too many possibilities. Too many endless outcomes. All I could do was wait because if I asked her, I'd be chewed out instantly.

I reached into the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of red wine. Popping the cork out, I poured three glasses and set them next to each of the three plates. I wasn't going to drink but I knew my mother would. I looked up at Buggy. Was he going to? The extra glass was just for show. I was called numerous names by my mother for not drinking alcohol. I didn't want to hear any of it tonight. I wanted things to go perfectly- no, beyond perfect. Things needed to be overly perfect, if that was possible.

But as the night furthered, I realized that my hope was nothing more than a silly dream.

When dinner was finally being eaten, the three of us gathered around the table. Buggy sipped on his glass of wine while my mother downed hers and then grabbed mine. "You're not gonna drink it," She insisted as she took a swig. "She hates alcohol," She said as she looked at Buggy.

"I know." He swallowed and slid the glass away from him.

I slowly began to eat. It’s been so long since I’ve sat down with my mother and shared a meal. And even longer since she cooked. Most of the time we ate separately. The only time we shared together were with stupid arguments.

“How’s the food, Buggy?” My mother asked.

The clown smiled and nodded his head. “Very good.”

“Y/N?” She tilted her gaze toward me.

“Good, thank you.”

“So, Buggy, I heard you used to be a pirate. Tell me about that.”

“Uhm.” He dropped his fork and finished chewing before washing the food down with wine. He cleared his throat and sat up. “What would you like to know?”

“How much money did it make you?”

I rolled my eyes and dropped my head into my hand.

“Well, obviously you can imagine it was quite a lot. I was quite wealthy and fortunate but of course, it wasn’t the best way to make money. I regret it now but-“

“Are you still rich?”

“Mom, talk about something else-“ I interrupted before she interrupted me.

“Stop. I’m just making conversation.”

I sighed and grabbed the wine bottle from beside her. I poured myself a glass and hesitantly, I took a sip. I grimaced at the taste but forced it down. I could tell tonight wasn’t going to go smoothly.

“I do have a bit saved, yeah. But not nearly as much as I used to.” The pirate took another bite.

“How much do you have saved?” My mom dropped her fork and rested her chin on her hands.

“A couple million berries, give or take.”

“Is that going to my daughter when you get married?”

I gasped, laughing. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s a simple question, is it not? If you two are going to get married, then you need my blessing.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not even dating, what makes you think we’re going to get married?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I took another bite of the meal. "What is with these questions? Is it only about money for you?"

"We have no money, Y/N. I've been telling you it's best to marry young and marry wealthy."

"Are you kidding me?"

-=-

his pov;

The tension was growing fast. And so was my discomfort.

When the idea of marriage came up, I felt hot.

It was a dream of mine but there was no way I was going to. At least not yet. Y/N looked so uncomfortable with the thought of it, as well. I wanted to interrupt and hopefully ease the situation but before I knew it, they both were yelling at each other.

I frowned, sinking into my seat.

But the thing that worried me the most was how much Y/N was drinking. When I first realized how many glasses she repeatedly poured herself, I grew concerned. Before I could reach over, grab her wrist, and tell her to stop, the argument got more heated. Both women were drunkenly yelling at one another, pointing out each other's flaws and dismays.

"You're nothing but disrespectful toward me, do you know that? Constantly talking back, saying you know what's best for me, shitting on your father who risked his life for us! You're horrible to me, Y/N. I try to be a good mother to you, and this is what I get in return. Blatant disrespect?" Evelyn spat as she pushed herself up from her seat at the table. She stormed into the kitchen and leaned down, sorting through the liquor cabinet. While she wasn't looking, I grabbed the girl's wrist and urged her to stop.

"Hey, don't fuel this. Let's just go. You can stay with me again tonight-" I tried to whisper but she ripped herself from my grip and followed after her mother in the kitchen, continuing to add fuel to the wildfire. Sighing, my head fell into my hands and I felt the urge to scream but I remained quiet, forcing myself to sit still. I wanted to defend Y/N, however, this wasn't my battle. She needed to conquer this on her own.

"He left us! How is he risking his life? He willingly ditched his family for some stupid, probably made-up treasure! Do you find it odd that he never wrote to you? Or me? He completely abandoned us! And you call him a hero," The girl's face went red with anger. She threw her hands up in the air to exaggerate her point. She then shook her head. "It's pathetic. I knew I shouldn't have invited Buggy over."

"What?"

"Do you know how horrible it is to ask someone for their money? Or to insinuate that you want it? He's a good friend of mine. I don't care about his money. I never asked for anything. He offered it to me out of the kindness of his heart."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Take a guess."

Slap!

Before I could process anything, Y/N was clutching her cheek, crying.

The escalation of this situation was beyond anything I could process. One moment we were getting along, sharing a nice meal, and now, Y/N was on the floor, crying as she cursed her mother, wishing her to be dead like her father.

Within seconds, both women left. Y/N ran to her bedroom and Evelyn left through the front door.

I sat alone at the table, clutching my thighs as I stayed completely still. I attempted to process what had just happened but I failed to do so.

Y/N had every right to despise her father. He left her when she was an infant for the One Piece, which sure, could simply be a huge hoax. A woman without a father is tragic. She needed a proper male role model in her life. However, due to her father's immature dreams, she was left alone. And Evelyn? While present, she was still very absent in her life. My heart ached for her. Someone so sweet and kind shed too many tears for people who could care less about her.

I didn't want to immediately run upstairs to her aid. She needed space, from what I understood.

I took a few minutes to clean up from dinner then I proceeded up the narrow staircase. I knocked on the door which consisted of a weeping woman behind it. A muffled 'come in' allowed my entrance.

I pushed the door open and closed it behind me.

The poor girl lay on her bed, clutching herself in a tight ball as she wept, her body shaking the bed. I approached her, kneeling on the bed. My hand found her back and I stroked it. I succeeded in ignoring the sheerness of her dress, my eyes locking on the back of her head.

"Are you alright?"

A stupid question, I know. She was crying. Of course, she wasn't okay. But I felt responsible to ask it.

She remained silent, the sounds of her sobs hurting both my heart and my ears. I wanted to be deaf. To hear someone as enchanting as her cry was worse than a life sentence.

"Do you want me to leave?"

With those words, she twisted her body and faced me. Her makeup streaked down her wet face. I gave her a sincere smile. She was still so pretty. I reached to grab her hurt cheek. I wiped her tears, making sure to be extremely gentle.

"I'll be quiet. Talk to me when you feel ready."

Her swollen eyes closed and she gave a half-nod.

I remained quiet, caressing her soft skin. I admired her, thanking God her eyes were closed so she wouldn't think my staring was creepy. A few loose strands of hair stuck to her teary face to which I wiped them away.

I let out a soft sigh and laid back, my head propped on a stuffed animal of a turtle. I smirked to myself. Her room was cozy. Her bed was soft and the sheets were silk. A window took up half of a wall which had translucent pink curtains hanging down from a pole. A lantern sat on her bedside table, a wooden dresser in front of us. If I were her, I'd never leave. I loved all of the pink decorations. It was cute.

I was about to check on her again but before I could, she sat up and crawled closer to me, her wet face burying into the crook where my neck and right shoulder met. I let out an inaudible gasp, a shiver running down my spine as I could feel her hot breath against my skin. My arm swept underneath her and I pulled her closer to me, my hand rubbing her back. I slipped my hand below the hem of her dress so I could rub her bare back. She didn't protest. I smiled.

Her hand found my chest as she clutched my striped vest. I spread my legs to get comfortable. Her own wrapped around my waist. I was shocked with how close and personal she was becoming but did I mind? Not. One. Bit.

My free hand caressed her soft hair, combing my fingers through it. The sweet scent of her strong shampoo floated past my nose. Coconut and vanilla.

I opened my mouth, moments from speaking but before I had the opportunity to, a kiss was placed against my neck. My eyes widened and I pushed her off of me. Her tired eyes met mine for a moment. I looked at her, confused. But she smiled at me and leaned back in, this time placing a kiss against my lips. When she pulled back, a soft red tint rested on her mouth. "What?" She whispered, her eyes trailing to admire my mouth.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," She murmured and kissed me again. She repeated this, each kiss longer and more passionate than the previous one. My hands now remained glued at my sides. I was scared to use them, not knowing what I planned on doing with them. But when her hand grabbed my own and she brought my injured finger up to her soft, plump lips, I swallowed, feeling my body heat up. She kissed my finger, humming. "I wanted to do this earlier, but…"

"Y/N, what's going on?"

"Hm? Nothing," She murmured and kissed me again. She guided my hand up to grab at her chest. She gripped my hand upon her right breast then dropped her hand. "I'm not doing anything," She repeated.

My body only continued to grow hot.

What was she doing? Why was she doing this?

She wasn't the type of girl to just sleep around. She had respect for herself, which I heavily admired. So why was she doing this?

Her kisses grew more frequent and before I knew it, she was completely on top of me. Her thighs straddled my hips as she forced me back against the bed. I pulled the stuffed turtle out from beneath my heart and tossed it somewhere across the room. I moaned into her mouth as she kissed me harder, this time with her tongue.

I shivered, my hand stuck on her breast, delicately scrunching my fingers. She wasn't wearing a bra.

My breath hitched as my finger grazed over her nipple. She whined at this, a sound that was a symphony to my ears.

"Buggy," She moaned against my mouth. "Take my dress off."

And that's when it hit me.

This wasn't her.

This wasn't Y/N.

As much as I've been craving this since the moment my eyes landed on a goddess like herself, I couldn't do it. Not when she was drunk and an emotional wreck.

"I can't," I whispered against her mouth, my hand dropping from her breast. Her hovering mouth pulled away and she gave me a skeptical look, her eyebrows furrowing together. I frowned. I could tell she was upset. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean 'you can't'?" Y/N asked, clearly offended and taken aback. She looked down at the erection beneath my pants. She giggled, "You clearly can. And want to."

"Do you?"

"What?" She laughed, her eyes rolling. "I insinuated this, no?"

"You're drunk," I said flatly. "I don't want to do this. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you." I grabbed a pillow from behind me and used it to cover my hips. "I want to do this when you're sober. Not when you're intoxicated and upset."

She scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't want to upset you-"

"Well, you have." The girl crawled off of me and her arms folded over her chest. Her lips were stained red from my own. Normally, I would find the sight to be riveting but now, I was ashamed that I let it travel this far. "I want you to leave," She whispered.

"Y/N, come on, I don't want you to end up regretting this."

"No, you're right. I would end up regretting this."

I frowned. "Can we just talk tomorrow? About all of this?" I reached to take her hand in mine but she declined the offer by slapping it away.

"I want you to go."

"But-"

"I thought you liked me. I felt like we had a connection. I understood you, you understood me. And when I finally get the courage to show you how I feel, you just push me away," Her lower lip quivered as her eyes watered with tears.

"I do like you. I always have. I just want you to be sober, to be confident in what you're doing."

"And what makes you think I'm not sober?"

"You're slurring your words and your breath smells of alcohol," I admitted.

"Whatever," Y/N mumbled as she crawled off of the bed and stood on her feet. "I just wanted to give this night a good end. But my fault, I guess. I read into things too much."

I stayed quiet. I knew she didn't mean what she was saying.

"You're horrible, ya know that? You give me so many mixed signals by calling me cute, buying me things, and spoiling me with money. What do you want from me? I throw myself onto you and you push me away? What is wrong with you?"

"I'm going to go."

"Good! Go! The quicker, the better. I was sick of looking at you anyway." Her words cut deeper than any knife or blade ever could. But I knew she didn't mean any of it. It was the alcohol. I knew how she felt when her mother pulled this stunt with her. It wasn't a good feeling.

"Have a good night, Y/N." I smiled as I climbed off of the bed. I approached her despite her discomfort and pressed a kiss against her forehead. I then backed away, approaching the door. Part of me hoped she would beg me to stay but she remained quiet. Just as I left her bedroom, the door behind me slammed shut. While I was unhappy with her reaction, I was satisfied with the outcome. I'd much rather her despise me than take advantage of her when she was drunk by having sex with her. I knew she would regret it. She wasn't the type of girl to drink, let alone have sex with a guy while doing so.

As I walked downstairs, I realized she might forget about this in the morning. Or she wouldn't. I just didn't want her to hate me because of this. I was only looking out for her best interest.

I left her home and adjusted my coat, closing the door behind me. Evelyn leaned against the outside of the house, her foot propped up with a lit cigarette in her right hand. She looked at me and smiled. "Trouble in paradise?" She chuckled, taking a puff.

I adjusted the sleeves of my coat and looked over my shoulder. If it weren't for her, none of this would've happened. I developed a new hatred for Y/N's mother. "If I give her any more of what I have, I'm making sure you get jackshit," I snapped.

"We'll see about that. Like mother, like daughter."

"She is nothing like you."

"You're a no-good pirate. I see that. I just need her to realize that."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. I reached over, grabbed the cigarette from her lips, and threw it on the ground. I squished it below my foot and then stepped forward. "The first step to conquering addiction is admitting you have one."

"Go home, clown."

It took everything in me not to say my true feelings to her, but that was Y/N's mother. I wasn't going to insult her mom.

It was best to leave before things escalated further.

I had such high hopes for tonight but alas, nothing was made a reality. As I started down the street, I wondered if I made a mistake by not continuing further with Y/N. I wanted to, I really did. I wanted nothing more than to share a moment of intimacy with her. But the red wine clouded her judgment. She had a huge fight with her mother. Evelyn even hit her. There was no way she was thinking clearly.

And if our relationship is affected because of this, then so be it.

I'd rather that than take something precious from her.

Than to corrupt someone as pure as she.

[soupbabe]

So it’s basically winter where I live and I was wondering if I could get the sinclair brothers, Billy Lenz and Otis Driftwood with an s/o who always has cold hands and try’s to warm them up by touching the slashers? Thank you as always

Touching the Slashers with Cold Hands

Featuring: Billy Lenz, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Otis Driftwood, and Vincent Sinclair

No problem!! Literally the only thing I hate about winter is how cold my hands get 😓😓 Apologies for taking a while to write this, I've been focused on other things

Billy Lenz

- No matter how cold your hands are, his hands are colder

- He revels in your touch so much, like a cat rubbing his head against his owner's hands

- If you're being touchier than usual, he's immediately assuming you want to do more than to just warm your hands up

- might take your hand to other places he wants you to touch him

- It'll take like 3 other incidents for Billy to finally get the hint that you genuinely just want your hands to get warmer

- He's already the kind of guy who wants to be held 24/7, your constant touching is fueling his bad habits of forcing himself in your lap whenever possible

- Though Billy can't help you heat up your hands, it sure does feel good to be cuddled up in your lap by a fire

Otis Driftwood

- Cold hands were the first thing Otis discovered about you

- He loves having your hands all over him, massive ego boost to have your s/o cling to you

- It's just a bonus that he's a human furnace

- With how touchy you are, he also tries to get something more out of it

- Just gets him going when you're with him and your hands drift ever so slightly under his shirt, y'know?

- When you're all over him it's when he wants to be at his most unbothered

- Will throw anything in his vicinity at whoever comes in and interrupts his time with you

Bo Sinclair

- He adores your hands on him

- Bo is definitely a possessive and protective type, having you next to him, hands around his arms always make him walk around with his chest puffed out

- He never liked being touched but you've changed his mind so fast

- Bo would definitely kiss your palms or something if you're cuddling early in the morning

- He's sappy when you're in bed with him, he can't resist

Lester Sinclair

- When you first touched him, you scared him a lil

- You wrapped your hands around his waist once and all that left him was a small shriek-giggle combo

- If you tell him your hands are just cold, he'll just nod and let you drape your arms around him once more

- It doesn't take long for him to recognize that it's a common issue for you and so he gets to plotting

- He knows he can't always be there to help you warm yourself up so he'd go into town and get you a nice pair of gloves <33

- You wear them constantly and it warms his heart !!

- Though you both know it doesn't beat the intimacy of real skin to skin contact <3

Vincent Sinclair

- Oh he's the best person to warm your hands up with

- Not only is he a human furnace, he's always gonna have some lingering warmth from his workshop

- He's a bit skittish, not being the touchy type, but he loves the cool feeling your hands leave on his body

- Head empty only Vincent guiding your hand to touch his real face, the sensation extra warm due to his blush

- He becomes a lot more clingy whenever you're around

- It's not like you'd have a problem with it, right? He knows you'd be complaining about how cold you are if he wasn't there

[alovesongtheywrote]

can we pleaseeee have a pt.2 to nightmare academia bc THOSE TWO HAVE SO MUCH TENSION???!!!!!

♥ Summary:  abso-fucking-lutely you can. here's reid's proper response to the typewriter incident(s) [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: discussions of sex, but no actual smut. arguing. spencer's a little mean, but shit, so's the reader. crim and psych facts. this is another 1000 words of the reader being a brat and reid losing his cool over it

♥ A/N: i still don't know when this is. if you have ideas, lmk, but again, im thinking it's right after s9.

♥ Word Count: 1646

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Yeah, so, about three weeks later, your students started breaking down again. You had to wonder if Dr. Reid was actually some sort of closet sadist who enjoyed watching his students break down. You tried to shake that thought from your head. He had been an FBI agent, after all!

If he was a sadist, he wouldn’t have left the FBI.  

You reached your sobbing student quota of seven faster this time- though in at least one instance, the student apologized for Reid.

“He’s a good professor,” they said, curling up in a hard plastic chair that was not meant to be curled up in, “He’s just really bad at technology.”

You couldn’t help but agree. The students you had in common with Reid were incredibly insightful when they spoke in class- specifically on topics that the doctor would have touched on. Despite that, you could only have so many students come to you on the brink of collapse without doing something about it.

So. You brought the typewriter out again.

-

Spencer had tried to do the whole laptop thing. He really had. However, when the time came for one of his classes to submit an assignment, half of that class presented him with links to Google Documents that he couldn’t access. And this was after he requested PDFs!

After a weekend of writing emails, making repeated calls to Penelope Garcia, and lying facedown on the couch trying to fight off a migraine, Reid gave up on the technology thing. He banished laptops from his classroom once more. He told himself he just wouldn’t let the typewriter bother him. He wouldn’t let you bother him. At least, you wouldn’t bother him as much as emails did.

Then he got to class.

“So, when we look at externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“As the name would suggest-” 

Click, click, click, click, click.

“These are the issues that manifest externally-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“Maladaptive behaviours caused by externalizing disorders impact the environment-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“While internalizing disorders do not, generally, cause crime-”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“Externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, ding!

“Son of a bitch-!”

Reid’s students watched as their usually composed professor began to fray at the edges. His long fingers ran through his hair, messing up his already messy curls. He ignored the way some strands landed in front of his eyes- how could he pay attention to that? He was too focused on not screaming in frustration. Reid pulled off his cardigan almost forcefully and threw it on his chair. His body felt too warm, his skin a prison and his ribs a furnace. He crossed his arms, bringing one hand up to press his fingers against his brow.  

He stood like that for a few moments, catching his breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to let you get to him.  

When Spencer tried to profile you, he saw a respected professional who genuinely cared about their students- so much so that you went out of your way to interfere with his classroom policies. He didn’t know why you cared so much. Most professors wanted to see their students succeed to a degree, but you seemed to have it out for him, specifically.  

Maybe it was his anti-tech policies. Maybe it was just something about him.  Spencer knew he was a difficult person to be around. You wouldn’t be the first person who couldn’t stand him because of things that were just intrinsic parts of his being. You definitely wouldn’t be the first person to be annoyed by him. Whatever it was, he was going to figure it out- even if he had to return to your office to do it.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Returning to externalizing disorders-”

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click. DING.

You were going to be the death of Spencer Reid.

-

That evening, you caught Reid just outside your office, typewriter held aloft in his arms. You didn’t try to get the door for him.

“Well, hello Doctor Reid! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Reid didn’t bother with pleasantries. He got right to the point, “Why are you doing this?”

You played dumb- it was one of your favourite things to play, “Whatever do you mean, Doctor? I’m just supplying my students with the tools they need to learn. Do you have a problem with that?”

Reid pulled his lips together and frowned. He looked a little bit like a frog- or perhaps a sad chipmunk. You refused to admit that the exasperated expression on his face was kind of cute.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you’re smarter than this. What could you possibly stand to gain from irritating me incessantly?”

“Why don’t you profile me about it, FBI guy?” you raised your eyebrows, very clearly mocking his previous line of work as you relaxed against the door.

“Okay,” Reid grit his teeth, re-adjusting his grip on the typewriter. If you wanted to play this game, he would play, “You’re irritating me out of a strange mix of genuine concern for your students, and what appears to be a desperate need for attention. Maybe your parents didn’t focus on you enough during your childhood. Maybe you feel inferior in your work, so you’re taking it out on me. Either way, it’s kind of sad.”

Your eyes narrowed. A vein in your jaw twitched. Your mouth turned downward into a scowl as you tried very hard to pretend that you didn’t feel just a little inferior in your work. And hey, even if you did, that had nothing to do with this. He was wrong- not entirely- but enough to keep you steady.  

You knew you were playing a dangerous game.

“For a profiler, that was a pretty shit assessment. What I stand to gain isn’t attention. If I wanted your attention, I would have it. What I gain is a student body that’s further than two inches from collapse,” you leaned back against the door again, keeping him out and forcing him to keep the typewriter in his arms.

“What about you, Doctor?” you hissed, “What could you possibly stand to gain from murdering your students by way of lead poisoning?”

“Lead hasn’t been used in the creation of pencils since 1978, and the amount of lead paint a person could ingest by chewing the paint off a pencil wouldn’t be lethal. Try harder.”

“‘Try harder,’ he tells me. Fine. You aren’t a sadist and you aren’t going for mass murder by way of pencil.  Maybe you’re just a huge asshole, but if you were, that reputation would precede you. I’m out of ideas, so just tell me.  Why stop with the tech? It looked like it was working.”

“It wasn’t, not that that’s your business,” Reid adjusted his stance, trying to take a defensive stance without dropping the typewriter, “And how do you know I’m not a sadist? That’s a pretty big inference considering we’ve only worked together for a few months.”

“If you were a sadist, you would’ve stayed in the position that gave you the most power over other people. University professor is not that position.”

Reid went silent for a second. Then, to your surprise, he gave you a straight answer, “The laptops worked until I assigned a paper. I received broken links, inaccessible files, and a migraine.”

You paused, squinting at him slightly, “It was Google Docs, wasn’t it? They all sent in links to Google Docs?”

Reid paused, tilting his head like a confused puppy. What a fucking asshole, looking so fucking adorable while being a huge dick. Maybe that was on you. You had to stop comparing him to cute things.

“How did you know?”

“Because college kids have the capacity for massive stupidity. Did you specify what format you wanted?”

“Of course I did, I’m a professional.”

“Uh-huh,” you didn’t seem to believe him, “Well, even if you did, some of your students are gonna fuck it up.”

“How?! I stated it multiple times-!”

“Well, forgive the rest of the world for not having IQs in the thousands and eidetic memories. Some of us forget things, Professor.”

“It’s 187.”

“Excuse me?”

“My IQ, it’s 18-”

“Anyone who actually tries to measure intelligence with IQ is fucking unintelligent, and not worth my time. Give me my typewriter and get out of my office.”

“We aren’t in your office.”

“Give me! My typewriter! And get out! Of my office!!”

When he still didn’t move, you seized the typewriter from him and hissed, “Out!! Away with you now!! Don’t make me bite you, because I swear to god-”

Reid put his hands up in surrender, stepping back and heading down the hallway. The second you were out of sight, he pulled out his phone. Emails were a no-go, but a call? That he could manage.

“Hey, Garcia? I need you to do a background check on someone for me… what? No, this isn’t about the PDFs! I need everything you have on Professor (Y/N) (L/N).”

-

Meanwhile, across town in a bar that just so happened to be very popular with college kids, a certain group of students sat.  This group had one major thing in common- they shared two specific professors.

“So, profs (L/N) and Reid are fucking, right?”

“If they aren’t already, they will be soon enough.  Did you see him lose it over the typewriter in class today?  He said an actual swear.  Fucking nuts.”

“That was kind of hot, I’ll be honest.”

“It was- but I’ll bet you anything that (L/N) tops.”

“You’re a degenerate.  I’ll bet ten on those odds.”

[hiacinthh]

So I just watched Out Of The Funrnace and for obvious reasons it became impossible for me not to compare it to Fight Club. Don't get me wrong, of course, both are incredible, and in my opinion, Out Of The Furnace really surprised me.

The issue is that although I notice these similarities with these clandestine clubs where men beat each other (in the case of Fight Club for anarchy, relief, madness or whatever you want to call it and in the case of Out Of The Funrnace for simple money) I thought that anyway this last one wasn't going to have gay and extremely homoerotic acquaintances hidden there...

Until I heard "Youy going to be a good boy and take all dive like Petty said" along with the image of a guy sucking on a lollipop, a few centimeters away from the other, then threatening to give him a lesson... and I understood that ultimately these two films have too many things in common.

Plus there are two sigmans involved... or is that what they called that shit?

[letsgetdowntobismith]

How did you even get into the sword making business?

Oh wow my first ask!! 😁 👍and actually a rather sweet story so get comfortable cause we’re going on a trip down memory lane kiddo 🙏

So growin up my parents where STRICT people, I’m talkin: 7 o’clock bed time, all work must be done before I can draw and eat, always wearing gods awful dresses with those frilly sleeves and fuckin ruffle on the skirt bottom, no going outside past 5 (and even then I had rarely left the house), no playin with the other kids as my parents always had some neighbourhood issue with their parents and the way they where raising them to be (as she puts it) ‘brutes’ , to put it simply I was kinda lonely, parents trying to turn me into a little madam so I’d ’attract a man better’ I couldn’t do ‘boyish’ things essentially. They say that they were protecting me from corruption. Pathetic excuse to get me to change who I was for what they wanted me to be. The only thing I could do so I didn’t die of boredom was draw using a sketching pad and some shitty old dried out markers my parents had found most likey on the street, and even THEN what I was actually allowed to draw was very restricting, no blasphemy, no inappropriate drawings, the only thing that I was allowed to draw where patterns. I cant make this shit up, I assume my parents thought they were patterns for a dress but I didn’t like that, I wanted them to be used for a greater purpose. I wanted to have a greater purpose.

I had a neighbour who never really showed themselves or went outside to interact with others, I guess looking back now we had a lot more in common than I thought but anyway, during the day time I would cautiously look outside my window considering I wasn’t really allowed outside much. At the time I didn’t fully comprehend what everything was in their home front, there were some tables, a couple mallets on the walls and a large stone furnace with a couple of different sized metal slabs (of course I know now these were called anvils), really nothing interesting but at night would be a different story. My room window was facing his house, as I would sleep at night id see spark past my window, sound of metal grinding and screeching and smoke would fill my room. I was always so scared of the shadows it would cast in my room, I didn’t know what the hell it all was. Parents told me our neighbour was ‘a brute’ ‘a corrupted person who would bring harm and violence to this world’ ‘up to no good’ and the list goes on. I grew to fear my the next door neighbour, I hated what they did and how my parents said they would harm people; so I would spend my nights watching the shadows on the walls whilst cowering under the bed sheets listening to the whistling and clanking from the window, though, despite the terror I felt watching the room fill with bright sparks there was always something so mesmerising about it.

I still don’t know what had come over me that one night, perhaps it was the lack of food that day, or the amount of sleepless nights I had suffered OR maybe even curiosity to help my mind relax but as I had gone to bed that night, and the noises and lights began I had decided to look out of my window for once during the night time. What followed was the moment I realised the world is not defined by my parents word.

A strix, with pale blue skin, top of their head adorned with different symbols running downwards leading onto their face, long ears pointed downwards with metal hoops hanging from random parts and as they turned to face the direction of my window their eyes, pitch black sclera with a glowing orange iris. Taking their blistered and stained hand reaching into a bucket of bubbling water and pulling out a spike before throwing it back into the fire and grabbing a mallet off the nearest wall, the once dull scenery of this workshop now shined and dazzled with bright colours of red and amber as the strix whilsted its familiar tune I’ve heard many times before, only this time it felt more comforting than scary. Every move they made was done with such grace, taking out the glowing hot metal from the ovens and smashing them repeatedly with a hammer watching as all the sparks fly out. The metal was then moulded and crafted into a long swords with fancy swirls around the handle. A new found wave of inspiration washed over me (till this day I’m not sure why but Michael’s guess was I had finally seen something new and it was exciting) as I ran to get my sketch book and pen, immediately copying the outline of the sword before drawing detailing on the swords blade.

I had awoken the next morning to my dad shouting, crying bloody murder but not from inside the house, from out side my window. Confused by this I walked over to the sound and there was my dad, MY notepad in hand, holding it up against the face of that strix from last night. “Look what you’ve done with your violent ways, exposing my child to such weapons” he should have known this was bound to happen, I mean seriously my room was right above his workshop!! But I suppose that he thought after scaring me so much I would be too afraid to do investigate what the strix was up to at night. My dad ripped the paper with the sword on it and slapped it onto the strix chest, they took the paper and started to analyse the drawing I watched as their now pitch black eyes study the paper a faint smile going across their face. I don’t think my dad was aware that I was listening because when he had walked in he told me the neighbour was going to hurt me and kill me with their weapons if they ever saw me by that window again. I knew that was a lie.

I wasn’t scared falling asleep that night, I felt nothing really. I awaited for the sparks, whistling and screeching but none of that came. Confused I once again walked up to the window now peering out at the glowing workshop with the strix sat ontop of one of the anvils eyes fixated on the drawing in their hand. “Did you draw this?” They said, such a gravelly and corse voice but one laced with intrigue and happiness. Now looking up at my window with their new glowing orange iris’s back. I didn’t know what to say really, all the terrible thoughts I had about this person because of my parents words had been completely false. “My names Orpheus, you are Runica aren’t you?” All I could do was nod my head. “That’s a lovely name, say, this is a quiet design you made.” Again I didn’t respond “Would you like to see it come to life?” They sat up from the anvil and walked over to a wooden barrel with a couple of handles sticking out and proceeds to pull out the sword that I had watched being made the night before, placing it on the anvil with my drawing beside it, unravelling a leather kit inside filled with different small chiseling tools each with a unique ending to them. Now grabbing the end of the sword Orpheus’s hand begins to glow orange as the sword begins to copy heating up the metal. Without thinking I walk closer to the window, opening it up all the way and begin sitting in the window ledge watching their every move. They tie their messy brown apron around their waist “this” Orpheus said placing their hand on the metal square “Is an anvil, I use it aswell as some other tools to be able the morph and shape it into what I desire” they reach over and grab a mallet off the table next to them “This here is a called a cross -peen hammer, you may want to take note of that, and its job is to shape the metal and this will help us get the basic blade and flatness of the sword, do you follow?” I nod my head along as I observe and listen intently to their voice. The way they spoke with such passion really changed my perspective on things, things my parents had told me about them. They aren’t doing this because they wish to bring harm, they do this because it’s art. That night I had spend my evening asking many questions, learning all different types of mallets/tongs/anvils and their purposes, whilst watching them make my drawing a reality upon that sword until the sun peered over the hills signalling morning.

That day I had spent all my time in my room, drawing new patterns only this time on different weapons. Once Orpheus had given me a showcase of all the different weapons they’ve forged I was a drawing MACHINE. Sickles,syths, knuckle dusters, flails you name it I had already drawn it. Of course I had to keep this a secret from my parents as they probably would have beaten Orpheus to death with their own tools so they had given me one of their books with all the different sketches they’ve made over the years, notes on temperatures, hammer sizes and metal quantity. During the day I would design, by night fall I was a blacksmith. Orpheus had set up a ladder so I could come down undercover, get a better veiw of their workshop and let me tell ya it’s even more magical up close once you see everything for their actual size. The anvil was almost as big as me!! After days of preparing and sketching different work for Orpheus, they would take my designs and show me how to craft them but they were always adamant on ME doing it, they would sit off in the corner on their chair observing me. In a way I’m greatful for that, at the time I was a little annoyed frankly but as I’ve grow up remembering those nights of all that hard work and heavy lifting I can look back and think, I DID THAT. I believe this was their subtle way of showing me independence, I don’t have to rely on someone to tell me what to do.

Orpheus would sit off to one side and would answer any question I asked, but there was one answer that had always stuck with me. Orpheus’ worked during the night time as opposed to the day because of the light. There was something about the sun rays that would cause their eyes to hurt and strain resulting in such pain for them, however watching the red hot glow from the metal and fire was one of the only lights that Orpheus could bare witness too, the glow provided them with the ability to see light without the strain that the sun would give off. I always thought that was rather sweet, the fact that despite their difficulty they still managed to do something they loved and brought them joy, it’s the simple things that get to me honestly.

that’s what made me fall in love with blacksmithing and forging weapons, you don’t have to follow the rules, because there are none, forging is about making your ideas come to life and testing new ideas. If it works, great do it again!! If it doesn’t, melt it down and try again, you don’t have to get it right first time and you know deep down in your heart that with a couple of changes it will work you just have to keep trying. It’s art and I will never forget when I made my first dagger, it wasn’t perfect don’t get me wrong, could have been less bumpy, the leather on the handle was overlapping to much in certain parts and the soldering was um unique to say the least but I had done something for myself for once in my life, I had control over something. I kept going, I kept pushing the limits of what’s possible and always did my best; I owe Orpheus my life, gods knows what I would be doing now if I had just stayed away from the window, I wish to continue on their legacy and create all the designs they had made in that book they gave me all those years ago.

I hope they would be proud of me.

PHEW that was a long one apologies for the ramble but when I see the opportunity to talk about Orpheus I simply can’t pass it, I’ll speak of them until the day I die 👍

[papaemeritusthefifth]

Aether and Swiss with a plus size partner headcanons (some nsfw)

Aether

Loves the plush

He's got some chub too, so he isn't turned off by any means

Kisses up your arms Gomez-style.

If you have cellulite and you're self conscious about it, he will press soft kisses and tell you all the ways he thinks they're beautiful.

He'll also help in any way he can with joint pain. Found a new cream that you want to try? His coat is already on and is grabbing his keys. Shoulder giving you issues? He's grabbing the massage oil and moving your shirt.

Loves feeling your thighs on him and always runs his hands along them

If you're cuddling, best believe he's going to pull your legs on top of him. On the couch, immediately. Bed? He's already pulling to get you to straddle him.

He loves your hugs. Feeling your arms around him makes him feel so safe and happy.

Will absolutely sink his teeth into your ass, if you're into that. All the ghouls love biting and marking, but Aether will bite you and then use your ass as a pillow, kneading it.

Sit on his face. Don't hover, don't be shy. This ghoul has strong neck muscles and if he notices you hesitate, he'll grab your hips and bring you down fully.

(He's also an absolute champion with his tongue, but thats for another post)

Swiss

L o v e s seeing his hand on your stomach, thighs, ass, back. Basically anywhere on you.

If he isn't careful (which can be often, try as he might) you'll end up with bruises of his fingers because of him gripping you so tight.

Similarly to Aether, he'll try helping with any discomfort in his own way. He'll absolutely do massages but most of the times it end with him deep inside you. He has plenty of hot and cold packs, not to mention he's a furnace by himself.

His most common way of helping is through distraction. Either by watching a movie, fucking into you, or cooking a gourmet meal fit for the gods.

Also loves biting. You always have one of his marks on you and he loves seeing your skin riddled with them. His favorite place to bite on you is the crook of your neck, right above the collar bone.

Some ideas I had regarding Aether and Swiss. Might do more of this later. Let me know if that's something you'd be into!

[val-the-bun]

After a bit of playtesting and editing, the Warlord of Silfwyrm's statblock is finally here!

I really wanna thank @shera-dnd, @midnightechoes, and my friends on my local discord server for helping me test this out, and for pointing out some of the issues with mechanics. I'm going to be fixing up statblocks for a future post.

My friend shera-dnd has been a really good friend, and been giving me advice to take this a little slower, and maybe I should have taken more time before just starting all this. So for now I'm gonna take it slower.

As usual, the text statblock and lair actions are gonna be down below for screen readers!

Warlord of Silfwyrm

Large Undead, Neutral Evil

Armor Class 18 (natural armor)

Hit Points 136 (16d12 + 32)

Speed 40 ft.

STR 20 (+5)

DEX 10 (+0)

CON 14 (+2)

INT 12 (+1)

WIS 14 (+2)

CHA 18 (+4)

Saving Throws DEX +4, CON +6, CHA +8

Skills Insight +7, Perception +7

Damage Resistances Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing from Nonmagical Attacks

Damage Immunities Necrotic, Poison

Condition Immunities Charmed, Exhaustion, Grappled, Poisoned

Senses Passive Perception 17

Languages Common, Giant

Challenge 9 (5,000 XP)

Proficiency Bonus +4

Relentless Undeath. While at 0 hit points, the warlord can continue fighting as normal. The warlord only dies if it takes radiant or cold damage while at 0 hit points.

Incorporeal Movement. The warlord can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain. It takes 5 (1d10) force damage if it ends its turn inside an object. 

Actions

Multiattack. The warlord makes two saber attacks.

Saber. Melee Weapon Attack: +9 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 21 (1d8 + 5) slashing damage.

Temple Spear. Melee Weapon Attack: +9 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 16 (2d6 + 5) piercing damage.

The warlord can use a bonus action to ignite the spear with radiant fire. The spear sheds bright light in a 40-foot radius and dim light for an additional 40 feet. While the spear is wrapped in flames, it inflicts 1d6 radiant damage to any target it hits.

Lair and Lair Actions

The Ancient Vessel, Silfwyrm

Awoken from her slumber, the ice of the Warlord's tomb breaks and shatters with her awakening. Her spear - her stolen treasure that angered the gods - shines in spite of the darkness of the storm.

The heart of the storm roars overhead as the once mighty captain stands tall upon her ship once more...

Lair Actions

On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties), one of the undead of the Silfwyrm, takes a lair action to cause one of the following effects; the undead can’t use the same effect two rounds in a row:

 Frost Cloud. A cloud of icy fog sweeps in from the storm raging over the frozen sea, filling a radius of 60 feet centered around the warlord with fog. The fog spreads around corners, and its area is heavily obscured unless a creature has a source of light or heat. It lasts until initiative count 20 on the next round.

Storm Surge. The storm over the frozen sea lets loose a howling wind, sending a surge of frost and snow in a fifteen foot cube originating from the warlord. Each creature in the cube must make a DC 13 Constitution saving throw or take 1d10+1 cold damage. The warlord regenerates 1d10+1 hit points.

Wyrm Thrash. The warlord shouts a command, and the ancient Silfwyrm answers. The furnace of the ship ignites, her sails unfurl into the storm, and the great ship thrashes against her icy prison. Each creature on the Silfwyrm's deck, other than undead, must make a DC 13 Dexterity saving throw or be knocked prone.

Silver Roar (Recharge 5-6). The warlord exhales a torrent of icy wind in a 15 foot cone. Each creature in that area takes 6 (2d6) cold damage and must make a DC 13 Constitution saving throw, or be covered in ice and have its movement speed reduced to 0 until the end of the round. If the target critically fails its save, or is already covered in ice, then it is encased in the ice and becomes restrained until it is freed by another creature using an action, or the target is healed.

Divine Strike (Recharge 5-6, Warlord Only). The warlord hurls her spear into the storm overhead, and strikes down on a target within 60 feet that she can see. The warlord makes a Ranged Spell Attack against the target: +8 to hit, inflicting its normal piercing damage. Whether the spear hits its target or not, all creatures within a 20 foot radius of where the spear lands must make a DC 13 Dexterity saving throw, taking 4d6 radiant damage on a failed saving throw, or half as much on a successful saving throw. If the spear was ignited, its radiant flames are extinguished until the warlord ignites it again. The spear will fly back to the warlord on initiative count 20 of the next round.

[furnacerepair7]

How to Quickly Find Reliable Oil Furnace Repair Near Me

Understanding the Importance of Furnace Repair Near Me When it comes to maintaining the comfort and safety of your home, ensuring that your oil furnace is in good working condition is paramount. A malfunctioning furnace can lead to a host of issues, including inefficient heating, increased energy bills, and even potential safety hazards. Therefore, finding reliable furnace repair near me is…

[serial-serializednovelreader]

- Agatha’s like “let’s solve the mystery of dracula” and Zoe’s like “idk girl can I sleep please?”

- Agatha is still spitting facts in the afterlife. A true queen for that.

- oh yikes, looks like lucy didn’t get out of the furnace quite fast enough

- don’t call jack inferior vintage!! He’s just emo there’s a difference

- buddy you’re mad about her being cremated despite your wishes but let me emphasize: you didn’t give her enough time to change her wishes to her family!!! Like she went from this weird consent arrangement you two had where you said “don’t cremate yourself bad idea” and then right afterwards, she asks if she’s dying and then YOU KILL HER!! In what universe do you think would she have time to be like “hey mom I want to be buried actually :) teehee my vampire hookup said that’s a better idea” then again this dude isn’t known for his common sense, but I want to point it out.

- awwww Agatha speaking through Zoe :)))))

- no means no, Lucy

- never thought taking a selfie might be a useful solution here but HEY if it works right?

- also thought her whole issue was “oh my gosh I’m so pretty and I wish people wouldn’t smile at me so much :( it’s such a hardship 🥺” and NOW she’s upset about being ugly? Pick a problem girlie pop. (Though I guess if I looked like someone from the Thriller music video I would also be pressed).

- I love how dracula is like “yeah you’ll get over your self image issues” when he can’t even look in the mirror for too long??

- also how does that work because he sees how he actually looks and lucy sees her former self. BBC?!

- ouch Jack I know you’re saying that so you can stake her but I know you kind of also mean it because you loved her!!!!! I’m sorry Lucy didn’t appreciate you

- awwwww Lucy doesn’t want to live like this, very understandable, I’m glad she had that resolution with jack instead of her feeling betrayed.

[guiltywisdom]

I’ve been inquiring into Orthodoxy for a few months (coming from protestantism) and I don’t know for certain yet if I will choose to convert, I guess because I have a few hangups. I attended Divine Liturgy at my local parish for the first time last week and intend to continue worshipping with them and talking to the priests there, but I figured I would bring my questions to you as well.

I’ve been watching interviews and talks from Dr. Jeannie Constantinou, who seems absolutely brilliant and I love her. I’ve heard her explain at least 5 different times now this notion of “phronema,” basically the mind of the Church (the mind of the Apostles, as taught by Christ) and how the Eastern phronema is so different from the West because of the West’s emphasis on human reasoning. I appreciate mystery; mysticism and apophatic theology is what attracted me to Orthodoxy in the first place. But while denouncing Western appeals to reason and emphasizing appeals to Tradition and the mysteries therein, two examples she brought up were same-sex marriage and universalism, basically saying that no matter how reasonable an argument one might make, it’s not Tradition and therefore invalid.

While I’m honestly not sure what to believe about homosexuality (I have pro-LGBT leanings personally but am unconvinced either way I guess), I believe in a “Biblical Universalism,” the idea that Hell is temporary and ultimately corrective rather than punitive, like a furnace to purify gold of any dross. It makes the most philosophical sense to me, I see it in the Scriptures, and (most importantly in this context) I see it as historical.

I’ve read a summary of the points brought up in the book “Universalism, The Prevailing Doctrine of the Christian Church During Its First Five Hundred Years” by John Wesley Hanson and found them to be very compelling. It seems to show that universalism ought to have been preserved in Tradition, but for many reasons did not, and instead the idea of eternal torment in Hell has solidified.

Now we’re in a spot where the likes of the brilliant Dr. Constantinou is saying that, no matter how reasonable a stance like this might seem, we cannot rely on our own reasoning, as she appeals to the Apostolic Tradition. Truly, I don’t want to be prideful or arrogant, and I wish to conform my thinking in all ways to Christ. But it seems that such a stance should have been Tradition all along.

Please, how can I reconcile this? I think I want to participate in the Orthodox life. I like your worship, your prayers, your fasting, your asceticism, your mysticism, and (the bulk of) your theology. I think Orthodoxy is likely the closest to ancient Christianity. But must I take your tradition as wholly infallible? Is this an issue I need to humble myself on and conform to, or can I truly be welcomed if this is my view?

Tradition isn't "wholly infallible" because, for the most part, it was created by man. In general Orthodoxy teaches that, although we do have all we need for Salvation, some things we do not know for sure and that sometimes we must rexamine said tradition for new truths. Homosexuality wasn't really explored by the early fathers because homosexuality as we know it didn't exist. I think people see the Bible (and the words of the Church Fathers) as too black and white rather than something nebulous and deep. A common belief in the Orthodoxy of the people is something called "Hopeful Universalism" wherein those who believe it (myself included) argue that because God is infinitely loving and good then he would likely wish to reconcile all sinners to him but that we cannot know for sure and that free choice presupposes that there must be an option for those who might never choose to reconcile. You'll find that Orthodoxy has a lot of variation in belief, just ask about our infinite arguments over if Toll Houses are literal, a metaphor or heresy! I think you're a lot like me my sibling in Christ and I'm still here! Keep at it my friend.

[darksideofthemoonbot]

Khorne

Sorry Khorne fans, but for me he is last of the big four. That doesn't mean I don't like him, love all the chaos gods, but here's why. Unlike my Nurgle and Tzeentch explanations, this will be a bit heavier like my Slaanesh.

THE GOOD

Khorne is a lawnmower. There's something satisfying at times to the simplicity of, lets go with Kharneth, I like that name better. Something delightfully simple to screaming "BLOOD FOR THE BLOODGOD" and going to hit something with a sharp piece of metal. Its almost therapeutic sometimes.

Also, as he cares not from whence the blood flows, Kharneth is thus clearly the god of [menstruation joke goes here]. And yes, I am... familiar with the Leman Russ quote. Though in a way I sorta do want a Norscan slang to be "the time of the hound".

Completely unrelated, I promise, but also Valkia the Bloody. A lot of love for a queen who gets told she's been selected as a Slaanesh daemon prince for concubinisation, and answers by killing him and marching into chaos to deliver his head to Kharneth personally.

THE BAD

Khorne is a lawnmower. Much fun as it is to skull for yon skull throne, I can find Kharneth a bit one-note in that respect. Which isn't bad exactly but tends to make him better in measured doses, you know? I like variety over the long haul.

THE UGLY

Here's where it gets heavy. Like Slaanesh, I relate to Kharneth well. Unlike Slaanesh, it is not a mixed bag of good and bad. It is just bad. It is parts of me I do not like.

Among my mental/emotional concerns for which I get medication and therapy is anger. Not strong enough a word. Rage. Fury. Berserkergang perhaps.

Times where the world has become a long red tunnel with ThingsThatNeedToDie™️ at the other end. The strength is unbelievable, though I pay for it after. And I don't just mean raw physical force. The absolute purity of purpose in such a rage is the greatest clarity I have ever experienced.

And that is a bad thing.

It is like an addiction. It may well be one, but I am not a biochemist so I won't conjecture. All it causes is harm and the sublime clarity doesn't last beyond the fit of rage. I miss it. I shouldn't but I do. And I have started trying to direct it in healthier ways. Promoting justice, if there is such a thing, or perhaps more accurately fighting injustices. Turning the furnace of anger toward productive ends.

That, however, leads me to the even less useful and harder to justify emotion I relate to with Kharneth: hate. Unlike the conflagration of fury, hate is the bitter coals that endlessly hunger for spiteful destruction.

I have stared into the abyss of hate. In some areas I have fallen into it. Most notably misandristic thinking. I hated men. Another trauma response, given who has hurt me in the past. And I know that it is wrong, I have made real progress with it. Unlike anger, I do not miss it. It is seductive, offering clear and simple answers to complex issues. "X is bad" with no other qualifiers can be unbelievably tempting in some cases. Complex is troubling, while simple is easier. Hate is so much easier than understanding. But I do not miss it. The toxic fumes from those ever-smoking coals is poisonous to mind, body, spirit, and society.

It is not rage, it is contempt. It is spite and venom. A desire to see something ruined or destroyed, not out of passion, but out of bile. And my susceptibility for it is a part of myself I really do not like. But to mention my fibromyalgia again: it is easy to hate the world when the world causes you nothing but pain.

Understanding is counter to hate, maybe not perfectly but I found it helps. After I was assaulted a few years back by a hired driver, I was aware how easy it would be to fall into hate because of that. So I threw myself into learning about his religion. Harder to paint all adherents of a faith badly when I knew more about it, was my thinking. It worked. I even gained an appreciation for the art common in that belief system, that I had not known about before, and learned some interesting history. Which helped me remember: it is not all of a demographic, it may be too much of a demographic, but not all. He was just a jackass.

Sorry to end the big four on a heavy note y'all. Here's a picture of cathartic destruction.

[gorjanchomeservicesmiddleburg]

Understanding Your Furnace: Common Issues and Maintenance Tips

A furnace is an essential component of any home, especially during the colder months. It operates by heating air and distributing it throughout the house via ducts. Ensuring your furnace is in optimal working condition is vital for maintaining a comfortable and safe living environment. This blog post will explore the most common furnace problems, explain why regular maintenance is crucial, and provide an overview of necessary furnace maintenance tasks.

Why Regular Furnace Maintenance Is Crucial

Regular maintenance of your furnace is crucial for several reasons. Firstly, it ensures the system operates efficiently, reducing energy costs. A well-maintained furnace also lasts longer, saving you money on premature replacements. Additionally, regular checks can identify potential issues before they become significant problems, ensuring your home remains warm and safe. Lastly, a properly maintained furnace contributes to better air quality, as it effectively filters out dust and allergens.

Essential Furnace Maintenance Tasks

Maintaining a furnace involves several key tasks that should be performed regularly to ensure optimal performance:

Replace or Clean Filters: Dirty filters restrict airflow, causing the furnace to work harder and less efficiently. Regularly replacing or cleaning filters can prevent this issue.

Inspect and Clean the Heat Exchanger: The heat exchanger should be inspected for cracks or damage. Cleaning it ensures that it operates efficiently and safely.

Check the Thermostat: Ensuring your thermostat is functioning correctly helps maintain a comfortable temperature and can prevent the furnace from overworking.

Lubricate Moving Parts: Lubricating the motor and other moving parts reduces friction and wear, extending the furnace's lifespan.

Inspect Electrical Connections: Tightening and cleaning electrical connections can prevent fires and improve the furnace's efficiency.

Common Furnace Problems

Despite regular maintenance, furnaces can still encounter problems. Here are the 15 most common furnace issues you might face:

1. Thermostat Isn’t Working

A malfunctioning thermostat can cause your furnace to cycle on and off frequently or not at all. This can lead to an uncomfortable indoor environment and increased energy costs. Issues can arise from dead batteries, faulty wiring, or an incorrect thermostat setting.

2. Dirty & Clogged Filters

Filters trap dust, debris, and allergens, preventing them from entering your home. Over time, these filters can become clogged, restricting airflow and reducing efficiency. Regularly replacing or cleaning filters can prevent this issue.

3. Flickering, Weak or Oddly Colored Pilot Light

A pilot light that is flickering, weak, or an unusual color (like yellow instead of blue) can indicate a problem with the gas supply or a build-up of carbon monoxide. This issue requires immediate attention to ensure safety and proper furnace operation.

4. Cracked Heat Exchanger

The heat exchanger is responsible for heating the air that is distributed throughout your home. A crack in this component can lead to a carbon monoxide leak, which is hazardous. Regular inspections can catch this issue early, preventing potential health risks.

5. Malfunctioning or Frayed Blower Belt

A blower belt that is worn out or frayed can cause the blower to malfunction, leading to poor air circulation and heating. Replacing the belt can resolve this issue and restore proper function to your furnace.

6. Frequent & Over-Cycling

If your furnace turns on and off too frequently, it can be due to a faulty thermostat, clogged filters, or an improperly sized unit. This not only wastes energy but also puts extra strain on your furnace, potentially shortening its lifespan.

7. Limit Switch Malfunction

The limit switch is a safety feature that turns off the furnace if it overheats. If this switch is malfunctioning, it can cause the furnace to run continuously, leading to overheating and potential damage. A professional can inspect and replace a faulty limit switch.

8. Furnace Isn’t Blowing Air

If your furnace is running but not blowing air, it could be due to issues with the blower motor, belt, or fan. This problem requires immediate attention to restore proper airflow and heating in your home.

9. Worn Out Ball Bearings

Ball bearings reduce friction in the motor and blower, ensuring smooth operation. When they wear out, you might hear a scraping noise, and the furnace can overheat and fail. Regular lubrication and replacement of worn bearings can prevent this issue.

10. Rattling or Pinging Noises In Your Furnace

Unusual noises such as rattling or pinging can indicate loose panels, ductwork issues, or problems with the furnace's internal components. Identifying and fixing the source of these noises can prevent further damage and ensure quiet operation.

11. Ignition Problems

If your furnace has trouble starting, it might be due to a faulty ignition system. This can be caused by dirty burners, a malfunctioning ignition switch, or other electrical issues. Regular maintenance can help keep the ignition system in good working order.

12. Gas Supply Issues

A disrupted gas supply can prevent your furnace from operating correctly. This might be due to a closed valve, a gas leak, or other issues with the gas line. Immediate professional attention is required to address gas supply problems.

13. Poor Airflow

Poor airflow can result from a variety of issues, including clogged filters, ductwork problems, or a malfunctioning blower. Ensuring that air can flow freely through your furnace and ducts is essential for efficient heating.

14. High Energy Bills

If you notice a sudden increase in your energy bills, it could indicate that your furnace is working harder than it should. This might be due to a range of issues, including dirty filters, a malfunctioning thermostat, or general wear and tear.

15. Age of the Furnace

Furnaces typically last between 15-20 years. If your furnace is approaching or exceeding this age, it may start to develop more frequent problems. At this point, you might consider replacing it with a newer, more efficient model.

Schedule A Furnace Tune-Up Today

Regular maintenance and prompt attention to any issues can keep your furnace running efficiently and extend its lifespan. Don’t wait for a minor problem to become a major one—schedule a furnace tune-up today to ensure your home remains warm and comfortable all winter long.

[dolphin1812]

The message of this chapter is best summed up by this paragraph:

“This crowd may be rendered sublime. Let us learn how to make use of that vast conflagration of principles and virtues, which sparkles, bursts forth and quivers at certain hours. These bare feet, these bare arms, these rags, these ignorances, these abjectnesses, these darknesses, may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. Gaze past the people, and you will perceive truth. Let that vile sand which you trample under foot be cast into the furnace, let it melt and seethe there, it will become a splendid crystal, and it is thanks to it that Galileo and Newton will discover stars.”

@everyonewasabird and @halogenwarrior have written wonderful posts about all of the problems with this, both in terms of its classism (assuming that we and Hugo, the educated reader and the writer, need to “shape” the “masses” for a purpose so that they’ll be “bettered”) and its colonialist undertones, especially in relation to the convent digression (that there’s a “superior” culture that should be enforced on everyone through education; it’s made worse by his language of “race” and “physiognomy”). 

He does try to sympathize, and he contrasts himself with writers who don’t do that, like Burke and Cicero. He notes that they look down on the poor with their cries of “mob” and “rabble” and argues that we should ignore those labels and not “abandon” them. However, as @everyonewasabird so eloquently put it, there’s a big difference between “sympathy” and “solidarity,” and Hugo’s definitely stuck in the former. He believes that the poor need to be guided in a specific way to “improve,” and his language of “abandonment” suggests that they would be helpless on their own. There’s a responsibility to the poor embedded in his call, but it’s a paternalistic one. Moreover, although Hugo’s trying to be sympathetic, he also slips into dehumanizing language. For instance, he says they “swarm,” as if they were insects rather than people.

It’s also rather troubling that Hugo decides to defend his focus on the common people of Paris in this language:

“It is in the faubourgs, above all, we maintain, that the Parisian race appears; there is the pure blood; there is the true physiognomy; there this people toils and suffers, and suffering and toil are the two faces of man.”

“Purity” here is terrifying to read. While it’s understandable that Hugo would want to justify why the people of the faubourgs are the “true” people of Paris (in contrast to the stereotype of the bourgeoisie or the wealthy), “purity” suggests something unchangeable and fixed (especially when combined with “blood,” which adds a racializing element). 

Although Hugo’s views aren’t surprising, they’re also disappointing in light of the rest of the novel? Although many of the characters in this book are united by the common experience of poverty, the specifics of their experiences and identities are fairly diverse. They’re from many parts of France (city and countryside, etc) and face different, if overlapping, issues. Fantine is distinct from Valjean, who’s also distinct from Fauchelevent, and so on. Their statuses may be precarious, as we saw with the financial fall of Fauchelevent and Gribier and with Fantine, or they may have always lived in poverty, like Jean Valjean and Champmathieu. Having all of this boiled down to a “pure” identity once we reach Paris is upsetting not only because of the racial language but because the variety of experiences shown is one of this book’s strengths. 

This section is so sad compared to the rest of the novel, too. There’s definitely a lot of misery - the title is earned - but it’s such a hopeful story as well. Here, though, there are lines like “suffering and toil are the two faces of man,” which feels so resigned in comparison to the rest of the book. It really feels like this chapter is both the worst of Hugo and the antithesis of Hugo’s best, but also written by Hugo.

[fixmyhomedenver]

Emergency Furnace Repair in Westminster: Quick Fixes to Beat the Chill

As the winter chill sets in and the temperatures drop, the last thing you want is for your furnace to malfunction. In Westminster, where winter can be particularly unforgiving, having a reliable heating system is essential to stay comfortable and safe indoors. However, furnace breakdowns can happen unexpectedly, leaving you in need of immediate assistance. That's where emergency furnace repair services come to the rescue. In this blog post, we'll explore some quick fixes for emergency furnace repair in Westminster, ensuring you stay warm and cozy even in the coldest of days.

Furnace Repair Westminster:

When your furnace starts acting up, it can be a stressful situation, especially during the peak of winter. Common issues include strange noises, lack of heat, or a malfunctioning thermostat. In Westminster, furnace repair services are readily available to address these issues promptly. Whether it's a faulty ignition system, a clogged air filter, or a malfunctioning thermostat, professional technicians can diagnose and fix the problem efficiently.

Heater Repair Westminster:

Similar to furnaces, heaters can encounter various issues, leading to a loss of heat and comfort in your home. From worn-out parts to electrical issues, heater repair services in Westminster are equipped to handle all kinds of problems. With their expertise and experience, they can quickly identify the root cause of the issue and provide effective solutions to restore your heater's functionality.

Furnace Replacement Westminster:

In some cases, furnace repair may not be sufficient, especially if the unit is old or extensively damaged. Furnace replacement becomes necessary to ensure optimal heating efficiency and safety in your home. Westminster residents can rely on professional HVAC technicians to guide them through the furnace replacement process, helping them choose the right unit for their needs and budget.

Furnace Installation Westminster:

For new homeowners or those looking to upgrade their heating system, furnace installation services are indispensable. Proper installation is crucial for the efficient operation of your furnace and ensuring its longevity. Expert technicians in Westminster can handle the entire installation process, from sizing the unit to integrating it seamlessly into your home's HVAC system.

Emergency Water Heater Repair Denver:

In addition to furnaces, water heaters play a vital role in maintaining comfort during the winter months. A malfunctioning water heater can disrupt your daily routine and leave you without hot water when you need it most. Emergency water heater repair services in Denver are available around the clock to address leaks, heating issues, or any other problems affecting your water heater's performance.

Air Conditioner Westminster:

While the focus is often on heating during the winter, it's essential not to neglect your air conditioning system. Regular maintenance and timely repairs are necessary to ensure your AC unit operates efficiently when the warmer months arrive. Whether it's repairing a malfunctioning compressor or replacing worn-out components, air conditioner services in Westminster can keep your home cool and comfortable all year round.

When it comes to emergency furnace repair in Westminster and surrounding areas, prompt action is key to restoring comfort in your home. Whether you're facing a furnace breakdown, water heater issues, or AC problems, professional HVAC technicians are just a phone call away. With their expertise and dedication, they can quickly diagnose the problem and provide effective solutions to get your heating and cooling systems back up and running. For top-notch HVAC, plumbing, and electrical services, trust Fix-it 24/7 Plumbing, Heating, Air & Electric to deliver exceptional results every time.

[salemoleander]

A common issue with minecraft villager reimaginings is that they are trying to make trading so locked behind requirements that players have to treat villagers well, OR make trading even less efficient in the hopes that villager farms just don't make sense.

This will never work.

Players fucking love automating! They love farms, and efficient ways to get items, and taking advantage of janky game mechanics to do so. If you try to add a 'comfort' mechanic, or a social structure, or generally impede current 'villager breeders' (ugh) or farm designs, players will just build a better mousetrap.

You cannot drastically change player behavior by adding new hoops to jump through; the players will adapt and immediately hop through them like clever little border collies.

My 2 cents are that the mechanical need for "way to generate large quantities of items/blocks" should be completely decoupled from villagers (and piglins¹). It makes initial sense from a worldbuilding perspective (villagers trading! Barter!) but it violates so many tenets Minecraft tries to follow with its wildlife, and that grossness is amplified because these are intended to be people². If Mojang nixed fireflies because eating them would poison frogs, it seems like a mechanic that incentivizes putting sentient creatures in cages should be even more urgent to remove.

My 'hard and fast rule' is that resource farming should always be covered by one of four categories:

Actual irl domesticated animals - Cows, pigs, chickens, bees. This obviously has its own ethical stuff, but this is imo a reasonable thing for a game to include.

Hostile mobs - If something wants to kill me, it's fair that I steal its bones.

Plants/natural worldgen - Ecological ramifications are a whole other post, but at least dirt isn't sentient³.

Machines/workstations - Enchanting table, furnace, crafting bench

To me, that last option seems underutilized! I really hope that Mojang is willing to apply the same thoughtfulness to villagers that they apply to animal and biome additions!

And if not, hopefully you at least will, dear reader. (I am going to stop here and add my ideas in a reblog, bc I think this post would be undermined by ending in my speculative Minecraft fanfic.⁴)

¹ Piglins are functionally villagers. However, I do appreciate the difference- that if you fuck with them, they just stab you. Villagers, take notes!

² I do not want to argue about how intelligent/ sentient/ sapient villagers are.

³ Mycelium might be. If so, I argue it falls under hostile mobs. Categorical crisis averted.

⁴ No, I don't feel it's undermined by instead ending in a series of footnotes.