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orbitariums · 5 years ago

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟔)

note: it’s been a while y’all!!! i hope you’re still here & i hope you’ve been taking the time to educate yourself on everything that’s going on around the world!

this chapter probably took me the longest to write out of any chapter bc i was trying to get all the details just right. i felt like maybe something was missing, and i edited it all this week to get it how i wanted. now i feel more secure!!

i hope y’all enjoy it, i’m so excited to see and show y’all what’s up next for moonrose/yn and steve. leave your thoughts !! let’s gooo

playlist

word count: 8.1k

warnings: none really? other than mentions of sex work and the age gap btwn steve and moonrose. but no smut this time! this starts off where chapter five ended.

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

The sight in front of you when that camera turned on made you sit right up, your eyes nearly popping out of your head. There was no fucking way. It was some sort of sick joke. Because the man behind the camera simply could not be who you thought it was.

“What. The. Fuck.”

| | |

"What the fuck?" you continued, less statically now that the initial shock was gone.

But there was no way in hell that the man you were talking to, had been talking to for over a month, was Captain America? He didn't have to be in his full attire, the face of Steve Rogers was noticeable anywhere.

And then it hit you, a flood of realizations. Of course he had used a fake name at first. It should've been obvious when he changed his name from Grant Roberts to Steve - short for Steve Rogers. It should've been obvious when he told you that he was a "scientist", such a vague term to use for the many branches of science that existed.

It should've been obvious why he wouldn't turn his camera on. And yet, it shouldn't have, because this wasn't something that you could even begin to suspect. Customers had their reasons for turning off their cameras - one of those reasons was not usually because they were secretly an Avenger.

But still, it didn't feel quite real. The logical, pragmatic side of you calmly figured that this was all just somebody's idea of a sick joke, that maybe this person behind the screen had set you up all along just for this big reveal, as some sort of way to deceive you. In fact, the logical side of you wanted to write this all off as a pathetic joke.

It didn't make sense. And you desperately needed it to. You needed answers, now. If this were some kind of highly calculated joke for whatever reason, you couldn't even find one, you wanted to know. And if it were a joke, you wanted to know why you. You wanted to know how much farther this person was willing to go.

And if it weren't a joke, if you really were talking to Steve Rogers... you wanted to deny it, but something in you urged that this was real, as unlikely as it seemed. The feeling that he was who you had truly been talking to felt as true as the connection you had created with Steve.

Still, that didn't mean you weren't shook the fuck up.

"What the fuck!" You repeated, standing up and bringing your laptop with you as you migrated into your office, turning on the lights and then sitting back down at your office table. This felt like official business. You wanted to really be able to take it in.

And Steve? Well, he was just waiting for you to finish reacting, all the while his eyes slowly watching you on the screen, his chest filling up with worry. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have, even if it were in the name of bettering himself and fixing things with you. But he knew he couldn't panic again, couldn't retract out of fear. He would face this, even if it meant having to endure a reaction from you.

The worst that could happen was you could expose him and it would lead to some unnecessarily huge scandal. Even worse, it could turn out that you were not to be trusted, and that somehow this would take a turn for the dangerous. But he had known that all along. He had thought about it long and hard before he made the decision to show himself, and he still did. So there was no turning back now.

"Are you kidding me?" you barked, not out of anger but out of pure confusion - you felt like you had to assume this sort of accusatory position to defend yourself, whether or not he was real. And if he was, you had some choice words to say.

"Moonrose..." Steve said, the first time he was speaking ever since he turned on the camera.

You focused in on the way his lips moved and his careful expression, the way he spoke slowly and calmly, like he was approaching a scared animal who was ready to attack. All of his words would be calculated, you could tell in the way his eyebrows came together, the way he watched your reaction as if he were concerned for your own well being. And to admit it, he was to some extent. He understood your freak out, but he was trying to be calm to avoid a meltdown that would ruin the both of them, depending on what you decided to do in the midst of said meltdown.

"Okay. You're talking," you noted, blinking. Maybe if he hadn't spoken you could slam your laptop shut and brush this off as some sort of glitch in the matrix. You still had questions. You were a smart woman. You weren't about to be played. "How do I know you aren't a deepfake?"

Steve furrowed his brows. All his years in this business and some of this new technology was still hard for him to keep up with,

"What?"

You ignored his confusion and continued on. Your request was more like a command, Steve felt like he was back in the army again.

"Blink," you commanded.

You wanted to see if you could spot any inconsistencies in him, just to cross out the idea that the person in front of you could be generated by an algorithm. Was it desperate? Maybe, but not unnecessary. If you were talking to Steve Rogers you bet your ass you would make sure he was real.

Steve wanted to ask why, but he figured he was best not going against your wishes in any way. So he blinked, and to your wondrous disdain, it seemed legitimate. You felt some sort of marvelous sinking feeling in your chest. Like this - your career, your customer interactions, your life - was realer than you had signed up for. Everywhere you turned these days, something was surprising you. But what made this sinking feeling so brilliant was the fact that you were seeing Steve. And you weren't just seeing anyone, you were seeing Steve Rogers. That was a big deal.

A quick bark of laughter escaped from your lips - first because of the fact that you thought you could prove whether or not what you were seeing on the screen was real, when all signs pointed to yes, and second because you were in genuine shock, processing what had happened to you. But you were laughing because it was almost funny. Lately your life had thrown you so many curveballs. It was almost unbelievably hilarious that of all the people in the world, Steve would be this Steve in particular. The universe would broaden those slim chances just for you.

And for what? You wondered. Maybe it was a test to see if you would break down again. But really, you had no reason to. You weren't necessarily upset over this revelation, in fact it made the discrepancies of your relationship with Steve make a whole lot more sense. It made the blow less heavy. So you weren't upset. You weren't on the verge of tears or a brand new breakdown that would take you weeks to recover from - you were just sitting motionless in a soup of disbelief.

It was kind of cool, though. This whole time you were talking to Steve Rogers, the Captain America. It was also worrisome, because you thought there might have been some reason in particular that he chose you, although you couldn't figure out why for the life of you. The most illegal thing you'd done in the past few years was neglect a couple of parking tickets and have a few underage drinks.

"How do I know I'm really talking to Captain America?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him through the screen.

Steve sighed as if resigning and reached over beside him, where from behind his bed frame he pulled out the shield, showing it on camera like it was nothing. You squinted and folded your arms, observing it up close.

"That could be anything," you raised a brow, and Steve sighed again, this time closing his eyes.

"It's me. Really. I don't know how else I could prove it to you."

When you heard his voice again, the pure intention in his voice, hoping that you'd believe him, it all seemed to click. And any shred of denial you had left was gone, defeated by acceptance.

"Jesus," you breathed out, looking at him in silence for a second and then shaking your head, confused. "You know so many girls on here would kill to talk to you? I mean, seriously. I have a friend who dresses up in Avengers cosplay every night and uses a dildo the same colors as your shield. So why me? You know there's nothing illegal about what I'm doing, right? I can't get in trouble for this."

You realized you were sort of rambling and not making any sense, but this was one of those times where you let yourself. What was the appropriate response to this? The answer - there was none. Also, you wanted to make sure you were in the clear. Though you doubted Captain America would be prowling against sex workers, you had to make your innocence obvious in general. It was like you hadn't considered that maybe Steve, like anyone else, had needs, and that you were just helping him fulfill those needs... until it spiraled into, well, this.

"Listen," Steve started.

Even he hardly knew what to say. For all the time he had spent thinking about this decision, he was starting to feel that he wasn't really thinking at all. He didn't know how he would de-escalate the situation, and he didn't know what exactly he would say. He just figured it would provide a sense of relief for him and hopefully for you too, as well as resolve any discrepancies in why he stopped talking to you.

But now he felt like maybe this was just his selfish excuse for the fact that he wanted more, and that he was willing to show his face because of that fact. Did he feel better? Slightly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest now that you were talking again, now that he was seeing you again. The feeling was so odd, a kind of weird lightheartedness that didn't feel like it belonged.

He finally chose his words.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I... I don't even know what to say right now."

"You're telling me," you responded with raised eyebrows.

The situation may have been weird and more than either of you could deal with, but it was nice talking to him. The face was nothing like you had been expecting at all. But it was still Steve... right?

"Really, though. I want to apologize. And I don't have to show my face to do that, but I feel like I need to. I'm sorry for how things ended last time. I was afraid of the things that could happen if I let myself open up to you. I was trying to be extremely careful, and I let that take over me. It wasn't fair to you to detach myself the way I did," Steve explained slowly, and you listened, taking in each and every word.

It wasn't hard to understand. It made sense why he wouldn't want to open up to someone on the internet, being who he was. Still, you wished he hadn't been so sudden about it. You'd wished you could've at least understood him a little, so it didn't end out like that.

He continued,

"And I'm sorry for enabling any of this at all, even though I don't regret it any more. It's not that I don't think you'd be able to handle that kind of communication or that I found you immature. It's that I think I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of communication. And... and I was beating myself up for letting things go so far the way they did instead of just realizing... just realizing that..."

He swallowed down his words a bit, but you were curious, leaning your head in as if to prompt him. All his words were reassuring, a genuine apology. Like he was making up for his own failure, explaining his own faults. It made you feel a whole lot less naive and it cleared up so much for you, after things were left so blurry. And you were surprised he was even giving you an explanation. Why did he come back, if he were so busy and had weaned himself of you already? Why was someone of his importance being so caring when he didn't have to be at all?

You wanted to know.

"Realizing what?" you asked.

"That what we had wasn't something I could just brush off because I was scared. That just because a strong connection like that intimidates me doesn't mean trying to pretend it doesn't exist will help. It's not like me, honest. I value loyalty above all else. I consider you a friend, and I wasn't loyal to you. And I'm sorry."

The thoughts in your brain were running a mile a minute. If anything, you weren't expecting this to begin with. But an apology? You weren't expecting that at all, from the Steve you once knew, or from Captain America. And now that you could see who he was, this connection you had felt like something you were more willing to lean into. You were more willing to be honest about the fact that you liked each other, and not just for the purpose of your work.

You had so many customers who considered you a friend, but not in this way. Not in the genuine way, where even though you serviced him, you weren't being nice because of that. If he had been just some rando, you might have been able to brush his words off easier. And you wouldn't even be entertaining the idea of a conversation that was this exclusive, this revealing. Had he been anyone else, this wouldn't be happening. But you'd seen who he was, on the news and in the public world, and through a screen. It just made it easier to want to trust him and his intentions.

And right now, it sounded like Steve was genuinely sorry, and that he felt like he had let down a friend. And you were both surprised and ecstatic that he saw you in that way. It wasn't every day a public figure like Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. It felt like speaking with an old friend, so mundane and nonchalant, yet so out of the norm.

Yet, even though you were happy to be talking with him, you couldn't help but criticize his methods. You thought of how he had thrown you completely off guard while you were in this carefree disposition, but you didn't forget that it was your reaction that mattered.

Your reaction would set the feel for the entire week. You were proud of yourself for not allowing the kind of reaction that would send you back to the place you had spent time getting out of. You were glad that this revelation didn't ruin the good mood that had been curated over the past few hours during the night out. He had just come out of the blue, and was giving some hearty apology that you weren't even prepared for in the slightest. Uttering your next words, you shook your head slowly as you expressed your feelings of disappointment in him.

"I'm glad you've come to your senses. And, I can understand where you're coming from. But I can't help but think that this isn't like you, or it shouldn't be. I mean, you're kind of a big deal. You should know how to handle your feelings instead of just leaving me out of the blue and then coming back to reveal that you're... well, you! It's really a lot to take in, I would hope you're not missing that."

Steve nodded, glad that you were expressing yourself. It didn't upset him that you were calling him out- if anything, he deserved it, and he liked someone that could point out his own wrongdoings, although that wasn't because he wasn't responsible for himself. He liked a woman who could call him out, but he didn't need a woman who could stay on top of him, because he was adult enough to do it himself. There was a difference, and distinct levels of maturity that came with that difference.

He had been so engulfed in his own shortcomings and anxieties and that wasn't fair to you, nor was coming back and doing this big reveal, being as prolific a person as he was. To be fair though, he hadn't really been thinking logically in the moments before he showed you who he was. But you had made all correct points - he was supposed to be the smart adult in the situation and communicate efficiently - you understood why that hadn't happened, but you just wanted to bring it to the table. You were vocal about your feelings. You didn't just make excuses for people.

"Yeah. I know. It's silly of me, I was thinking of myself and stressing over the details. So, I'm sorry, I know that wasn't very heroic of me. I feel a little selfish, because I don't want knowing who I am to put any added stress on you," Steve became slightly sheepish, apologizing for the fact that he was who he was, and that he was intentionally revealing himself to you despite his high importance.

You had settled into the reality of the situation, and ever since you took the time for yourself to heal, this sort of rolled off your back. Another conflict down, just like that. You were ready to take on more surprises, more shock. Maybe a month ago something like this would've blown you out of the water and put you on edge, especially if it were in tandem with the stressful things you were already going through.

But now, you were mellowed out. And you were thankful for the fact that you had been on a night out before this, the drinks in your system and the fun you had had definitely took the edge off, made you feel more in the moment without the anxieties of the present.

So you almost laughed it off, genuinely chuckling.

"You don't sound cocky at all," you joked sarcastically, and Steve made a playful face.

"What's that mean?"

You did your best impression of him, putting on airs and sitting up high and mighty, imitating his voice,

"I'm sorry that I'm Steve Rogers, defender of justice. Here's my shield, no big deal. Next caller."

Steve chuckled, lowering his head,

"Oh, is that how I sound?"

You shook your head slowly and playfully,

"Without a doubt. And by the way, the fact that you sleep next to your shield? Classic."

"Not next to it, it's just beside the bed frame," Steve defended himself, playing along with the joke.

"Same thing," you teased, with a dismissive wave of your hand.

A beat went by, silence. The two of you sitting in the acknowledgment of what you had, staring at the other on the screen. Sated, but not elated by what had just happened. As for Steve, he felt much more relaxed. Like he was in a better place, now that he had explained himself to the only person who it made a difference for. Now that he had finally broken past that wall of fear. And he wasn't thinking about the future, wasn't worrying his head off about the possible consequences of what he was doing, though there were so many that his brain could think up. Instead he was just sitting in his good feeling, floating in it.

He was being honest with himself, with no fear of what that meant. So many times he pushed back opportunities like this because of his own fear, or because he convinced himself he was too busy to pursue something like this. And though it wasn't like you two were dating or in an official relationship, there was something between you. It was clear that you liked each other, more than just in the way a customer would. And instead of running from that spark, Steve was letting it shine. Whether it turned out to be something more ot not wasn't what you two were worried about. It was just sitting in the moment. Although, the silence, the attraction in your gazes made you wonder where to go from here.

Would Steve be continuing to attend your shows, and carry on like normal? Would he want to talk more, now that he had gotten rid of this fear he was telling you about? Your mind wasn't going too far on that front - you weren't thinking of technical things, like what this would mean when it came to your relationship with Steve, that seemed like it was outlandish to be talking about. You weren't pursuing anything with him and he didn't seem to be pursuing anything with him. But you wanted to know what the hell would happen after this?

"So... what now?" you asked calmly - because you weren't worried about what was next, you just wondered.

Steve took in a deep breath, slowly shrugging his shoulders up and down. He raised his brows,

"I dunno. What's important to me is what's important to you. What are you hoping for?"

"I'm not hoping for anything," you replied, and to hear yourself say those words was such a relief. You were done wanting anything from men, or anyone, or hoping that they would follow through with your desires. Your hopes for how other people would act always spiraled into desperate measures, and that wasn't you any more. You continued, "Also, you're the one who wanted to clear things up. I think what's next is your decision."

"You're right," Steve nodded. That was fair enough. He didn't want to put any of this on you. To him, it was a matter of how this relationship would progress. He wanted to know you on a base level, not just through this. He wanted to know you the same way he knew a normal friend. He saw you as that, why not make things that way? But for now, it was best to just take things slow. Not out of fear, but for the sake of reality. "I guess I just want to get to know you on a real level. Not as a customer, but as a friend."

Steve's words struck a realization in you. Not only were you talking to Steve, but you had also performed for him. He knew your o-face. And that wasn't something that embarrassed you, because it was your job, and you were very comfortable with your sexuality because of your job. But knowing now that you were performing for Captain America? It felt like the stakes were just a bit higher, and you always put on a good show.

And it was just a tad bit flustering to know that the man you gave your all to sexually, the man whose groans and moans turned you on to no end, the man who needed you to please him, was Steve Rogers. Unbelievable, yet the proof was in front of you. You'd be lying if it didn't make you feel powerful to know that you had been the reason that a whole Avenger was pleasuring himself almost every night.

"Huh. So do I still show you my ass?" you asked, masking your flustered state with humor.

A laugh tumbled out of Steve's lips, and you could see him turning a shade of pink, see his face change as he got what he could only describe as flashbacks. You smirked at the impact you seemed to have on him. He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't break as he continued, smiling shyly at the camera,

"Uh," he started, realizing he hadn't quite formulated a response. He chuckled nervously. "If-if you want to."

You nearly snorted, feeling especially devious now,

"Wow, Steve, I'm shocked. After all this time, I still make you nervous?"

You kind of felt like the shit. Who else could say they successfully got Steve Rogers off, without even touching him? You were the only one who could make him feel this way, and he didn't have to say it out loud, he already knew it. There was a reason he chose you specifically. The minute he saw you, he was drawn to you. That hadn't changed.

He chuckled at your question,

"I'm not such a tough guy when it comes to these things."

"Oh, but that can change. Trust me, I've seen it," you commented, and you both knew what you were talking about - the time when you had taught Steve how to be more dominant with you. That was probably one of your more intense sessions with him.

"Really though, I do want to get to know you better. You're a friend to me. I want it to feel like a friendship. If you're comfortable with that."

"I think so," you responded. Again, it was only because it was him that you were agreeing to this. But you didn't quite know how to make that happen, because it never had before. "I guess it's just a question of how to be friends outside of this."

Steve shrugged,

"We could talk outside of this. If you're okay with doing that."

You raised a brow, sort of surprised at that suggestion,

"Are you? I mean, what are you thinking?"

Steve felt secure enough that he wanted to be able to talk to you outside of this site, as long as he wasn't being reckless with his communication. He didn't want there to be some way for important information to leak if he started talking to you on his phone, or give up too much personal information of his own. But he knew he wanted to talk to you outside of just this site, and hear your voice, too.

"There's gotta be some way we can talk more frequently. I'm not really a texting guy, but I have... several phones. Some are for business and some are for-"

"Talking to cam girls online," you filled in the blank.

"Sure. Except you're my friend. Who happens to be a sex worker."

You laughed, grinning at him, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the fragile correction,

"Got it. I mean, I have a phone number. I'm sure one of your techie friends can find a way for us to text without revealing too much personal information, if that's what you're thinking about. But hey, you know I'm not gonna like... I don't know, try to rob the Avengers."

Steve nodded understandingly.

"No, I understand that. It's just, I don't know, a precaution thing. A job thing. It's less personal and more just, professional."

"Hm. Do you usually hide your number from friends?" you asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Steve said shortly, then sighing as he began to think of the circumstances. This friendship was different from one he ever had. It was so based on trust and making slow progress, within the boundaries you both had to set. "You make a good point. I'll think about it," Steve decided.

"Here, we can compromise. I have two snapchats. One is a private snapchat, a special treat for loyal customers, and the other is my regular snapchat. The private is for nudes, the regular one is for... my life. You can see my boobs and my hiking trips. And, we can text on my regular snapchat, like friends would. But, just to be clear, you're... still a customer, right? You can be both a friend and a customer. Huh. Now that I'm saying that out loud, I realize that a lot of my friends have seen me naked."

Steve laughed, and you grinned just at the sight of his smile. It was nice to hear his voice, but it was more than enough to be able to see the face that went along with it. Maybe this was the start to your friendship.

"I get that. And I'll always be a customer. But I think, maybe for a few days, it would be healthy for me to just see you as you. It would feel weird watching my... friend, you know," Steve couldn't even complete that sentence, and he wasn't quite sure how he could.

You did a lot of sexual stuff on camera, it wasn't just one thing. But it was how he felt. He wanted it to feel like a refresh. That didn't mean he didn't want to see you that way at all, but it was the old fashioned part of him that made him feel like he needed to see you as just you. He continued,

"You know, not while you're performing as Moonrose."

"Sure, I can appreciate that," you nodded. "But in the meantime, don't be a stranger on here. I actually like doing those things for you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll definitely be back," Steve replied quickly - there wasn't a big enough old fashioned bone in his body to keep him from interacting with you the way the site was designed for. He needed you in that way, he knew that was undeniable. But first, a fresh start. "And the Snapchat thing sounds good. You do have to teach me how to use it, though."

"Sure, Steve," you smiled. You felt some sort of excited pang in your chest, like this was the start of something new and good.

Lately you'd been circulating in such good energy, and even though this came to you as a shock, the end result was so positive. You were glad to be returning to interacting with Steve, to be feeling the joyous depth of this connection that you had. You were glad that he was who he was, because it made it that much more fun to talk to him, it felt like some sort of special occasion. Because you knew Captain America, without knowing that you knew him. And now you were becoming friends with him, and it was almost normal because you had been talking to him for so long. It was hard for you to get a clear grasp on, it was so unexpected, so irregular. But it was exciting. A rush, and not in a toxic, thrilling way. It was a fulfilling and wholesome rush, one that made you feel full.

"Oh, and by the way," Steve added, the thought just coming up in his mind. "What's your real name?"

You were practically beaming. Never in your life would you have expected to be telling this to a customer, to be becoming friends. But he was asking, and you were willing to respond. You wanted him to know you, just as he wanted to know you.

"My name is Y/N," you said, like you were letting out a breath and taking in fresh air. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face when he heard your real name, how it sounded just right coming from your lips, and he decided he wanted to say it all the time.

"Hi Y/N. I'm Steve. Nice to finally meet you."

| | |

"What's got you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush on teacher?" Sam inquired as he walked into the kitchen, catching sight of Steve leaning over the counter, his phone in his hand, an unlikely grin on his face, laughter coming from his normally pouty lips.

Steve just looked up from his phone, trying to appear as serious as possible. Sam's observation wasn't totally off, after all. For the past week or so, you and Steve had been talking through Snapchat, a different means of communication like how you discussed. You taught Steve how to download it, which was an experience unique to you and you only.

How many people could say they taught the strongest, smartest supersoldier out there how to download and create a Snapchat account? (All while you were teaching him how to use the app, he kept insisting "I'm not that old", to which you did nothing to reassure him that he wasn't). Anyways, Steve had been preoccupying himself with that as of late.

During this time, the spring period of the year, the Avengers were a lot less busy, and had a lot more downtime on their hands. He spent that downtime on Snapchat with you, and with his team in real life. And it was safe to say, he was back up again. But not in the almost superficial, hyper-pleased way that he was when he first met you, the kind of happiness that was like a sugar high that crashed hard. No, this time he was happy, truly. There were no blurred lines between the two of you at the moment, only honesty, only truth.

So when he watched your Snapchat stories on your regular snapchat and got to see your real life, he was always highly entertained. He truly wrapped himself into your hiking adventures, study sessions and student life, your daily acai bowls, all the outfits you were making, all the things you enjoyed. You weren't perfect, but he admired you so much. You were hardworking and adventurous. You made everything you did beautiful, and you only wanted beautiful energy around you - you exuded energy of that very same magnitude.

And plus, you were always sending him funny snaps - pictures of yourself with filters on them, updates about your day, or just posts you saw that you found funny. It was so good to be interacting on a humane, friend level. He could admit he got caught up sometimes, like in this very moment.

He switched off his phone, putting it in the back pocket of his sweatpants, and offered a small smile to Sam, who was teasing him.

"Hello to you too," Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

He wouldn't answer that question though. Even though he was much more comfortable with you, he still didn't want his business revolving around you to circulate. But this time it wasn't out of fear, it was simply because he wanted to keep things private and be smart about it. He still knew that his team would probably be concerned if he was talking to you at this level, that he let it get this far, but he wasn't exactly worried about that.

He just didn't want to deal with the controversy if he told them about you. For now, this was just something for him. Not secretive, but not public, either. The shift was similar to your own healing transition - Steve was less robust and scared, less type A about the whole situation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look at your phone like that. I don't even think I've seen you on your phone... at all," Sam continued, though he wasn't pressing Steve, he was just curious.

Everyone had taken notice, once again, of Steve's shift in energy - they wondered if it would be permanent or if he would just become withdrawn or irritable once again. And they wondered what brought these shifts on, but they mainly just admired the moments like these. Maybe it was just the fact that it was getting nicer outside, that the skies were clear and blue, and that they weren't overwhelmed with work.

Steve dodged the question yet again, watching as Sam filled up a water bottle.

"First time for everything, huh?"

Sam grinned mischievously,

"My man Steve. Finally adjusting to the times."

Steve chuckled silently - he was adjusting more than Sam even knew.

And when it came to you, you were glad to have Steve in your life. He wasn't a priority to you, and that was a good feeling. He was just someone you liked talking to, a friend who you felt you had a deep connection with. You were glad that you had each cleared your feelings up, that you decided to make this compromise in order to be friends, in order to revive and live through that connection that you both acknowledged you had.

"You could say that," Steve grinned at Sam, who was in athletic clothing and was filling up a water bottle at the fridge.

"Going for a run. Wanna come with?" Sam asked, Steve smirking playfully as he folded his muscular arms, which bulged through his t-shirt. He was already in athletic wear - a tshirt and sweatpants - he was ready any time.

"That something you really wanna do right now?" Steve teased.

After taking a big gulp of water, Sam pointed at Steve, indicating that the competition was on,

"Try me."

Steve shook his head and laughed,

"Sure, why not?"

As Steve and Sam embarked on their afternoon run, they were followed by the sound of snapping cameras and flashing lights, which was normal for any Avenger doing anything. Though, press generally respected their wishes and didn't ask them any questions or bother them much, they were still there. Though, it was generally something Steve could ignore, and this time in particular it didn't bother him much. He was too wrapped up in the moment, the warm spring breeze against his face as he ran alongside his close friend, the thought of you fresh in his mind, the image of your smile burning in his brain.

All these things kept him warm, and Steve was glad. He was much too used to the cold.

✺ ✺ ✺

You liked talking to Steve - scratch that, you loved talking to Steve. If you had a connection before, it was undeniable now. It was really him. And knowing that, you could sink into the comfort of talking to him. Neither of you felt like there was anything to be afraid of. You were just friends, and it was great like that, even if you both knew you had the bursting potential to be more.

Of course you understood the romantic undertones of your relationship, they'd been there from the start, first under the guise of flirting, then stretched out as you spoke to one another and got to know each other. And now that you actually knew each other, the possibilities for more were right above your heads, all it would take was a little reach.

But you weren't quite thinking of that. You knew it, but you let yourself rest in the friendship you had now. You were still taking care of yourself, not focusing on your love life at the moment. But if the feeling should become so pressing, who were you to deny it? You would be lying to yourself if you did, and probably denying yourself a good thing. You only wanted good things.

Each day, when you thought about your situation with Steve, your heart swelled up with the magic of your beautiful secret. No one could know, of course, but it was nice to know for yourself. If there were anybody that you were going to tell, it would be Aaliyah - she usually found things anyway.

You were getting to see him as the real Steve Rogers - not Captain America, not The Man Out of Time, not the Steve Rogers that all the news stories reported on - though he wasn't quite different from the loyal, strong minded and good natured person that he was known to be. And although you knew it was so special to talk to someone like him, you didn't idolize it as much after that week, and that was good. It meant that you really did have the capacity to be friends with each other.

Out of respect for Steve, and because you were being smart, you decided that you would tell no one. You didn't want to sacrifice the fact that every day you were talking to the one and only Steve Rogers on Snapchat, and he was your friend. You enjoyed sending him things just as much as he liked receiving things. You'd taught him how to use it, but he was still getting used to all the oddities and newness of Snapchat - filters, bitmojis, all that. It was still cool to know that you had this exclusive way to talk to an Avenger. If you weren't smart, you'd tell it on the mountains.

You were just opening a snapchat from him, a picture of him and The Falcon, yet Steve had the audacity to caption it: "Out with a friend." Looking at the picture, your eyes went wide, glancing between Steve and Sam and not being able to decide who to focus on. You slowly realized there would be more perks to talking to Steve than just Steve - after all, he was a part of a team with the rest of the greats. The perks weren't all you cared about, but they definitely garnered a reaction.

You were fixated on the image, hardly paying attention to Aaliyah who was in front of you. Again you were out for brunch together. You'd decided to take up your tradition of Sunday girls brunch yet again, ever since you'd started up therapy and your self proclaimed healing process. But what was great about that process was that you were in a space where you could say that you were happy. Still on ground, but at least you weren't beneath the surface of the earth.

"Hello! Earth to YN!" Aaliyah exclaimed, waving her hand in front of your face.

Quickly, you turned off your phone, the image of Steve and Sam disappearing (but how badly you wanted to screenshot it), and set it down on the table, letting a smile replace your entranced features. You folded your arms and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. Luckily, Aaliyah didn't get on your ass about whatever was on your phone, because she had other things on her mind.

"What's up?" you quirked your eyebrow, taking a sip of your green juice.

"You know what's up. I've been trying to ask you about Alex all week," Aaliyah raised her eyebrows, and you nearly chortled at the mention of his name.

You remembered that incident, it had only been a week ago. But that was a moment of spontaneity. You weren't thinking of seeing him again, but Aaliyah seemed to have other plans.

"What about him?" you smirked, biting down on your straw.

"You know 'what about him'! You were sucking his face and then you never spoke again, that's what about him," Aaliyah replied.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but a blush came to your cheeks as you remembered the events that went down. Lucky for you though, both you and Alex had agreed that you weren't looking for anything. So you felt fine just leaving it the way it was. You liked those moments of spontaneity, liked the fact that you didn't need to worry.

"And let's leave it just like that," you grinned, and Aaliyah leaned back in her chair, impressed.

"Hmm. This is interesting for you. You really aren't a hookup girl, I mean, not in real life. I'd think you wanted something more out of that."

Aaliyah was right, you weren't a hookup girl. You had your attractions in the past, but even before your boyfriend, you'd been more traditional. You were attractive and flirtatious though, so you'd had a small amount of flings and hookups, but it wasn't your style. You did it so much on the internet to begin with. In real life, you had a good balance of spontaneity and regularity. But this was different.

You had done what you did with Alex for yourself, for your own pleasure with no strings attached, with the knowledge that this wouldn't be followed by the long, winding road of trust exercises and disappointment that came with an actual relationship. And it inadvertently taught you to stop resisting when you wanted someone, even if it didn't mean you'd be together forever. Would you do it again? Probably not. You'd satisfied that small craving you had.

In response to Aaliyah, you simply shrugged and said,

"I guess there's just more in store for me."

✺ ✺ ✺

After the run with Sam, Steve took a hot shower and let the water run down his body. As always, hot showers brought along thinking sessions. Usually Steve thought of the things he'd lost, the things he still had yet to adjust to. But right now, all he had on his mind was you. And it didn't make him melancholy or nervous the way that it did in the past.

This time he just thought of you with sweet pleasure, without even touching himself. And he thought of the things Bucky had said about trust, just a little while before he'd revealed his face to you; about how at surface level it can appear hard to trust someone, but that gut instinct reveals who you could trust, even if it didn't seem like you should. And you were gaining Steve's trust steadfastly.

To Steve, it was crazy that you had only just started talking to each other on this level. You felt much closer. It made sense, because you'd spoken for so much time before, but it wasn't the same as how you were speaking now. It was developing, quick and easy, it wasn't hard for Steve to call you his friend.

And maybe, even more. The same with you, Steve had known the romantic potentials of your relationship - it was a part of what had scared him off at first. He knew it, maybe even more than you did. Because while you solely acknowledged the romantic potential, Steve could feel himself looking a bit more into it. He was wondering what it might be like to be closer to you- the beautiful pros and even the cons. He wanted to know how much closer he could get, to satisfy the feeling of simply wanting to be closer. He couldn't get enough of you and your cute quirks and the conversations you had together outside of the cam site.

Being friends with you was more than enough, but the feelings that were bubbling up were hard to ignore. They made him so vibrant, and it was noticeable. He kept his head on his shoulders, but not pinned on too hard. Some part of him thought that maybe he was just letting his head go too far in the clouds because he wasn't used to being this spontaneous, wasn't used to the feeling of earning a new friend under such exclusive circumstances. That the freshness of the situation was getting him overexcited, and that maybe he was more of an old fuddy duddy than he realized. But another part of him thought that this was a slow blooming realization, and that he shouldn't clip it while it was still budding.

It was exciting, it was nerve wracking. He had felt this way before the reveal, but it was crushed beneath the ruins of his own anxieties and fears. Now that he felt he was free to connect in this way, he was hopeful, like there really was something out there for him. Months ago, he thought looking for love was pretty much a dead end, and something he didn't have the time for. Now, even though he wasn't infatuated, he was a bit more optimistic about the fact that there was something here for him, something he had passed roadblocks to get to.

He was already learning from you, he could only imagine what you could teach each other if you got closer. And so, the possibility, no matter how reachable or unreachable it was, intrigued him. He was walking around with the ghost of a smile on his face because of it. Again, he wasn't completely gone off you. The feeling was like he was just dipping his toes in to a very deep pool.

He was lying in bed, opening another snap from you. No filter, no makeup, just you in bed on your side, the sheets over your head, a small smile to match your sleepy eyes. The caption read: "goodnight!" Steve couldn't help but feel special about the fact that he got to see you up close like this, outside of your Moonrose act, stripped down, the same way you felt special about the fact that you were texting someone like him. He looked at the picture for far too long, in the same position as you, smiling before he was able to realize he was even doing it. If he could feel all these things just by looking at you, a friend, he knew there was more to come. And finally, he was thinking he could be open to that.

Thinking that he could want to take things further, on his own initiative.

note: EEP!!! this was a big chapter !!! how do we feel <3

#orbitariums #girls on film #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x you #smut #marvel #marvel smut #marvel imagine #steve rogers series #marvel series

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starbuck · 5 years ago

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Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case.

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis.

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop.

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in).

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going!

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

#the terror #i'm REALLY proud of these!! this was so fun to do!#i definitely intend to do this for each episode #no promises for the timing on that but i legitimately have nothing better to do so lol hopefully ep 2 will happen soon!#hope y'all enjoyyyyyyyy #feel free to add comments if you like or you don't have to! whatever is good - i just appreciate anybody slogging through this lol

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teamhook · 5 years ago

Text

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones

Cover by the lovely @xhookswenchx

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 22: Capturing Emma Jones

After leaving the Jones' residence Milah had made her way back to the Booth Estate, her home. At least she hoped it was only for the time being. Her idea to separate Emma and Killian had to work, she wanted the original plan she and Killian had orchestrated to come back to life but in order for that to happen, Emma, had to be out of the way.

Milah was extremely pleased with her completed task. She knew she had caused discord in her cousin's marriage and that thought alone made her so happy and satisfied with her exploits for the day.

The moment Malcolm informed her he was leaving made her heart flutter. She couldn't help but rejoice as she saw Malcolm fade away from sight which meant he was that much closer to his destination and where she needed him to be. She hoped he would keep his word and return quickly to finally take Emma.

Milah's thoughts drift back to her actions and she can't help but to wish she could have seen Emma's face when Killian confronted her. She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will confront her as soon as she crosses the front door. For a brief second, she feels a little remorse but it quickly fades as it always does. The moment her cousin arrives home she will not be getting a warm welcome.

She knows Killian won't go easy on her. She had experienced Killian's rage once. If things worked out in her favor maybe he would kick her out. She can only hope.

"Don't you look happy?" her husband remarks as he gazes upon his smiling wife.

"I have to admit it was a nice visit. It went a lot better than I expected."

"That sounds great, my love. How is your cousin?"

She doesn't miss the fact that he only acknowledges Emma and not Killian.

"Sadly, I missed her but left a message with Kil-uh Jones, along with the things Aunt Snow sent her."

"Oh, I don't understand how the visit went so well then?"

"I meant it was successful in the sense that the door wasn't slammed in my face because of your ungentlemanly comments regarding my cousin. I hope you still remember your conversation with your friend from the other day?"

"Yes, I still remember Milah. I will need to apologize to him for my remarks. I hope he didn't mention them to Emma. I will not be able to look at her if he did."

"I agree your behavior wasn't ideal but if he told her, I'm sure she will forgive you. I have been thinking maybe you are right; their relationship moved too fast. What if he used some sort of information to convince her to marry him? After all, my family is still considered prestigious and along with our own union, this could be good for someone like him. He is only a nefarious scoundrel that took advantage of my cousin's good heart and her unrequited love for you."

"Milah, I don't think she feels that way about me anymore. She may have felt affection for me in the past but I doubt she still does."

"Perhaps you are right but she cares for you and all of us. I wouldn't put it past her to marry Jones to sacrifice herself for the family." She can practically see the wheels turning in his head. "August, how exactly do you know Jones? I know you mentioned being childhood friends but how did you two meet?"

"My father brought him to the estate one day and after he died my mother just sent him away. I don't remember all the details but he cared for Killian a lot. He wanted me to look out for him."

"Did you ever wonder why?"

"I never really gave it much thought. What are you getting at?"

"I have been thinking that the interest your father showed in Killian was rare. Perhaps your old friend has wondered himself. He must know the extent of the Booth wealth. Perhaps he thought this could be an easy score and he could use your friendship to his advantage."

"Milah, what are you trying to insinuate about my father? My father had an impeccable reputation."

"August, all I'm saying is that maybe your old friend wanted to gain access to the house and to you. You do realize that provides some benefits. Are you telling me it doesn't strike you as odd that a pirate decided all of the sudden to become a legitimate businessman and accept a steward position in the same house he stepped into in his youth?"

"Do you think Emma accidentally uncovered his nefarious intentions and to protect the family, married him?"

Milah would roll her eyes if she could; always Saint Emma, the savior of the land.

"I have to find a way to get her out of this. I can't let her sacrifice her happiness. She deserves so much better."

Milah bites her tongue, she wants to ask him if he means himself.

The day continues as any other. Enith complaining about all the work she had to do by herself because Lucy her maid is too lazy. Cora giving her disapproving looks. August distancing himself from her.

The Booth Estate is filled with plots and ploys to obtain their deepest desires. And both Cora and Milah wait impatiently for their ally to return, while August contemplates rescuing a phantom damsel with the hopes to be her hero.

They all go on with their menial tasks to pass the time as the hours pass by. Hours that soon became days.

The Nolan residence is the complete opposite. Snow and David plan and prepare for the upcoming meal to be enjoyed with their daughter and her husband. Killian and Emma had happily accepted the invitation relayed to them. Killian is so eager to put his best foot forward. He desperately wants Emma's parent's approval.

The happy parents have truly decided to embrace the new addition to the family, putting their doubts away at the sight of their daughter's happy face. They welcome the newlyweds as planned the next day and enjoy their meal.

Days have passed since David's return home. His daughter and wife have welcomed him happily back. It has become a routine for them to spend time together to make up for lost time.

Later that week, Milah sees Malcolm has finally returned. She has to wait to approach him to inquire about the outcome of his trip.

She decides to take a walk around the estate hoping to bump into him without rousing suspicion and get some time alone with her ally. She stumbles upon him and finally has her chance.

"Malcolm, may I have a word?"

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Booth."

"Please don't call me Mrs. Booth, it makes me feel old. As you can see I'm not. You can call my mother-in-law that, it fits her much better. Call me Milah."

Malcolm smiles at her. He is escorting her back to the house.

"I know why you are seeking an audience. I have what we need. I will be able to grab her in the following days."

"Days? I thought you would nab her upon your return. This was not what we agreed."

"Milah, I need to figure the best time to grab her. Obviously, she has to be alone. We cannot be sloppy. Unless you want your family to know you had a hand in the kidnapping of your cousin."

Milah isn't too happy with the response, but it makes sense. To add to her discord, it becomes obvious that her little visit to the Jones' home was fruitless. Emma and Killian are still together.

Since August's return, Cora has been more active. She takes walks in the garden and asks for the breakfast to be served on the patio. On her walk back from the garden she notices Milah and Malcolm talking. She approaches them slowly trying not to spook them.

"Malcolm, I hope your trip went well. I see my lovely daughter-in-law decided to welcome you back."

"My dear Cora, the lovely young Mrs. Booth was just being friendly."

Milah smiles mockingly at her mother-in-law. "I guess I better go find August. I will leave you two alone. Good day to you both." She walks away with a sway of her hips to irritate Cora.

Malcolm turns his complete attention to Cora. "Have there been any new developments?"

"The letter is still missing but I worry my biggest concern is Snow. I know it's a matter of time before she tells someone. That is assuming she hasn't mentioned it to someone by now."

"How will you know for sure?"

"Well, during Emma's loss, I will offer my assistance in retrieving her. Of course, I will hint for her to keep the secret in exchange."

"All right, I will need to spy on her comings and goings. I understand you cannot cover for me anymore. My absence would be too noticeable. I met two young boys I can give the task. I also brought the friend with me and lodged him in one of the empty worker's huts if that is acceptable?"

"That is fine and no harm will come to her correct?"

"Nothing permanent, she will be afraid of the unknown but no physical damage."

"I hate doing this to her but I need a guarantee that my secret stays secret."

"I understand and I should be able to proceed within a few days. I do need to go and provide instructions to the boys."

"Go on, I don't know how long I can keep August at bay and out of the Estate matters before he decides to get involved."

"I will be quick." Malcolm walks away and heads for the docks where he he quickly spots the two boys. "Hello, boys, I'm glad I found you both."

They turn at the same time and answer. "Hello, sir."

"Have you considered my offer?"

"We have and our answer is no."

"Oh, I see you two still have faith that the good Captain will take you under his command. How about you two help me ensure that outcome."

Felix answers for the two. "How can we help?"

"We have established that the issue is his new bride. I know of someone that wants her out of the way. How about you two help me with that task? Before you ask, no one is getting hurt. She will be temporarily removed."

"How will that help us?"

"He will return to his old ways. He will not try to be something he is not. We will simply give him permission, permission to be the man he really is. Not some puppy dog chasing after the object of his affection, but a ruthless pirate who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He will realize that she is not the life he craves."

Finally, Malcolm returns from his trip to Golden Cove, but he isn't alone.

His trip had been quite successful. His old friend had not let him down. The deal had been completed successfully. They had quickly exchanged the jewels for the chloroform and that had ended their exchange. Until Dr. Hyde had a change of heart.

Malcolm's biggest surprise came when the good Doctor surprisingly made an unexpected decision to help him in the acquisition of the girl. He had only given him the most basic information about the job. Hyde had insisted that he didn't want any more involvement but he would accompany him and help secure the young woman to ensure he wouldn't overuse the chloroform.

Hyde knew what he was doing was wrong but he had no choice. His practice was destroyed and he was barely making enough for scraps as opposed to the luxurious meals he once enjoyed. He didn't want to be responsible if Malcolm did something wrong and something happened to the girl.

He should have just grabbed his new found wealth and left but what of his doctor vows? The Hippocratic Oath he took so long ago. The thought of betraying it and that guilt alone wouldn't allow him to leave. He knew that his actions were criminal but he wasn't a complete monster.

After the exchange, Malcolm went to his old home and prepared one of the little rooms for the special occupant. It wasn't much, just a little cot, nothing luxurious.

The house is not in the best condition but it is his and no one knows it better or its location. It is the best place to hide her until the exchange.

He tells Hyde they will be leaving the next day. They don't have time to lose.

"Remember Malcolm, I will only be joining you to ensure the girl is fine. I will not be part of the rest."

"I know you have made your position clear."

"Malcolm I still cannot understand the reason you have accepted this job."

"You are not the only one that has had financial troubles. Look at my home! It was once beautiful, now it is falling apart."

"I'm just surprised, I never thought you had it in you to be a scoundrel."

"Neither did I but sometimes want outweighs one's conscience. You know that better than anyone."

It has been a few days since Milah's visit. Emma knows her cousin won't stop once she realizes that her plan failed. Killian had attempted to calm her and for the most part, he had succeeded but she knows it is not over.

Killian hasn't mentioned the photo or the conversation he had with Milah again, only that she should visit with her parents and that is what she has been doing since.

The only positive thing that had emerged from Milah's earlier visit was the invitation offered by her parents. She knows it is meant as an olive branch.

The next day she convinces Killian to go with her. He had been hesitant at first but as time passed by, his insecurities seemed to dull with her encouragements.

She quickly falls into a routine. She goes to visit her parents while Killian is working. She executes her chores at home in a timely manner getting the guest room ready for the day that they will go get Tink.

Emma kisses her husband goodbye as she makes her way to the front door. She knows he would prefer to escort her to her parent's house for her visit as he has insistently mentioned but she insists on not being some sort of a damsel in distress. She loves him dearly but sometimes he is so overprotective.

To her husband's dismay, she has opted to walk today and not to take the carriage. She insists it is a beautiful day and that the trek will be nice. She loves the path in Sherwood Forrest Lane that she will inevitably take. It is filled with lovely flowers. The walk is not a long one she will be with her parents soon.

Two young boys approach her on the route to her childhood home and catch her unprepared.

"Hello, Mrs. Jones," one of the boys greets her.

"Hello and good morning to you both." She will never tire of hearing her new last name. "It is a beautiful day isn't it?"

Rufio looks at his friend with doubt in his eyes.

"It is a very lovely day ma'am," Felix answers.

"Do you two know Killian?" she asks because of their way of greeting her.

"Yes, we do, he lets us help on the Jolly," one of the two boys answers.

Emma adds that tidbit to everything she learns daily of her husband. "Oh, so you must love the sea like him."

"Yes we do, but he hasn't taken us out yet."

"Well, I will need to speak to him about that. I will let you in on a little secret; he hasn't taken me out either. I will ask him to bring you two along the day he does."

"That would be very nice." Rufio seems to be the only one opening up to her.

The other one, Felix seems cold to her. "We had hoped the captain would let us join his crew but now that he married you, he will surely forget about us."

"Maybe he cares so much for you two he is afraid you would get hurt on his watch. Just wait a few more years and I'm sure he will allow you both to join."

"I doubt that will be a possibility now."

Emma shakes her head and is about to continue with her response but is cut off. There is a sweet smell invading her senses and for a few minutes, she struggles with her captor and then everything goes dark. The last thing she thinks of is her husband's ocean blue eyes. She should have listened to him.

Emma wakes disoriented and cold; she reaches for her husband to share his warmth. Killian's spot on the bed is empty. She tries to sit up but the room spins and she closes her eyes to get her bearings but falls asleep instead.

Killian goes about his day as best as he can. He gets side glances from Smee and Thomas. They can tell he is upset so they work in silence, trying not to irritate him. As the day goes on he becomes more antsy and irritable. He is always thinking of his tough lass. He misses her so much. He really wishes she would have let him escort her at the very least.

Killian has finally moved his office from Tiny's Tavern to share Archie's office. They had decided to share the office for the time being. He wants to show his father-in-law that he is serious in his reformed ways.

Somehow his thoughts always lead back to Emma. Bloody hell that woman will be the death of him. She is too stubborn for her own good. He feels something is not right. He has to go to her. So he decides to go to her parent's home to escort her home. He knows she will not be happy and most likely scold him once they are in the comfort of their home.

Killian knocks when he arrives at the Nolan's. He still feels uncertain.

The door flies open to her father.

"Hello, Jones, is Emma with you?" He looks around to see if he catches a glimpse of his daughter.

Still standing at the doorstep, Killian is staring at his father-in-law with a clenched jaw and his fists turning white. "No, because she is supposed to be here, I'm only here to escort my wife home."

"I don't understand, she is not here and if she is not with you-" They turn white as they stare and realize Emma is missing.

For a second, Killian thinks David is hiding Emma to keep her away from him, his insecurities resurfacing briefly. "She left the house in the morning; she left to come here!"

"She never arrived; we thought that perhaps she decided to stay home."

"Emma left to come here," Killian says the words so soft the older man almost misses them.

David pushes him gently out of the entrance and closes the door behind him so they are outside. "Jones, calm down, I'm sure she is okay. Perhaps she is at home."

"No! I will not calm down, my wife is missing. I know something is wrong. I can feel something is wrong. Since we parted I have felt dread. Something is wrong."

"Jones, look at me, we cannot tell Snow of your concerns, yet. Let's take the carriage and go to your house. We cannot jump to conclusions yet."

"She is not home."

"All right, but we need to confirm first."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Let me inform my wife I will be right back."

Killian nods his agreement. David swiftly turns and goes inside the house. Meanwhile, Killian paces in front of the house like a mad man. Soon David emerges from the house and is walking towards him.

"I told Snow we needed to discuss business. She wanted to come to visit with Emma while we talked. I told her it was late. I know she wanted to argue with me but relented."

"What are we waiting for?" Killian fumes as he walks towards the carriage.

David hurries to catch up with the pirate. They ride in silence as Killian looks out the window. Once they arrive, the carriage hasn't made a complete stop as Killian opens the door and jumps out. He walks quickly towards the door and opens it, leaving it wide open for David to enter.

"Emma! Sweetheart, are you here? Emma, where are you?" He keeps screaming her name trying to make her answer his call but is met with silence. The last of the hope he had in his heart fades. He knows that it was a long shot, but he had still hoped.

David enters and finds himself looking around the house his daughter has made into her new home. He remembers for a brief moment how it was for him and Snow when they first married. His daughter truly is in love with the man that is tearing the house apart in his desperation to find her. He would do the same if it was Snow.

David heads towards the sobs. He slowly peers into a bedroom. He finds Killian kneeling in front of the canopy bed holding onto Emma's discarded clothes. Killian meets his gaze and the devastation is evident. His eyes are red and his hair is sticking all over.

"Killian, we will find her."

"How can you be so sure? We have no idea why she was taken or by whom? We know nothing! She could be gone already."

"My daughter, your wife is not dead. No, this has to be about money. We have to be patient and smart. They will contact us soon."

Killian gets up and walks past David. "I will find my wife and when I do, the bastards that took her will pay."

"Killian, we can go to the authorities and report her taken. I don't think my daughter would want you to head into the darkness. Remember you are a better man for her."

"Do you honestly think they would offer to help me? I'm not exactly considered a respectable member of society, mate."

"You may not be but I am and we can also ask the Booth's for help."

"I don't need anyone's help. I will find my wife on my own. I have my own contacts. I will take your words into consideration but should there be one hair damaged on her head, I will gladly lose myself in darkness if it means that the culprits are punished accordingly for their actions."

"Killian, listen to me. I know you are worried and so am I, but jumping to the worst possible scenario is not going to help. I still have to tell Snow that Emma is missing. She is going to be heartbroken and scared."

"Let's get you home." Killian gestured to the door. Killian Jones is not a man to wait around. He knows something is wrong.

"Wait, what are you going to do?"

"I will go to the office and maybe confer with Archie."

"Let me come with you."

"I assumed you would want to go home and inform your wife of your daughter's disappearance."

"First we need to put a plan into motion then I will let her know."

Killian and David leave the Jones' Residence.

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked@profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87@snowbellewells@hollyethecurious@kymbersmith-90@branlovestowrite@thejollyroger-writer@shireness-says@ilovemesomekillianjones@thisonesatellite@thesschesthair@winterbythesea@stahlop@resident-of-storybrooke@superchocovian@lfh1226-linda@artistic-writer@thislassishooked@shardminds@winterbaby89@xhookswenchx@ultraluckycatnd@gingerchangeling@laschatzi@wellhellotragic@xemmaloveskillianx@courtorderedcake@pirateherokillian@optomisticgirl@darkcolinodonorgasm@sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776

#Captain Swan #CS Crew #teamhook SavageHeart #cs ff #CS Mafia

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missmentelle · 6 years ago

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I just started watching the tv show Hannibal- I’m not sure if you’ve seen it- but in it Hannibal is a psychiatrist who manipulates one of the main characters. I’m having trouble distinguishing when he’s giving legitimate advice or manipulating someone else. What are the signs that a psychiatrist or therapist is manipulating you or not acting in your best interest?

This is actually a very important question, and it’s one that professional organizations are very concerned about. Being someone’s therapist, psychiatrist or psychologist is a position of power. People with mental illnesses are often very vulnerable, and they put a lot of trust in the mental health professionals they turn to for advice. Abuses of power by mental health professionals are rare, but they do happen. The things that you should be looking out for are:

Your mental health professional is not in good standing with their professional organization, or you cannot verify their credentials. In order to practice and call themselves professionals, psychiatrists and psychologists need to be licensed with the state or province - depending on where you live, this could be the local state/provincial chapter of the American, Canadian, British or Australian psychological or psychiatric association. Licensed Mental Health Counselors and Licensed Clinical Social Workers also need to be registered with the state or province. When you are shopping for a new mental health professional, contact whatever professional organization handles licensing for them, and double-check to make sure that their license is up-to-date and that they are in good standing with their organization. A professional who is practicing with a lapsed or invalid license is a huge red flag for unprofessional behaviour.

Your professional tries to have a relationship with you outside of therapy. Relationships between clients and mental health professionals need to be professional and have firm professional boundaries. Your psychiatrist or psychologist should only be contacting you for therapy-related reasons. They should not be calling you just to chat, adding you on social media, inviting you over for dinner or asking you to catch a movie with them. If you run into them in public at random, it’s fine to give each other a polite greeting and make small talk, but they should not be delving into a conversation about your issues in public or inviting you to join them in whatever they are doing. A professional who is trying to have a personal relationship with you is a huge red flag; it’s unprofessional, it’s not allowed, and the power dynamic between you makes this kind of relationship inherently exploitative.

Your professional tries to have a romantic or sexual relationship with you. This includes returning romantic advances that you initiated, or advising you to transfer to a different professional so that they can date you. None of this is ever acceptable. Romantic relationships between professionals and clients - even former clients - are not permitted. The power imbalance between a professional and client makes it impossible for the client to truly consent to the relationship, and therapy is supposed to be a place where you feel safe - it is never supposed to be a place where you have to navigate someone else’s romantic feelings. If a professional feels that romantic feelings are developing between the two of you, in either direction, they have an obligation to step away from the client and transfer you to one of their colleagues. Any professional who lets their relationship with you veer toward romance or a sexual encounter cannot be trusted, and should be reported immediately.

Your professional tries to make life decisions for you. A therapist can help you weigh your options and think through an important decision, and they can let you know if they have concerns - if you tell your therapist that you are thinking of returning to an abusive relationship, it’s appropriate for them to speak up and tell you that they are concerned about that decision and why. What’s not appropriate is for a psychiatrist to make decisions for you and tell you what to do. The point of a psychiatrist is to help you learn to make better choices for yourself and stand on your own two feet - the point is not for you to become dependent on them telling you what to do. A psychiatrist should not be making decisions on your behalf. They should not be saying things like “You’re not cut out to be a lawyer, you need to drop out of law school and become an elementary school teacher, that will be much better” or “you need to be dating someone who makes more money than your current partner, like maybe a doctor” or “you aren’t meant to live in an apartment downtown, you need to break your lease and go live in the suburbs”. You can turn to them for help with making those decisions if you feel you need help, but they should not be springing instructions on you for how to live your own life.

They try to manage your life. A psychiatrist should not be offering to handle your finances, do your taxes, manage your career, set you up on blind dates, fill out your graduate school applications, or take over any other facet of your life. They are there to give you the tools to do those things - they are not there to do them for you. They also should not be giving you any advice that stands to financially benefit them. It’s not appropriate for them to encourage you to hire their accountant spouse to do your taxes, or tell you how much you’ll benefit from getting healthy with the help of their personal trainer daughter. It’s also completely inappropriate for them to pressure you into participating in their scientific study, or allowing them to write a paper or book about you. Again, the power dynamic in these relationships is so off-balance that it’s not appropriate for them to even offer you advice that stands to directly financially benefit them - that’s a huge conflict of interest.

It’s important to remember that, for the most part, mental health professionals do not have any ulterior motives, and they genuinely want to see you get better. The vast, vast majority of mental health professionals are mindful of their position and do not abuse their power. Psychiatrists have to walk a very fine line between looking out for their client’s safety and respecting their client’s autonomy, and most of them are able to do that successfully. There are, however, people in every profession who do not deserve to be there, and abuses of power can happen. It’s important to trust your gut instinct; if you feel that your psychiatrist’s relationship with you isn’t quite appropriate, you are well within your rights to get a second opinion from another doctor, or to contact your professional’s licensing body.

Hope this answers your question!

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popatochisssp · 6 years ago

Text

Fur a Good Time, Call... 15/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus, ensemble Chapter Warnings: none

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Epilogue - Family

They say time flies when you’re having fun.

If that’s true, you must have been having a skeleton of fun, because the next few years feel like they’ve breezed right on by.

You finally pulled the trigger and moved yourself in with the brothers after a lot of encouragement and not-so-subtle hints.

You were right, it didn’t really change anything, except that now when you come home after a long day, you have your dog right there waiting for you and roughly eighty percent of the time, a delicious home-cooked meal from Papyrus instead of something you have to toss in the microwave or eat right out of a bag.

When you find a particularly rib-tickling meme in the middle of the night, you no longer have to text it to Sans to share it. All you have to do is give the big skeleton next to you in bed a little nudge, and you get to enjoy the wonderful sound of his sleepy chuckle in person instead of just an ‘lol’ on a screen.

It’s not a big difference, but it feels like an important one.

Nothing much has changed at the shelter either, excepting maybe your promotion to assistant manager.

When your boss had first pulled you into her office and offered you the change in position, your instinct had been to turn it down. You were just a worker, after all, and ‘assistant manager,’ well, that sounded important, not something you could do…

Except you’d started working on that a lot lately, recognizing your own self-deprecating thoughts as you were having them and shutting them down when you could.

Papyrus had been a huge help with that once he’d noticed it was something you struggled with, and he had actually let you in on some of the techniques he used to power through similar feelings.

The most helpful had probably been when he told you to, “Imagine Those Thoughts Are Coming From Somebody You Loathe With Every Fiber Of Your Being! That Way When They Tell You That You Can’t Do Something And You Do It Anyway Because You’re Super-Cool, It’s Like You’re Proving Them Wrong And Rubbing His Gross, Greasy Face In It, I’M AMAZING, JERRY, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT AND YOU CAN’T HOLD ME BACK!”

You’d only asked once who the hell ‘Jerry’ was, in the middle of a Grillby’s date.

Every single monster in the vicinity, even Sans had just grimaced and looked away, pretending you hadn’t spoken and eagerly leaping onto a different subject.

You decided that maybe it was better you didn’t know.

In any case, with Papyrus’ advice in the back of your mind, you managed to accept your promotion with hesitant grace and to your pleasant surprise you were able to handle it just fine.

You already did so much at the shelter that the new job title barely added a handful of responsibilities that your workaholic self wasn’t already doing, and certainly nothing you weren’t capable of getting the hang of quickly. You make a little bit more money now and you have more control over your own hours than you ever did before, which is a very nice perk!

Actually taking time off for yourself…that’s admittedly still a work in progress, but you’re lucky: if there’s one thing your Sans is good at, it’s knowing when you need some self-care time and he’s always ready to con sweet-talk you into taking a break now and then.

You’re actually taking the day off right now, though not because of Sans.

Today is for Papyrus, because after years of study and hard work, your favorite skeleton has made it—finally about to become a boneafide nursing school graduate!

…Pap refused to speak to you for a solid three hours after you made that joke.

Sans, on the other hand, looked at you like he might legitimately cry over it.

His emotions had been pretty high lately, actually, what with his little bro’s big accomplishment and it seems like all the pride and joy in his soul the past few weeks has left him just a teensy bit of a walking disaster.

He can barely focus on anything else for the life of him, so this day off of yours was kind of a necessity. Sans is in absolutely no state to be remembering things like finding the camera, making sure it has memory, ordering the most gaudy and colorful bouquet you could possibly find, figuring out the itinerary…

You handle all of that for him so that all your scatterbrained bonefriend has had to do for the past two weeks was gush to literally anyone who stood still longer than a minute—friend, acquaintance, or complete stranger—about how his bro was graduating and isn’t he just the coolest?

With the way he’s been talking it up, you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if half the shelter staff showed up, plus the entirety of monsterkind.

You hope they all do come: your Papy deserves as much recognition he can get!

Sans shortcuts you onto the neatly manicured lawn of Papyrus’ campus, not far from the auditorium where the little ceremony is going to be held.

He’s practically vibrating with excitement and it’s so different from his usual chill persona that it makes you laugh.

“Are you actually gonna be able to sit still the whole time?” you ask with a grin.

“what?” Sans barely glances at you, smoothing his clothes down a little. He processes your question belatedly and when he’s done buffering, he huffs. “oh. pfft. i’m fine.”

He’s back in that tie/sweater-vest combo he wore on your first date—the only ‘nice’ clothing he owns, you think—after Papyrus begged him to please, please not embarrass him by wearing that ratty old hoodie of his.

You’re a little dressed up yourself and so is the dog between you, Buddy in a novelty bone-print bow-tie and a knock-off service animal vest that had been bought online at the last minute.

He hadn’t earned it with any kind of training. It was just a way to sneak him into the place and keep people from questioning his quadrupedal presence, thought up because if there was anybody who looked like they needed a support animal, it was Sans with the giant, debilitating-looking hole in his head.

You weren’t sure you were a hundred percent on board with the deception, but both of the brothers had outvoted you on this one: Buddy was family, too, and he should be there to see Pap graduate!

Sans had (mostly) eased your concerns by pointing out how well-behaved and unlikely to cause a scene your son was, and also by promising that you could leave to escort him out if there was any kind of trouble.

Buddy is so calm right now that you're actually starting to think there won’t be any trouble.

It’s only Sans you’re still worried about.

“Are you fine?” you have to wonder teasingly. “You know Pap’s not the only one graduating, right? We’re gonna have to sit through speeches and other graduates, real boring stuff.”

Sans rolls his eye-light at you. “duh. why do ya’ think i skipped my own graduation? ya’ think i’m gonna waste my whole day at a snoozefest? keep dreamin’.”

Your laugh turns to a soft, affectionate smile as he duly continues, “but this one’s for pap. i don’t mind doin’ it for him.”

What a sweetheart…

You pass him the camera, knowing he’s going to want to be the one to record everything, and with your lightened burden of only flowers and a dog leash, you start walking.

“C’mon,” you say, “we better get in before all the good seats are taken. Unless you want to try taking video from the nosebleeds?”

Sans looks mortally offended by the very notion and follows right after you with an indignant little, “how dare you,” that gets you snickering all over again.

In spite of your warnings about boredom, you’re pretty excited for this, too.

You get to be present for a huge moment in the life of somebody really important to you, with just about everybody else who’s important to you by your side.

It’s a momentous occasion and you can’t wait to see it.

Turns out getting in early was a good idea—the auditorium is quickly packed with people, mostly humans come to see loved ones graduate, but also monsters, and lots of them.

You remember learning from Sans that monsters are made of love and compassion and you see it now in spades as all the familiar faces pour in and take seats toward the back or choose to stand, perfectly willing to give priority to people who had actual family in the ceremony but still wanting to be here to show support for one of their own.

You wave hello to everyone you know from your seat and beside you, Sans just beams.

Another thing you were right about was the boring speeches.

There’s two separate addresses once everything gets underway, with the usual types of academic buzzwords liberally tossed about: hard work, dedication, responsibility, ambition…

Sans dozes off halfway through the first one and you just barely manage to snag the camera back from him before it falls out of his lax grip.

You decide to let him sleep, though, knowing it’s not going to get more interesting for awhile yet and what Papyrus doesn’t know won’t earn Sans a lecture.

For his sake, you hope his quiet snoring is too soft to be picked up by the recording. If it isn’t…

Well, that’ll at least be funny to find out when you play the video back later!

It’s not until they finally get to the heart of things, calling up the graduates for their photo-op walk across the stage, that you give Sans a gentle elbow to the ribs.

He snorts awake and gives an appropriately sheepish look to your teasingly raised eyebrow, but he also leans over to nuzzle your cheek as he takes back the camera with a grateful little, “thanks,” that melts your heart.

You spot Papyrus well before it’s his turn, standing off to the side in the line-up. He’s simply too tall and noticeably nonhuman to be missed, especially among his slightly younger and much smaller peers.

He’d done such a good job of being all cool and unaffected in the days leading up to this…but not anymore.

Even from here you can see Pap struggling not to cry a bit at the sight of just how many of your friends had come out to see him today.

Sans’ eye-sockets are starting to look suspiciously wet, too, and if it weren’t for that ‘Don’t Embarrass Me’ promise he’d made, you have a feeling he’d be on his feet bragging to everyone around you about how that’s his brother! Get a load of that skeleton! Ain’t he the coolest?

When it’s Papyrus’ turn to cross the stage and accept his window-dressing diploma, Sans is back to nearly vibrating and you clap as hard as you can on his behalf.

He surprises you, though—holding the camera steady in one hand, he puts the phalanges of the other between his teeth and defies every rule of acoustics and logic itself with a loud, impossible whistle that pierces the auditorium even through all the applause.

You smile when Pap’s skull swivels right over to where the two of you are sitting and he scowls at you in that unique, ‘I Cannot Believe You Right Now’ way of his.

But then he looks…surprised.

And then happy?

Happier, anyway.

You wonder why the change of heart, but they’re already calling the next name and he’s walking back off stage to let all the other grads have their turn in the spotlight, too.

Sans pauses filming and turns to you, grinning so wide you’re surprised his mandible is still attached.

“you know what this means, right?” he asks in an eager whisper.

No, but you think you can guess.

Still, you want to hear the punch-line, so you ask, “What?”

“Pap’s a nurse now—he gets to call the shots.”

“Pfft! Do not say that to him today!”

“why not?” Sans scoffs, feigning realization. “oh, you’re right, no job yet. he wouldn’t have the patients for my jokes.”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles.

“Shhhhhut up…!” you hiss.

He sighs. “guess ya’ don’t wanna hear the one about surgeries, huh? ah, suture self.”

Damn him.

Damn him, you are trying to be courteous to everyone still trying to pay attention to the ceremony, but judging by the amount of whispering and secretive glances in your direction you must not be doing a good job.

……Or so you think, until Sans goes very, very still beside you.

“Babe? …Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer you, which is concerning.

Concerning enough that you frown and follow his gaze, just behind you to the very back of the auditorium where…

Oh.

Oh stars.

There’s another familiar face in the room today, but this one you’d only ever seen in pictures, maybe once in some distant footage aired in the news, right when monsters had surfaced.

You understand that surprised look on Papyrus’ face now, and the wide-eyed stares and whispers from the people sitting around you.

Even shadowed and silent, flanked by armed guards, Queen Undyne cuts an incredibly imposing figure in person.

Former queen, you suppose, but her very bearing could only be described as regal…or maybe military. She’d captained the Royal Guard once and you can see that now in her posture, parade rest if not for her hands cuffed in front of her instead of behind.

Her expression is stony and utterly unreadable to you, but there’s only one reason she could possibly be here, today, and he’s probably ecstatic backstage right now waiting to come greet his oldest friend.

And his brother is here next to you, hands starting to tremble as he stares blankly at the woman who broke his head and Papyrus’ teeth all in the same day.

“Oh, stars, Sans, are you…? Do…do you—”

You cut yourself off as Sans suddenly moves, taking the dog leash out of your hand. Buddy, lying obliviously at your feet, perks up a little in curiosity.

“gonna…take buddy out for awhile,” he says quietly. “back later.”

And with that, the seat beside you is empty, just you and the vibrant bouquet of flowers in your lap.

…Oh, boy.

The ceremony can’t end quickly enough.

It’s a struggle to remain politely seated through the rest of the proceedings and when it all wraps up and people start to get up and mill about, you can’t help but feel a little lost.

You can’t see the ex-queen anymore in the crowd, but you also can’t see Sans or Papyrus and you’re not sure which of them needs you more right now.

It’s a tough choice, but in the end you settle on Papyrus—as much as you love Sans, it’s Pap’s day and he needs to get these flowers and a ‘congratulations’ straight from your lips.

Plus it’s not like Sans is alone right now. He took your ‘service dog’ with him and Buddy is probably getting some on-the-job training about emotional support right about now.

They’ll be fine.

It takes some searching, but you do eventually find Papyrus…and you’re not the only one because Undyne is there, too, listening patiently to whatever Pap is talking about with such broad and animated gestures.

You stand there for a long, indecisive moment.

Should you…just go over there and…interrupt? Wait until they’re finished?

…At least one very cowardly part of you thinks Sans had the right idea just peacing out like he did.

Even this close, Undyne is beyond intimidating, as massive as Papyrus with none of the gentle friendliness to soften it and not even the orange prison jumpsuit she’s wearing can cover all of her sharpest features—spines, scales, teeth, all razor-sharp and terrifying.

(You wonder if the officers escorting her here today would stand any kind of chance if she decided to escape custody, even with their side-arms.)

Ultimately, the choice of what to do is taken out of your hands.

Papyrus spots you and calls your name, eagerly waving you over, and well…

Here goes nothing.

You walk over with your best winning smile, presenting your bouquet to the new grad.

“Happy graduation, Pap!” you say brightly, feeling one yellow eye burning through you. “We’re so proud!”

Papyrus takes the flowers with a crinkle of the plastic around them, looking like he’s ready to start sparkling any moment now. “Thank You! Wowie, I’ve Never Seen Glitter On Roses Before!”

“Sans’ idea,” you admit.

“Oh!” Papyrus frowns, seeming to notice his brother’s absence. “Oh, Is He…Did He…?”

Need to go get some air because Undyne was here and he hasn’t forgiven her, but he also wanted to let Papyrus have a moment with his friend on his big day?

Probably.

But what you say is, “He went to take Buddy outside. He said he’d be back, though!”

You trust the sharp and clever Papyrus to be able to read through the lines, and by the relieved and undeniably fond smile on his face you’re pretty sure he understood.

The amused-sounding snort from Undyne suggests he’s not the only one.

Papyrus perks up at the sound, suddenly tugging you closer. “Stars, I Almost Forgot! Human, This Is My Friend, Undyne! Undyne, This Is Sans’ Human, I’ve Told You About Them Before!”

You crane your neck, meeting the fish-monster’s piercing gaze for the first time. She certainly doesn’t look very impressed with you, making no move to offer you a hand to shake or even speak.

Considering her history with humans…you’re not surprised.

Still, Pap is watching you expectantly, so you smile and introduce yourself, saying, “It’s nice to meet you!”

Is it, though…?

Maybe. Maybe not.

You know this person by reputation only, and the brothers’ opinions on her are from two opposite ends of a spectrum. You don’t know her for yourself and all you have to judge her on is her actions.

You know what she did to Sans and Papyrus. You don’t like that at all.

But the sight of her standing here in flimsy handcuffs that she could probably break just by flexing a little too hard…it reminds you that she chose to wear them so that Sans wouldn’t have to.

And the fact that she’s here is a whole other layer. How hard must it have been to finagle something like this? You can’t imagine how frustrating and redundant the maze of human politics and legal proceedings must’ve been, even for someone with literally royal clout, trying to arrange leave from prison to be here today, just to be able to see Papyrus graduate.

Undyne did it anyway.

She must really care about Papyrus and as someone with that same level of investment…

Well, that has to earn her back a few brownie points with you.

You can at least be polite.

“So…you’re the punk Papyrus won’t shut up about, huh?” Undyne sneers down at you.

…You can try to be polite.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me!” you say easily, sparing a glance up at the skeleton in question. “Unless Pap’s been talking up some other humans I don’t know about, I guess.”

Papyrus gasps as if greatly offended. “I Would Never!” he exclaims. “You’re The Best Human!”

You laugh. “‘The best’? Really? I’m the best one?”

“Of Course You Are!” Papyrus says, as if it ought to be obvious. He bends down a little to more easily hug you, explaining, “You’re Our Human. That Makes You The Best!”

Oh…oh, jeez, Papyrus…!

You hug him back.

“Is that true?” You turn to find Undyne watching the two of you, her eye narrowed. “They’re your human, too, Papyrus?”

Papyrus doesn’t hesitate to answer with a firm ‘yes.’

Undyne huffs, making a face.

“Man,” she grumbles, before turning to you with a stern expression. “Hey, human—you know you have to be good to these skeletons, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Uh… I—”

“‘Cause they’re real important!”

“…Well…yeah, they—”

“It looks like you’re doing okay so far,” she says, which sounds almost like a concession, “even…even…but! You better keep it up, alright?! Queen’s orders!”

“You’re Not The Queen Anymore, Undyne,” Papyrus tries to cut in, but she just glares at him.

“Cherish these skeletons, human!” she demands of you, making it sound like a proclamation. “Cherish them!”

“……”

You…

You kinda want to laugh.

Undyne is definitely intense…but she’s hardly the cold and solemn monarch the human media’s made her out to be. Having her here in front of you, trying to intimidate you into taking care of Sans and Papyrus…

You think maybe you understand why she and Pap used to be friends.

Are friends, that’s…that’s pretty clear.

When you smile at her instead of cowering, she scowls, which really just makes you grin wider.

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” you assure her. “These guys are…they’re basically my family at this point.”

You give Papyrus a little side-squeeze and feel your expression softening at just the thought of Sans, still off somewhere settling his nonexistent nerves.

“Don’t worry,” you say, as firmly certain as your entire soul is on the sentiment. “I’m gonna cherish the hell out of these skeletons, no matter what!”

The way Undyne is looking at you now…you’d almost call it impressed.

You could probably stop there and call this a confrontation well-handled, but…

You’re not sure you’ll ever have an opportunity to talk to her again.

You might as well say everything you need to say right now.

“And hey…when Pap comes to visit you, actually see him. I don’t like hearing about the times he wasted a trip, okay?”

In your peripheral vision, you see Papyrus’ cheekbones going blue and he whines your name a little plaintively, but you hold eye-contact with Undyne.

It feels like the right thing to do.

Undyne seems surprised.

And then slowly…she starts to laugh.

“Fuhuhuhuhuhu! Okay…okay, yeah!” She grins at Papyrus, a shark-smile if you’ve ever seen one. “I guess you were right, Papyrus. They’re not a total wimp…for a human!”

You wonder if that’s her way of saying you’ve earned some brownie points with her, too.

One of the humans standing quietly beside Undyne suddenly speaks up. “Ms. Undyne? It’s time.”

She sighs, rolling her visible eye. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever…”

“It Was Good To See You Again, Undyne,” Papyrus chimes in. His smile is wide and after all these years, finally free of the corrective braces.

It brings a very nostalgic look to the former queen’s face.

“You, too, Papyrus. Congrats on doing something cool with your life. Come…come see me again soon, okay?”

“Of Course!”

“And human…” She smirks at you. “Just keep cherishing…or else!”

You give her a cheeky thumbs up and a wink that makes you feel an awful lot like you’re channeling Sans for a second. “You got it!”

That gets you a nod of approval, and in short order, Undyne is led away.

“……I Think She Likes You!” Papyrus decides after a long moment.

You snort. “Is that what that was?”

Whatever Pap says in response, you don’t hear it.

With Undyne’s departure, it’s apparently the perfect time for Papyrus to get swarmed by a whole gaggle of excited and curious people.

Some are monsters, wanting to offering congratulations and ask after the old queen, but a lot are human—fellow graduates from Pap’s class, you realize—impressed that Papyrus was apparently important enough that Undyne herself came to their graduation.

In all the bustle, you end up…kinda trapped, squished up against Papyrus’ legs.

Until he effortlessly scoops you up and sets you down just outside the circle of admirers with a patronizing little pat on the head.

“My Adoring Public Needs Me,” he proclaims grandly, to several fond laughs around him. “You Go Find Sans, I’ll Catch Up With You Later. We Still Have Those Dinner Reservations, I Haven’t Forgotten!”

You almost did, but you accept your mission with a playful salute, already looking forward to the fancy new Italian place you were going out to celebrate at later tonight.

Provided, of course, you can actually find your boyfriend somewhere around here.

Papyrus’ voice stops you again before you get too far, though.

“Oh, And Another Thing I Haven’t Forgotten! I Was Promised A Very Specific Graduation Present!” Oh…that was news to you. “When You Find Him, Tell Him To Quit Being A Snail And Make It Happen, Already!”

You chuckle but say, “Sure thing, Pap!” on your way out.

You hope Sans jotted himself a reminder for this mystery present somewhere or you weren’t gonna be much help to him.

You’ll just have to ask him yourself and you don’t think he’ll be very difficult to find.

After all, he wouldn’t go too far on Pap’s big day, and by now the sun’s been down for awhile.

You can’t think of anywhere else Sans would rather be right now, when he wanted to clear his head, than out under the stars.

You don’t miss your guess.

Of course you don’t: after the years you’ve been with him, you know your funnybones.

Sans is sitting there outside in the grass, stroking Buddy’s head in his lap and staring straight up at the night sky.

He looks alright, which makes the ugly knot of compartmentalized concern unravel in your chest. You’re glad tonight’s surprise guest hadn’t shaken him up too badly and you approach him with a smile.

“Hey there, sugar-skull.”

Sans looks up at you and your heart skips a beat. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing the love in that big, red eye-light of his when he looks at you, or the way it makes you feel warm inside like nothing else ever has.

“Mind if I join you?”

“thought you’d never grassk.”

That startles a laugh out of you.

“Is that a new one?” you wonder, getting down to join him. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

Sans shrugs, but you see him smiling. He loves being able to pull a new pun on you. It’s happening less and less these days, the more you’re together and the more jokes you hear from him, but you never fail to laugh at even the old ones you’ve heard a dozen times before.

Funny’s funny, a joke’s a joke, and from probably your favorite person in the world, the humor never feels stale.

“undyne give ya’ a hard time?”

You shrug right back. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. …Pap thinks she likes me.”

Sans huffs, but he slings his arm around you, pulling you right up against his ribs.

“‘course she does.” His skull settles on top of your head. “you’re the best.”

Sweethearts. You’re surrounded by sweethearts.

You don’t think you’d trade a single one of them for the world.

You spend awhile out there, just cuddling out under the stars.

You point out a constellation or two that you can see, even with the urban light pollution. Sans manages to find his favorite, Scorpius, and you spot…one of? the dippers, and it’s not until you’re arguing about how he can possibly tell, without a telescope, how that particular speck of light could be Cassiopeia A that you remember.

“Oh, wait, shit, I was supposed to remind you!”

“hey, you don’t gotta make up excuses, babe. you can just admit you’re wrong, y’know i ain’t gonna make fun of you for that.”

You smack him lightly on the sternum and he snickers at your ineffective bat. “No, seriously. Papyrus wanted me to tell you something.”

“sure, i completely believe you. what’s the message from ‘Papyrus’?”

You shoot him the fiercest side-eye you can manage. “Pap says he hasn’t forgotten about his graduation present and for you to stop being a snail.”

Whatever response you were expecting, the way Sans stiffens against your side really isn’t it.

“……shit. right. yeah. that.”

“Did you forget?” you wonder, trying to hide your amusement.

“mmm, little bit.”

“I mean…you can teleport. If you need to go get it…”

Sans fidgets a little. “nah, it’s not…i already have the……have for awhile, i just haven’t…gotten around to………”

You make a noise of surprise when Sans stands up, pulling you with him. He looks awfully nervous all of a sudden, even more nervous than when Undyne had shown up.

“Oh jeez, Sans,” you murmur gently. “Relax, I’m sure Pap’ll love it!”

It doesn’t stop the sweat from beading along his skull. “that, uh…that’s the thing, it…it’s not……for Pap, actually. it’s……it’s for you.”

You frown, confused. “Pap’s present…is a present for me?”

“eheheheheh…nah, the…it’s for you, Pap’s part of it is……uh. i ‘stop bein’ a bitch about it.’ direct quote.”

Snrk… Oh, Papyrus…

“Okay. Weird, but okay. So…what is it?”

“………um. so.” Sans looks like if he had a lip, he’d be biting it right about now. “i…found a really cool rock…that i wanted to give ya’…”

Oh!

Sans had great taste in rocks, you couldn’t wait to see it.

“‘cept i…wasn’t really sure when the right…time…was…?” He chuckles a little, his eye-light darting everywhere but you. “human……customs, or, whatever. but…but Pap says i already been draggin’ my feet too long, so, uhh…”

Sans reaches into the pocket of his nice slacks and presents you with…

Oh, a crystal!

And by far, the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen: it’s a gorgeous cyan blue and glowing, actually radiating light in the darkness.

The urge to reach out and touch it is powerful and you just stare at it for a moment completely awed.

But then Sans starts talking.

“i…i got it from, uh…from waterfall. the ceiling. took a little doing, but it…it seemed right. we…monsters, we used to wish on these, y’know? did…did i tell you that?”

“Not in so many words,” you say, but you don’t need words for memories conveyed directly through the soul.

You have a clear picture in your mind of the place he’s talking about, and what it meant to monsters when they were trapped.

“well…we wished on ‘em…like how humans do with stars, for stuff we wanted…things……things we never thought we’d get to have…ever.” Sans goes a little glowy in the cheekbones himself. “stuff that was too important to give up on, no matter…how impossible it was.”

He’s still not looking at you and you have no idea where he’s going with this, but when there’s a long pause, you prompt him to continue.

“Sans…?”

He shakes his skull, like he’s trying to clear an etch-a-sketch, and seems to start again.

“i saw a documentary about…one of the animals ya’ got up here. the little…” He struggles with the name and tries, “tuxedo birds,” and you nod encouragingly that you understand.

Though you can’t for the life of you figure out why he wants to talk about penguins right now.

“it, uh…it said they…when they really want to…be with somebody, what they do is…they, they find a rock and give it to ‘em and that’s how they find their mates.” Sans laughs a little, still with that persistent edge of nervousness. “i dunno, i thought it was pretty cute. monsters don’t…we don’t have nothin’ like that, but i guess…i guess humans do?”

Sans freezes suddenly, like something’s just occurred to him.

“shit,” he mutters. “i’m supposed to be on one knee for this, right? does it matter which knee, or…?”

………

Holy shit.

“Sans, are you…are you proposing…?”

He winces at the question, a rueful expression on his skull.

“jeez……guess i’m doin’ a pretty shit job of it if ya’ gotta ask.”

If your heart skipped a beat before, you actually think it stops this time, just for a second.

Sans is proposing.

He wants to marry you.

He wants you to be a part of his life, always.

“Yes.”

Sans blinks at you, looking startled.

You’re not sure if he actually processed the thing you said or what it meant, so you say it again, as emphatically as you can.

“Yes, Sans, I want to marry you!”

He stares at you just a little bit longer…but you know your answer got through this time.

That traitorous eye-light of his can’t lie, and it’s heart-shaped and adorable.

“heheheheheh…hahahahahaha!”

You laugh, too, as you’re suddenly scooped up off the ground, literally swept right off your feet into his arms as Sans holds you up against him, fervently nuzzling at your face.

You nuzzle back, grinning so widely it actually hurts and pressing smooches against him everywhere you can reach.

Below you, Buddy has taken to darting around and barking, excited by the sudden movements his people are making. You know he has no idea what’s going on, but you’re excited, so??? He’s excited too??? Yes?!?!

Stars, you love your stupid dog-son.

You love your goofy skeleton fiancé.

You see several sudden camera flashes and hear a triumphant, “NYEH-HEH-HEH, FINALLY! YES!” off from the side, and you love your meddling, soon-to-be brother-in-law, too!

It might not be the biggest family, but it’s yours and honestly…?

Your life feels as full as it’s ever been.

You gasp as something utterly delightful occurs to you and you brace your hands against Sans’ shoulders, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye-socket.

“Sans,” you say urgently, “Sans!”

“what?” he asks, frowning a little at your tone. His eye-light pops back to its normal round shape, but if you have your way, that won’t last long.

“Do you know what this means?”

Sans can see you starting to grin, the kind of grin that goes hand-in-hand with his most favorite thing in the world, and his concern falls away.

He spares an insufferably smug smirk over at his poor, unsuspecting brother before turning back to you, as eager as you’ve ever seen him.

“what, baby? what does it mean?”

“When we get married… do you know what that’s gonna make you?”

Sans knows it’s going to be good. He’s practically vibrating again as he asks, “what’s it make me?”

“Sans……you’re gonna be my husbone.”

Papyrus shrieks in dismay, even as Sans’ eye-light blips right back into a heart-shape and he completely loses his mind, hugging you even tighter against him and laughing until delighted tears streak down his skull.

“HUMAN! Stop Ruining This Beautiful Moment For Me!” Papyrus demands, his hands on his hips.

“keep…keep enhancing this beautiful moment for me,” Sans wheezes, nuzzling at your cheek.

Buddy just keeps scurrying around Sans’ feet, jumping up and trying to be part of the action, too.

Pap corrals him for you and comes on in to join your little hug-fest with a hilariously irritated look on his face, saying that you two had better not start this up again at your celebratory graduation-slash-engagement dinner or he'll be very displeased, disowning you both!

This…

This is a very good family to be a part of.

You couldn’t be happier.

Prev Chapter | Snips & Snails

#fur a good time call #undertale #sans #papyrus #sans/reader #fanfiction #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic

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hyunjizns · 7 years ago

Text

dating jungwoo

⤷ idk why but jungwoo always gives me the softest, innocent vibe and that’s why he’ll forever be my bb

how you started dating

so i wasn’t sure if to make this an idol au or not but i finally settled for idol because i’m going for that “realistic” feel, lol

how you two met? well it was actually predebut when jungwoo used to work at a café

you know, to get that extra cash because being a trainee isn’t the eaiest thing

and you frequented that café since it was pretty near to where you lived

you often saw jungwoo because you’d come during his shift and he’d always give you a warm smile

you couldn’t explain but he was just so welcoming and warm-hearted unlike the other other employees so that was definitely fresh

before you learnt his name you had deemed him “the cute worker with the pretty smile”

seriously, every time he handed you your drink, his cute little smile would appear and your heart basically melted everytime

but tbh, anyone would melt at his smile, it’s precious, okay?

and after handing you your drink, he’d never fail to wish you a good day and ahh !!!

anyway, this continued on for a while until you didn’t even have to tell him your order anymore and he’d just have your drink and name there whoosh

he just knew that well

so you were kinda getting tired of this back and forth and wanted to get to know him better

you did the obvious bc you’re a smart person and slipped him your number when you were giving him a tip and walked away smugly

the look on his face was priceless

yes, we’d have a sh00k jungwoo because, wow, you gave him your number ??

now, now jungwoo is a bit shy so it’d take him a bit to actually text you but when he does you’re basically a candy who just got candy

but look, this boy contemplated what he was gonna say for way too long and spent majority of the time fiddling with his phone

you would never have seen someone type and erase as much as he would’ve then

“y/n, right? wanna meet up soon? this is jungwoo btw”

“sure,, any specific time? i’m free this week”

sure you may have sounded cool in your reply but your were actually just dead inside bc jungwoo !! texted !! you !!

when he sees your reply though, he would be relieved and text you the details

the two of you would kinda just drift into texting cute, soft emojis for the rest of the day

jungwoo is a bit.. clueless.. so it probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal to him unlike you who was practically combusting

p.s: it seems you’ve developed a crush on him,, but to be fair who wouldn’t?

anyway, we can fast forward to when you two actually do meet up, it’s a small bistro and everything is pretty casual

jungwoo is a bit nervous but so are you so that leads to nervous giggles every second but you two manage through

it was a pretty, nice and calming “date” tbh and you guys started to do it more often

um yeah, that basically meant that your crush on jungwoo was getting bigger

i mean, the boy told you so much about himself already and same for you, you learnt he was a trainee, etc, etc and it just felt you got really close to him

but you weren’t sure if he liked you too since he was a bit odd with his actions

tbh i don’t think he was even planning to tell you because he was sure that it was you who didn’t like him

let’s all give a huge round of applause to his boss lol get it boss? no? okay bye sorry who told you that he knew jungwoo definitely liked you too

sorry, but basically everyone in the cafe knew about you two

and with a little courage from your friends, you found it in yourself to confess

better take no for an answer than never know, right?

so one day you called jungwoo outside and told him that you needed to talk to him and yes that kid was nervous

“I.. I kind of really like you.”

He’d be so shocked that he wouldn’t reply which would make you s c a r e d but then he gets all excited and relieved

“I kind of really like you too!” he was a bit too enthusiastic

and the rest is history

i made this too long, oops

jungwoo as a boyfriend

we all know that jungwoo is some kind of precious human being that needs to be protected at all costs

yes

well, you’re that human being to him now

idk but we all know how he’s always smiling, well people would be starting to wonder how his cheeks aren’t hurting at how much he smiles when he’s around you

he always looks at you with so much affection in his eyes, it’s unreal

it’s that “ get you a man who looks at you the way *insert* looks at *insert*” meme

so your relationship is basically two angels protecting each other

talking about soft, idk man but this would be one of the purest, softest things for anyone to watch, your interactions would be down right precious

oh gosh, i’m already squealing, jungwoo, i see him legit defining boyfriend goals

like he would spoil the shit out of you and give you whatever you wanted, even if you didn’t ask for it

you’d be telling him it wasn’t necessary but he wouldn’t listen to you

i feel like he’d use that as a way to express himself since physical expression wouldn’t be something that he’s best at

oh yes and taking it slow and making sure you’re comfortable is one of his biggest concerns too

he absolutely doesn’t wanna rush you to do anything that you don’t wanna

as for pda, i don’t think jungwoo would go too far

he seems like the kind of person, no matter how long you’ve been together, to just enjoy soft hand-holding

yeah, your fingers are always intertwined, it’s basically the signature thing in your relationship now

even when you two are alone,he still isn’t the b i g g e s t displayer of affection

you can expect a shit ton of hugs from this one too, and no, i don’t mean those short, seemingly meaningless ones

i’m talking jungwoo style kms with full on embracing, neck snuggling and even some butterfly neck/face kisses on the occasion

his arms would be so tight yet gentle around you

i’m telling you !! this boy treats you as if you were made of legitimate porcelain

as for kisses, i feel like he’s too shy to out right kiss you, especially at the beginning of the relationship so your gonna have to ask or initiate

after he’s more comfortable though, kisses may still be shy but he isn’t afraid to do it himself

his displays of affection are actually the sweetest, like he has the gentlest hands, and does the cutest things, you’d swear he just stepped out of a romance novel

he has actually made a scrap book with all of your couple pics for you

i’m wrecking my bias list help

he’s a cuddler 100% so you can expect a lot of that from him

especially due to the fact that he’d prefer simple dates or those ones where you can just stay at home

you can seriously expect to lie in bed and just be happy with the other’s presence.

but it’s not like that everyday kind of cuddling, he’d prefer that once in a while, significant cuddle session

plus i can see him being really talkative, i don’t think he’d wanna cuddle in silence and most conversation topics would be pretty deep

maybe about your guys’ future since he doesn’t plan to break up soon or ever at that

his favourite position is you beside him with his arm around you so that he could look at your face and every little detail on it

don’t be surprised if you suddenly feel his hand under your shirt !! he just does that innocently

he’s the boy that’d space out while looking at you because he actually can’t get over your beauty

“ how did i get so lucky ? “

he’d think that all the time

sometimes his hand is already going to brush a strand of your hair from your face before he even notices what he’s doing

yeah, it’s something that he does pretty often too

jungwoo also really cares about the little things, just enjoying small talk

like everyday you can expect him to ask how your day was and if you were okay

on that occasion that you were pissed, he’d freak because he wouldn’t be sure what to do but jungwoo being the good listener that he is, i feel like he’d just let you vent

he’d let you vent all you want while rubbing your back, not saying anything

after, he’d probably offer to make your favourite food/drink or suggest you two do something that he knew you’d enjoy

or maybe sing you one of your favourite songs since he knows that you love his voice ahh

also

okay so y’all remember that iconic vlive when doyoung was asking jungwoo what he wanted for his birthday and yea h sbksks

jungwoo would be cheeky like that pretty often when he wants something

he’s like a puppy that really just needs your love sometimes so

this boy isn’t showing the signs correctly and you’re like “what do you want babe?”

“i um..” cue stuttering and cute giggles !!

rip you bc you just look at him like ???

“i want your love” he’d smile and tap his cheek

and you’re just like ofc you do and kiss his cheek and that’d make him 12x more giddy oho

jungwoo adores you i swear. every wallpaper on his phone is a photo of both of you

omg my heart is bursting with love for this boy

and like there was that one day when nosy yukhei took up jungwoo’s phone and was sh00k at the number of couple photos, oh dear

that would be teasing material for the other boys to use against him but y’know, jungwoo doesn’t really mind

he wouldn’t be fazed, he’just give them one of those smiles because he’s actually hella proud of those pics

but don’t ask him how things are going because he can’t really reply, he’ll kinda just scratch the back of his neck and again, s m i l e

because he wouldn’t be sure how to explain one of the best things in his life

he isn’t a master of words, y’know!

that’s why short and sweet gestures + compliments are his thing

this was also lowkey a secret relationship and you would always remember the look in his eyes after his first debut stage

you honestly felt so happy for him because you knew he deserved it

he cried that night and it was just one of the softest things you had ever experienced, like you could tell he didn’t wanna cry but the tears still came

you patted his head as he cried into your shoulder tears of complete happiness

and when you whispered how proud you were of him, that set off more waterworks

that just proved to you that he isn’t afraid to show his emotion when he’s around you

BuT when it came to super important things like the first “i love you” he was a nervous wreck because he wasn’t sure how you’d respond

but then he’d realise you love him just as much as he loved you so he had nothing to worry about

all in all, you guys would live that innocent relationship and every moment you spent with jungwoo would be deeply cherished

#kim jungwoo #someone get me a jungwoo #jungwoo as your boyfriend #jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo fanfiction #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo imagines #jungwoo headcanon #jungwoo #kpop #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct u #nct u scenarios #nct fluff #jungwoo fluff #nct u imagines

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for-peace-war · 7 years ago

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Long Post! Hit J if you want to skip!

My guild has recently had a lot of conversation on Jessica Price and Peter Fries who were recently fired from ArenaNet’s Guild Wars 2 development team. I’m pretty sure that most everyone that could care has heard about it, but what is confusing me is why people are trying to die on hills for two people that really did not come across as anything other than gatekeeping assholes.

To be clear, if you disagree with this statement then that’s fantastic. Because I am posting this on social media, I am expressing tacit approval for you to respond to it, dislike it, deconstruct it, or whatever you wish. This doesn’t mean that I have to like what is being said, but the condition that “if I post this on the internet, then someone may reply to it” is a fairly sound one.

To cut through a lot of the fluff, I’ll summarize:

A developer, Jessica Price, was on her personal twitter discussing the problems with MMO development.

Per usual, a mob formed to express their opinions. It’s the Internet, so that means saying a lot of crude, disgusting, sexist, and absurd things.

Within this mess, one person - Deroir - decided to voice his own opinion. I wouldn’t say that he’s an expert (I wouldn’t say that she was either since Guild Wars 2 is a mess...) but I will indicate that among the throngs of the “laymen” (as Fries put it), he at least has some affiliation with the IP.

Deroir Says: Really interesting thread to read! However, allow me to disagree *slightly*. I dont believe the issue lies in the MMORPG genre itself (as your wording seemingly suggest). I believe the issue lies in the contraints of the Living Story's narrative design; (1 of 3) When you want the outcome to be the same across the board for all players' experiences, then yes, by design you are extremely limited in how you can contruct the personality of the PC. (2 of 3) But, if instead players were given the option to meaningfully express *their* character through branching dialogue options (which also aren't just on the checklist for an achievement that forces you through all dialogue options), (3 of 4 cause I count seemingly...) then perhaps players would be more invested in the roleplaying aspect of that particular MMORPG. Nonetheless, I appreciate the insightful thread! (End)

To which Price replies: thanks for trying to tell me what we do internally, my dude 9_9

And Deroir replies: You getting mad at my obvious attempt at creating dialogue and discussion with you, instead of just replying that I am wrong or otherwise correct me in my false assumptions, is really just disheartening for me. You do you though. I'm sorry if it offended. I'll leave you to it.

The above is their initial discourse and honestly because I don’t feel like posting all of the tirade that follows, I’ll leave it at that for now.

The initial concern was: Should Jessica Price have been fired for ‘going off’ on Deroir? An example of things said:

“Like, the next rando asshat who attempts to explain the concept of branching dialogue to me — as if, you know, having worked in game narrative for a fucking DECADE, I have never heard of it — is getting instablocked. PSA I’m not on the clock here. I’m not your emotional courtesan just because I’m a dev. Don’t expect me to pretend to like you here.”

That is not acceptable, at all. I would fire anyone that was interacting with my customers while being associated with me, on the basis of that alone. It is true that she was on her own “private” account, but she was discussing work related information, using her work related title, and using her work related position to open a dialogue (or a monologue, as it seems) with those that were actively purchasing my product.

There have been arguments that he mansplained (read: explained something to her as if she were unaware despite her experience based on her gender) and then secondary calls that “she had dealt with a lot of harassment before so this wasn’t her fault,” but those are two faulty premises:

First, because she was the one that opened this discussion on social media. If she wanted to avoid responses or only take on “educated information” then she could have either placed it in an article or circulated her complaint among her former co-workers.

Second, if there was a sea of hateful people that had been harassing her, then this hardly seems like the right time to “take it out” on someone. I do not know the struggles of women on the Internet, but I know what it’s like be a black person on the Internet so I can say only that while it is true that you will always assume a certain amount of hostility, just taking it out on the first person that speaks is absurd.

If, for example, there really was a rabid mob crying for Price’s blood, then why wouldn’t she unload her ‘emotional courtesan’ spiel on them and not someone that as objectively as possible was being inoffensive if not a bit tone deaf to her mood? The self-fulfilling remedy that he “was mansplaining” as justification for her very rude tirade absolutely does not address that his only offense was again, speaking to a very neutral point.

What is worse, this has become a matter of someone being fired over her gender rather than the truth of the matter, which is that she was just an asshole. People are canceled, rightly, from minority groups all the time. If Kanye West flew off the handle on someone, I wouldn’t rush to defend the ‘slavery is a choice” dude even if it is good to have black men in the spotlight. Cut the string and let them drown under the undertow of their own shit, as far as I am concerned.

Arguing that systemic oppression mandates random aggression is not appropriate. Certainly it explains why it happens, but as we all have our own independent dignities then you cannot justify a random attack as one that was “deserved.” Let us remove from the discourse that Deroir was a person affiliated with GW2 and leave it simply at a person says something that a person at a public forum doesn’t like. Because, private or not, twitter is public and social media... And that person then starts shouting at them for being an asshole, in what way is that permissible or excusable?

It isn’t. The company was right to fire her, not because of “capitalism” or “corporatism” but because she acted out of line. If anything, many of us have learned there is a higher burden against us for the fact we are of a protected class, yet that is not an excuse not to aspire and to strive. Female developers are pretty undervalued and underrepresented in the gaming industry, so why would she throw away her chance like that?

If you argue, “well she doesn’t have the responsibility of putting on for anyone else other than herself,” then you immediately invalidate the need to protect her. Being a woman is not the same as being a representative of what women can do. Margaret Thatcher and Joan Rivers are not hailed as feminist icons for a reason.

Now the “gatekeeping asshole” part comes up when you get into the nitty gritty of what Fries, who was also fired (and as far as I know identifies as a male), added to the conversation:

“Here’s a bit of insight that I legitimately hope he reflects on: she never asked for his feedback. These are our private social media accounts — imagine you’re an astronomer and you start sharing some things you’ve learned in the last few months since you began a research project observing Saturn, only to have observation techniques explained to you by a layman ... Jessica is great at her job and deserves to be treated with respect.”

The sentiment doesn’t hold water for quite a few reasons, so let’s deconstruct those because that’s what this post is about.

First, we’ve already touched on “these are private social media accounts.” Yes, we know they are “off the clock,” but they are discussing their job all the same.

The example of an astronomer also really sets the pace for what is to follow though. Is a game developer like an astronomer? A person that more or less puts down the tracks that players work through? I don’t think the requirements between the two are remotely similar, but let’s move beyond that and say, an astro-physicist like Neil deGrasse Tyson decides to get into a conversation with some people at a local pub!

Neil is a little miffed about research on Saturn’s observation and one of the pub goers chimes in that maybe it’d help if they used some of the techniques learned in deep sea exploration to observe Saturn.

Immediately, Neil says “Thanks for the non-answer, my dude” and then returns to say “And by the way, you colonizing piece of shit, I work at the Rose Center of Earth and I know than you ever possibly could, so next time you open your mouth remember that I know more than you ever will because I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, shithead. I’m not your emotional porchmonkey.”

I mean...

I assume you’re going to get a tap from someone about how that wasn’t okay to say? Now even if there were a lot of people getting boisterous, why pick that person out? Even if this is your “go in moment” why pick a person that’s inoffensive? Because you have something to prove. And well, the company has something to prove as well: it isn’t going to allow its image to be tarnished.

But at the heart of it, is this concept that the people she discussed this with are the knuckle dragging laymen incapable of understanding the Promethean wonder that is game development. If that is the case, then why discuss it at all? The questions continue to pile and the explanations became weaker.

In the end, I don’t like ArenaNet but I also think Reddit is a disgusting pit of scumbag racists, sexists, and shitlords. That being said, it really sucks that both of these companies had an easy pass to drop two people that were clearly negative elements to their environments.

This isn’t a hill worth dying on. Hell, this isn’t even a hill worth stopping and getting a picture of. Because at the end of the day?

Jessica Price isn’t right.

#jessica price #big post #rambling rant

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beinglibertarian · 6 years ago

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Shortcuts & Delusions Special Edition: The Absurdity of Gary Johnson

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutly free that your very existance is an act of rebellion.” – Albert Camus

Obituary:

Libertarian satirist and vengeful deity Dillon Eliassen (spelled with an E for comedic purposes), whose work I sincerely admire, has died. Spiritually. Only spiritually. He is to be succeeded in spiritual death by a micronation of homeless people, his fellow members of the Fictitious Cement Workers’ Union, and Being Libertarian’s very own Editor-in-Chief Martin van Staden.

Dillon “The Jesuit” Eliassen (née Ottovordemgentschenfelde) was probably born on Christmas morning 1949, somewhere in Canada. Known for his youthful shenanigans, Dillon brought a smile to the faces of all who encountered him at San Quentin. While fighting for our freedom on the blood-soaked soil of Vietnam, Dillon gave birth to a mostly healthy yet premature appendix, and he named it me.

Let us begin.

Introduction:

Dillon left off with an in-depth analysis of ‘Trump Derangement Syndrome,’ a very real ‘condition’ that ‘I’ have personally heard firsthand accounts of on multiple occasions. This was a fitting place to conclude. The torch was not passed to me, but I am hereby picking it up off the ground, wiping the dirt and canine feces from its gleaming bronze exterior, and running with it in the exact opposite direction of any achievable goal.

I am Nathaniel Owen. If you don’t recognize my name, it’s because I am legitimately the least important person you’ve never heard of. I’m unknown for my efforts to bear the heaviness of the Imperial Antarctic Crown, and my occasional bouts of productive cyber-vigilantism. In 2014 I made a mistake, and today that mistake is Being Libertarian. They locked me in the CEO’s office until I pay for this crime.

Like my obvious relatives, Nathaniel Bacon, Nathaniel Branden, and Nathaniel Hawthorne, I am a revolutionary. I haven’t got a Che t-shirt, and I never attend the meetings. But like many communist tovarisch, I do have an iPhone. In the postmodern age, that’s a clever weapon to have! Climate scientists, for instance, have indicated that it’s really all the humble revolutionary needs these days. I am constantly confused as to the value of my executive role at Being Libertarian but remain the least confused as to why I maintain this position.

Today is my favorite day of the year, second only to New Year’s Eve. For me, today acts as a reminder of the closest thing I have ever encountered to universal truth; a realization that haunts, comforts, astounds and enchants me. Yesterday, we were but individuals rolling boulders up a hill. Today, we will try again to roll the boulders up that hill. Tomorrow, yet again, we will return to this habit. You have been doing this with me since the day you were born.

I like to count the number of seconds it takes the boulder to reach the bottom of the hill each sunset. In the morning, we will start over.

We Are All Sisyphus:

It’s quite pointless, analytically speaking. You probably don’t remember being born, nor were you an integral part in making that happen to you. No number of artifacts can preserve the complexity of an individual human being, and even if one could live immortally in the memory of others, time turns existential into the mythological.

The universe is dying. It will live scarcely longer than we will. You appear to have come into existence at random, in a time and place inherently foreign. As a child, you wander into a adulthood without happening on the answer key to any questions relating to how or why you exist in the first place. Much less, how or why the universe itself exists. A consequence of this is that We, The People tend to convince ourselves conveniently that the answers to such questions not only exist, but can be found in such subtle hiding places as your local political party, whatever holy book you were raised to read, your arbitrary interpretations of the signs and seasons presented to us by the light of the cosmos, or even in our own imaginations.

And we know because we can’t avoid knowing, that whatever facade we’ve sold ourselves is, in fact, still a facade even if we fall for it.

Every day spent living is a performative affirmation that something about you, even if you can’t figure out exactly what it is, still wants to find those answers. If this weren’t the case, the players of this game would be dropping like flies when they discover that there is no point in playing and no conceivable way to win and that eventually there will be no evidence that you ever played at all. In short, that life itself is highly unlikely to be worth the trouble.

Albert Camus, French philosopher, and journalist, was plagued with thoughts like those stated above. Camus became a constitutive inspiration of the Existentialist Movement (a tradition of philosophy asserting the importance of human experience in the appraisal and interpretation of ideas), partially during the Second World War, while serving in fierce defiance as the Editor-in-Chief of the French Resistance newspaper ‘Combat’ amidst the Nazi occupation of his homeland, and continuing this roll into the post-war world.

Though such matters in the realm of fundamentals and absolutes can be difficult to define, you may have wondered similar things about yourself, and perhaps continue to. Camus was particularly perturbed by the sheer fact that the universe itself and all that exists within it have no objective meaning or purpose. The rational insights we are both blessed and cursed with poke holes in all our mortally limited attempts to invent meaning of our own, and in the Modern Age, the old ideas of Abrahamic deities, universal truth, and inherent ethical rules, each of which having been rudimentary to the shaping and formation of modern society in some way, have been penetrated into philosophical Swiss cheese.

The Non-Aggression Principle is a rather useful little limerick when one doesn’t overthink it. But like all things implying morality, thinking it all the way through will lead you to fundamentals that cannot possibly be confirmed or denied. What, exactly, makes murder wrong? What about robbery? Or socialism? Or the unfairness of free markets? When all is said and done, is it really going to matter whether every little thing we chose to do was right, or wrong, or equitable, or unfair? At the top level, with capital crimes especially, it is not hard to find that the supermajority of humanity agrees on some basic ethical positions. But when applying these basics, they become more complicated. By the point that we are discussing the specific rights and wrongs of typical human behavior, no two people will find themselves in agreement on the application of what they may believe are universal, self-evident principles.

Camus asserted, rather poignantly, that suicide has always been an option. And the scariness, confusion, and uncertainty of existing in such an uncertain world have apparently not driven you to it. And why shouldn’t we die now? It all adds up to the same summary. Nothing is permanent. It’s very possible that nothing matters. Yet we, practically all of us, seem to be making the conscious choice each day to live on. It’s as though if we pull away some of that upstanding rationalism gifted to us during The Enlightenment, there is some other part of us playing such an integral role in our existence that it stabilizes and confirms our will to exist at all.

Camus was a hero in several ways, and today is his day. There are very few people who want to legalize murder, yet droves of people who wish to legalize marijuana, and to many hearty fundamentalists, these may be comparable issues. Sin is sin, oppression is oppression, and aggression is aggression. To many libertarians, and to what should be our collective shame, such things as unionizing the local labor force, stealing a sandwich from a street vendor, violently raping a helpless victim, and aborting the fetus conceived in such tragic circumstances are all comparably “aggressive,” and may not even be considered in terms outside of “aggression” regardless of how useful a new approach or perspective may be when considering such cases.

At the risk of losing all of my libertarian acquaintances, I will admit that once upon a time, I charged my iPhone (yes, my revolutionary weapon of choice) using a stranger’s charging cable without asking when he wasn’t around. I aggressed. I haven’t repented and I’m not sure my soul will be where yours will be on judgment day.

The point is, it makes so little difference whether we are right or wrong about what is “aggression” and what is not “aggression,” that it’s a wonder anybody even cares to discuss it for more than a few than a few minutes.

I do not care who builds the roads, or who decides what color to paint the bathrooms at Beacon Hill, or which Union and/or Confederate heroes/villains are memorialized in stone. I do not care to pay taxes of a meager nature. Of course, I will consistently support lower taxes; it’s my own self-interest at stake. I will not, however, declare that anyone who doesn’t concern themselves with it as deeply as myself to be a “sheep.” Sheep are blind followers. To the best of my knowledge, I have never met anyone who doesn’t fit that description, and yes, this includes myself. I’m no determinist, but I know that I know essentially nothing about the mechanics of what REALLY makes something moral or immoral. I also know that you don’t know either.

The universe you live in doesn’t care what you think. It doesn’t “care” in any way about anything, as far as we can tell. Clinging so staunchly to principles may as well be escapism from the dread and uncertainty of having existed in the first place. Cults operate by exploiting this inherent dread, and unlike the average man on the street who will immediately deny any experiences of being uncertain about his own existence, cults can see through this bullshit. The Liberty Movement should be no cult.

“The Absurd” is a boulder. Every second you live is an exercise in pointlessness. Searching for meaning, embracing the experience of uncertainty, and cracking a smile as your shoulders yet again shove that boulder up the hill… these are exercises in defiance. It is no coincidence that Albert Camus, espousing the conviction (or lack thereof) that no objective truth or purpose may ever be identified, was willing to put his life on the line to dignify and endorse the French Resistance Movement, and despite his eventual death in a car crash, his words live on.

We libertarians are the quintessentially anti-establishment political identity. When our fists are clenched around the chains of dogma and theoretical universal principles we may as well be chained to the same despotic foundation we’re trying to help others liberate themselves from. To think for one’s self, one must realize the degree to which the nuances and practicalities of the world we live in influence us. Peddling promises of applying some universal ethic that we, as representatives of the Liberty Movement, can’t even agree on the parameters of is no different than selling a religious experience; a method by which to keep the conscience clean, and supply some convenient, flimsy certainty that will never stand up to the scrutiny of the skeptical. If our universal truths were as permanent as they are constructed to be, we would never change our minds or opinions.

This rant will resume in 365.25 days when National Absurdity Day returns in all its glory, memento mori, and calendarial obscurity.

And speaking of scrutiny, I’m going to have to toss in a trigger warning. This isn’t even my first trigger warning. I’m a professional.

**TRIGGER WARNING** What you are about to read may cause severe bouts of Trump Derangement Syndrome. If you are a leftist, please do not read the following paragraphs while in close proximity to sharp objects. Symptoms may include blood shooting from the eyes, indecipherable screaming, close encounters of the fourth kind, and varying degrees of irritable face syndrome. Please notify a physician if you encounter itchiness of the spleen, cirrhosis of the autobiographical memory, or diarrhea of the oral cavity.

Why We MUST Defeat Gary Johnson You’re probably wondering about the guy in the title of this article who, thus far, has been absent from said article. In fact, he’s absent from things quite often, I’m told.

Gary Johnson is not a real libertarian. Why libertarians get starry-eyed in his presence is beyond me, with his espousal of blatant communism and acceptance of homonormative deconstructionist Islamomarxism. Johnson as a representative of libertarianism is a clear sign that the left is invading the liberty movement, further eroding private property norms and propping up support for the deep state agenda of the globalists.

Johnson has pretended to support unfettered free market capitalism, and even went as far as to insist that tearing down barriers of entry could give the average person better, fairer access to goods and services. “The model of the future is the sharing economy. It’s Uber. It’s Airbnb. I think it’s gonna be Uber everything.”

“Uber everything” sounds like a great idea until you take your morning Red Pill and see that this is just code for white genocide. Without a heterogenous government of the people, who will stop immigrants from driving Uber taco trucks and parking them on every street corner, forestalling traditional values and private property norms. Americans would lose their jobs, possibly to immigrants. Even libertarian heroine Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez sees through Gary Johnson’s thin veneer of egalitarian lies!

He ran for president. Twice. On the second try, he broke every Libertarian Party presidential vote count record in the party’s history, surpassing even the likes of Our Lord and Savior Dr. Ron Earnet Paul. Mark my words, we will never forgive Gary Johnson for not being Ron Paul. His tax cuts were clearly a Democrat ruse to give spending power to the politically correct internationalist cabal of globalist elites like George Soros, Walt Disney, and Oliver Cromwell.

After making the Libertarian Party lose twice, Gary Johnson snuck in one more attack on libertarian legitimacy by losing in New Mexico in a Senate race where he only claimed 15.4% of the vote, singlehandedly handing victory over to communist Democrat Vladimir Len- I mean… Martin Heinrich (if that’s his real name).

Gary Johnson must be stopped. He cannot be allowed to run for office again, regardless of what degenerate socialist feminazis say about “free speech” and “democracy.” Democracy is a secret codeword known to the Fourth International for white genocide and subversion of private property norms. To Make America Great Again

, we must Physically Remove

this man that even the Democrats recognize as a tyrant. Socialists say that Gary Johnson is no threat to the system. This means Gary Johnson is probably a socialist (and a threat to the system the Founding Fathers put in place to protect our freedoms) because everything socialists say are lies.

What further evidence do you need? So far, I have used some of the most Red Pill buzzwords on the market, and even considered using “optics,” “LOLbertarian,” “SJW,” “libertine,” “postmodernism” and “open borders.” Libertarianism is an obvious right-wing ideology. We have standards, you know.

I won’t keep you here. Now that I’ve owned you with facts and logic, you are free to go.

Outro: Left intentionally long and with minimal editing, everything written above makes a single point that, in context, doesn’t mean anything. Most things, and probably all things, don’t mean anything. But that observation is no taskmaster; true freedom is the freedom to waste your time, and the time of others, in a way that is archetypically you. There are no strict parameters here. Drifting a little off the straight and narrow shouldn’t be cause for panic. If there was a takeaway in this article, I don’t know what it is. Perhaps there is a Gary Johnson in all of us, rolling a boulder up Mount Everest just to watch it roll back into the ravine, much like the Libertarian vote count will in 2020.

Do as thou wilt, and don’t overthink it.

Happy National Absurdity Day, comrades.

سُبْحَانَ اللہِ

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slapmeagain-blog · 5 years ago

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COVID-19 Life

March 21 - Saturday

Escape from NY....

Last night I tried to sleep without taking any Advil PM. No go. I did take two regular Advil but was still awake at 3 a.m. Oh, yeah. I didn’t even realize it until I was in bed scrolling the news at midnight that Illinois and NY have joined California and declared ‘shelter at home’ states for all residents, meaning we are all supposed to stay at home except for runs for food, medicine, walking the dog and exercise - in public spaces - but to maintain 6 foot distance from others. That’s 20% of all Americans according to The Times. Looking out my front door this morning when I went to get the paper (one glove on my left hand to pick it out of the bushes then washing hands glove on, then glove off), there were still so many people out walking, but very few cars on the road.

Just noticed the Saturday farmer’s market down at the corner at the entrance to the park is in full swing. That place is always so crowded. I hope they’re wearing masks and gloves, whatever good that might be. There’s really no way to control crowding in that space. I’m surprised they haven’t shut them down. Sorry for the vendors.

We’re getting the house back in Kingston by month end, and will wait 3 days to let surface virus die, then clean and move in on April 1. I guess we can’t even have housekeepers anymore. Please keep paying your housekeepers!!!

Of course if government announce further restrictions, say on driving or leaving your areas of residence (like they have in Italy), we will head up immediately to Kingston. It’s impossible to plan without also making plans B, C and D as well. Will we bring mom with us, even if she says, ‘no’? She’s 91 and I want to get her out of the city as soon as possible. I caught her at the beauty shop last week! And I know she still wants to go to the market. Grrr.... I don’t know if H is still allowed to work or not. I don’t think so but who will enforce the rules? If she does decide to actually work from home, she can get serious about taking care of herself, F and mom. In Italy, in Marco’s home town, his mom got questioned by police while she walking to the pharmacy, to make sure she was a legitimate resident of the town. Even with such stringent controls, look at the number of cases there. Friends in Bergamo aren’t allowed to even leave their homes, period.

As promised, it’s a chilly but sunny day today. 45 degrees. Spring is in the air for sure. Forsythia in bloom everywhere, trees turning red with leaf buds. I walked down to 7th Avenue to pick up an order from Shawn’s liquor. Wine and liquor sales, Shawn tells me, are considered an essential essential business so they won’t be closing tomorrow with the ‘non-essential’ businesses. But it it curb-side pick up only. So I guess I won’t have to worry about a vodka shortage after all. But just for good measure I bought two more half-gallons of Tito’s.

I walked across the street to see if Key Food had posted signs with ‘senior’ shopping hours so those of us considered at higher risk don’t have to shop with everyone else. Just as I got to the corner, a woman about my age stumbled and fell to the sidewalk in front of me. I was first to reach her. Trying play down her mortification, I crouched next to her and said, “For a minute I thought you were me,” and smiled. “You OK?” she smiled then started to reach to get up. “Just sit for a second and when you think you are ok, I’ll help you up.” “I think I’ll do that.” she said and relaxed into a sitting position. And while she sat taking stock I told her that I do the same thing regularly, because I forget to pick up my feet. It’s so embarrassing! After a few seconds, she slowly got up and seemed to be OK. She thanked me and the other lady who stopped to help, and we were all away. Other passersby politely ignored us. A few seconds later, we stood side by side, reading the posted sign on the door of the supermarket, “Senior Hours: 6;30-7:30 a.m. M-F.” She asked if I was going in, too. I said that I was just confirming what the senior hours were that I’d heard about. She hadn’t known. “Oh, that’s great.” She went in, and I turned and walked up Carroll Street toward the park and home with my gallon of Tito’s.

Earlier this morning, R called from Vermont to say how angry she is that some people are putting so many other people at risk by not self-isolating. There seem to be fairly distinct camps, still, of those who believe we are over-reacting and those who believe we aren’t doing enough. I’m still following M’s lead using Italy as a crystal ball for what the situation here will be in 2-3 weeks. So far, it’s been pretty accurate in terms of growth in numbers of cases and in term of health and safety restrictions being enacted. I do believe, however, that Italy was better prepared to assist those who are quarantined at home by delivering food etc. Here, it’s not supervised, social services are providing little, if any support, and even a week after Trump promised that testing was ramping up, there are few signs that anything is getting at all better in terms of more testing, equipment for health care workers, or production of sanitary supplies. He just continues to jaw-bone, lie, and blow smoke up our skirts like he always does. Quote of the day: “We’re not shipping clerks.” (Trump after being asked what was holding up the supply chain.) More than one friend said it feels like we live in a third world country, and the press have noted, that South Korea, who reported their first case on the same day the US did, is in far better shape than us because of early test-kit production and aggressive testing. Two months in and we’re still not there. WTF

After lunch, Marco and I decided to go for a walk in Prospect Park to get some exercise and fresh air. The trees are really coming to life. I wonder if they sense our anxiety in the air. I recently read, “The Over Story” a novel about the life and evolution of trees and how they communicate with, and help each other, or are helped by other species such as massive fungus, protecting each other from disease and drought, predators, and more, winding all of that into the lives of the people that live among them. It won the Pulitzer Prize. You should read it.

Parents urging kids to stay close (meaning to stay far from others), cringing while trying give them space to have fun at the same time. I’d hate to be a parent of small kids now. Just as I’d love to be young enough to not be aware of what if unfolding around me! “Why can’t I go play in the sand box?” would be my biggest concern.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by the numbers of people in the park. It is a beautiful day, it’s spring, most everything else is closed, and people are looking for distractions. I understand a little better how Prospect Park was more crowded 100 years ago when there were far fewer amusements for people on weekends. We tried to look for paths and areas less crowded and ended up on a path through a wooded area behind ‘dog beach’, a little lagoon where dogs can swim, then to one of the roads that bisects the park West of the Nethermead, then wound our way back through the woods on the other side of the steam to the Long Meadow near the Picnic House and along the West drive to Garfield and home. Nap time.

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ganymedesclock · 8 years ago

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A thread I’ve been picking at from Space Mall is that the galra really don’t seem to be the position of cultural dominance you’d expect considering this empire is pretty much built and maintained by a galra-exclusive military.

People have pointed out with Sal, that even if he has really good ingredients (Hunk’s able to improvise great food out of it) he goes for basically space gruel and uses a robot to produce it rather than cooking himself. He could just be a bad restaurant, but, the reactions of other people kind of imply this is normal.

There’s also almost no galra there. And this is pretty pointed- of the patrons and shopkeepers, they carefully avoided anybody even partially galra-looking. The only ones we see are Sal and Varkon, and this is a big, well-lit cultural hub. It’s not a backwater middle-of-nowhere affair. We see more Unilu (knife merchant, info desk girl, and the older man Coran barters with) than we do galra.

Again, it suggests that even though socially, it’s probably not nothing that their species is the one that’s conquered everyone here- culturally? The galran foothold in their own empire is weak. Not only are they outnumbered, but, they’re not holding lavish positions of power. Varkon’s rigid adherence to protocol just proves that he’s got no more sway or prestige than the average mall cop on Earth. The one testament that Sal has something going on is that he stays in business and even then, the fact that he’s not really paying his workers would hardly suggest he’s got a lot of money to toss around.

And I mean, this makes a lot of sense, because Zarkon’s had ten thousand years and he’s very interested in trying to culturally prune his species into his vision of a Warrior Race. (This is a point of contention for me: I think people mistake that Zarkon’s trying to force the galra to view themselves as conquerors to fit his own agenda for the galra legitimately being a Proud Warrior Race by physiology or whatever)

It also makes sense that Zarkon’s militarization of the race comes on the heels of a catastrophe, and I feel like people ignore the significance of that being when Zarkon stepped up from king to emperor.

Allura says the Black Paladin is a natural, decisive leader. When do people look for a leader?

Usually, when they’re scared or uncertain themselves.

We have no idea what was the timeline of this but it happened within Zarkon’s lifetime and either during or after his tenure as Black Paladin. Personally, I get the feeling whatever happened here is the smoking gun that led to Zarkon’s falling out with Altea.

What we see of this planet (I still think this is where the Blade gets “Marmora”) tells us it was densely inhabited. Obviously the galra survived as a species if they were able to so rapidly afterwards hit Altea in the kind of force they’d need to overwhelm a civilization with most of Voltron backing it up, but- I think people don’t realize that this is more than a trauma for Zarkon. This is a culture-wide trauma for the galra.

I’ve talked to people about the fact that, frankly, if galra food is unpalatable, this makes sense. Think about if we moved beyond Earth and colonized other planets. Losing Earth would still be catastrophic. Things like traditional food, clothing, culture- relies heavily on locations, native flora and fauna.

Things that the galra wouldn’t cultivate outside their home planet, because they were not expecting a whatever to slam through their planet hard enough to punch out its core.

It’d also be some great thematic implications if in Zarkon’s utter inability to move forwards from his own trauma, and preserving himself and expanding his power at everyone else’s expense, he’s kind of deadlocked his species in their own trauma. That dragging everyone he can possibly get his hands on into the military, into more conquest, and routing the resources obtained from that imperialism right back into the military means that culturally the galra still come across like a vagrant people with nowhere to come back to.

The Blade styles itself as a counterculture to Zarkon in many ways. They care about each other aggressively- Kolivan flat-out says that he would never demand a Blade go into a suicide mission when we’ve seen Zarkon have people executed for acting to preserve themselves and their forces.

The Blade are concerned heavily with knowledge, espionage, and who they can and cannot trust with that knowledge. Far more than they are warriors, they’re spies. They engage the empire in combat as well, but strategic sabotage- get in, get out, let no one know you did anything- is far more their flavor.

So I have to wonder what exactly the knowledge is that the Blade hold so highly. If it’s not just tactical intelligence, but culture. Ulaz has his spiel about how the galra followed Zarkon looking for stability and he specifically failed them.

Cause Zarkon’s in a powerful place for historical revision, really. He’s probably the only living galra that actually remembered what the home planet was like and he’s been in power for ten thousand years. He could spew basically whatever garbage he wanted with that self-assured bravado he has and sell the galra as a species on this whole idea that their ancestors were Fearless Warriors.

If he really felt like it, he could convince everyone that there was never any alliance with Altea- that Voltron in its heyday belonged only to the galra. It’s possible most people don’t even know there was an Altea- Zarkon drops it by name when talking to Sendak in s1e1 but in Space Mall, Coran flaunting explicitly Altean money is met with bafflement at best, not “oh my god that is a member of a dead species”- which suggests at very best, nobody these days knows what an Altean looks like or draws much significance to the name.

Conversely, when Kolivan greets Allura, he does so by name, without any introduction, and states he’s pleased to see that she is still alive.

Allura has not been hiding, but, she also has not exactly been flaunting royal status.

This would suggest despite ten thousand years of Zarkon writing whatever history he wants, basically unchallenged, with the sway to manufacture any kind of evidence he wants, the Blade’s historical record is good enough they know the name of the last royal heir of Altea. Sure- it’s possible they just got that information through Thace, since he was on high command at the time that Allura was captured, but...

Kolivan genuflects upon meeting Allura. This is Kolivan, for whom “they are literally a paladin of Voltron and landed one of the Lions on your base” is not a high enough recommendation to impress him- and this is removing his mask and sinking into a sustained lowered position.

Not only is this a somewhat antiquated form of respect, further suggesting a level of ceremony and almost ritualism to the Blade that we don’t see in the main empire- Kolivan has basically no respect for Voltron, or the paladins, until they redeem themselves in his eyes.

But this is how he greets Allura before she’s so much as said a word to him. By virtue of the fact that this is, in fact, Princess Allura.

For contrast- you can compare this pretty directly to how most galra in the empire greet Zarkon.

Down on one knee, head bowed, one arm lowered to the ground. Kolivan’s other hand is up because he’s removing his hood, but, that detail would suggest more considering obfuscation of identity is essential to the Blade’s survival and doing so, he is also baring his neck. Kolivan’s kneel is steeper than Sendak’s- his upper body is basically horizontal- but compare that to Thace’s posture in the scene where Prorok is dragged off and Zarkon promotes him.

Considering Thace is also a spy, that might be subtle Blade background seeping through, or it could just be a difference in terms of situation- Sendak’s high position and favored status by Zarkon would suggest he probably doesn’t have to grovel nearly so much, and Zarkon still trusts that Sendak is loyal only to him.

Kolivan is honoring Allura the way we see galra in the empire honoring Zarkon as Lord Of The Known Universe. This is not merely respect on a peer level, this is active subordinate posturing- and, again, Kolivan’s reaction to Voltron was “get off my lawn you brats” so that’s not why he’s making this lavish show of respect towards Allura.

It’s Altea. Turns out Allura may be the princess of a dead kingdom but her sovereignty means something pretty powerfully to the Blade. Whether that means they’re backing Allura to take the throne from Zarkon is at this point ambiguous, but this would explain a couple of things: like why they’ve seemingly only just moved forwards to make an attempt on Zarkon’s life.

But it also suggests that maybe what the Blade has been doing in the hundreds of years Ulaz claims they’ve been an organization is gathering history- preserving old records that contradict Zarkon’s monopoly on ten thousand years ago. That maybe Altea’s royal line means so much to Kolivan is because he, and other members of his order, are some of the few people currently alive who would actually have full awareness of the significance of Allura’s lineage.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Zarkon #Kolivan #galra #readmore

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onceuponanolicity · 7 years ago

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This is for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon, Week 12. The prompt was Impaired Judgment.

I am still trying to catch up to the current week so the chapters are shorter than normal.

Compassion is a feeling of deep sympathy for another who is stricken by misfortune. It was something felt a lot when Felicity visited the animal shelter for her volunteer work. It was something that had been sent her way as a child after her father had left. But, never had she expected that she’d feel it for Oliver. He was The Hood after all. Oliver seemed like he could make his way through anything, but not his recent injury. At least not the mental one.

“You’re getting stronger,” she said to him as he carried a bunch of stacked chairs around Verdant without effort. Something he couldn’t manage just two weeks ago.

There was a brief nod of acknowledgement on his part. “Pain killers help.”

Felicity hopped down from the bar stool she sat in somewhere in the middle of the large space. “I thought you weren’t taking them anymore.”

“They help me sleep.”

“Oliver?” Felicity walked over to him and laid a hand on the small of his back. “Talk to me.”

“I’d rather not.”

He shrugged off her hand and walked around her, avoiding all eye contact. If he thought his surly attitude would make her go away, he didn’t know her very well. Diggle seemed to understand that. Which was why he drove her over here after a few weeks of Oliver avoiding her.

“Are you on them now?”

Oliver swung around, his gaze hard. “Why? Are you afraid they’re impairing my judgment?”

“Maybe.” Felicity crossed her arms. When Oliver turned hard like this he scared her a little. Usually, he would look at her and his eyes would soften slightly. Not today. Today, his anger, pain, and frustration overwhelmed everything else.

“Maybe you should leave then. I wouldn’t want my impaired judgment to hurt you.” His words were sarcastic, but for a moment the softness appeared. Felicity knew he would never hurt her and it seemed to hit him that he could while he might not want to.

“She’s not going anywhere, man.” Diggle appeared off to the side. “You can’t keep going like this. You’re body’s stronger, but the other archer took your confidence.” He stepped further into the small bit of space the flood light gave off. “He took that piece of you that made you jump off rooftops and take down criminals without thought.”

Oliver waved toward Felicity but his frustrated words were directed to Diggle. “How’s she going to help me get that back?”

Okay, Felicity tried really hard to not take that personally. However, a tear still formed at the corner of her eye. “It was a mistake to come here.”

“Those must be some damn good drugs if you think that throwing Felicity out of here is a good idea.” Diggle crossed his powerful arms and met Oliver’s hardened stare straight on. “I’ve never seen you so focused. That all happened after you started seeing her. It was like she settled you somehow. Keeping you from some of the stupid shit, but making you want to do more. Not just take down the people on that damn list of yours.”

“Thanks?” Felicity said softly at Diggle. His shoulder lifted slightly at her word which was the only indication he heard her.

Oliver shot a finger in her direction, telling her to wait. His gaze never shifted from Diggle, though. “Who said it was her?”

“I need some air.” Felicity went over to the stool she had sat on and grabbed her jacket that she had laid over the surface for a lack of anywhere else to put it. She didn’t bother to listen to the rest of what was being said. What was the point?

Felicity huddled inside her coat as she restlessly roamed around the front of Verdant. It was empty now, but tomorrow workers would be coming back to set up for another full day of work.

“I’m sorry.”

Turning quickly, Felicity found Oliver standing there against the doorway. He looked no more than the arrogant, rich, party boy he was known to be. His white dress shirt lay slightly open at the throat and his sleeves were rolled up revealing the strong forearms he possessed. He barely looked like someone who was inside moving furniture. Only the slightest bit of wrinkling to his shirt gave him away.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Oliver shook his head and straightened from his position. “No. I’m pissed off. At myself,” he clarified. He walked over to her and took her folded arms into his hands. Oliver rubbed them trying to invite more warmth into her body. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“Not enough.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I do appreciate the fact that you showed up.”

Felicity bit her lip to keep from smiling as she felt compelled to tease him. “Well, you’ve been gone and I’ve been starving. I waited for weeks.” At his confused and concerned look, Felicity let the smile loose. “You owed me lunch.”

She heard him curse under his breath. “I forgot.”

“I figured and I’m teasing.” Felicity unfolded her arms and laid a hand on his chest. “I’m just happy you’re getting better.”

Oliver raised a hand and nudged her chin up so their eyes could fully meet. “Outside my family and Digg, that means a lot.”

“Wow! I’m higher than Tommy? Or Laurel?” It wasn’t sarcasm. Felicity was honestly surprised that he would place her so high in his life. Why would he? He still barely knew her.

His other hand gripped her hip and tugged her closer. “Who’s Laurel?”

“You’re ex?” Did he seriously not remember? Was his head hit harder than they all believed?

“My what?” His eyes twinkled down at her and now she knew he had been teasing her.

Felicity slapped at his chest, eliciting a sound of pain from Oliver. Her eyes sharpened. “Are you still hurt?”

“No.” Oliver captured her hand under his.

“Right. The pain meds.”

“Not the pain medication,” he denied. “You. Diggle was right. You make things different.” Oliver shifted their hands so that they now rested over his heart. “Here.”

Felicity felt the speed in which his heart pounded. Hers was faster. Just being near Oliver made that happen.

“Come back inside,” Oliver mumbled into her hair as he let his forehead rest on the crown of her head.

Shaking her head under his touch, Felicity stepped back. She had to be away from him until he got his head back together. “I need to go. I have a bunch of stuff to do before I head back into work tomorrow. Do you think Mr. Diggle could drive me back?”

“I’ll do it,” Oliver told her. “Just give me a minute to grab my keys.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer Diggle.”

Oliver stood there next to her. His expression betrayed his hurt. She felt bad putting it there, but after what Oliver had said earlier she wasn’t sure if he was completely capable of driving her. His moods seemed to shift too fast. That didn’t even take into consideration the amount of drugs he was on. Oliver needed time to recover whether he knew that or not. She wasn’t about to put more pressure on him in the meantime.

Finally, Oliver nodded. “I’ll get him.”

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Oliver hated to admit that Diggle was right. Not that he wasn’t most of the time. After freezing when confronted by the arsonist Laurel asked him to look into, Oliver had no choice but to do so. The Dark Archer had taken that piece of him that allowed him to go around without fear.

He needed to find that piece of himself again. Only instead of figuring out where to find it, Oliver searched out Felicity. Somehow, it felt more important. Especially as Oliver hadn’t seen her since the day she left Verdant. Five thousand reasons to seek her out had come to him since that day. Not one had seemed legitimate enough for her to believe he was there honestly.

That didn’t mean he had not seen her. Twice he found himself driving past her apartment. Only one of those times did he stop. He ditched his bike on a side street and swung up to a vantage point to see inside her living room window.

Felicity had come home late that night exhausted. Yet, there was a satisfied smile that graced her face. Oliver couldn’t help but wonder where she had been. She had left QC four hours ago.

Oliver watched as she kicked off her flats by her front door. She disappeared for a few minutes, but returned with a glass of wine which she set on a table near her couch without taking a sip. Felicity pulled her hair from the ponytail holder and collapsed on her plush couch. A smile still tilted her lips upwards as she lay her head back.

She was dressed casually. More casually than he had ever seen her before. Jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt of a peach color that made her features brighten. It was in that moment Oliver realized how much he missed her.

That was a week ago. Now, he was involved in this arsonist case and he did not have the extra time to go looking for her. Yet, Oliver wanted her there even more. He wasn’t fully ready to become the vigilante again, but with her support he might.

“You okay?” Digg asked the second Oliver dragged his ass through the hidden door into the lair.

“Yeah.”

Diggle shot Oliver a look that said he did not believe him. Of course he didn’t. Diggle always knew when things went sour. The older man vacated the chair in front of the computer while Oliver stripped out of his suit. “Your mom and Tommy called while you were out. You might want to give them a call.”

“I will.” Oliver came towards him zipping up his grey sweatshirt over his bare chest. He picked up his phone from the table he left it on. “No other calls?”

“Is that your subtle way of asking if Felicity called?”

Oliver felt his cheeks heat up. “No.”

Diggle chuckled. Oliver decided retreat was his best option. Diggle was beginning to know him too well.

OQFSOQFSOQFS

Felicity did not know when, or if, she’d hear from Oliver again. They had not parted on the best of terms. But, she thought that maybe he would have tried to contact her before now. It was not like he had a lot of Hood business to take care of. There were several news stories questioning his disappearance. More and more as violence began to escalate with his continued absence.

Her life was turning normal again. Almost like the time she had known Oliver and The Hood were some long dream that expanded over several nights, rather than actual reality. A dream she was missing. Oliver had made the boring, mundane life she had fallen into exciting. Something she thought she didn’t need anymore.

A knock on her door had Felicity’s heart racing. Maybe just thinking about him brought Oliver to her door. Felicity straightened her hair and glasses and rose from her desk chair. “Come in.”

A young man in a courier outfit entered. “Miss Smoak?”

“Yes.” Felicity sat back in her chair, deflated. “Can I help you?”

He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a white envelope, handing it to her. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.” Felicity stared down at the crisp, white envelope that only had her name on it. Nothing indicated who it was from. She reached for her purse to tip the guy when she realized he was already gone.

Felicity dropped the envelope on her desk and stared at it. Should she open it? For a second, Felicity contemplated calling security to examine it. Only that would cause a company-wide incident. And what if it was from The Hood? That would mean everyone would find out about her involvement with him. She couldn’t have that. No matter how upset she may become, Oliver’s secret was his own to share.

Picking up her scarf, Felicity wrapped it around her face and grabbed a letter opener. Better to be safe than sorry. Felicity grabbed her spare pair of wooden chopsticks from her desk drawer and proceeded to hold the letter out before she slid the letter opener through the top.

So far, so good. Felicity dropped the envelope back on her desk and separated the edges with the chopsticks. Nothing appeared to be inside other than some sort of invitation.

With a deep gulp, Felicity unwound the scarf before wrapping it around her hand. Tentative, silk-wrapped fingers extracted the slip of paper from the envelope.

It was an invitation. Nothing more. Felicity laughed at her own overly anxious brain that made it out to be something else. All that time spent with Oliver was apparently making her think people were after her.

The invitation invited her to the Fireman’s gala being held by Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen in honor of the recently fallen firemen. There was an RSVP number at the bottom. It wasn’t one she recognized, but she called it anyway.

“Tommy Merlyn.”

“Umm. Hi. It’s Felicity Smoak,” she explained. “You sent me an invitation.”

“Right. The blonde from Verdant who Oliver was seeing over a month ago.” Felicity could hear a smile creep into Tommy’s voice. “Oliver asked me to include you as an invitee.”

“I have a question.” Felicity hesitated. She felt silly. “What exactly does one wear to a gala?”

“Something nice,” Tommy said with a small chuckle. “It’s not too formal. Well, it can be, but it’s not necessarily expected.”

“I might not have that,” Felicity admitted thankful that he was on the other end of the phone and could not see her embarrassment.

“Whatever you have is fine,” Tommy assured her kindly. “Don’t go all Pretty Woman. I don’t think Ollie could handle it. He’s been through enough.”

Felicity covered the mouthpiece of her phone so her snort couldn’t be heard on the other end. Tommy had no idea. “Just to be safe, I better decline.”

“Ollie told me that declining wasn’t an option.”

“Then why have an RSVP?” Felicity asked in exasperation.

“For you,” Tommy amended. “He wants you there. I have to say you have me intrigued. I’ve never seen Ollie interested in a woman this long before.”

“Really?”

Tommy chuckled, but his voice turned serious. “It’s like all the demons he brought home with him begin to disappear. He becomes the Ollie I remember before he left.” Felicity made a noise to speak, but Tommy continued. “Better. He’s a grown up version of himself.”

Felicity didn’t know what to say to that. Fine. She had one thing. “I’ll try to be there.”

@almondblossomme @thebookjumper @olicityhiatusficathon @memcjo @miriam1779

#Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-Thon #olicity fanfiction #Olicity #olicityfic

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totalcleaningservices-com · 5 years ago

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5. Who will have the way in to my home? What is the arrangement? How might I make certain I am sheltered? This ought to be a tremendous concern, and most clients don't think to pose this inquiry. Are the keys marked out every day? How are the keys kept at different occasions? Where are they kept? Is it accurate to say that they are bolted up? Who is in charge of them? If they somehow managed to be lost or taken, are there any markings that distinguish where they go? Ensure there is nothing to distinguish your location on the key. Likewise, ask in advance, in the occasion the key is lost or taken, what is the supplant/re-key arrangement?

6. "Are you fortified?" Please don't solicit this, and tell the majority of your companions, family, and friends and family this isn't the inquiry to pose. In all seriousness, don't significantly try asking this. It truly makes no difference aside from in outrageous cases. How a bond functions is that it is acquired (it isn't protection, yet protection operators issue them) typically for as meager as $200 every year for a little organization. For what reason is a bond so modest? They are low in cost on the grounds that there are once in a while any cases paid out on them. A bond will pay if a representative is discovered taking, is attempted, and sentenced. In the days prior to the data superhighway, completely looking into an individual's experience was past the methods for most little organizations. In years past, the contracting procedure was difficult to explore and "circumstances" would happen. With the majority of the instruments accessible today, every entrepreneur has simple access to assess whom they are contracting to clean your home. All things considered, most home cleaning organizations feel free to purchase the bond just in light of the fact that it is simpler to spend the $200 bucks a year and graciously answer when asked, "yes we are reinforced", as opposed to going into the above account. Likewise, simply envision how cool you will look when you are in a gathering talking about this at the mixed drink party, when the subject of tidying administrations comes up!

7. Is it accurate to say that you are both in agreement? Very frequently, the guilty party of the cleaning administration client relationship going south is an absence of correspondence. A keen cleaning administration proprietor should walk you through what their administration will accomplish for you and your home and give you an unmistakable picture of what you can anticipate. Make certain that you focus on what they let you know. Even better, maybe they have garish print materials that additionally pass on what their administration can offer you. Everybody has their "hot catches" (what clean intends to them); what one individual believes is perfect may not be "spotless" to someone else. It's simply human instinct. For certain individuals it is the bed made only the correct way; for other people, it is a perfect sink. Make sense of where you tumble from one end to the next in the range of being critical. In the event that the main thing to you isn't being done, bring it up. You ought not just expect that it will be done and that they should "simply know".

8. What would it be a good idea for me to do in the event that I am not content with the administration I get? Maybe it isn't until the principal, second, or third cleaning that you find what your cleaning "hot catches" are. (Side note: focus on what these are. It can spare you YEARS of treatment on the off chance that you give close consideration to what they are).

I trust that a portion of these revelations will be beneficial things your expert cleaning group has done that you didn't hope to affect you the manner in which they did. In any case, in the event that you discover "things" that mesh your nerves, you should address them. Ensure it was not just the day at the workplace that is influencing your point of view. CALL, express your worries to the proprietor/administrator. In all honesty, the best administration proprietors APPRECIATE and welcome useful analysis. It is the most ideal approach to construct a superior business, and experts will consider your to be as a blessing. In the event that it is something little, let it slide until the following visit. On the off chance that it does make a difference to you, at that point ask that they send the group back to address it. They ought to be glad to do as such when sensibly conceivable. Keep in mind, this is a private relationship and connections require correspondence; connections without correspondence come up short!

Presently you comprehend what to ask (and you have a couple of other spontaneous bits of extraordinary counsel for sure). Pose the correct inquiries; get the incredible administration you need and appreciate. It is certain to add to an incredible nature. A little knowledge: the greatest days will be the point at which you overlook the cleaning group is coming and you told the truth crisp smelling home ... Decent!

Perry D Phillips, Jr is a promoter for the cleaning business and is enthusiastic about instructing clients of cleaning administrations, and furthermore proprietors. Perry is the Publisher of Home Cleaner Magazine. The main distribution solely for proprietors and supervisors of expert home cleaning organizations . Visit our website for more information here==>>https://totalcleaningservices.com/

Article Source: https://EzineArticles.com/master/Perry_Phillips/263093

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/2342238

#Commercial carpet cleaning

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consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis · 8 years ago

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What It's Like to Live With a Disease Everyone Assumes is Fake

New blog post! Imagine that every time you walk into a restaurant, you’re putting your life in the chef’s hands. Imagine having to give the same medical spiel – “I have celiac disease. Even a crumb of gluten will make me extremely sick” – anytime you order food. And imagine telling the waiter you need a strictly gluten free meal…only for him to look and you and say, “Gluten free? Now, do you really need it?” If you can put yourself in those shoes, you know a little about what it’s like to be me – or any of the one in 133 Americans with celiac disease, an autoimmune condition in which ingesting gluten damages one's intestines. You might think that the hardest part about celiac disease is the diet – and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, partially thanks to the gluten free fad taking over our favorite restaurants, Hollywood celebrities and soccer moms, being taken seriously with celiac disease – a condition people often assume is fake or just a fad – is an even bigger challenge. Doctors Say: “It’s All In Your Head.” The challenge to legitimize your very real disease begins at the doctor’s office. I recently chatted with Shelley Case, R.D., who is the renowned author of “Gluten Free: The Definitive Resource Guide” and serves on the medical advisory boards for the Celiac Disease Foundation, Gluten Intolerance Group and Canadian Celiac Association. “Unfortunately the majority of individuals with celiac disease remain undiagnosed,” she says. “Also, many are misdiagnosed with other conditions such as irritable bowel syndrome, fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue syndrome to name a few.” I’ve even heard heartbreaking stories of patients whose doctors told them: “It’s all in your head!” As already mentioned, celiac disease is an autoimmune disease in which one’s intestines cannot properly digest gluten. This means that if you eat gluten, you get some nasty side effects…and if you keep eating gluten, you can experience major (and possibly fatal) health complications, such as nutritional deficiencies, neurological issues and cancer. However, celiac disease is way more complicated than that. For one thing, no one knows what causes celiac disease. It can be genetic but the odds of developing celiac disease increase if the gene becomes active. For example, my father has the celiac gene but it has never become active while my own celiac gene activated when I was a senior in high school. Possible triggers of celiac disease include surgery, pregnancy, childbirth, infection or extreme emotional distress. If that doesn’t convince you, celiac disease is also what Shelley Case calls a “multi-system, multi-symptom disease,” which is why it is often so difficult to make an accurate diagnosis. Instead of being just a gastrointestinal disease, celiac’s symptoms are all over the map. Sure, you can get the “typical” symptoms of gas, bloating, constipation or vomiting. Or, you can be a special snowflake and instead exhibit weight loss, fatigue, delayed growth or behavioral problems. Symptoms can be even trickier in women – and at least 60 to 70% of currently diagnosed celiacs are women. In fact, while research is conflicting, some studies suggest that four to eight percent of women with unexplained infertility are undiagnosed celiacs. Besides affecting a woman’s chances to have children, undiagnosed celiac disease can also cause complications during pregnancy (including miscarriage and low birth weight) and increase a woman’s risk of low bone mass density. What does that mean for you? Basically, if you have celiac disease but a doctor thinks your symptoms are “all in your head,” you aren’t the only one being put in danger. Celiac’s “fake” reputation is possibly hurting your future children too. You Fit The “White, Skinny B*Tch” Stereotype At the time I was diagnosed, I lived in San Diego, California. On the positive side, this means there were lots of “hip” restaurants making some bang for their buck on the gluten free trend. On the negative side? As celiac kept stealing more and more pounds from my already-thin frame, I fit the Cali girl stereotype – White, skinny and a “gluten free” aficionado – to a T. Four months after my diagnosis, I had adopted a strict gluten free diet, but I was still sick. When I was finally hospitalized, I weighed 83 pounds as a 5’3″ freshman in college. The doctors had no idea why I wasn’t healing like a “normal” celiac – and my fellow classmates couldn’t relate to wanting to gain a pant size. I’ll never forget when, during my first week of college, I went to the caf with my hall mates. While they loaded up on pizza, I relied on my college’s meager “gluten free” section, which basically featured salad, veggies and lean proteins. As I looked enviously at the other girls’ plates, one gorgeous blonde stared back at mine, saying, “I wish I had celiac disease so I could be skinny like you.” At the time, I was so shocked I didn’t say anything. I probably just laughed awkwardly, stabbed at one of the olives in my salad and pretended it was the girl’s face instead. The longer I’ve been diagnosed, though, the more I’ve realized that the Pizza Incident (as I like to call it) isn’t unusual. Although only 1% of Americans have celiac disease, reportedly 1 in 5 Americans are eating gluten free. One of the most common motivations? Weight loss. So, it’s not unusual for the college janitor to watch me make my “special” food and ask, “You so skinny. Is it…diet? Or, gene?” Or for a family friend to offhandedly comment, “Well, at least you’re not obese” while I’m watching the rest of our dinner party devour the restaurant’s free bread basket. The saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover” probably rose to popularity because people tend to do just that: judge by appearance. And, by appearance only, it’s easy for people to assume I’m eating gluten free for weight loss…and not just to survive. Sometimes You Have To “Fake It” As A Celiac. I’ll be honest, though. Sometimes, it’s not just others assuming that my disease is a fake fad. Sometimes, I have to misrepresent myself in restaurants just to make sure I can eat without being sick for days later. Shelley Case, who also has celiac disease, can relate to the struggles of eating out safely, saying, “People working in restaurants often do not understand the seriousness of this autoimmune disorder.” So, when I walk into Chipotle, I don’t hold up the line any longer than I have to by giving the entire spiel on what celiac is and what gluten will do to me. Instead, I simply say, “I have a gluten allergy” and watch as workers wash their hands, change gloves and fix me a safe burrito bowl. Is it sad that celiacs – or gluten intolerants – often have to misrepresent themselves as a safety mechanism? Completely. But that isn’t the only part of restaurants’ gluten free protocols that need to change. As Case explains: “When you ask for the gluten-free menu, servers may indicate they have ‘gluten aware,’ ‘gluten friendly,’ or ‘no added gluten’ options instead. This makes it difficult for people with celiac disease to know whether their meal will be safe based on these menu terms.” Not only that, but “gluten free” doesn’t mean “celiac safe.” I’ve read accounts by restaurant staff that have made my stomach curl…mostly because my server might be just as (dangerously) clueless. One waitress shares how, one day, a chef accidentally placed garlic bread on a plate with a gluten free order. She picked it up, removed the garlic bread, and gave it to the customer. “What happened to that poor person??” she later asked herself. “This never would have happened with shellfish or nuts in the case of an allergy.” Although celiac can also be fatal, I’ve always been grateful I don’t have an allergy. If I do eat a crumb of gluten, I’ll suffer for it – but it won’t kill me upon contact. In some ways, though, I’m jealous. With celiac, I have to constantly prove that I “really” need a gluten free diet. I don’t see people asking the same questions to those with peanut or egg allergies. Fad Dieters Don’t Know What A Gluten Free Life Looks Like I wouldn’t dare say that I hate the gluten free fad. As Shelley Case points out, the good news is that, nowadays, “there’s a greater awareness about celiac disease and the gluten-free diet among health professionals and the general public.” There are even more gluten free products available that, crazily enough, don’t taste like cardboard. In fact, now it seems like every retailer is trying to get a toe into the “gluten free” market, whether by labeling their naturally gluten free water or changing their formula, like Cheerios. While the gluten free fad has received a lot of media attention, Case is right when she says that one of the biggest concerns for those with celiac disease right now is not “being taken seriously because of those jumping on the gluten free band-wagon. There is a huge difference between those who must follow a gluten-free diet out of medical necessity verses those adopting the diet as a lifestyle choice!”” As a celiac, I don’t just eat gluten free – I live it. That means that I don’t just go to a cafe, order a salad and eat around the croutons. Living with celiac disease involves:

Getting used to bringing your own “safe” food to every party, outing or workday.

Learning how to politely tell dates that they must brush their teeth before kissing me goodnight. (My first boyfriend and I quickly learned that kissing after he ate gluten killed my intestines and the mood!)

Paying 242% more for gluten-free products than regular, wheat-filled products.

Getting “glutened” (or accidentally digesting wheat or wheat-contaminated food) despite all my precautions. Symptoms include extreme fatigue, stomach problems, rashes, extreme abdominal cramps, vomiting, headaches and everything in between. My symptoms usually last for a week.

Learning how to balance going to school, working and cooking all my own meals after my college cafeteria couldn’t provide celiac-safe meals.

I have hope that, one day, living with celiac disease will be easier. Clinical trials are testing a pill that would decrease intestinal damage caused by cross contamination. Researchers are also investigating alternative treatments ranging from enzyme therapies to preventing celiacs’ inflammatory response to gluten to a vaccine, says Shelley Case. The first step to improving celiacs’ lives, however, is a cultural one. Everyone needs to realize that eating gluten free isn’t just a diet; for celiacs, it’s a life-saving form of medicine. So the next time you see someone ordering a gluten free meal, don’t assume that they’re a fad dieter. Celiac disease is real – and so are its effects on a person’s health. And celiac disease needs to start receiving the recognition that every disease deserves. *Although I wrote this post, it first appeared at Entity Magazine. Check out my other Entity articles here!*

via Blogger http://ift.tt/2jZnpnz

#Blogger #college #celiac #gluten free #coeliac #celiacs #paleo #primal #foodporn #foodart

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curtisjohng-blog · 5 years ago

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How to Choose a Great Home Cleaning Service and Ensure You Get Top Notch Service

OK, so you are prepared for a support of clean your home. Bravo! In any case, notwithstanding needing first rate administration at a reasonable value, you may ask: "How might I confide in somebody in my home, or even better, with a key to my home?" https://homecleaningservice.nyc/

The interest for proficient home cleaning administrations keeps on developing. An ever increasing number of individuals are understanding that re-appropriating these, occasionally not exactly attractive assignments, can have an extraordinary quantifiable profit. Frequently, the greatest result for employing a home cleaning administration isn't only the time you are not cleaning, however the all out time - and vitality you recover some time ago spent fearing or abstaining from cleaning. https://homecleaningservice.nyc/

Employing a support of clean your house is an important choice, with numerous contemplations. Trust is crucial since it is, all things considered, your own space. Very regularly clients are not posing the correct inquiries or getting their work done.

Two Big Issues

Manage an expert organization - There are numerous people or "private gatherings" that will clean your home and may work superbly. Be that as it may, on the off chance that you enlist an individual as opposed to an organization to clean your home and pay them a specific sum in a year; you are their boss. On the off chance that they neglect to pay legitimate expenses on target you pay them, you could wind up being at risk (also whenever you are up for a bureau position, this makes certain to wind up all over CNN!) Also, in the event that somebody comes into your home to work for you, and is harmed or harmed, you could be at risk. https://homecleaningservice.nyc/

At the point when you recruit an expert house cleaner administration, you are, in a perfect world, maintaining a strategic distance from every one of these dangers. The administration proprietor should worry about the concern of finance burdens, Worker's Compensation, and obligation protection. An expert assistance will likewise offer preparing for their representatives. The entirety of the hazard and obligation is not, at this point your duty as the client. That sort of genuine feelings of serenity merits an extra $20. Right?

Go for proficient, yet not on picture alone - Just in light of the fact that a business has polished business cards, and a Web website that rivals Microsoft, you despite everything need to get your work done. Remember these inquiries when settling on your choice on which cleaning organization to enlist:

1. Who will clean my home? Do they use representatives or self employed entities? Whatever the appropriate response is, you need consolation that you are getting the assurances that should accompany an expert assistance. Do they use people or groups? Ask them for what good reason they utilize the model they do. Diverse plans of action work for various reasons. Simply be certain the organization you need to recruit is doing it for the correct reasons. The IRS has a valuable guide on their Web website to figure out what characterizes a worker and self employed entity relationship.

2. Do they perform criminal record verifications and pre-screen workers? Each help ought to have a strategy for individual verifications and pre-screening workers. With the present innovation, even the littlest organization approaches minimal effort apparatuses over the Internet. You will need to know the arrangement they follow and what their procedure is for due steadiness while recruiting.

3. Is it accurate to say that they are appropriately safeguarded? Protection incorporates general risk protection and Workers Compensation. It doesn't damage to request a duplicate of protection endorsements. As much as protection costs, they ought to gladly demonstrate it to you.

4. Do they offer a fulfillment ensure? What does it involve? To what extent after the administration is performed, do I need to call to report issues that should be tended to? Regardless of how great an assistance is, or how incredible the worker preparing program, it is blemished people cleaning the house. As the client, you ought to have consolation that if the group has a "terrible day", the organization will make it right. https://homecleaningservice.nyc/

5. Who will have the way in to my home? What is the arrangement? How might I be certain I am sheltered? This ought to be an immense concern, and most clients don't think to pose this inquiry. Are the keys marked out every day? How are the keys kept at different occasions? Where are they kept? Is it accurate to say that they are bolted up? Who is liable for them? If they somehow happened to be lost or taken, are there any markings that distinguish where they go? Ensure there is nothing to distinguish your location on the key. Likewise, ask in advance, in the occasion the key is lost or taken, what is the supplant/re-key arrangement?

6. "Are you reinforced?" Please don't solicit this, and tell the entirety of your companions, family, and friends and family this isn't the inquiry to pose. In all seriousness, don't try asking this. It truly makes no difference with the exception of in outrageous cases. How a bond functions is that it is bought (it isn't protection, yet protection operators issue them) normally for as meager as $200 per year for a little organization. For what reason is a bond so modest? They are low in cost in light of the fact that there are once in a while any cases paid out on them. A bond will pay if a representative is found taking, is attempted, and indicted. In the days prior to the data superhighway, completely looking into an individual's experience was past the methods for most little organizations. In years past, the recruiting procedure was difficult to explore and "circumstances" would happen. With the entirety of the instruments accessible today, every entrepreneur has simple access to assess whom they are recruiting to clean your home. So, most home cleaning organizations feel free to purchase the bond just in light of the fact that it is simpler to spend the $200 bucks a year and considerately answer when asked, "yes we are fortified", as opposed to going into the above story. Additionally, simply envision how cool you will look when you are in a gathering talking about this at the mixed drink party, when the subject of tidying administrations comes up!

7. It is safe to say that you are both in the same spot? Very regularly, the offender of the cleaning administration client relationship going south is an absence of correspondence. A sharp cleaning administration proprietor should walk you through what their administration will accomplish for you and your home and give you an away from of what you can anticipate. Be certain that you focus on what they let you know. Even better, maybe they have garish print materials that likewise pass on what their administration can offer you. Everybody has their "hot catches" (what clean intends to them); what one individual believes is perfect may not be "spotless" to someone else. It's simply human instinct. For certain individuals it is the bed made the perfect way; for other people, it is a spotless sink. Make sense of where you tumble from one end to the next in the range of being critical. In the event that the main thing to you isn't being done, bring it up. You ought not just accept that it will be done and that they should "simply know".

8. What would it be a good idea for me to do in the event that I am not content with the administration I get? Maybe it isn't until the principal, second, or third cleaning that you find what your cleaning "hot catches" are. (Side note: focus on what these are. It can spare you YEARS of treatment in the event that you give close consideration to what they are).

I trust that a portion of these disclosures will be beneficial things your expert cleaning group has done that you didn't hope to affect you the manner in which they did. In any case, on the off chance that you discover "things" that grind your nerves, you should address them. Ensure it was not just the day at the workplace that is influencing your point of view. CALL, express your interests to the proprietor/director. In all honesty, the best assistance proprietors APPRECIATE and welcome productive analysis. It is the most ideal approach to fabricate a superior business, and experts will consider your to be as a blessing. In the event that it is something little, let it slide until the following visit. In the event that it does make a difference to you, at that point ask that they send the group back to address it. They ought to be glad to do as such when sensibly conceivable. Keep in mind, this is a personal connection and connections require correspondence; connections without correspondence fall flat!

Presently you realize what to ask (and you have a couple of other spontaneous bits of groundbreaking counsel for sure). Pose the correct inquiries; get the extraordinary help you require and appreciate. It makes certain to add to an amazing nature. A little knowledge: the greatest days will be the point at which you overlook the cleaning group is coming and you tell the truth crisp smelling home ... Decent!

#home cleaning #home & lifestyle #home cleaning service nyc

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