#she also gets really upset that service workers are less likely to make small talk

[undergroundkid]

11. If I can have you I can do anything

What was supposed to be a sweet release, turned into obstinate mania.

However soothing Hyungwon’s affirmations were, there was no denying; your ego grew bigger than you let yourself realize. He might kiss your stained hands, hazed your thoughts, and erased doubts for a moment, but after toe-curling ecstasy, you were left with a bitter truth.

I am a bad person.

When you got off your new-proclaimed throne it didn’t hit you right away. Your wobbly legs barely held you up, hair stuck to your face, the muscles groaned in exasperation and hummed with delight simultaneously. Probably too many sensations still occupied your body and mind; so of course, it had to be Chae’s words that put you back in reality.

- This is your sin – he said, half-laying on the bed with an open shirt and sweat-kissed skin. Then he added with a small laugh:- Pride, Miss Y/N.

How this man could take you to the highest peak of pleasure and then throw you off straight into a freezing stream of maliciousness was beyond you. But he did it, time after time, always leaving you shocked when you should already learn.

Few days passed without sign of any of the apartment’s guests. Such a restful way should give you some peace when you could focus on your job in quiet. No sudden meetings, no suspicious events, no unprofessional situations with clients – just how it worked before.

It did work before you were aware of yourself. In the past, you didn’t have to ponder on your actions, because you always believed them to be the best you could do. Now the seed of the doubt was sowed, uncertainty always behind your back questioning your true motives.

It was tiring; you wished to be a silly doe once again.

You worked slower, not so actively pursuing your guests' attention. If your manager noticed, she didn’t mention it, simply burying you in paperwork. Or maybe she didn’t want to? Maybe she’s also like me? Perhaps we’re all egocentric creatures, pretending to care, only for our own advantage, without any selflessness?

- Child, you’re spacing out again. Everything’s alright?

Or perhaps not – there may be people with personal interest, like your mother. She looked at you intently, her hands moving uneasily; she must be worried.

- Oh, yes – the answer came out automatically:- Yes, I’m okay.

As you furrowed your brows, concerned why you won’t simply voice out your thoughts, your mom managed to drop her troubles. Your short reply sufficiently good to go her own merry way.

- Good! Hurry up sweetheart or you will be late to the hotel!

You nodded, empty inside once again. Only one purpose: work.

Chae told you there was greatness in evil. How could you not believe him, swept by powerful affirmations? Such a beautiful face of his will convince anyone. Sour veracity flowing from pretty lips, drowning you in his ideals.

- It does feel good, doesn’t it? – he took a rich grip of your thighs, not urging you, just enjoying the heat of your flesh. You looked at him with a small smile, relishing in the way his manhood slid sweetly along your slick walls. No hurry, only the delectation of erotic closeness, fulness again.. having him below you, the stunning man that downgraded you.

His hands moved to your backside, coercing you to move up his shaft. Betraying his lust like this, instinctual pressure to chase the climax made you tilt your head back with a chuckle.

You sat down fully, gripping him tight with inner muscles. Delighted by male’s hiss, you placed your hands on his sweated arms comfortably.

- You tell me – you responded, voice calm as you rose and sink down again; his broken sigh already an answer, but you couldn't help yourself and had to ask:- Does it feel good, Mr Chae?

It definitely did.

At that moment, you ate his words easily. Driven by his praises, easy acceptance of your dark side, you really felt like a goddess. But that was it, just a moment; the person changing into the receptionist’s uniform wasn’t a deity anymore. Not a scared doe either – just a fool, more angered by the idea of being arrogant shrew than the fact she jumped at another’s client's dick.

The discomposure after the encounter with Hyungwon fell short of the one with Mr. Changkyun. Shame ate you alive then, now just warmed up your ears and moistened the hands. The morals? Fitfully unstable.

- Y/N, I left the shift report on the desk, take a look – your colleague chirped at the exit in a typical pink-collar worker’s voice:- There were some complaints to take care of, I know you will do your best! See you next time!

Placing the responsibilities on me over and over; you had to bite your tongue to stop the thoughts. Where do they come from? Am I always presumptuous like this?

- Uh, Miss Y/N?

- Sorry, what’s up?

- The report? – young intern handed you papers, deciding to summarize it anyway:- Guests from the third floor claimed there’s loud music coming from somewhere.

- Music?

- Ah, it’s stated here – she pointed to the last paragraph. If the hotel has musicians or any other vocalists under their roof, the curfew doesn’t work? However skilled, 3 AM piano performance isn’t appreciated.

- Probably someone’s played the CD too loud.. can we even find out who was it?

- Oh hey, something’s wrong? – Yoonho cut in, emerging from behind the corner; your eyes met briefly before he focused on the apprentice. He didn’t stay in your company for long since your silly argument – if you could call it an argument at all. Funny boy, obvious to the suddenly high-pitched voice of the girl between you.

- Loud music? I didn’t hear anything yesterday and I stayed until midnight?

Huh, so he does avoid me.

- Well.. what.. what can we do? Should we stay tonight longer too? – her voice toned down with uncertainty.

- Ah, it doesn’t make sense.. you want to sit at the stairs and pretend to just chill out?

- Probably best if we check it out personally? I mean.. maybe we will hear this wonderful piano serenade room 322 wrote about?

You cringed your nose involuntarily, third-wheeling the awful teenage romance drama. Why the heck she’s so obsessed with him was unclear. He was sweet but way too childish.. proper good-looking at the best, especially among the clients here.

- You said piano? – porter chuckled with annoyance:- Oh, no worries then, your supervisor will solve this puzzle.

Did I say childish?

Yoonho looked at you with an upturned nose. He reminded you of an offended kid; still cute, but definitely testing his limits. Who the hell he thinks he is, little shit-

This is your sin, Miss Y/N.

Wait, why am I getting angry already? It’s nothing for the God’s sake..

Pride.

Oh no, I am better than this, better than you, him and everybody here-

- That’s true – you smiled your best service’s worker smile, taking younger acquaintance by surprise:- I think I can take care of it.

*

You could hear the song on the second floor already; it felt like you were the only one, the other guests not paying any attention to you or elegant tones vibrating in the air. It was a different melody than before, accompanied by a graceful male’s voice, singing the song in a language unknown to you.

The source of the complaint was found in the emergency staircase: the duet of an old piano and young man.

- Looks like we’re meeting again, Miss – the gentleman welcomed, changing the tempo of his song to more relaxing. His white sweater matched the room perfectly; with the new line of chords, he gave off a cozy aura.

- Mr. Yoo – you bowed:- I was looking for you. Did you decide to wander here last night perhaps?

- Is that a proper question from a young lady? – he shifted on a small bench, offering you a seat. You took it without hesitation, feeling at ease in his presence. The effect of his music, harmonic vocals, and polite behavior was soothing for your soul. Exactly what you needed after the vortex of the last events.

- We had a complaint about the noise, sir. You should finish the concert before 10 PM for everybody’s comfort.

- I see.. my apologies – he slouched a bit, big glasses sliding down his nose. He stopped playing to adjust them:- I thought it wasn’t a big deal. There’s a lot of loud singing at the night here.

Frowning was enough to make him explain.

- Intense, melodic .. and greatly feminine.

You could see the rising panic in your face from the reflection in Kihyun’s lenses; he just smiled, a little, almost with adoration.

- It was very beautiful – he assured, calming you down instantly. Soothing came naturally to him – surely he meant your latest stunts, yet his short affirmation was enough to put discomfort for later. No judging, maybe even a bit of understanding. Now you could simply enjoy his appeasing company.

His fingers started waltzing lazily on aged piano keys, filling the silence.

- It made me lonely – Mr. Yoo admitted:- Music makes me feel less miserable.

- I see.. hotel is full of people, but it doesn’t matter. I am sorry to hear this, sir.

A simple nod was the only answer. Seeing the man who until now provided nothing but comfort for you in sorrow mood was upsetting. He deserved better.

You lightly brushed your shoulder against his to lighten up the mood.

- I am here now, sir. With you.

He chuckled.

- That’s what I was hoping for.

Tiny tingling danced under your ribs for a few seconds. Letting it warm you up, then quelling it out habit – you shouldn’t let the simple compliments captivate you. Why you still held to the old manners you were taught? You didn’t exactly follow them lately. Quit the act already.

- Your presence.. conciliate me – hushed words, spoke with caution:- It did last time and so do now. I am afraid I will need it more.

- I.. can help, sir. Please call reception next time, we can talk?

Kihyun laughed, shaking his head with amusement.

- Dear Miss Y/N.. this solitude is a bottomless pit, unfortunately..

His hand came to your jawline, following the path behind your ear. He touched the delicate skin with eyes full of wonder.

- It will never be enough – he stated, then added with a sigh:- I am gluttonous like this.

Nobody wants to be lonely, after all – it’s human nature. He found out your dirty secrets and might want to take his own piece of this cake, hiding it under lame excuses.. but why would he do that? How can you suspect the most courteous man in this hotel? Always polite to you, adding some smarty remarks to keep you on your toes. No pushing your boundaries though – he acknowledged your actions without any criticism.

Maybe he is just alone, wishing for someone to heal the emptiness. What’s wrong with looking for affection anyway? It’s what led you to previous encounters, too. You were touch-starved. Both Changkyun and Hyungwon made you aware of it, appeased the basic hunger, then left you to hunt for yourself.

The doe became huntress, so you closed the gap between you and Yoo with an urgent kiss. He melted with pleasure, almost as if he was waiting for your move.

- So am I – you agreed, clenching his white sweater:- I am greedy, too, sir.

- Oh I can tell – he whispered with a snicker, staring at your moving hands.

The kisses became heated quickly. You were torn between admiring his foggy glasses and reddened lips. The gentleman was focused on chasing your mouth though, arms encircling your frame to close any possible space between you two. His soft touch contrast to your previous lovers, both Im and Chae more fervently urgent. Even your ex-boyfriend, your first.. however considerate he was of your virginity, his inexperience was clear. You didn’t blame him; he was a sweetheart, head over heels in love with you.. at some point at least.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but contemplate if he ever loved you for real. Maybe it was a stupid young crush and you stayed together out of habit, playing it safe. It looked like he wanted another type of partner inferring from his social media. No point in complaining now, you were both adults, going their own path.. his more of a party animal, yours.. well. Boring, uneventful, and stable until now; even so, still regretful.

Kihyun’s approach unlike anyone was making you feel treasured as if he was waiting a lifetime for a chance to have this moment. Hyungwon set you on a pedestal, that’s true, but he did it with mendacity, leaving you more mentally confused than before. The male beside you handled you with utter care, gracing you with a love-struck smile. You answered with a grin before you could catch yourself. What a lovely man, worthy of the best, yet he was with you and it seemed to make him the happiest.

Maybe I can honestly bring him joy, maybe I.. maybe I am not as bad as I thought of myself.

Your hands trembled, which didn’t go unnoticed by your partner. He instantly shifted to meet your eyes properly, observing your face for any kind of discomfort. His concern practically startling, given how unused you were to that level of care. Nobody paid attention to your feelings much, obvious hardship dismissed even by your own mother.

This man did on the other hand. He worried about trivial troubled gesture, despite the hollowness of his heart.

I can help; I can be virtuous, whatever Chae implied. You felt he can be wrong this strong for the first time since his arrival.

- Something’s wrong, dear?

You shook your head dismissively.

- No – you answered, grazing male’s legs briefly:- Actually, quite the opposite.

He tried to ask again, however, was silenced with a quick kiss – to stop him from questioning and to provide a distraction from sneaking hands down his trousers, towards a recognizable bulge. He moaned straight into your mouth, such a pure noise you thought of it as your new favorite sound. You needed more of this dissolute melody then and there.

Driven by a desire to take care of your sweet lover, you slid between his legs on your knees.

- Ah, Miss Y/N – blush prominent on cheeks, he still tried to play it cool:- Don’t you favor me way too much?

You shushed him, massaging his crotch that was now your eye-level. He weakly tried to pry your hands with some gentle words, something among the lines of ladies first, although it didn’t stop you.

- Mr. Yoo – unzipping his pants, freeing him from briefs and still you didn’t shy away from his heated gaze:- I want to hear you sing more..

You had your goal now. Clear purpose helping you redeem yourself.

- Please, play the piano and sing – you requested, kissing the head of his erected member. He answered you with a shaky breath, which determined he needed a moment to collect himself. Cute.

The moment he started the new tune, your tongue glided along salty skin. He faltered for a few seconds, picking up the tempo with trouble.

It made you smile; it made you powerful, once again, but at your own rules.

When Kihyun decided to sing, you swallowed him as much as you could. The vocals broke into a loud whine, fueling you to go even deeper, faster, wilder.

You could give him a piece of heaven, sneak peek into oblivion. It was possible without looking for own gain or offensive commentary. Just two people searching for the warmth of intimacy. He chanted foreign words above you out of breath, still harmonic as always and you sensed both your climaxes coming; his primal, your spiritual.

Cure the loneliness out of the pure heart. I don’t want anything, after all; just feel better.

Is that nothing? Or am I seeking for my own benefit?

The piano stuttered, chords losing original pace, throwing the song into chaos. Yoo’s voice slowed down to sinful groans with infrequent lyrics. He was close, exhalation hasty just like the thoughts coming through your head.

Am I proving Chae’s word wrong?

The piano stopped abruptly, some keys pressed together with a smash of Kihyun’s arm. He hid between his elbows and your head, uttering an uncommonly bashful cry. Bitter substance filled your mouth along with an even more savage realization.

You gulped down his cum, stunned enough to not care for typical male’s taste. Tucking him back into pants, mental nausea grew stronger every passing second. You hoped to bolt before facing him, however difficult it might be.

Pointless as expected, when your rose back again he embraced your hips with wobbly palms.

- Not so quick, Miss – sweated from orgasm, not any less handsome:- Let me return the favor.

Favor? It wasn’t a favor. Only a confirmation; you were corrupt as Hyungwon said you were. Determined to convince him you can be good simply because you couldn’t stand the insult. Too proud to admit the truth over again. Not able to accept the accusation so much it made you blow the first willing guy. Extra violation on your naughty list.

- You don’t have to – there was no use to drag the show anymore, so you opted to give up before you could regret it all even more. Kihyun opened his mouth to protest with what could be another wise-ass reply, but you beat him to it:

- We are all lonely in our pleasure in the end.

thank you for reading

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[ranger-jedi-knight]

This Little Angel Part 2

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201565/chapters/59881333 Taglist: @chocolate1721 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @amayakans @cutechip @more-or-less-human-i-guess 

Ok, so here’s the much requested second chap!! I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Mari was excited as she looked around the private jet Bruce was taking them home on. She kept looking up and down at her sketchbook as she sketched a few things from the inspiration. Harley and Joker were on the plane too, Mari and the others had a moment of surprise when Joker had taken all his make-up and what not off leaving him looking very normal. Not that they couldn’t blame him. They can’t exactly petition Paris to give her custody back over to her criminal parent JOKER. So they had to look normal. Harley was going by her real name Harleen and Joker was going by Jack.

It may have been illegal to forge some documents but it was for the better. She was in all rights Harley and Joker’s daughter. But, no one outside of Gotham was going to accept that. So, they may have asked Babs and Tim to hack and make official paperwork saying that she was adopted at age 3 by Jack and Harleen Quinzel. Then have it known that at around age 10 she was kidnapped and trafficked resulting in their divorce.

Even Gordon agreed to it since he knew how much Harley and Joker cared for her. Their worried attack to search the city when she first disappeared was proof of that! And having her back, they were sure Joker would return back to normal, doing more innocent attacks, using the venom only on HUGE heists that happened less and less. Becoming more of a nuisance than a real big baddie.

And they could only do that if they had official US documentation of Mari’s adoption to them. So, they did a little illegal hacking to do it. But no one outside of their group had to know that. Mari reached down to pat her purse as they crossed into France, getting closer to Paris. It was the next day so no doubt her class was going to be in class. She did wonder tho if classes were easy today for everyone because of the trip.

She suggested it, but she wondered if Bustier would follow it.

They soon landed at the airport and both Chloe and Damian took one of her hands into theirs. She was so glad that Bruce had come with and let Damian join. They exited the plane and got their suitcases.

Chloe’s driver was there already and took them to the hotel where they were all staying. Mari was to stay in Chloe’s suit as a neutral place while that whole case went down. Gordon was sharing a room with Joker and Harley to keep them in check, which he doubted they needed but better to be safe. While Bruce and Damian had their own.

After dropping their bags off, Bruce, Gordon, Harley, and Joker went to the French Police and child services to deal with the case about Mari’s future. Meanwhile, Mari and Chloe went to the school to tell them due to a case they wouldn’t bee in class for some time. But they would keep up with their studies while the case went on.

Damian decided to go with them but would stay in the car-limo actually. Mari took a deep breath when they stopped in front of the school. She gave the two a small smile when they squeezed her hands. The two slowly slid out of the limo and made their way into the school and up to Principal Damocles’s office. It was a quick thing to inform him of what happened and about a case being opened.

So Damocles agreed and understood that they wouldn’t be in class and just said to either put their work into Bustier’s mailbox in the school or to give it to him. Now it was time to face Ms. Bustier and tell her. They reached her classroom and Mari raised a hand to knock. Bustier opened the door and glared at the two girls before pulling them into the classroom.

“Girls, I don’t know what has gotten into. First, you purposefully miss the flight home for attention, and now come to class late? What do you have to say for yourselves? It better be good otherwise I’ll be sending you to the principal’s office,” Bustier said annoyed and the two shared a dumbfounded look while the rest of the class laughed.

“Ya Marinette, I can’t believe you’d stoop so low like that!” Alya shouted before looking at Bustier once more. “Also, Ms. Bustier, Marinette sent Lila horrible texts this morning. They should be sent to the principal’s office for bullying!” she yelled and the class shouted their agreement. “Oh really? Girls?” Bustier was fully glaring at the two now.

“I can prove that Lila lied there. I haven’t touched my phone all morning since I turned it off when I got onto my flight home this morning and turned it on when we got off,” Mari said pulling out her phone to show a tweet she made from Gotham time of 2 am getting onto a private jet and then making a tweet at 11 am getting off the jet and into Chloe’s limo. “See? You’d see that for the time it took to fly, my phone was off, the exact time that I ‘supposedly’-” she put in air quotes “-sent horrible texts to Lila. even you know that you can’t do anything on a phone while flying,” she finished and Alya grumbled and glared at the girl, somehow thinking she was lying still.

“As for that flight thing and late,” Chloe said looking at her nails not even bothering to glare at Bustier, “you guys left us in Gotham even tho Mari’s reunion with her parents was very public. Not to mention you didn’t even headcount. So really, you’re too blame for that,” Chloe said and Bustier opened her mouth but Chloe cut her off with a raised hand. “And for the late, we just arrived an hour ago in Paris and had to drop our bags off. We just came here from Damocle’s office saying we won’t be in class for some time due to a case being opened up that we’ll be a part of. Now, we ought to be going,” she grabbed Mari’s hand and started walking out before glancing back in with a smirk. “You guys should be expecting some suits to show up later too~!” she called out smirking before leaving.

Bustier glared at the door, planning on talking to Damocle’s at lunch about their behavior.

They entered the limo and Mari leaned against Damian’s shoulder as they went to the hotel and stayed there.

The following week is hectic, to say the least. Mari is going between talking at family court and facing akumas and ignoring her ex-friends and parents. Tom and Sabine didn’t appreciate Mari saying that Lila indeed lied to them when they asked about where she was. They also didn’t appreciate being investigated along with their workers, friends, and customers. They thought they were star parents and didn’t deserve this.

Before court, they tried guilting Mari into not suing them or her friends. Chloe and Damian had to pull her away before she caved with her lawyer threatening them. As it was, they informed the judge of it, and the Judge was not amused at that. It was tough, so very tough, but in the end, the Judge decided that Mari was to stay with Harleen and Jack in joint custody. While they were separated, it was clear they loved and missed their daughter. Meanwhile, Tom and Sabine had to pay for it. They were banned from adopting kids until they took some classes and had proven they would take care of and love a child correctly and not work them.

After that, it was time to focus on suing her classmates for harassment and the school for negligence. Now that would take longer to deal with. The family court only took 4 days to deal with it. She could only sigh at the break she got between it after finishing the family case. They gave her the next day to rest before jumping into the next cases against students and the school.

Tho, that had her giving another sigh of relief as a few classmates agreed to the terms easily when they were told off by Jack and Harleen about how they should know her from the 6 years they’ve known each other. And then Bruce coming in to serve Lila papers for slander. That had the whole class shouting as then another lawyer came in with all the other celebrities she’s lied about suing her.

Ladybug sighed as she landed in an alley nearby after defeating the Akuma. She leaned against the wall and slid down as her transformation died. Her head fell back against the wall with her eyes closed. A gasp ringing thru the air had her eyes flinging open tho.

She looked around and her eyes landed on Joker and Harley standing at the entrance. “Mama? Papa?” she called and the two came to her and kneeled down in front of her. “What are-did you-?” she cut off, worry filling her veins.

“We know now sweetie. We followed Ladybug to see how long this has been happening and if you were in trouble at all,” Harley said cupping her daughter’s cheek and Mari leaned into the touch with a sigh.

“This has been going on since I was 13. I’ve tried figuring out who Hawkmoth is but I’ve been having trouble. My partner hasn’t been any help tho,” she said softly and watched as her parents got angry.

“And this whole time you’ve had to deal with those idiotic sheep called classmates the whole time?” Joker demanded and Mari bit her lip.

“Just for the last year or so when Lila appeared,” she explained watching as her parents got more upset.

“Please calm down tho!” Tikki called floating in front of them causing their anger to dissipate a bit as confusion went thru them.

“Who are ya?” Harley asked, sticking a finger out pocking the paw Tikki held out.

“I’m Tikki, Marinette’s Kwami! I’m what allows her to transform into Ladybug,” she explained and the two slowly nodded. So once that confusion was clear she elaborated on her first comment. “You two need to calm down tho. Hawkmoth can feel any negative emotions and feed off them! So far only two people have fought him off and I’m sure Mari wouldn’t want to fight her parents,” she explained and the girl nodded her agreement.

“I don’t wanna fight you, mama, papa,” she said as Harley then pulled her into a hug that Mari returned. Joker stiffened tho causing the two to pull back to look at him worried. Mari gasped when she saw the outline surrounding his eyes. “Papa!” she cried out.

“Oh, so your that punk-ass bitch terrorizing everyone. Well, listen here, mothy. You are an insult to villains everywhere. You hide away and make others do the work for you. You make children fight your battle, you punk-ass bitch. So let me say this, the reason I’m upset is because of you terrorizing my daughter while facing the stress of her classmate’s harassment. The moment I find you, Mothy, I’m going to make you regret everything you’ve ever done. And don’t you try saying that I can’t. Do you know who I am? I’m the Joker, Clown Prince of Gotham. Oh yes, you have heard of me. Then you know I don’t make light threats. I will make your life a living hell. Do I make myself clear?” he asked and cackled when a pure white butterfly flew away hastily. “Well, he won’t try bugging me anymore,” he said and a sudden laugh left Mari’s lips.

Her parents looked at her fondly as she laughed. “Why don’t we head home now, sweetie?” Harley suggested and Joker nodded agreement. The two help Mari up and make their way to the hotel they were staying at.

“Since you know now. I’m Ladybug, I’m also the guardian of the Miraculous. I....I need to defeat Hawkmoth before I can leave,” she said softly when they reached their room and the two nodded understanding.

“Of course, sweetie. We’ll stay here as long as it takes,” Harley said as Joker hummed as they sat down on a couch.

“What if Batsy could help?” he asked and Mari hummed in thought.

“It could get done quicker,” she admitted and Joker nodded.

“That’s what I thought. Let me go talk to someone,” Joker said standing up and leaving the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ladybug stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She tilted her head slightly when she saw movement. Two people soon landed in front of her and she tilted her head. “Batman, Robin,” she greeted and the two nodded to her.

“So your Ladybug,” Batman said and she nodded. “What did you need help with? You seem to be doing everything very well,” he commented and Ladybug shrugged uncomfortably.

“Well, that may be. I’m not a detective. I don’t know how to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. So I need your help to do that. I’m done with Paris. I want to leave,” she said and the two nodded slowly. They could only guess that she was done with Paris in her personal life seeing as everyone has the greatest respect for Ladybug.

“Ok, we can help with that,” Batman said with the smallest of nods.

“There’s something else,” she said, trailing off as she looked off into the distance.

“M’Lady! You didn’t tell me we would be having company~” Chat purred out leaning in close while glaring at everyone. Ladybug frowned as she pushed Chat away from her, earning a growl from him.

“That’s because we,” she pointed between him and herself, “never had anything planned. This was a planned meeting between myself and Batman and Robin,” she said glaring and Chat was angry at that.

“Oh really? Is that any way to treat your partner, m’lady?” he demanded and Ladybug scowled.

“You haven’t been my partner in a while, Chat,” she spat his name out. “You stopped being it when you decided flirting and whining was more important than defeated the Akuma’s,” she said and Chat scoffed.

“Please, your cure will bring everything back,” he said and Ladybug gnashed her teeth together as she stomped up to Chat and slapped him hard across the face.

“I don’t care that my cure can bring everything back. We shouldn’t rely on it. What if that battle is the one Hawkmoth wins? He does his wish. There’s no telling what will happen. Except that those people who are dead will most definitely stay dead. And because of your lazy ass, I now how to protect you as well which means that more people can get hurt or killed. Did you know that people remember dying? They remember that moment. They are traumatized by that moment. They cannot ever forget that moment. And that is all on you!” she shouted angrily.

“So what!?” he demanded and everyone was silent at that. How could they respond to that!? Ladybug was shaking in anger. She had a terrifying expression on her face that somehow was both ice cold and encompassed all seven levels of hell angry.

Chat didn’t even get to react.

Before he knew it, he was on the ground tied up and sore all over.

“Chat Noir, I hereby proclaim you unfit to wield a Miraculous. As Guardian of the Miraculous, I hereby reclaim you’re Miraculous of the Black Cat. You are unworthy and will never be able to wear or use a Miraculous ever again,” Ladybug said ripping the ring off of Chat to reveal Adrien Agreste underneath the mask. Ladybug snarled at him as he cried out. A red mark similar to the one of the box, formed on his chest and hand, burning.

“No! You can’t do that! He’s all I have left!” he shouted reaching out when Ladybug untied him.

She slapped his hand away. “No, I can do that. You’ve shown yourself to be incompetent in being a hero. You only have yourself to blame,” she said turning away. “Let’s go,” she said swinging off, not even seeing if the other two followed. She landed on the balcony leading to her parent’s room, leaving the two vigilantes confused. Mari stumbled into the room and collapsed onto the couch with a groan as she transformed.

“Mari?” Robin asked causing her to groan once more as she looked up at them blearily.

“You followed,” she mumbled before planting her face on the couch once more.

“Mari needs to rest now,” Tikki said flying up to look at both Batman and Robin. The two looked at her shocked.

“Who are you?” Robin asked.

“I am Tikki, Kwami of Creation. I’m what gives Mari her powers,” she explained and the two nodded. “But go, she needs to rest. What she did exhausted her, it’d no simple thing for a Guardian to ban someone from ever using a Miraculous again. We’ll talk in the morning,” Tikki said and the two nodded, heading to their room.

In the morning, they did talk.

In the morning, Mari learned that Robin and Batman were Damian and Bruce Wayne.

Within the week, they had taken down Hawkmoth and revealed to the world that Gabriel Agreste was a terrorist.

Adrien revealed himself as Chat Noir which brought about mixed responses. No one really respected Chat, at least not the people that he needed to. Especially when they learned he was stripped of the Miraculous. For all the harassment, endangering, and enabling he’s done, along with not feeling guilty about just outraged that he was being punished, he was going to a school for troubled kids and put on record as a harasser. He would be going to juvie for 6 months tho first before being sent out of Paris to the school. His father’s company tho, the courts would decide what to do with when he turns 18. But who knows how it’ll look like when Adrien is 18.

Mari felt a bit bad but knew it was for the best. Lila was the next worst off. Lila had piles of lawsuits. She was banned from France as a whole with everyone knowing what she’s done. She was going to a military school for troubled teens in the hopes she’d get better. She’d stay with her grandparents who were no-nonsense. She’d also have to pay for all the suits which would be hard considering not many people wanted to hire her.

The rest of the class had it off easiest. They only had to pay a fine and do a bit of community service. Damocles was demoted and sent to classes to see if he could possibly return to being a principal. Ms. Bustier, however, was fired. She didn’t handle the situation well at all, and only ever listened to one side of the argument and pressured students. So she isn’t allowed to teach kids anymore.

The class tho, they felt they lost the worst.

They realized just how amazing Mari was to them. And what they did to her in return for that kindness? They treated her horribly. Only Chloe was able to talk to her. But they all got to see how well she was settling into her new life in Gotham. It was hard to miss really.

She was dating Damian Wayne and got an internship with Bruce Wayne to help start up her business as MDC. She was called the Angel of Gotham. Chloe joined her there and lived with Mari and her parents.

And she looked so happy back home in Gotham.

They were never making it up to Mari, no matter how hard they tried.

Ok, so here’s the second part!! I hope you like it. Sorry if the ending seems a TAD rushed. I wanted to give you guys this and i was losing steam on it, mostly a headache comin in goin ‘HAHAHA U THOUGHT UD WRITE?! THINK AGAIN AHAHAHAHAH’. Ya, so that’s why. Anyways, until next time! -Love Willa <3<3<3

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 16

AO3

Beta read as always is @thesnadger!

A week sure flies by.

Martin gets some of his thoughts sorted.

Nothing happened.

The sky was unchanged in every way but for the time that had passed. They had bid Evan a good night (“Oh, right, it’s evening now? Should probably give you some idea about time when we talk.”), and Martin stood at the front entrance to stare through the small window. It was grey and downright gloomy out there. Nothing new.

“D’you think Simon and that woman just wanted to mess with me?” Martin said. “Like, say some spooky stuff to make sure I stay quiet about the whole thing?”

“It’s possible,” Jon said, exhaustion clear in his voice. “But there’s still a sky, which is good news, I suppose.”

“And not everything is sky,” Sasha added helpfully. “That seems more Simon’s speed than getting rid of it.”

Tim stretched his arms above his head. “Either way, keep an eye out for a warning text before we all become professional skydivers.”

“At least I’ll have a job lined up?” He wanted to muster up some more concern but after a day of waiting the suspense had run out. If something was going to happen, there was nothing he could do. “Well, goodnight. And don’t stay here too late! You all won’t make it another day without getting proper sleep.”

His eye landed on Jon, who huffed a little. “Yes, yes, we’ll all get a proper rest. Unlike the others I don’t do coffee. Though, let me walk you out. I’d like to get another look at the sky.”

It wasn’t the smoothest transition to accompanying Martin outside, but lack of sleep didn’t make for good excuses. Martin nodded and walked out with Jon in tow.

Once outside, Jon folded his hands together and seemed to consider something. “I think I’m a bit of a broken record at this point, but I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had become concerned about the lack of response from Elias and wanted to get it all back to him before too long.”

Martin looked at him carefully. “So… you think it’ll be enough?”

“Yes. It might even be overkill, but now that I’ve promised multiple people to help fix things, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Jon let his hands fall to his sides. “The apology still stands, though.”

“Well, with you staying longer I’m sure I’ll find a way to even out the apologies between us. There are always papers to scatter.” Martin smiled sheepishly and adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. “But it would be nice if you didn’t have something to apologize for in the first place.”

“Yes, I recognize that.” Jon rubbed his arm. “I’m trying. I hope that much is clear.”

Martin sighed, the final piece of irritation drifting away. “Yeah, I know. I do accept it, the apology. But maybe try to go without needing to? For like a day?”

Straightening, Jon nodded. “I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I ask.” All of that out of the way, Martin relaxed. “I guess I’ll be going. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, it will be.”Jon stood there as if about to say something else, stopping himself several times. Finally, in earnest, he said, “I’ll… I’ll do as much as I can, to help.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

As Martin walked away, he glanced back and saw that Jon had remained on the front steps, turning his gaze upward with a frown. If this had been a trick, Martin thought, it had done its job quite nicely. He almost regretted bringing it up to the others. They all shouldn’t have had to worry about nothing.

No, that wouldn’t have worked. One of them would’ve picked up on it. Sasha probably, though with that kind of intuition she also should’ve known better than to keep Naomi’s warning a secret from him.

But she apologized, and had only wanted to help. And she had been right about the results. There was no arguing that. It didn’t make it less upsetting, but putting it behind him wouldn’t be difficult. They were all going to be around each other, after all. Martin wanted to enjoy that.

He passed the place where he’d fallen. There was no sign of the event of course, no crack in the street or mark of a skull hitting concrete. No one had been there to witness it, either.

The sky was getting darker still, the street filling more and more with chill and emptiness. Ahead was the wooded cliffside that split his home away from the rest of town, and Martin dearly wished he had someone to walk home with.

--

The TV was on when he returned home. He slid off his jacket and damp boots by the door and stayed there in his wool socks. There was a numbness to his knees, a soreness to his throat that he couldn’t swallow away. It was getting colder outside, and the sea air always got worse as the year crept closer to winter.

Tea would fix it, once Mum was off to bed.

A sore throat meant talking less, which is what she preferred anyway. He nodded to her once in her chair, then went into dinner preparations. Something warm, something hearty, and something simple. He grabbed the container of beef stew and a cylinder of dinner roll dough from the fridge. Simple and, even better, fast.

Before long there were steaming bowls of meat and vegetables on the table with rolls for dipping. He thanked his past self for thinking ahead as he and his mother ate in silence.

She said nothing, did nothing but her usual routine. There was no going outside with the intense chill that had settled onto the beach. Instead, she went straight to bed without a word spoken.

A tingling in his throat kept him from uttering a single goodnight. He turned out her lamp and closed her door, returning to the kitchen to wash the dishes and make himself some tea with honey. While waiting for the water to boil, he checked his phone and saw a text from earlier.

Tim: got home alright?

Martin: sorry. yeah i made it fine

He hoped his response hadn’t come too late to be worrisome, but Tim responded rather quickly.

Tim: gotcha. no tumbles?

Martin: no nothing

Tim: good. ill let the others know

Tim: so i guess tomorrow is gonna be interesting. its a bit weird to get a project really started on a friday but i was thinking we could all get food afterwards tomorrow, maybe get some drinks

Tim: usually jon skips out on that sort of thing but on trips its easier to get him since he hates making food choices in new places

Tim: you in?

Martin’s thumbs twitched over the phone keyboard. When was the last time he bothered sitting in a restaurant instead of getting takeout? Or went to a bar?

He would have to get his mother settled in with dinner and everything. Her usual bedtime was early, but they were late workers so maybe it would be fine? Would it be fine? Would he be fine?

Shit, he needed to respond.

Martin: sure that would be nice. what time?

Tim: probably later evening, since we’ll be settling work stuff. thinkin 8 or 9 if that works

Martin: yeah that’s perfect actually

Tim: great, see you bright and early! 👍

Martin: have a good night!

Slumping against the counter, Martin looked over the short conversation a few times (perhaps more than a few) and then pocketed his phone.

This was fine. It was getting some food with some people. He would be fine.

The kettle whistled and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Tea, he was making tea for himself. So he did, adding honey and milk to his liking. It was too sweet for his mother or anyone else he knew, but this was for him.

He took the steaming mug in both hands and looked out the window. The sky was still there, as were the beach and crashing waves though he could barely see them. His house still stood around him with the lights on and heat running.

Savings were something he’d finally managed to have in the recent months after years of low-wage customer service positions. He and his mother could survive without income for a little while. Getting through the whole of winter would be a stretch, but his spending habits were fairly restrained and his mother’s medication would still be covered. In the meantime there were other avenues for making money, so this job wasn’t the end-all-be-all.

God, it had been nice though. Martin would hold onto the pay for as long as he could during the whole saving-Evan process, but after that he would have a lot to figure out.

Draining the rest of his mug, he rinsed it out and set it into the sink. The tea had done its job in soothing his throat. The extra warmth in his hands was a blessing as well. He wondered if Jon would be keeping warm at all, though he suspected the truth would be disappointing.

No matter. If the others were working there a while longer Jon would have to adjust to the weather eventually, or else deal with Martin pushing hot mugs of tea into his hands until he learned. Maybe he’d toss in a scarf to complete the set.

With one last glance out the kitchen window, he walked out into the hall and up the stairs, turning off each light as he went. Once in his room, Martin slipped into his pyjamas and reached into the drawer of his bedside table. His poetry notebook had gone ignored for several days, and that needed rectifying.

Where would he even start? The last page he’d written seemed like it was from years before, not a week. Now he had a whole swirl of worries about the future he hadn’t had to deal with since he was in school. Worries and fears and-

And a silly, one-sided thing that while completely hopeless was a nice thing to feel all the same. So just like school, except he had people to meet on a Friday night.

Looking out his window a final time, Martin sat in his bed, bent over his notebook, and began to write. It was clunky at first, the words getting stuck somewhere in his pen or his throat. Part of his mind kept drifting to his mobile on the bedside table, wondering if Tim was still available to talk a bit more about the day ahead. Tiny things to fill a text log, like food options or how Martin would meet up with them. For a moment he even considered asking Tim for Jon and Sasha’s numbers, in case of emergencies.

Better to have that conversation in person, he thought, pulling his attention back to the page. Soon after he was writing short couplets at a quick pace, scraps of rhyme and feeling, until he checked his phone and found an hour had passed. Sleep, he thought. He needed sleep.

It was almost disappointing to have the writing go by so quickly, but there was no helping it. The poetry notebook was placed neatly into its drawer, his glasses were set onto the table, and Martin, wrapped in a thick blanket, stared out into the night until his eyes were too heavy to hold open.

--

It wasn’t his alarm that woke him the next morning but his ringtone. When he checked the screen, he found notifications for several missed calls from Tim and hurried to answer.

“Tim? What’s-”

--

One by one, files and folders were packed into car trunks.

He’d wasted no time in getting there, booking it all the way across town, but when he arrived Martin could say nothing at all. Standing near the stairs, he could only watch as the three researchers marched out of the lighthouse with their work things.

Sasha kept the most calm of the three, nodding at Martin as she walked past him. Her fingers tapped furiously on the side of a box, nails making dents in the cardboard.

Something between misery and confusion pulled at Tim’s mouth. More than once Martin worried he would keel over with nausea, but he stayed upright as if out of spite. He met Martin’s eyes a couple of times with a friendly smile, but it never stuck for long.

Jon was stone faced, though his jaw kept clenching and unclenching. He had only looked at Martin once, keeping that neutral expression to the best of his ability but unable to mask his frustration. Whatever he wanted to say, it wouldn’t be said there.

Behind Martin, Peter Lukas stood with his hand gripping the railing, equal measures tired and irritated and making no attempt to hide how much he didn’t want to be there. No, none of them would be saying anything except their goodbyes.

“Thanks for having us,” Tim said, shaking Martin’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to have a quiet workplace again.”

“Right. Have a safe trip.” It was the easiest thing for Martin to say, his mind not yet caught up.

Tim backed away to join the others who simply waved or nodded their goodbyes. Something in Martin’s chest twisted

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve seen now that it’s a poor environment for multiple employees. The acoustics make it unbearable.” Peter smiled something empty. “Tell Elias I will be unavailable for communication for the next few weeks, at the least.”

Jon opened the door to his rental car and said, voice dripping with acid, “I’m sure we’ll speak with him very soon.”

“Perfect. Well, you’d best be going. Wouldn’t want to keep your workplace understaffed any longer.” With that, Peter glanced at Martin and jerked his chin to the front entrance before walking inside.

As Peter disappeared from sight, Sasha’s calm face twisted into furious determination. She nodded at Martin again, then stepped into the driver’s side of the rental and closed the door behind her. Tim sighed, holding up his phone and mouthing “later” before entering the passenger’s side.

Jon gave Martin a familiar look before slipping into his own car. Both vehicles left the lot, vanishing into the fog.

--

“What did I tell you? Academics,” Peter said, picking some lint off his sleeve. “Now, before I go, there are just a few things.”

It took all of Martin’s will not to drag his feet on the way to his desk. The folded table was gone, but dirty footprints littered his newly-mopped floor from where it had been. He focused on the different shoe sizes and shapes in the mud and slush.

"They certainly made a mess of the place, didn't they? You'll have to redo this floor, of course. The upstairs can wait until next week. Just keep to the usual schedule there."

His desk was still littered with papers he’d pushed aside before his nap the day before.

"You've fallen behind on paperwork as well. Understandable with all the blustering from those three, I really can’t imagine. Ah, well, it's nothing a few extra hours on the weekend won't take care of."

Martin dropped in the chair he’d sat in for months, overlooked by that crest and its ridiculous seal, eyes dead and glassy.

"Oh, and I’ve made some changes to your workload. It's all written down here.” Peter placed a piece of paper on the desk. “Pretty straightforward. I don't imagine that any of it will be a problem for you."

With a dull nod, Martin dragged the page toward himself without looking at it. An updated part of his work contract. More things for him to accomplish that weekend most likely, as if it was all a punishment.

Peter breathed in sharply through his nose and clapped his hands together, looking much more refreshed. “I did miss the sound of this place. I have other business, of course, so I’ll leave you to it, hm?”

Not waiting for a response, Peter strode away and out of the building with a decisive click of the door. Martin was left to himself in that wide, empty space, spending five, ten, fifteen minutes just staring at nothing.

Stupid. If their boss had meant for them to stay longer, they wouldn’t have gone through more extensive measures the day before. They should’ve known better than to make plans that were never going to happen.

Or he had just been so clearly desperate for help that they played it cool until it was time to get out.

No, that wasn’t fair (though he wasn’t ruling it out entirely). Tim’s invitation the night before would’ve just been cruel if that were the case, and Tim didn’t seem like the type to pull something so mean. And none of them seemed happy about Elias’ decision, especially with all of the work they’d put in. Sasha certainly wasn’t close to dropping anything.

And Jon had made a promise, even if he had a hard time keeping them.

Eventually, Martin looked down at the page in front of him.

--

Up and around he ran, panic and dizziness squeezing at his skull and threatening to pull him backward off his feet.

Stumbling into the upmost level of the lighthouse, Martin whispered through haggard breaths, “No, no, no, no-”

He hurried across the room, placing a hand on the dial and giving it a twist. “Evan? Evan, can you hear me?”

He waited for familiar voices with no success. Again, “Evan? It’s me, Martin. Peter left already, so just say something.”

A perfectly ordinary silence washed over him. He sank to the floor, his hand still brushing against the dial as if it made a difference. From his other hand fell a brand new set of panel instructions. An extra note was left at the bottom, something about the importance of proper lighthouse management to landbound ships.

Through the windows morning continued to break over the ocean, familiar cliffs just visible through the fog down below.

[joaquinfeed]

Snuggle Buddy (Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader)

Prompt: Reader works as a professional cuddler at SnuggleBuddy. Arthur utilizes her service.  Also, for the sake of the story, Penny Fleck has already passed in this.

Warnings: Cursing, implied anxiety, descriptions of bad coping mechanisms (Arthur banging his head against the wall)…I think that’s it?

Word Count: Around 6,000. I know it’s a doozy. 

Arthur was nervous. His palms were sweating slightly, his heart rate was uneven, and his leg hasn’t stopped moving for the last twenty minutes that he has been sitting. His eyes trailed over the small print on the business card— “SnuggleBuddy.”

Arthur thinks back to early that day; he was at Ha-Ha’s getting ready for his usual shift when one of the guys—Randall— took a jab at his love life.

“Just in case you need to touch someone other than yourself, Art,” Randall laughed, handing him the card.

Although Randall’s comment bothered Arthur, he wasn’t entirely wrong. He hasn’t experienced human touch—real, genuine human touch—for a very long time. Arthur couldn’t even think of a moment when someone had given him a hug, or a kiss, or wrapped their arms around him. Not a single soul besides his mother dared to understand him in an intimate way.

As soon as his legs allowed it, he walked over to the phone and carefully poked in the number on the card.

“Hello, this is Pete from SnuggleBuddy. Are you looking for a cuddler, or are you looking to become one?”

Arthur faltered. “I’m looking to, um, find one. My name’s Arthur.”

“Okay, Arthur,” the man paused, and Arthur heard rustling in the background. “I have a few questions for you, and we can get you somebody in no time.”

Arthur answered every question that came at him, only letting out a yelp when Pete asked him if he’d like to pay for other activities. After declining immediately—and blushing profusely—Arthur had finally been paired up with a girl.

“Her name’s Y/N,” Pete said. “You will be billed for every hour that you spend with her. Your first session is scheduled for tonight at 7 PM at the address you gave me. Does all that sound correct?”

Arthur nodded before realizing that the man cannot see him. He stuttered out a ‘yes’ and hung up the phone.

His heart was thumping loudly in his chest; he couldn’t believe he went through with calling them. So many worries plagued his mind already— How would he afford this? What if you thought he was weird? If everyone at Ha-Ha’s found out…

He shook his head at that thought. He has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, and there was no way for him to know.

And so, he waited.

—

A few hours later, a knock interrupted the Charlie Chaplin rerun that had been playing on his TV. Arthur pushed his freshly washed hair out of his eyes, making his way to the door. He opened it up, and his breath caught in his throat. Standing in front of him was someone he has never seen around Gotham—he would have remembered.

“Hi, Arthur,” you smile at him while giving a small wave. “I’m Y/N. I work at SnuggleBuddy.”

Arthur only gazes at you in shock. He definitely was not expecting someone like you; actually, he didn’t know what he was expecting. After a small bit of silence, you glance around nervously.

“Is this not the right apartment? Are you not Arthur?”

“No, I- I am.”

“Oh. This is your first time I’m assuming?”

Arthur nods, his mind finally catching up with him. He steps aside to let you in, and you move past him, checking out his apartment. Your eyes land on the TV, and you smile seeing “The Kid” playing across the screen.

You turn to Arthur. “Chaplin fan?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a Charlie Chaplin fan?”

He points over to the stack of tapes sitting by the small TV; your eyes follow his gaze until they land on the pile. You stand there, paused in thought while Arthur continues to watch you. Suddenly, you’re struck with an idea.

“Hey, if it would make you more comfortable, we could do the session on the couch? That way we can watch a film or two instead of laying in silence. Unless you’d be more comfortable with that. Whatever works for you, Arthur.”

He leads you to the couch, and both of you sit down.

“H-how does this work?”

You smile at him, trying to calm his nerves a little bit. “Really, it works however you want it to. Usually, people tell me what they like, what they don’t like, what makes them uncomfortable, what makes them feel relaxed.”

“I don’t know what I like,” Arthur says, looking ashamed at his lack of self-knowledge.

“That’s alright. We can figure it out,” you assure him. “I’m going to put my arms around you, okay?”

You wait for his consent before wrapping your arm around him. “Is this okay?”

He nods but stays stiff in your arms. “Do I…touch you?”

“You can,” you tell him, watching as he timidly puts one of his arms over your shoulders while the other one rests across his waist. You both stay like this for a little while, getting comfortable with the feeling of each other. After a few minutes, Arthur relaxes into your embrace, and you drop your head onto his chest.

Having this type of job was, no doubt, a little awkward at times. It was the only opportunity you were faced with after moving to Gotham city. You didn’t want to do this forever; sometimes, you thought about quitting after a long, hard day with some overly-touchy pervert. But sitting here with Arthur, his heartbeat steadily beating in your ear, you thought the job wasn’t so bad. 

“So, Pete, the guy you talked to when calling CuddleBuddy, he mentioned that you said something about not having this type of contact for a while,” you say. “How long has it been?”

You feel Arthur clam up at the question, and you immediately blurt out, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I was only curious.”

You look up at him and see his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. His eyes are looking back at you, and you finally notice just how green his eyes are—like different hues of a forest. He seems to be studying you too, but as quickly as the silence came, it ended.

"For my whole life, I guess,“ Arthur says, breaking you out of your daze.

You frown. "Your- Arthur, that’s not healthy. We need to feel connections like this, you know?”

Arthur didn’t know. His mother—when she was living—was there to dance with him or hug him when the moment called for it. But he has never experienced anything outside of that. He briefly wondered if that’s something he should bring up with his social worker, but the thought left his mind when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad if I did,” you spoke up. “I was just surprised.”

He brushes off your apology, dispelling your fears of already upsetting him. When it’s clear that nothing else is going to be said on the matter, you lay your head back on his chest, content with only sitting with him for the remainder of the session.

Somehow, by the time the credits were being presented, Arthur was lying against the side of the couch, and you were lying next to him—your head still resting by his heart.

—

You could hear the TV playing in the background, your eyes fluttering open to the sound, only to be met with blinding sunlight coming through the windows. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shoot up off of Arthur’s sleeping form, and he wakes with a jolt, looking just as startled as you. "I am so sorry,“ you tell him, burying your face into your hands. "I swear, I didn’t even realize that I was falling asleep.”

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry,” he says, his voice still raspy from the night’s sleep. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve slept like that. I-I have insomnia.”

“Oh,” you nod sympathetically. “I’m glad I stayed over then.”

Arthur gives you a small smile. Your caring demeanor felt fresh and generous compared to the other residents of Gotham. But it’s only for a job, he reminded himself, he hired you. At that thought, panic arose in him.

“I don’t have the money to pay you for all the time you spent here,” he says, looking at a clock that read 9:23 AM.

“Don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyway. Pete will be in contact with you about how to pay for the session.”

Arthur hopes his disappointed look wasn’t too obvious; he honestly didn’t want you to leave. Even so, he walks you to the door and gives you one last small smile.

"I hope this isn’t the last time I’ll be seeing you,“ you say, returning his smile.

He blushes slightly, ducking his head. "It won’t be.”

—

Arthur has never been so happy strolling through the streets of Gotham on his way to Ha-Ha’s. The subway ride was surprisingly uneventful and the sun was still out—an unusual occurrence for the dark and somber city. Although, Arthur wondered if the city was actually that uninviting, or his change in scenery was due to the happenings of the night and early morning.

When Arthur gets to work, everything runs smoothly. Randall’s jokes never cease, but this time, they don’t bother him as much. There’s a lightness in his steps as he carries out the rest of his shift at Gotham City Children’s Hospital.

The real trouble comes on his way home; he chalks it up to bad luck—his day going “too well.” A few teenagers poking fun at his make-up, messing with his clown cap, and causing him to hold his throat as he chokes out unwanted laughter. When he returns to his apartment, his steps are less light than before—the stress of the evening finally catching up with him.

His hands reach for the phone before he can stop himself, and dial the number for CuddleBuddy. This time, the process is short. He only has to ask for you, and the next session is booked. Luckily, you didn’t have any previous arrangements tonight.

“They were harassing you, Arthur, you should tell someone,” you say, once you are cuddled up with Arthur again for the night. “People can’t treat you like that.”

“Yes, they can,” Arthur mumbled. “There’s nobody to tell, Y/N. Everybody is just mean.”

“Not everyone,” you say against his chest. “Your not.”

He only hums as a response, before glancing over towards the kitchen.

“Would you like to eat something? I could, um, make dinner,” he suggests.

“Are you paying for more of my time if I say yes,” you jokingly ask.

Arthur stumbles over his words. Of course, he thought. Payment. He just had to keep reminding himself that he was paying for your time; you were not here voluntarily.

“R-right. I’m sorry,” Arthur apologized. “Let’s just stay here then.”

“I was kidding. Dinner actually sounds nice,” you smile.

You both get up and make your way to the kitchen. For the next thirty minutes, you watch him as he whips around the kitchen, making dinner. You offered to help, but he insisted that he had it. By the time it’s done, and in your mouth, you were pleasantly surprised.

“Mmm,” you moan. Arthur was a damn good cook, and it showed. You were too focused on the food in front of you to notice Arthur’s cheeks turning a bright red color. 

Poor Arthur sat on the other side of the table, his ears burning from the small noise of pleasure you let out. How was it possible for one to sound so melodic, he wondered.

“Do you like it?” He asks, despite knowing the answer.

“I do. It’s really good,” you say. “Any chance you want to be a chef?”

“No, actually, I’m pursuing a career in comedy,” he says proudly.

“Maybe I can hear some of your routine sometime.”

“Maybe.”

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. You two shared Gotham horror stories, talked about family, and discussed mental illness in-depth. Arthur told you about the parts of himself that troubled him and society’s inability to understand. Your eyes stayed on Arthur the entire time, even after he got up to put away the dishes. His tan long-sleeve shirt, paired with his baggy pajama bottoms, made him look incredibly adorable. You tried to stop your mind from thinking anything like that about the man. After all, he only hired you for a job. But you couldn’t help it if his curls fell around his face in the most perfect way, or his smile shined with warmth when talking to you, or his eyes—God, his eyes—looked so lovely in every light possible.

When he’s done washing the dishes, you both return to the living room to resume the session. You move to sit back on the couch, but Arthur stays standing, shifting back and forth nervously.

“Can we, um, can we move this to the bedroom?”

You arch an eyebrow at his statement. “Really?”

His eyes become frantic as he moves to explain further. “I-I mean, instead of the couch. We could, you know, cuddle on the bed. I- I definitely did not mean…”

He trails off, and you giggle before getting up. “I know what you meant Arthur, relax.”

He nods relieved. He gestures for you to follow, leading you to what you presume is the bedroom. As you enter, your eyes glance around to the flower-covered walls before landing on the soft-looking blankets that lay across the bed. You don’t waste any time standing; you climb in next to Arthur, letting your limbs tangle in the same way they had earlier in the evening.

Your fingers graze his slender figure; the feeling of his warm shirt against your fingertips was enough to make you shiver. He brought the blankets up over you both, still hesitating as his arms rested back against you gently.

“Tell me about Ha-Ha’s. I don’t mean your shitty co-workers or rude boss; I want to know what you love about it. What makes you happy about working there?”

“I like making kids smile,” he says softly.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they’re just walking past me, sometimes I visit the children’s hospital.”

Your heart melted at the mental image of Arthur, fully dressed in his clown make-up, interacting with the kids. His clown persona, who he mentioned was named Carnival, was something that you’d love to see.

You could feel the smile on his face when he spoke his next words.

“I get to sing and dance with them,” he says. “They never look at me funny for dancing.”

“That’s amazing, Arthur,” you tell him. “I bet you’re really good with them.”

“You know, you could come with me sometime,” he suggests. “They wouldn’t mind.”

You nod slightly before letting your eyes fall closed. You both lay in silence, taking in each other’s shallow breathing. A calm sensation that Arthur’s never experienced washed over him. The rise and fall of your head on his chest worked to ease his anxiety about the subway events. He still couldn’t fully relax in your hold, which is why he stayed quiet about his wish for you to pull him closer. Almost as if you read his mind, your arms tightened around his midsection as you snuggled further into his embrace.

“Arthur,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be friends?”

The room fell silent. You didn’t want him to feel pressured to say yes, but you wanted to give him time to think it over. After talking to him about his decision to hire you, plus his lack of physical intimacy, you could only assume that the man doesn’t have many or quite possibly any people he considers a friend.

“You want to be my friend?”

You pick your head up off his chest, gazing into his pools of green that are filled with curiosity and disbelief. You don’t even have to think twice before nodding your head.

“I do,” you say. “Do you want to?”

“I do.”

—

The next few weeks are gone before Arthur realizes it. Not only is he able to see you every other day, but his cuddle sessions haven’t stopped simply due to your budding friendship. As the weekend approaches, he uses his time off work to go pick up his medications as well as see his social worker, Debra Kane. Although the process was no different—Arthur sat down, she asked if he brought his journal, she made a few remarks about some of the content, then asked about his job—his experience seemed to be a lot more rewarding.

“I have a friend,” Arthur all but beamed at the woman. “Her name is Y/N.”

“Arthur, have you thought any more about the prompts I gave you for last week’s journal writing?”

“She thought that I was wanting to become a chef, which is funny because I’m actually trying to be a comedian,” he says, disregarding Debra’s question. “She wants to hear my routine.”

“That’s certainly good,” the social worker comments offhandedly. “Are you experiencing any kind of negative thinking?”

Arthur laughs a little, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He slides one out of the box, rests it on his lips, and lights it. Some things never change, he thinks to himself.

As Debra probes him with more questions he hears every week, his mind wanders back to you. He can nearly see you on the other side of the room—watching, smiling, waving. He doesn’t want to get caught up in his perceived idea of you, though; he only wants to keep you in his reality.

Arthur thinks back to his childhood—images of him sitting alone in the school cafeteria flash through his mind. For once in his life, he had somebody besides his mother, who seemed to care about him. He had a few boys in his early years that tried to befriend him, but upon learning his idiosyncrasies and hearing his booming laugh echoed through the quiet halls, they quickly turned their back on him, leaving young Arthur to wonder what went wrong.

When he was old enough to work, he was out trying to help his mom keep up with rent. He took odd jobs with quick payouts to hold on to their life in Gotham city. By this time, Arthur stopped trying to make friends all together. He knew the things he needed to do to keep surviving in a city like Gotham, and going out of his way to get rejected again wasn’t one of them.

After leaving the social work office, he arrives home feeling both excited and apprehensive. His trip down memory lane had brought the feelings he held towards friendships up to the surface. You were bound to realize what a freak he was at some point; he wonders how long it will take you to figure it out.

A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. He’s even more surprised to see you on the other side when he opens it.

“Oh, hey,” Arthur says.

“Hey,” you repeat.

“Did we have a session booked?”

“No, no,” you tell him. “I just thought we could hang out—if you wanted to that is. Sorry to just drop by.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he steps aside and lets you into the apartment. You make your way to the couch, and Arthur follows behind you. He stops short of sitting down and asks if you want anything to eat or drink. You decline his offer and pat the seat next to you.

“Come sit.”

He sits next to you stiffly, rubbing his hand over his bouncing leg. You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering why the man is so fidgety all of a sudden. Maybe you made him uncomfortable by showing up, you told yourself. He did say it was okay, though.

Before you could mull over your thoughts, Arthur broke the silence.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Um, or I could show you my stand-up routine? Or we could do something else. What do you want to do?”

You chuckle at his line of questions while tilting your head at him. “Watching a movie sounds fun, and I’d love to hear your routine.”

He immediately gets up and sprints to the bedroom, leaving you on the couch to smile at his behavior. He surely was adorable.

When he comes back, he’s dangling a few VHS tapes in one hand, and holding a journal in the other. You watch as he resumes his spot next to you and lays out the tapes onto the table.

“You can choose a movie, and I’ll pick out some of my jokes,” he says. You look over the different films ranging from “A woman of Paris” —a Charlie Chaplin feature— to one made by Ernst Lubitsch called “A Shop Around the Corner.” You finally land on one titled “Duck Soup” and pick it up to hand to Arthur.

“Good choice,” he gives you a small smile. “This is actually a comedy and a musical. This goofy man named Rufus—you’re going to like him—he becomes president of his country. The country beside them thinks Rufus is awful so they try and start a war. It- it doesn’t sound much like a comedy, but I swear it is.”

Your lips curved upwards, and your eyes twinkled with amusement. As you listened to Arthur go into extensive detail about the movie’s plot, you found your eyes dropping to his lips. As they moved with every word, you noticed how soft they looked despite them being slightly cracked. You wondered what it would be like to kiss-

“Y/N,” Arthur jarred you from your thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

Your face flushes red at being caught staring. You’re not sure if Arthur knew where you were looking, but he sure as heck knew you were distracted.

“Everything’s fine,” you reassure him. “It’s just been a long day. Did you want to show me some jokes?”

You gesture towards the journal still in his hands, and he smiles instantly. It takes a bit for Arthur to feel relaxed while presenting his material to you, but once he made you laugh a few times, he gained the confidence needed to finish. You were pleasantly surprised at the jokes he had come up with for the routine; they molded perfectly to your sense of humor and left you nearly in tears every time. You weren’t sure if they were actually that funny, or if you just wanted the beaming smile Arthur would shoot you after he made you erupt in laughter to stay there.

After nearly an hour of joke-telling went by, and some convincing on your part, you persuaded Arthur to put on the movie—insisting that you were not tired.

The film opens up with the flag of Freedonia—the country the movie takes place in. Straight from the beginning, you’re already invested in the storyline; your eyes carefully watch every movement on the screen, and you laugh when you finally meet Rufus—the new president of Freedonia. Rufus was just as Arthur made him out to be: goofy. As you watch the story unfold, you can tell why Arthur likes this movie so much. You look over to see if he’s smiling at the screen, only to see that he is, in fact, smiling, but not at the television. No, he is smiling directly at you.

You give him a questioning glance, and he ducks his head, immediately apologizing.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was looking at you,” he explains.

“So? You’re allowed to look at me,” you chuckle, and his eyes meet yours again.

“I am?”

You can almost feel his breath from how close you’re sitting to him on the couch. Your shoulders are pressed together, while your thighs lay side by side. As a cuddler, you’ve been much closer to Arthur than you are right now, but somehow, this particular time feels more intimate than the others. Later, you’ll blame it on hormones, or maybe even your own mental stability, but just as Arthur was about to repeat his words, you leaned in and pressed your lips right against his.

The kiss didn’t last long, though. As soon as you felt the man tense up under your touch, you nearly flew off of him, sliding yourself to the other end of the couch.

“Shit. Fuck, Arthur. I am so sorry. That was so out of line for me to do. I wasn’t even thinking,” you slide your hand over your face, afraid to look over at Arthur in case he was glaring at you. “I should go.”

He didn’t say anything, and you assumed that was your cue to leave. You cursed yourself for being so brainless as you got up from the couch. As your hand reached for the door, you heard Arthur’s laughter from behind you. You felt tears sting your eyes as you left his apartment feeling foolish.

He found it funny; you found it heartbreaking.

Arthur scrambled to get up as he saw you leaving. His hand held tightly to his throat, as harsh chokes of laughter came barreling out of his mouth. He stopped just shy of the door, nearly toppling over as he tried to force himself to swallow the laughter. By the time he got the door open, you were gone.

He forced a pained smile at the empty hallway, turning back and shoving the door closed. The voices of his past cried out to him as he paced around the living room. You’re such a freak. What’s so fuckin’ funny? You were born by mistake. As more torments flew through his mind, Arthur stopped in front of the wall to lean his head against it. He didn’t know why you left in such a hurry, but he assumed it had something to do with him. He lifted his head back and slammed it against the wall with a sickening thump. Bang. You caused this. Bang. You made her feel like that. Bang. It’s your fault. Bang, bang, bang.

He slid down the wall, a single tear dropping from his eye, and just sat there. He couldn’t even feel his head throbbing; the pain in his heart was too high.

—

Days went by, and Arthur hadn’t heard from you. He picked up the phone several times to try and call your workplace, CuddleBuddy, but couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. He was too afraid of what you’d say when you had the chance. Not even a full month of friendship, and he’s already lost you. When he does get the courage to call the company, he’s only let down once again by the latest news.

“Sorry, man. Y/N quit a few days ago,” Pete tells him.

“Q-quit?”

“Yeah, she pulled her profile down from the bulletin, and said she was moving on.”

Arthur panics. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How would he get in touch with you now? Would he ever see you again?

He runs a hand through his curly locks before asking, “How can I reach her?”

“Uh, I’m not really supposed to give out her information, man.”

“But- but it’s Arthur. Arthur Fleck. I’ve been calling to book sessions for the last month.”

“Yeah, I know,” the man on the other line sighs. “But I don’t know who you are. I can’t really tell some guy her private business.”

“I’m not some guy! She’s my friend,” Arthur reasons. “Please.”

Pete groans and mumbles a 'fine’ before rattling of your address.

“If she ends up murdered tomorrow, I’m telling the police it was you.”

Arthur thanked him and chuckled lightly at the joke—assuming it was a joke. He took the piece of paper, which carried the address he had just scrawled down, and raced out the door. He grabbed the subway, recognizing your place to be near the Children’s hospital that he worked at occasionally. Once he was standing in front of what he had hoped was your apartment, his nerves were at an all-time high.

He was scared of rejection, scared of seeing your disgusted, disappointed, or aggravated face along with any words that might follow.

After three timid knocks, he waits patiently for you to open the door. When the door does swing open, he was met with an expression he wasn’t expecting—shock.

“Hi,” he utters shyly.

“Hi.”

Your heart thumps in your chest wildly at the view in front of you. You couldn’t believe Arthur was standing in your doorway right now; you half-expected this to be a dream. After you left his apartment that night, you felt the lightness you’ve been feeling for the past couple weeks drain from your body, only to be replaced by tightness in your chest and a dulling ache in your heart.

“You quit,” Arthur says, breaking the silence that loomed over you both.

“I did,” you open the door wider, letting Arthur walk into your apartment. He takes a look around, noting that the decorations you have chosen seem to be very you. He wants to marvel more at his surroundings, but instead, he turns back to you.

“I tried to book a session, but you quit,” he says, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Why would you do that?”

You sigh, offering him a small shrug. The ache in your heart hasn’t gone away, not since you saw him last. You wanted to give him a real explanation, but you didn’t want to bring up the kiss. You were afraid that his balled-up fist, quick-paced breathing, and twitching nose —all of which happened when the man felt anger— would be the result of your careless and selfish action.

“Why are you here, Arthur?”

“I- I want to know why you quit.”

“Because I knew you’d call,” you admitted. “I knew you’d call because that’s who you are.”

You sniffle quietly; the tears that have been threatening to fall since Arthur showed up were now spilling down your cheeks like a river.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you wiped harshly at your face.

Arthur gave you a troubled look. His expression was soft, but his eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“Please don’t be upset,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a bewildered look. “You’re …sorry? What on Earth are you sorry about?”

He only shrugged, so you took a deep breath and continued with what you had to say.

“I kissed you,” you looked away, still ashamed at the way you handled the situation. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess I just felt like I should in the moment; it was completely wrong of me. I apologize.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Y/N,” he mutters while fumbling with the zipper of his tan jacket. “I- I liked it.”

You smile sadly at him. “You don’t have to lie. I’ll be okay. We can continue being friends if you want; I just need some time.”

“But I’m not lying,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

"You- you laughed at me, Arthur,“ you whisper before chewing on your bottom lip, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

"I didn’t!”

Arthur tried his hardest to hold in whatever laughter that was always on the surface and bubbling over. He didn’t want to leave you feeling upset again, and he surely didn’t want you to think he was disregarding or making fun of your feelings.

“I have a condition,” he says. At your confused look, he shuffles around in his pants pocket to pull out one of his cards. He hands it to you, bracing himself for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say, reading the front before flipping it over and skimming over the back. “So- so you weren’t laughing at me?”

“No! I would never. Not unless you made a joke.” Arthur assures you before pausing. “Did you?”

“I would never,” you repeat to him. Both of you stay unspeaking, taking in the words that the other has said. You wanted to talk more about what happened, but you didn’t want to cross any more lines in the relationship.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You nodded weakly.

“Why did you kiss me? Is that what friends are supposed to do?”

“No, Arthur,” you look solemnly at him. “Friends don’t do that.”

"I didn’t think so,“ he says. "So, why would you? ”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I don’t know. I think you’re funny.”

His eyes search yours for some clarification, but he finds none. “You kissed me because you think I’m funny?”

“Yes,” you say. “and because you’re sweet and easy to talk to, and- and handsome.”

Your face heated up at your comment, but there was no taking it back now. Arthur’s face matched yours, and he stumbled over his words to try and respond.

“What- what does this mean?”

He was pretty sure he knew what it meant; he’s seen enough movies to know precisely what it meant. However, he couldn’t be too careful. The mere thought of him getting it wrong, and you—his only friend in Gotham—leaving was too much for him to handle.

“I think you know what it means, Arthur,” you say to him.

“Can you please just tell me?”

You exhale. “Do you want to go out with me?”

Although you didn’t directly answer his question, it was almost better. He didn’t waste a single second before nodding his head.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Arthur musters up every ounce of courage he has and slides his arms around you in a hesitant embrace. You hug him back tightly, encouraging him to do the same. You stand there for the next couple minutes, the events of the last couple days catching up with you both. “Can we- can we kiss again?”

You pull back enough to look at him, your lips curving into a smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You lean into him, capturing his lips in a slow kiss. You could feel your heart explode with emotions; Arthur’s lips timidly sliding over yours as his hands came up to rest on your cheeks. When you pulled apart, you looked at Arthur with his crimson cheeks and slightly swollen lips, and you couldn’t think of anything or anyone more beautiful than the man in front of you.

“When can we do that again?”

You giggle at his question, your eyes sporting a playful gleam. “Well, if you were my boyfriend, we could do that all of the time.”

“Okay,” he agrees, and you nearly choke on the air around you.

“R-really? Arthur, do you understand what I just said?”

He nods, and you explore his face for any trace of uncertainty or humor, but there is none. He was completely serious.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“No,” he huffs. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking that the same apartment, the same questions from my social worker, and the same people were going to hold me back forever. I don’t want to be held back.”

You bite your lip, wondering how you’re ever going to keep this relationship going if he’s always this damn adorable.

“Okay,” you smile at him, not being able to control your happiness.

“So, Y/N,” he looks at you shyly, with a small smirk in place.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, does that mean I get cuddle sessions for free?”

You laugh, playfully swatting him on the arm as joy tugged at the corners of his lips too. 

And you both thought to yourselves, how did I get so lucky?

[emma-what-son]

(Echee post) Emma Watson wants her privacy at Café Pacifico in Covent Garden

Posted on May 22 2014.

From standard.co.uk May 2014 "Emma Watson has gone from unknown schoolgirl to Hollywood actress, thanks to playing Hermione in the Harry Potter films. But fame ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.The Londoner spotted Watson at Mexican hotspot Café Pacifico in Covent Garden on Friday, heading to the bar to order some drinks. Heads swivelled, eyes turned upon her and Watson retreated to the corner where her boyfriend Matthew Janney was sitting. Even that didn’t do the trick. Shortly afterwards, he was seen asking a table of customers, all chaps, to move away from their spot to give the star some privacy. Watson is lucky: few would argue with her rugby-playing beau, but he still said please." So she was at a public place drinking and because people were looking at her she had her boyfriend ask them to move so she could have her space and privacy? If she wants her privacy she can go home to drink. Those patrons have every right to be there like she does. Was she being heckled? No. It's natural for some people to get a little star struck around celebrities. Society or more like the business they work for have them made out to be such perfect specimens and better than everyone else that people are bound to check them out when coming across one in public. It's not like they were running up to her asking for autographs and selfies. They were looking going, "Hey look it's Emma Watson". And it's really no different when people spot a really attractive person in a bar or pub. I think it could have been worse don't you? What is it with celebrities like Emma who talk about wanting to be normal and treated like everyone else but then expect special treatment when around us "commoners"? Or maybe they don't want to really fit in. They just want the best of both worlds? As the saying goes they want to have their cake and eat it to. Idk but this is a shit move on her part. Total diva moment for sure.

Here is a couple other stories from this year where Emma is being less than nice and sociable From jamesmeets.wordpress April 2014: ….This only left the two big guns to arrive, Russell Crowe and Emma Watson. A couple of cars pulled into the Square together, which meant one of the two was arriving, but which would it be? Heart in my mouth as out got Emma. Here’s the point at which I should probably provide a bit of a back-story… At one stage, Emma was my favourite person; I grew up watching the Harry Potter films, and when I started this crazy hobby nine years ago there was a (small) list of people I wanted to meet most, and she was very close to the top of that list. However… four years ago I went to Wimbledon for the tennis finals. Rafa Nadal had beaten Thomas Berdych in straight sets in b-e-a-utiful weather. A perfect Sunday afternoon, topped off by spotting Emma leaving the VIP pavilion. I genuinely don’t think I had (or since have) ever been so excited to see one person. I asked her and she said no. It wasn’t a polite no, I’d have no issue with that, but was a downright rude no. It’s hard to describe, but her attitude was really bad. Maybe she was a Thomas Berdych fan? Joking aside, I was gutted, and since then the overarching thought whenever anyone mentioned her was that experience. Even getting an autograph from her at the BAFTAs in 2011 didn’t help change my opinion, as even the hardest signers’ sign at the BAFTAs. Anyways, back to the present… Out got Emma, and in some kind of twisted fate, came straight over to where I was. She signed for the person next to me, and then it was my turn. Despite internally combusting with a mix of excitement and nerves, I managed to tell her I met her at SW19, even with the details of Rafa winning in straight sets, that she’d said no to a photo and I was gutted. I was probably less eloquent than I picture. I asked her if she’d make up for it by posing for a picture now, and she agreed. Say whaaaaaaaaat!!! Her brother (I presume it was her brother, I’ve no idea) took the camera and took an absolutely belting photo. His fan photo

Some comments from this person's page about Emma and the photo: Moviefan2k4-“No offense intended, but are British people always really serious? I’m only asking because Emma’s not smiling in that picture. She almost looks like she didn’t want to be at the screening.” James-”She’s not the nicest person in the world - she probably didn’t want to be there!” Moviefan2k4-“That’s sad; I hope she was just having a rough time, and that isn’t her daily temperament.” Dancingirl1-“Wish she would’ve smiled.” James-“It is. I met her four years ago and she was plain rude. Only reason I got this photo was because I told her how disappointed I was back then.” I bet if he was a hot guy she'd have no problem taking a photo with him. I bet that had something to do with it. She just seems like the type that would be so shallow. Plus she is there to promote Noah so she should be nice. It's part of the job detail. She can't work the crowd a little? It's not like she does it everyday. Idk but if I was making millions solely off the backs of working people I'd be ecstatic that they wanted my autograph. Here is another one From raleightelegram.com April 2014, "The after party was at the Central Park boathouse and they packed up 10 tour buses to get everyone over there.Jennifer Connolly sans any bodyfat whatsoever was shivering on the freezing cold carpet. Russell Crowe, who isn’t known for his social graces, was a surprisingly pleasant and social butterfly both on the carpet and at the after-party, even snapping selfies with me, Stephen, and rapper 50 Cent, while Jennifer Connolly looked on. At the party, Emma Watson sat drinking surrounded by friends and a formidable blonde haired woman guarding her. Emma didn’t chat with guests like Russell and the rest of the cast did, and she was a bit rude and snotty to me and other folks. Her guard was equally as unpleasant. I later learned this tough blonde was a hired bodyguard to protect her from stalkers. Emma was also the last celeb to leave the party, probably waiting for the bar to close." Ok she has a bodyguard but does she have to be rude to people at a party where you have to have credentials and be invited to attend? I'm sure she's as safe there as she would be in a panic room. She has her "formidable" bodyguard with her. Is it that much of a task to be nice to people.   And one more From skinnygossip.com Feb.2014,  "When she was in Iceland filming Noah she went to the bar I was working at. I didn’t see this but I heard some yelling from outside. Later I was told that she threw a hissyfit at a doorman for not letting her skip the line. She apparently kept screaming and yelling “do you know who I am?”. Such a cliché, I hope she was drunk…" Here is her latest tongue lashing moment of a service worker At first I thought she was upset with her new boy toy but actually she is giving some lip service to the security guard in the parking lot for a Rugby match. Her boy toy has to console her because she's upset about something. Oh the humanity!! lol

Click here to see her same reaction when yelling at cab driver in London and if you want to see her on video get upset at another event click here to watch her get animated about having to walk with Rupert Grint instead of staying on the arm of HP producer David Heyman. For more diva stories visit Sue at emma-what-son.tumblr.tumblr and click on her diva tags and check out my diva posts on this page. Once again: I'm no longer accepting comments here. If you have any questions or comments you can reach me at meettherealemmawatson.tumblr.com where I spend the majority of my time. I will still post here when I feel like it and when there is something worthy

[migleefulmoments]

Reality Check on TSG and Darren: Dissecting the Lies the ccers repeat.

The obsession with Mia and TSG returned as soon as Elsie was over- just as predicted. I find it so odd that a handful of women with NO intention of ever stepping foot in TSG have such an obsession with keeping tabs on negative Yelp reviews. How often they must check Yelp in order to catch every one.  hot of the press so they can blast it and rage over the problems. But even more curious is that they never actually vet the reviewers themselves for their validity. Several of the negative reviews the fandom delighted over were clearly written by people who have never been to the bar and were influenced by Abby’s theories including the one who complained about the vaginas dripping on the bar and the one who complained about Open Dyke Night and then admitted she was underage and half a world away. 

Here is TSG overall score: 

With 118 review they are at 4.5 stars so these 1-star reviews are not the norm.  Most review look something like this 

or this

Now let’s look at this recent lot that Cassie decided to bring to ccers’ attention.  

cassie1022

(Well Megan, it depends on what night you were there. They close at 1 am on Tuesday and Wednesday).

(If the door people are turning people away an hour before closing, Mia needs to know and the Yelp review will be helpful  But since the vast majority of the 118 reviews are very positive, this clearly isn’t a problem that occurs often).   

(This is the one that gets Abby’s fired up about.  I have no clue it it is true or if it this policy is posted anywhere. I will give them this one because I can’t check anywhere.  20% does seem a bit high for a bartender tip since they aren’t waiting on a table...anyone?)  

(Melinda, Melinda Melinda...I’m going to guess that by her comment that she is not 21. She gave the place 1-star because the bartender carded her. Basically that is it. She gave them a horrible review and ranted because there were frumpy old lady tourists in the bar, she insulted the drink taste and the price even thought it sounds like she wasn’t served and the bartender thought she looked young. I’m sorry but this smells wrong. But even more telling is the comment “If I am willing to buy your mediocre $20 glasses of urine then you bet I am old enough”. Notice she never says she is 21, she simply spits that she is willing to pay the price for the horrible drink and that qualifies her.  

Check out her Yelp page- she went to LONO after TSG and complained about TSG on that LONO’s review.  “BEST BAR OF THE EVENING! I came here after fleeing the depressing depths of Tramp Stamp Granny's in search of refuge. The bartender with the long red beard was incredibly nice! He was kind, considerate, and extremely welcoming. The drinks were superbly delicious!!!!! Everyone should come here”  I get the vibe she didn’t get served at TSG (Keep reading, there is another hint about her age at the bottom of this section) 

Back home in NY she gave Trader Joe 1-Star claiming she found a worm in her smoked salmon. That seems suspect since the salmon was smoked. She gave her local ice cream place 1-star and this charming review “There was a long, black hair rolled up into my ice cream, the plate that my "sweet treat" was made on was covered in ice and the remnants of previous orders, and the employees appeared to be quite overworked.  When I want ice cream, I don't want an accompanying side of pity for the workers and disdain for the tedious, migraine-inducing procedure to make a mediocre ice cream. Also, the store was sweltering and I broke out into a beading sweat while waiting in the purgatory-like line.” The only places Melinda likes are a hot dog place and a pizza joint. The pizza joint got 5-stars “By far the best pizzeria ever; my existence would be trash without Emilio's. Oozy, gooey goodness that tastes like ambrosia regardless of the toppings. While the employees are lacking in the common customer service charm that we are force fed as a society, they have a higher level of pizza IQ than the rest of us average mortals. I guess that's what happens when you spend your days cultivating the food of the gods.”. But my favorite review of all is for 5-star review for her favorite hot dog place “Very delicious, savory hot dogs. The location is prime with it being directly behind the high school, however, the large line every single day can get a bit tedious. If only they would expand and open an extra window.” Now why would an adult care that it is located near the high school? It would seem that the person who calls the location “prime with it being directly behind the high school” but also notes that it the line is large every single day is a high school student.  Of course she could be a teacher who eats hot dogs everyday and is between the ages of 22 and 30 (any older and she would not be that upset that the bartender thought she looked young) but her comments reek of teenager.) 

(I have no clue what David’s issue is.  Is this a viable complaint to leave on Yelp? It sounds like David has a personal issue with the guy working the door.)  

Now the ccers chime in: 

ajw720  While all of these are bad, how are they getting away with unitemized bills that include gratuity with no policy plainly in site? I totally understand charging gratuity and have absolutely no issue with it, but it needs to be clearly stated, because if it is not, that is tricking customers into tipping twice. Disgusting.

Can we please separate d from this horrific establishment? Not only is it utterly misogynist and offensive in nature, with theme nights where the name is considered hate speech, it is repeatedly cited as poorly run.  First a 5% upcharge on ice and now we learn they charge gratuity automatically on bills of $80 or more without clearly stating the policy. That should be written on the bill handed to the customer.  Unacceptable.  

(Can we please separate d from this horrific establishment? No, Darren is married to the owner and considers himself an owner. What did he say the other day? “It’s my bar too because we are a unit” or something like that.  

Not only is it utterly misogynist: TSG is NOT misogynistic. You dont understand the word .

and offensive in nature: TSG is NOT “offensive in nature” to most grown adults. You can find it offensive but you do not get to dictate what the rest of the world finds offensive. Your attitude is no different from the Christians who claim they won’t serve LGBTQ customers because it is against their religious beliefs in that you are both putting your morals, values and beliefs on someone else and declaring that it is offensive to all of us. If you find it offensives then don’t give them your business. Period 

with theme nights where the name is considered hate speech: The theme-night names that you find so offensive and are labeling “hate speech”, are in fact words the LGBTQ is using to empower their community. “Open Dyke Night” was named- and is hosted by- a lesbian who uses the word to empower lesbians. These theme nights you find so offensive are NOT for you. They are nights for the LGBTQ community to come to a space that is safe and enjoy the company of others in the community just like them hence Open Dyke Night is for lesbian women to come together with other lesbian women and enjoy a night of singing and celebration. 

it is repeatedly cited as poorly run.. : It is NOT “repeatedly cited as poorly run” by anyone who isn't named Abby, Cassie, Leka, and Flowers. The bar has 4.5 stars overall and a lot of 5-star reviews. This is exactly what NadiaCreek was talking about when she said “You are denying a reality that is obvious and that gets more and more evidence with every passing day. You are tricking yourself into seeing patterns that are not there, by obsessing over small details and ignoring a mound of evidence for the opposite, true conclusion. That kind of thing can and will pour over into areas of your life that do matter. Denying reality in any area of the world is a dangerous game that can and will impact the rest of your life”. THIS is so important.  

First a 5% upcharge on ice and now we learn they charge gratuity automatically on bills of $80 or more without clearly stating the policy. That should be written on the bill handed to the customer: A 5% up-charge on ice was mentioned by one person. I wouldn't be referencing that based on one person’s random comment. The 20% gratuity is again only one person complaining so I wouldn’t sink my teeth in to this one until you know a lot more)  

klaineownsmysoul

When you have a “venue operator” masquerading as an owner who knows nothing about how a business should be run and obviously couldn’t care less, what do you expect?  They couldn’t be bothered fixing the air conditioning last summer and laughed it off as a joke.  Pretty sure at this point its obvious this wasn’t some sort of “life long dream” of hers to own a bar like they’ve pushed; more like a dream to have a place where she can drink for free and have her pic taken while people kiss her ass and call her wonderful.  There is not an ounce of D in that place.  His shoelaces have more integrity than this place.

(You have no clue what the business end of TSG is and comments like how she is “masquerading as owner” are so obtuse and stupid they defy logic. She is the owner and the bar is busy. But it doesn’t matter if it is failing and barely hanging on- it isn’t any of your business-that’ss between Mia, Darren and Danny and their landlord and vendors. It’s really sad and disgusting that you want Darren’s bar to fail. CCers want to be taken seriously -Abby constantly complains that the stans won’t listen to the various cc tropes -and yet you make nonsense statements like this...this is one big reason why you aren’t taken seriously. You WANT Mia to fail and you WANT TSG to go away but that is not the same thing as it actually failing or Mia being a clueless boss. In fact, her employees have said very nice complimentary things about her being a fabulous boss and they are far more credible evaluators than the cc fans who have never been to the bar and  simply believe Abby’s fantasy tropes about the bar and Mia failing. You have no idea if she cares or doesn’t care and again, it isn’t any of your business. It’s her business to drive into the ground or make it a roaring success. Darren’s fans don’t get a say in the matter other than to either be a customer and pay for drinks or don’t give them your business. 

Patrons continue to go to the bar and I have not seen complaints about the lack of A/C except on opening night.  It is just as much Darren’s bar as Mia’s- so you believe Darren didn’t care about the A/C and laughed it off as a joke? When? Or is it that A/C was out a few days over a year ago and you are still using that as fuel for your rage about a bar that you have nothing to do with? 

“Pretty sure at this point its obvious this wasn’t some sort of “life long dream” of hers to own a bar like they’ve pushed; more like a dream to have a place where she can drink for free and have her pic taken while people kiss her ass and call her wonderful” Again comments like these are why you aren’t taken seriously.  Mia owns the bar. Whether you like it or not, she owns the bar.  You simply don’t like that she isn’t the bar manager-she pays people to do that.  The owner is the one who hires and trains staff, makes decisions about the menu and what alcohol will be offered, writes the policies and procedures,   plans the calendar and makes payroll. She pays other people to run the bar day-to-day and that pisses you all off because you can’t see her at the bar and criticize every moment that is uploaded to social media. What she does is all behind the scenes and not Instagramable. But it doesn’t mean she isn’t working. There is a thing now called the internet and it makes doing a lot of the work of running a bar doable from a wide varsity of locals.  .  

Your comment that “there is not an ounce of D in that place” leaves me shaking my head. When you guys say things like this it just proves that you don’t know anything about Darren. You spend your time looking for Blaine and you're right- the bar has nothing to do with Blaine but it has Darren written all over it. The cc fandom spends all of their time and effort looking for the Darren they want to see and it’s a lot of work. You have to reject a lot of what you see and blame it on his team for making him be the bro’ dude that you can’t stand. You have to find videos and look at them frame by frame to find the moments you believe are the ‘real’ Darren aka the one you want to see. You have to cut out those precious few seconds, slow them down,  and  turn them into gifs and THERE...THERE IS the Darren you know and love.  But while you are doing all that work you are missing the real Darren. The one who is right there in front of your face but you don’t like because he isn’t Blaine. Darren’s footprint is all over the bar- from the elegant debauchery of the decor to the sexual puns on the signs and the drink names that IS Darren Criss. The piano at the center of the room-Darren’s piano- that he uses to connect with people through music and the fact that it is a piano bar that plays covers is all Darren. Mia plays very different music when she performs and yet the bar is literally based on what Darren does best- play the piano and sing covers while those around him join in. The place is ALL Darren-you just don’t like the real Darren.)        

flowersintheattic254

You know so many things were attempted to try to make M look like a career woman, with a viable business, shared interests with D and not a beard without taste or work ethic.

I think the bar will likely last as long as the fake marriage as M isn’t interested in it when D isn’t there to hang off and when you consider when it opened and how the encage went down.

M hung around bands when she was younger due to her fathers businesses. She likes being around famous, talented people. The bar gives her the opportunity and venue to continue her groupie inclinations.

I’m absolutely glad that D has been too busy recently to be there.

The most influence he may of had was with the whiskey choice.

(I don’t know why it’s so hard for you all to understand that Mia had several jobs and now she is owns a bar. The fact that you feel entitled to criticize her for her career decisions and make comments about her taste level is pure misogyny. Darren has also had lots of jobs and you don’t criticize him and the punny sex jokes are all Darren and yet you attribute them to Mia- that’s misogyny. Mia didn’t write Me and My Dick, Darren did, he loves the puns.   As for shared interests...he married her. Their shared interest is the family and the life they are building together.

How long the bar is open is yet to be determined but given that your record for predictions regarding Darren and Mia is abysmal, I’m not going to sweat it. The idea that Mia “hung out with bands” as a kid and the piano bar gives her the opportunity to hang out with famous people-I just can’t. She hangs out with far more “famous people” and musicians just going to events with her husband then she ever will at Darren’s piano bar. 

Her “groupie inclinations” WTF is a “groupie inclination”? I don’t even know what to say to that because I have no clue what a groupie inclination is. It’s really sad that you are so happy that Darren isn’t connecting to people though music since that means so much to him. He recently was asked if he had a need to be on stage and he said no, he has never had that need but what he does "NEED” is to connect to people though music and he also has said that playing the piano while people sing along gives him that connection.  I shouldn’t be surprised that you are gleeful that Darren hasn’t had time to spend at the bar he created in honor of his beloved Marie’s Crisis, your fan-girling over Darren has never been about Darren, it’s always been about you).  

leka-1998 Too bad you can’t actually call forgetting about that place most of the time and drinking the money they force people to spend a career. She’d be truly successful. It’s really her bar and D’s just the piano man, right? So if that could stop too, that would be nice.

(You really need to stop slandering Mia, she doesn’t drink anymore than Darren. You never call out Darren’s drinking but then again, it’s just your misogyny speaking-it always comes. The bar is Mia and Darren’s. When he says he’s just the piano man, he is just taking the attention from himself and giving it to her.  Darren does this a lot with people he cares about.  But he has been very clear that the bar is his and Mia’s. I know words are hard for you guys, you get so caught up in the meaning of the word that you fail to hear the message. Anyone paying even a little attention t Tramp Stamp Granny’s would realize that is Darren’s bar through and through. Someday maybe you can all stop looking for the Darren you like, stop obsessing about what this word means or that word, stop slowing down videos and clipping the out the 3 seconds you like  and instead  you can just listen to the Darren that is right there in front of you and HEAR what he has to say.  It will be revolutionary.  Listening to other people without assumptions is the very least you can do..literally it is the least).    

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 9/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Mentions of sex.

A/N: I cannot express my full gratitude that you’ve read this whole fic. I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed it and I can’t wait to see what I produce for the next one! Much love and appreciation for all of you reading this! <3

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 

There’s something to be said for having a girlfriend who dances. Emma’s definitely agile, and while she’s incredibly fit she’s still soft in all the right places. By now, Killian knows she sleeps in next to nothing and eats junk food as much as possible, with her snacks as fruits and vegetables in order to mislead people into believing she’s some kind of health nut. These are all things he knew before the summer at Camp Hope ended and life after began.

Thankfully, the list of things he knows about Emma just keeps getting longer.

“Not on the one, darling,” he murmurs against her ear, his hand resting on her stomach with her back against his chest. He tenses his fingers momentarily so she chortles in his hold. She’s ticklish, he’s discovered, and has exploited this fact many times over now. And when she’s not on a deadline, it’s so easy to derail any kind of attempt at dance rehearsals.

This studio is different than the one at camp. For one, there’s no issue with the heating and air conditioning, which is good considering it’s been snowing for three and a half days and shows no signs of stopping. But they’re cozy inside the studio space with hours to spare thanks to it being so close to the holidays.

Another difference in the studios is that this one is downstairs from Emma and Ruby’s apartment. The living space had come first, when they’d found the perfect apartment with just the right amount of space and the perfect price tag.

Downstairs, there’d been an empty retail rental big enough to be a studio. It had taken time, and some help from David and Snow (their way of making amends for what they later claimed was a huge oversight in their judgement), but they’re preparing to do a Grand Opening ceremony in two weeks to mark the official start of business. They’ve taken on a few private clients, but soon they’ll have classes and lessons of all kinds. They’ve even found a couple more teachers interested in employment.

With the two women on holiday break from the hotel’s entertainment schedule, Ruby drove up to Storybrooke to spend some time with Granny and Mulan. Already, she’s been able to go see her family and girlfriend more than expected since moving out of Boston.

That leaves the apartment free for Emma and Killian to spend their own time together. Today, with the snow continuing to thwart any plans they may have made, they’re down in the studio. The front of the building is all windows, and looks in at the space where Ruby or Emma will hold classes for groups of people. There are two slightly smaller spaces, however, and one of them is windowless, a line of mirrors against one wall, and a solid door so no one can peek in.

It’s not that anyone would be doing so today, of all days. Again, with the studio closed and the place to themselves, there’s no chance anyone will walk in on them. That’s a good thing, too, when Emma promptly abandons the steps to slide down Killian’s body, taking his sweatpants down as she goes. Thankfully, they’re near enough the wall that he leans forward, bracing his left forearm on the mirrored surface and reaching down to rest his hand on the back of her neck just as she engulfs him in one slick slide.

He had no idea the sex could get better, but he’s never claimed to know everything.

Afterwards, when they’re both satisfied and sprawled on the floor, Emma bundles up one of their shirts for Killian to use as a pillow before resting her cheek on his chest. Her breath ruffles the hair that’s slowly growing back, and he feels the way she smiles as she must notice the same thing. With wispy touches, she traces along his chest, around a nipple, and down his stomach. Her body starts shaking with mirth as Killian groans. It’s been five minutes, and yet his body already wants to start again. She’s brilliant at eliciting such a response from him.

“Darling, we need a bed if you wish to go for another round. And water. I need to rehydrate after that.”

She chuckles out loud this time, lifting herself to a sitting position next to him with one hand resting on his stomach. “Good idea. Maybe some food, too. Oh! D’you wanna make pancakes?”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

She grins, her eyes crinkling up as she does. Her hair is an absolute tangle, the last of the sweat still drying at her temples, but she looks even more beautiful every time he looks at her. “Come on, sailor.” She stands up, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Now, why does this feel awfully familiar? But I seem to remember being fully clothed the first time we did this.”

At mention of their disastrous first meeting, Emma throws her head back and laughs. He smiles as he watches her, taking in the relaxed stance despite her total lack of clothing. He lines up the images in his mind of that first memory of her hovering over him, her face pinched in annoyance, her lips pursed as she tried to coax him off the ground. How long ago that night feels compared to where they are now.

With one more bracing breath, Killian sits up, taking her offered hand and helping to gather their clothes. They’ll clean later, top to bottom, as they did with the camp studio. For now, however, he wants to make her some hot chocolate and help her with the pancakes. They slide on only what’s necessary, and then Killian sends her on her way up the back entrance while he gathers the rest of their discarded clothing. He pauses before he shuts off the lights, looking at the man that stands in the mirror and smiling. If he could go back to May and let his past self in on the secret, he may have been less reluctant to go to camp, even if it all seems surreal.  

He never figured dancing would become something he did on the side. To his surprise, Regina had followed through with the offer to sign Killian on as a part-time entertainer, even after she learned that he was a total amateur, taught only in the weeks leading up to their performance. Twice now, he’s danced on their performing nights, once with Emma and once with Ruby. They’ve even started teaching him a few new dances that they’ll start using after the New Year begins so he has more than a single Mambo in his repertoire.

It was all a whirlwind after the summer ended at Camp Hope. He and Emma had a week in the city together before she and Ruby began hunting for a new apartment. He helped any way he could, but mostly he was happy to be able to take Emma out on dates after their initial return. When she officially relocated to Portland, he weighed his options for a couple weeks before deciding it was also time for a change of scenery for him.

But instead of moving to Portland with Emma, he went further. One weekend in October before the hotel job officially began, when she was tied up with planning meetings with Ruby and Regina, Killian drove to Storybrooke. He took David and Snow out to dinner, and informed them he wanted to move to town, and that he’d like to offer his services for maintaining the camp.

It was awkward, at first, with David. Somehow, the entire time they talked, Killian was sure the man was going to forbid him from seeing Emma, like Killian was a suitor for David’s princess daughter, but the demand never came. The dinner helped to smooth over the last rough edges from the incident over the summer, and it helped that they got to see how dedicated he was to helping around the camp – that he intended on staying in Emma’s life.

After seeing what Killian could still do as far as repairs and maintenance to the cabins, the tension eased even further. When the spring hits, Killian will go to camp again to help Marco, their lead wood-worker, to make some renovations. He’s discovered that he works wonderfully with the older man, even if his adult son, August, can be a bit much sometimes.

Killian shakes his thoughts free, finally extinguishing the lights and locking up the studio before jogging up the steps. He heads straight to Emma’s room to drop their clothes and tie on his robe, smiling for what feels like the millionth time today when he sees Emma’s missing from the hook.

The pancakes end up taking a little longer than he or Emma intended, primarily because she looks too tempting in her robe, standing there mixing batter as she hums along to whatever song is playing from the radio in the kitchen. He presses up close behind her, finding a spot just above her ear as he inhales.

“Something smells delicious.”

“I haven’t even started cooking them, yet.”

“I’m not talking about the pancakes,” he says, moving forward to nuzzle the side of her face.

Her smile grows, and she spins around to kiss him, then – fiercely and fondly all in the same move – until she breaks away. Her eyes search his face as her hands rub up to his shoulders and back down.

“What?” There’s something there behind her expression, but she doesn’t look sad or upset, so he knows the answer can’t be bad.

“I’m just… happy. Still surprises me sometimes.”

With a sweeping look of his own, he gives her a small smile. “Aye, love. Me too.”

She leans up, then, kissing him again, letting it quickly morph from a tender moment to one filled with passion. She has him backed up against the table in no time, one hurried “To hell with the pancakes,” thrown out for good measure as she takes control of the kiss. Their robes are pushed off to the side, dropped to the floor like their clothes were earlier, and they truly put the kitchen table to the ultimate test of how much weight and activity can take place on top of it without collapsing.

Killian makes a mental note to thoroughly clean the kitchen when they’re done, as well.

With one kind of appetite filled once more, they finally get down to the business of making their very late second breakfast. The rest of the day is spent on the couch in their pajamas, fuzzy blankets wrapped around the both of them as they catch up on whatever is on her Netflix queue.

It’s been six months since they met, and five since things took a turn for romance, but Killian’s mind wanders away to what comes next. It’s those thoughts of the future that follow him into his dreams, and he wonders what kind of ring Emma might like best.

-x-

“Killian’s going to ask me to marry him,” Emma says quietly into her phone. The screeching response is loud to her own ears, so she’s glad she’s sitting in the living room and far away from the man in question, soundly sleeping in her bed.

It takes Ruby just a couple seconds to calm down again before she starts her line of questions. “Wait, did you talk to him about it? How do you know this?”

“So, Killian talks in his sleep. Not often, and most of the time it’s total nonsense, but I was just dozing off last night when he grabbed my hand and asked me what kind of ring I want him to get. Completely asleep, dead to the world, and he just told me he wants to marry me.”

He never talked when they were sleeping together at the camp. It wasn’t until about a month of actually dating him that he first babbled some words at her as she was waking up to make breakfast at his apartment. Last night was the clearest he’s ever spoken to her in his sleep, though, as if the message defied being garbled by sleep.

Once, the very thought of getting married would cause her chest to constrict in panic. Now, however, she has that feeling you get when you’re trying not to laugh while speaking. As it is, she can’t fight the blissful smile stretching across her whole face.

“And what kind of ring should I tell him to get when he asks?”

“His subconscious has already ruined part of the mystery. Let it be a surprise. I trust you to know what I like.” “And you’re not freaking out?” “You know, I would’ve a couple months ago. Probably right after we slept together I still would’ve run away. But now,” she pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe how she’s feeling. She wants to run, all right, straight down an aisle with Killian waiting for her at the end of it.

“Now it’s just right?” Ruby finishes for her.

“Exactly. Okay. Merry Christmas and all that, in case I don’t talk to you tomorrow. Send my best to Mulan, and tell Granny thanks for the cookies. We have been steadily working our way through them since we opened the package.”

“We already finished ours, honestly. And same to you and Killian. You guys coming up tomorrow or Christmas Day?”

“Tomorrow, as long as the roads are clear. I think the snow was due to stop last night.”

“Good. Drive carefully. Try not to have sex on everything.”

“Too late,” Emma says. Chortling as Ruby starts squawking again on the other line. “Okay, bye!” She ends the call before she gets hearing damage in her ear, still chuckling to herself as she stands up from the ball she’d curled up into on the couch. With a long stretch and yawn, Emma makes her way back to the bedroom where Killian is still sleeping.

She tilts her head as she looks at him from the doorway, his face eased of any expression, his breathing soft and even. His brace and prosthetic are sitting on a shelf she installed especially for him, and his hand rests on the spot she vacated in her need to bubble over with her secret just a bit ago.

Once, Emma found Killian sleeping on the side of a trail, and the thought of that shared memory from the day before makes her snort. The noise causes Killian to stir, and he blinks his eyes open to search for her.

“Coming back t’ bed, love?”

“Yeah, be right there,” she tells him, turning once to go use the bathroom and get a glass of water before she curls up with Killian again. She knows that with the late hours they kept the night before and all their strenuous activity, they’re likely to stay in bed all morning if they can. It is Christmas Eve-Eve, and they have nowhere to be today.

There’s still a nervous flutter in her belly as she climbs back into the bed, back into the sleepy embrace Killian bestows upon her after she’s situated under the covers. She rests with her head on his shoulder, his arm loosely wrapped around her back, and thinks about how much life has changed since this time last year. For one, her bed was definitely empty. And for another, her bed was in Boston, her heart locked away, her future uncertain.

Now she’s snuggled to a man that helped her move this bed into this very room, with her heart next to his, and she’s happier than she ever imagined she could be. And now, apparently, he wants to marry her. It takes a lot of effort to not let the giddy laughter erupt once more, and she focuses instead on the other developments that have taken place to get her mind off the elephant in the unconsciousness.

When she moved to Portland, Emma wasn’t sure what was going to happen with her relationship with Killian. They’d barely made it past a third date before she and Ruby signed a lease for this place, so there was a lot she and Killian hadn’t been able to discuss yet. She knew she loved him, and that he loved her. And that alone was a shock, still. Of all things Emma was expecting from camp this year, falling in love in such a short period of time was not one of them.

Though they hadn’t been together long, that didn’t make Emma any less sure of her emotions. She kind of figured when she was willing to invite him to her cabin that night after their performance that it had to be something bigger than a one night stand.

And then came the end of camp. Killian and Liam both stuck around after all the guests checked out to help out any way they could. Killian explained later that he felt he owed it to David and Snow for not decking him on the spot, and he wanted to give them back something for all they gave to him. Even after the studio was cleaned and locked up for the season, and her car packed to the brim with all their gear, he still stuck around.

There were several jobs that Killian was perfectly fit for, given his background in building things, and he helped Leroy make some repairs, helped Marco fix up some of the furniture in a cabin where he hadn’t had time to update it yet, and he helped David with anything the man even hinted at needing help with. Sure, they snarked their way through any and every job they did together, but Emma could see at the end of their clean-up week that David was fighting smiles when Killian made a joke.

When she moved, Killian took the initiative to go make solid amends with her brother and sister-in-law. She was busy with rehearsals for an upcoming show at the hotel, but Killian assured her he would be fine, that he would backtrack and spend the night in Portland with her after dinner was completed. It was still nerve-wracking to wait around for news of that dinner, however. Almost worse than waiting for Regina when she and Ruby went to sign their contracts.

Of course, he surprised her in the best way possible when he told her he was moving to Storybrooke.

“I don’t ever want to make you choose between visiting me, and visiting your family. So I’m moving to where they are. David and Snow have even offered to lease out their old loft to me until I find a place of my own.”

The loft was a first home on their own for all of them, at one point or another. After Ruth passed away and David and Snow moved out to her old farmhouse, no one could see fit to let go of the apartment, so they sublet it during the summer months and kept it, just in case. And now, full circle, Killian was living in it. Because they hadn’t really talked about the future or what comes next between them, he’s just been nestled there until further notice.

It does make it really handy when she has a week off and she can hop up to see the Nolans. She stays with Killian and gets to see everyone for days on end, which is just about the most settled she’s felt since Ruth first took her in.

Killian mumbles in his sleep, turning to press his nose against her forehead, barely kissing the skin before he falls back to sleep once more. Emma wonders if they ever truly relaxed at camp, given how much more comfortable they seem to be now that it’s all said and done. Not that it really matters, since it all worked out, but she wonders what she would’ve done had her family truly banished her. She wouldn’t have let them. She shouldn’t have left like she did – especially without giving Killian a way to contact her – but she would’ve made sure it all worked out this way no matter what.

Her boyfriend’s budding friendship with her family is all just a bonus. As is her own slow-building relationship with Liam. Just as Killian experienced pushback with David, Emma had some problems getting along with Liam right off the bat. She’s pretty sure he was just looking out for Killian, but it took a heated conversation to turn it around. He’d been touting how he waited to start courting Tink until after camp was finished and they had time to get to know each other.

In one instance, it was a lovely lunch at Killian’s apartment in Boston right after she moved to Portland. In the next, the brothers were angrily talking over one another about morals and propriety and she thinks there was something about disrespect? She lost track quickly. She just remembers standing up between the two of them and telling them to both shut the hell up so they could talk it out like adults or take it out back like children.

It took some extra rum and whiskey, and another beer for her, but they hashed it all out that night. Liam is, as she guessed, incredibly protective of his younger brother. And changes had taken place really fast in their lives. She was the force that was taking Killian away from Liam, though she didn’t know that at the time.  When Killian moved, she made a promise to Liam that she would keep on Killian to call and FaceTime with his brother, but she’s never had to remind him once in the last couple months.

It helps that Liam comes up to Storybrooke once or twice a month on the weekends to visit Tink, so that the brothers don’t ever feel truly separated. And it also helps that Liam has seen the full turn-around in Killian from the beginning of the summer. Now, when Killian has a glass of rum, he stops at one. Full bottles are not a rarity anymore. In fact, since he moved, she’s pretty sure the same bottle of rum has been in his liquor stash.

After spending most of the morning doing absolutely nothing, Emma finally shoos Killian out of bed so she can get her laundry done and pack for the week they’re staying in Storybrooke. He helps by cleaning almost the entire apartment while she works on her task, helping to load up her laundry basket when it’s all done and bring it down the hall to her bedroom.

They make dinner together, a simple meal of spaghetti since there’s nothing left in the fridge. They make hot cocoa again after they’ve cleaned up from their meal, settling on the couch to watch Christmas movies until bedtime. She’s a little sad that the apartment is mostly bare of decorations. They put up a few small ones, but no tree this year.

First, neither she nor Ruby will be home to enjoy it on Christmas day, so what was the point. And second, it didn’t fit in the storage space located outside their door, so Emma reluctantly kept it in Storybrooke this year. So while the urge to decorate simmers in her right this very minute, it’s not like she even can. She tides herself over with a reminder that there will be a tree at David and Snow’s place, and she’ll appreciate that one to the fullest.

The drive up the coast is about what Emma was expecting it would be. Enough of the snow has melted down that it’s not treacherous, but it’s not a quick and easy drive, either. Because of this, they end up arriving at the town line about an hour and a half beyond what they were hoping for.

“We’ll just come straight out to the farmhouse,” Emma says to Snow on the phone.

“No, honey, go to the loft and settle in a bit. We can wait. Dinner’s not for hours, still. We understand.”

Even though she protests one more time that she wants to see them, and sooner rather than later, Snow still insists they go do what they need to at the loft first. Maybe if she wasn’t so tired from the constant vigilance on the trip up, she would’ve caught the note in Snow’s voice letting her know something was up.

But because she is that exhausted from the drive, she’s still completely blown away when Killian shoulders open the door to the apartment and they’re greeted with a puff of warm air and the scent of cinnamon instead of the chilled exterior they were expecting to come back to.

The whole place is decorated like Snow and David used to, with lights hanging from the exposed beams and railing of the loft above. The lamps suspended above the breakfast bar have tinsel wrapped around them, and the lights switched to red and green – something that used to absolutely delight Emma when she used to come over around the holidays. The one winter she was living here, they did the same thing, and that’s probably exactly why they did all this now.

“Surprise!” Snow says as she rounds the tree – Emma’s tree – set up in the corner by the bathroom, placing an ornament and sprucing as she goes. Her sister-in-law beams as she looks at Emma’s wonderment, and she finally remembers to close her mouth and push Killian through the door when David snorts from upstairs.

“We thought we’d give you a true Storybrooke welcome,” her brother says as he comes down the stairs, grabbing Emma’s suitcase and moving it to the side so he can shut the door behind the two of them. He helps Emma with her coat, taking Killian’s as well and hanging them on the hooks by the door. Only then does Emma remember how to function, to slip off her snow boots and take off her hat and gloves, stashing them in the appropriate places, only vaguely aware of Killian doing the same beside her.

After that, her only goal is to hug David and Snow. She starts with her brother, as he’s closest, and then to Snow who is painstakingly placing tinsel on the tree, making sure each and every strand looks perfect. “We were going to wait,” Snow explains, opening her arms and accepting the tight hug Emma gives her. “But we also wanted to surprise you once the drive kept getting longer and longer. We had plenty of time.”

There are even two stockings hung from screws in the brick wall, hung with twine so they rest just at the height they’d be at if there was a fireplace and mantel here. Hers is old and worn – the one that Ruth made for her when she first came to live with the Nolans – but Emma can see that the purple thread that spells her name has been refreshed with some glittery yarn accents. And now, one adorned with Killian’s name hangs next to it. She sees that he’s finally moved, as well, his fingers gliding along the delicately embroidered red.

“Look inside,” Snow urges, going to stand with David as the other two stand in awe of their stockings.

Killian casts one glance Emma’s way, lifting his eyebrow in question and she shrugs in response. In unison, they reach into the stockings and pull out small items wrapped in tissue paper. The item from hers feels like fragility, and she’s not mistaken when she unwraps the milky glass of a hand-blown ornament shaped like a swan. It’s likely by someone in town, and Emma makes a mental note to ask who so she can thank them in person, but her gaze is caught by Killian’s ornament.

It’s clearly one made by Marco, the handcrafted carving too detailed and precise to be done by anyone else, and she thinks it’s just a tall ship until Killian laughs once, finding the little pirate flag attached. Clearly, Marco had wheedled Killian’s love of ships and pirates out of her boyfriend at some point during their work together. She imagines he must’ve spent weeks working on this one ornament and adds a second trip to their thank-you-tour for the days following Christmas.

“Thank you,” Emma says as she turns to David and Snow. “For all of this.” She gestures to the apartment in whole, from tree to lights to stockings.

“We just thought it would be nice for your first Christmas back to feel as close to home as possible.”

She just barely stops herself from crying, but it’s a close thing. And now, with the ornaments, it’s not just Emma’s first Christmas, but both of theirs.

That night, Emma watches the lights stretch and twinkle as her eyes grow heavy. She and Killian are wrapped around each other, the blankets tightly tucked around them to keep out the December chill. She stares at everything they kept lit, watching some strands cycle through their programmed flashing and dancing.

Knowing that Killian is likely to ask her a very important question soon, Emma lets herself daydream about what a future with him will look like beyond the new year, or even the next one to come. If she squints just the right way, the loft transforms into somewhere bigger, and theirs. With rooms to fill with decorations and no landlords. She sees little shoes lined up by the ones they would keep at the door, and a little girl balanced on Killian’s feet as they dance together in the living room.

The image is so startlingly clear that Emma almost declares that they start trying right now, but she settles for slowly coaxing Killian back to full wakefulness, initiating lovemaking so sweet that her heart almost bursts with happiness somewhere in the middle, let alone the end that leaves her sweaty and panting and satisfied but craving, as always. He gives her everything she asks for and more, only letting himself chase release when he feels she’s been thoroughly pleased, and he kisses her tenderly after they’ve both cleaned up and crawled back into bed, whispering his love and merry wishes as they both drift off together.

A few days after the most perfect Christmas Emma could’ve ever imagined, she gets roped into making breakfast with Snow while David and Killian go out in search of more hot chocolate packets. When they come back, it might be her imagination but David’s eyes look a little misty. If Snow notices at all, she doesn’t say anything, and David must not share with her over the next couple months, because her sister-in-law is notoriously terrible at keeping secrets.

In the end, Killian hands her a ring of a different kind first, to a grand Victorian that she used to admire every time she drove by it, close to the water and large enough for her own practice space and a workshop for Killian. The other ring comes later, when they’re lying in bed together a year to the date after their first performance. Their future unfolds in the facets and sparkle, in the way Emma says yes after she slides to kneel on the floor in front of him.

Their first dance as husband and wife is definitely not a Mambo.

[newstfionline]

Man of Letters

Stephen Meyers, City Lab, July 24, 2018

My fourth day delivering mail for the U.S. Postal Service, it snowed-one of those heavy, wet, spring-in-Colorado snows that knocks down tree branches and crushes newly-bloomed tulips. I was training with a veteran letter carrier on a walk-out route, the type where the carrier pushes a blue buggy full of mail and small packages. It’s a lot harder, I discovered, to push that thing through slush.

I schlepped my disheveled, wet self into downtown businesses where concerned secretaries took pity on me as I handed them their soaked mail.

Welcome to the Postal Service.

“Neither snow nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night ...” that’s how the saying goes right?

The rude welcome to the Postal Service quickly taught me mail delivery is no leisurely stroll through the neighborhood, dismantling the idyllic image of a smiling Mr. McFeeley handing out birthday cards in “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” My first week on the job, I lost 5 pounds.

Being a mail carrier is hard.

I’d eventually get used to the physical rigors of the job and learn the rhythms, tricks and routines of delivering mail, but what surprised me the most over the next 15 months working on the front lines of this vast, imperfect, but essential big-government institution is how the Postal Service delivers much more than just letters, magazines and Amazon packages to a neighborhood.

I met elderly residents who lived alone and just wanted someone to talk to for a couple minutes a day. I saw how critical the Postal Service is for local businesses, like the one that ships dozens of Priority Mail boxes of custom-made zippers for wedding gowns across the country every day. I met strangers willing to donate grocery bags full of food during the long-running Letter Carriers’ Stamp Out Hunger Food Drive, which tallied 71.6 million pounds of found collected nationwide. I learned the value of a powerful union and experienced the most diverse workplace I’ve ever encountered. And most importantly, what I found while roving from house to house on foot was an intimate insight into my community and fellow Americans.

Like many who come to work for the Postal Service, I didn’t find my way into the USPS because I had a burning desire to deliver mail; I just needed a job. A laid-off journalist, I’d spent six months striking out on landing a writing gig and grew tired of the soul-sucking grind that is job searching. An old college friend was working happily delivering mail, and making more than I ever did in newspapering: The benefits are good, you don’t take the job home with you, and there’s lots of overtime if you want it.

And the USPS is nearly always hiring, especially in metro areas in advance of the holiday shopping season. Colorado’s Front Range, which includes Denver, Boulder, and Fort Collins, is currently short more than 500 positions. The hiring process is long--I applied in mid-February and didn’t start until May--and includes two exams, a personality assessment, and the 473 Postal Exam, which tests your ability to check addresses for errors, accurately fill out forms, and memorize and recall lists of street addresses. I had to also pass a drug test (that’s the biggest hurdle to hiring in weed-legal Colorado, the Fort Collins Postmaster told me) and an exhaustive background check. Then it was off to city carrier academy, where veteran carriers taught my fellow classmates and me the tricks of organizing and carrying mail and how to drive the postal vehicles. We each got a navy blue USPS hat and T-shirt and were sent to our respective post offices to begin our postal careers; I was now a USPS employee, working as a city carrier assistant.

In the evenings I’d continue my search for a Plan B career after journalism, but for the other 8-to-10 hours a day (and up to 12 during holiday season) I’d deliver mail and packages to residents of Fort Collins, Colorado.

A lot of packages.

Receive an Instant Pot for Christmas? Yeah, so did your neighbor. My record was 18 delivered in one day--we saw that craze coming on well before Black Friday.

The old-timers at my office remember the days they’d deliver, five, maybe, 10 packages a day. Now it’s more like 50 or 60 a day, from 40-pound bags of dog food to furniture and food-in-a-box meal kits. The Postal Service wasn’t really built for the Amazon era: Our (badly outdated) vehicles don’t have enough space to house them, and few have shelves, leaving carriers to play an Amazon box-sized game of Jenga every day.

(Sidenote on those trucks, called LLVs, or Long Life Vehicles: Most are about 30 years old, with that many years of cigarette smoke soaked into the seats; they lack airbags or air conditioning, and the heaters are less than effective. The USPS is facing a major budget challenge because it needs to replace up to 180,000 of these elderly machines over the next several years, which is going to cost more than $6 billion.)

Every Sunday we’d fill our LLVs with 100 to 175 Amazon packages, thanks to USPS’ exclusive contract with the e-commerce giant--that’s the one that the president keeps objecting to, though it’s been a revenue source for the cash-strapped service. And, no fail, every Sunday, customers would ask why I was working and I’d jokingly (is it a joke, though?) tell them “Because Amazon is taking over the world.”

Other comments I’d hear almost every day:

“You bringing me a check today?”

“You can keep the bills.”

“This one better be a winner!” (I had no idea Publisher’s Clearing House was still a thing, but it is, especially in low-income and senior-living communities.)

“You staying cool out there?” (The answer is always “No, but I’m trying!”).

No one is ever upset to see their mail carrier, you know? This was so foreign to me, as a journalist who was used to being less warmly received. And while predictable and routine and mostly about the weather, I loved these little conversations with residents along my route.

When kids saw me driving around the corner, they’d drop their ballgame and race me down the sidewalk. Others were excited to see me because I was about to be a lucky customer at their lemonade stand. At the retirement home, residents greeted me every day at the wall of mailboxes; if I’d show up five minutes early or five minutes late, they’d jokingly let me have it. “You know, Sue is usually here by 3:30!”

Residents learned my name, and more importantly I learned the intricacies of their neighborhoods. A fellow carrier, a Fort Collins native and Mexican American, proudly showed me his home that’s part of the historically Hispanic neighborhood that I had never taken the time to properly explore and experience on foot. I learned from longtime residents how they felt about the gentrification happening in pockets of Fort Collins. This booming college town has outgrown its farming and ranching roots and is transforming into a progressive tech hub, known for its breweries and affinity for bike lanes, coffee shops, and high-priced boutiques.

Delivering the mail gives you a granular insight into America’s growing cultural, political, and wealth divide. North of town, there’s a senior-living mobile home community sitting in the shadow of newly-built eco-friendly condos that sell for half a million dollars. Residents at the condos subscribe to The Atlantic and New Yorker; residents in the trailer park a few hundred feet away get People and National Enquirer.

After several months, the rhythms of carrying mail became second nature; I’d successfully carried nearly every one of the office’s 50 routes around the city. I also became familiar with the downsides of the job. As one might expect at a financially beleaguered organization that’s been losing money for more than a decade, office morale was often low: Nearly every week, there’d be a shouting match between carriers complaining about mail arriving late to the office, thus delaying and extending their day, and management only shrugging their shoulders and saying that’s an issue out of their control. Clerks, whose duties include working the front desk helping customers and sorting mail and packages (sometimes overnight), were brutally overworked, often clocking 60- to 70-hour weeks. Many of my coworkers felt trapped: Sure, the job sucked sometimes, but where else can you find a secure job that pays as well?

It was my relationships with fellow carriers and clerks--a diverse group, from first-generation Americans to military veterans--that made the job bearable most days. But once I landed a long-sought communications gig, I made the decision to move on from the USPS.

After I shared my Postal Service experience in a thread on Twitter that went semi-viral, I received dozens of comments from readers who shared their nostalgia and affection for this beloved and embattled American institution. One told me about a mail carrier who heard a smoke alarm going off in an empty house and alerted a neighbor. Others were children of postal workers, grateful for the livelihoods that the jobs provided. “Both my parents retired from the post office,” one reader told me. “My mom started when she was just 19 years old. It’s not what it used to be…. They work the new folks into the ground, so I hear. I try to tip my carrier well for dealing with the BS.”

The response made me even more proud of my time wearing the blue uniform; I’m more deeply connected to my community and have a better understanding of my fellow Americans. From now on, I’ll tip my mail carrier well. You should, too.

[crystalline-magic]

Spirit Shops I’ve Worked With

Magickal Menagerie

Shop | @magickalmenagerie

General: Magickal Menagerie is known to have a rather poor history with cultural appropriation, but when they really cross a line they will remove listings. They still use terms like chakra and third eye, however, ans seem to have no intention of changing this. They are also known to have spotty customer service, and it is not uncommon for people to experience a huge wait time for either their service or just getting in contact with them.

My experience: Ti was my first official companion, when I discovered the spirit work community, and he is still the spirit I have the closest bond with. My order was personally shipped out quickly, and I had no problem getting in contact with them when I accidentally put a typo in my address. 

Overall: I had a wonderful experience with MM, but due to differences in our personal morals I doubt I’m going to be going through them again.

Chaos in Pandora’s Box

Shop | Blog

General: I spent a lot of time really looking up to this shop, personally. I can’t deny that Lu and Pandora are skilled spirit workers and conjurers, and I’m not afraid to admit a good portion of my shop is based off of theirs, because of how much I looked up to them when I was setting up. Unfortunately, Lu has posted on their blog about how they think cultural appropriation is “silly”. They’re also buddies with someone with multiple accusations of sexual abuse against them, solely because “he says he didn’t do it” as if anyone would admit to that. On a personal level, I mentioned being upset with these facts in a private group chat consisting of close friends, and was promptly accused of gossip and kicked from Lu’s Discord server and social media site.

My experience: I have three companions who came to me from CIPB, and all three are fantastic. Their service is prompt, they communicate well with clients, and the spirits they work with are positively amazing. I have absolutely no complaints about the quality of their service. Even when I didn’t connect with a spirit I was matched with through them right away, we formed a close relationship later on down the road, and she and I get along fantastically.

Overall: Despite my sheer level of respect for Lu and Pandora’s skills, I just can’t recommend them, due to how vastly different our morals are. If you’re okay with the kinds of people they are, you’ll receive great service, but I can’t personally condone monetarily supporting someone with those morals.

Aphelion Spirits

@aphelionspirits

General: Overall these guys have a good reputation, and are well respected in the community. However, I have personal issues with Conjurer Venus, because she gave out information given to her by a customer who was a minor for an order out to someone who shared it publicly without the minor’s permission. 

My experience: Conjurer Venus took her time with my order, which is far from a bad thing. I was lucky enough to win her giveaway when she was running her own shop, and was paired with two unicorns who have been a lovely addition to my family.

Overall: My experience was good, but I wouldn’t feel safe recommending them, because they’ve proven that they have no issue sharing the personal information given to them in confidence by paying clients. 

EDIT: Apparently there’s discourse over whether or not this was okay because the person in question “deserved it.” Regardless of circumstances, Venus still gave out information given to them in confidence by a minor to someone who they knew intended to share it. I personally don’t think that’s an okay thing to do, nor do I feel safe with anyone willing to support that. Make your own decisions, but you have my opinion.

Fireflies in the Astral Shop

@firefliesintheastralshop

General: This shop is brand new, and run by two people with boatloads of respect both from the community and myself. Mod Firefly is formerly of Spirit Adoption Center and Mod Ladybug is formerly of Umbra Et Lux Spirits. I am personal friends with both, and I can personally assure you that they are fantastic people inside and out. Their shop may be new, but they definitely are not. 

My experience: While I didn’t go through a traditional adoption, one of my companions did in fact come from Mod Firefly, and she is absolutely a wonderful dear. She was a rescue, rather than a spirit who was conjured specifically for adoption by Mod Firefly, but her skill in placing her in the perfect home is second to none. 

Overall: Please support this shop guys, I cannot sing their praises enough, wow. Both mods are phenomenal people who deserve your respect and support, and I simply cannot recommend them enough.

Spectral Summonings

@spectral-summonings

General: While I personally remain on good terms with all of the mods here at SS, there are many in the community who have had personal issues with one or multiple of them. I personally maintain that while nobody’s perfect, and everyone is going to have their issues, they are not horrible people, and are skilled spirit workers.

My experience: My adoption cam through Mod Eclipse, and was particularly incredible. Pha has been a wonderful, active addition to my spirit family, and Mod Eclipse was wonderful about communicating with me the entire time. The match between Pha and I is fantastic, and Mod Eclipse did a wonderful job in pairing the two of us up.

Overall: Some minor drama, but none of the mods are horrible people, sometimes folks just aren’t meant to get along, and that’s okay. All of the mods are skilled at what they do, and deserve your support and respect, and they certainly have it from me. Highly recommend.

Spirit Adoption Center

@spiritadoptioncenter

General: A great shop run by great people. The people behind this shop are fantastic, and are both great people and great spirit workers. The people who started the shop have mostly moved on to other things, but the folks they’ve left in charge are just as competent and capable as they were, and the shop is in good hands.

My experience: I adopted Olli from Intern Dandelion, and we’ve been quite the pair ever since. Olli is a great companion and friend, and Dandy is much the same. Dandy may still be learning, but she has quite impressive skills already, and I cannot recommend her enough.

Overall: a great sop run by great people, who I would recommend to anyone in a heartbeat.

Imeávë Spirits

@fruitspiritshop

General: A shop formed when Em, a good friend of mine broke off from a shop whose morals she didn’t agree with. Both Mod Snack and Intern Orange are great people, and have done great work. 

My experience: I had two spirits come from this shop, but I’m only going to talk about the one who was a regular adoption. M had been up and listed for quite some time, and while I knew I was experiencing a calling, the spirit wanted a smaller family than I had, and my spirit family has never had any intention of remaining small. So I talked to Mod Snack and was told to apply anyway, the spirit was willing to be flexible about it in this particular circumstance. So I did and lo and behold we turned out to be a perfect match. Mod Snack did a wonderful job at communicating what M’s needs and wants were with me, and personally escorted her to my astral space. The adoption was personal and involved every step of the way.

Overall: A highly personal and very hardworking shop, I cannot recommend these two enough. Snack and Orange do wonderful work, and are wonderful people. Like several others here, I cannot recommend them enough. 

Shops I haven’t worked with, but can vouch for the people behind:

Lorelei of the Rhein | @lorelei-of-the-rhein

Fantastic people! I absolutely recommend these guys, I’ve known them for quite a while now and I will absolutely say that they are stunning people with wonderful skills that will treat anyone right and do excellent work. 

Lost Spirits Adoption Center | @lostspiritsadoptioncenter

These folks do great work, and are phenomenal people. Highly recommend, they spend all of their time helping spirits and people. 

The Dragon’s Cove | @thedragonscove

Misty is fantastic, and so is her intern. I know them both personally and I can vouch for both of their integrity and skills. Highly recommend working with them if you get the chance.

Supernova Spirits | @supernovaspirits

I know these folks a bit less, but I can still say that they’re wonderful, and absolutely deserve your support. 10/10, would recommend to anyone

The Spirits Coven | @thespiritscoven

Again, I know these folks a bit less than others, but the mods are great people, and when I did, briefly have an issue with one of them, they were completely receptive to what I had to say and the issue was resolved right away. Incredible people who I would absolutely trust. 

[howlnikiforov]

Crystal Snow

Chapter One: Introduction

Masterlist, Crystal Snow Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 1320

Summary: In a world full of soulmates that can feel the others emotions, one would expect to know when their soulmate is hiding a secret.

“Move! Move! Move! We haven’t got all day people!” You shouted. You had approximately forty-five minutes to pack all your delicacies into the van and get them to the home of Kim Namjoon. Only the problem was that you were behind schedule, and his mansion was an hour’s drive away; that was assuming there would be no traffic. As quickly as you could, you helped your assistants bring the cupcakes to the company vans waiting to leave.

As the owner of the world renowned bakery, Winter Serendipity, you were constantly busy. If it were not for the large sum of money they Kim Namjoon was offering you, you would currently not be in a state of utter madness. Originally, you had rejected his request of your services because not only did you have a shop to run, but you also had months of pre-orders for upcoming events. It was only when he offered you ten thousand dollars that you accepted his request for 5,000 cupcakes. You weren’t told much except that over a thousand people would be attending the event and that you were to stay to introduce your food.

People seemed to love your food because, despite your ability to mass produce, your work always reflected the home feeling of warmth and love. You loved what you did even if it got stressful. The name of your bakery was inspired by your soulmate. Whoever it was was always with you. They could feel your emotions and you could feel theirs; all because of a simple mark on your inner forearm. Your mark, along with your mate’s, was in the shape of a small snowflake. It was a light blue, almost white color. The intricate patterns reflected the complex love and relationship you would have. Everyone was born with a soul mark. Each one was unique in its own way. Only you and your soulmate shared the mark. Through the mark, soulmates could feel the other’s emotions. This came in handy quite often for you and your soulmate. When you were stressed they often help your nerves by sending you waves of comfort. When they were angry you’d help to calm them down. You couldn’t wait to meet the person who had been with you your entire life. You didn’t know when it would happen, but something in your gut was telling you that it’d be soon.

As the last of the cupcakes were loaded into the vans, you got inside one and turned the engine on. You had to be there as soon as possible to set up. As soon as you pulled away from the bakery, your foot was on the gas. You had thirty seven minutes to get to the mansion. You wanted to curse yourself for running late.

Much to your displeasure, you were twenty nine minutes late and the staff was yelling at your staff, blaming them for the delay. You were about to yell at Mr. Kim’s personnel when a sudden wave of calmness washed over you. You knew it was your soulmate telling you to calm down, that everything would be alright. Taking a deep breath, you kindly spoke to the head organizer, explaining the situation “I’m sorry but it is my fault we are late” you said, speaking up for your workers “I’m afraid I had mixed up schedules and didn’t realize the event started at 5:00pm and not 6:00, please forgive me.” The woman just stared you down before turning around and giving orders left and right. You began helping the staff set up for the outdoor event.

Everything seemed perfect. Every blade of grass was cut to equal size and the hedges trimmed so that no leaf stood out. The fragrance of flowers wafted through the ornate acre of land. In the distance you could see where the scent was coming from. You were tempted to explore your surroundings but you knew it was best to stay and help set up. You felt the hint of amusement from your soulmate. They seemed to only make the temptation worse so you tried busying yourself with your cupcakes.

-

Kim Namjoon was a very busy man. In the eyes of the public, he was simply the CEO of Bangtan Industries. However, those within the company knew he was much more than that; he was the leader of the largest mafia organization in the country. Most thought him heartless but the six men and his soulmate knew that he actually cared about everyone’s well being.

At a young age, Namjoon had learned how to mask his emotions so that his soulmate wouldn’t know the pain he was in. At least, when it came down to his business. He was a calm and collected man, rarely getting angry. Instead, he was busy fussing about hiding his soul mark and keeping his mate happy. As the leader, of any rivals knew what his mark looked like, they would go out and find his mate, torture whoever it was just to get to him. He was glad that he had yet to meet his soulmate. The longer fate waited the less he’d have to worry about your safety. Long before he took over the business he had decided that his mate would never find out what he really did. Though at the same time, he was quite upset that he hasn’t crossed paths with his mate yet. He wanted to be there for them physically not just emotionally. He wanted to know what they looked like, what their personality was like, what their hobbies were. He wanted to know everything.

For now, he merely had a girlfriend for the public eye. He didn’t have to worry about rivals taking her because he knew that they knew he’d never risk a life for her. Most of the time she was too busy sleeping around with other men to be seen by the public. She was supposed to be at the event he was hosting tonight, but it appeared that she had other plans. He had seen her sneaking off with of the workers who was supposed to help set up.

That annoyed him but the feelings he was getting from his soulmate seemed to reduce that annoyance. He knew that his mate was frustrated and curious which he found was quite the amusing combination. He wished he could know what they were curious about. Sighing, he dressed in an expensive black silk suit. He paired the suit with a dark blue dress shirt and a black tie. His brown hair was styled to the side, a slight curl to his bangs. His watch, a silver Rolex, fit snugly on his wrist as he adjusted his jacket sleeves. Deeming himself ready, he glanced at the time. It was 4:30pm, time for him to head down and check on everything. Guests were sure to be arriving soon.

-

Sweat rolled down your forehead as you completed the last of the preparations. You wiped your sweat with the sleeve of your white jacket. You had rolled your sleeves up and discarded your apron in attempt to stay cool. Having your sleeves rolled up meant having your mark exposed but you didn’t mind. Nothing about your mark was something to be ashamed about and it was a good conversation starter.

Your cupcake display was all set up, beautifully showcasing each of the cupcakes unique decor. You were quite proud of your work.

One of Mr. Kim’s staff came up to you and wordlessly handed you a glass of lemonade. Before you could thank them, they turned and walked away. Sipping on the lemonade you noticed cars beginning to pull up as guests arrived. You quickly finished your drink and discarded the paper cup in a nearby trash can. Brushing your hands off you stood by your display, preparing for the onslaught of people coming to socialize and talk business.

[thewordonmainstreet]

I’ve Had It With Being Hurt At Work

I have 5 more days at my job at the kitchen design company.  I know I’ll have one ugly cry as I have had one too many cry sessions at home.  I worry what will happen next and am so sad about what I’m having to leave.  This saying goodbye to a job is happening again and it’s like history repeating itself all over again.  I got this job at the end of August and I really got in by the skin of my teeth.  I don’t have current references and when asked for them, I gave one from 2015 and hoped to heck it would work.  I was asked for two and I only gave one but that worked.  I was told after that I gave a really good impression and shortly after, I was offered the job.  I was beyond thrilled that I would have the privilege of working again and not being so hard up for cash.  My long spell of sitting at home all day and all night had ended. With no social life or money to get out of my house, I finally had something to go to.  There would be a reason for me.  I fell in love with said job after three shifts.  My co-workers were altogether amazing and welcoming and I had found a home, I mean it really was a home that I worked in (a home that was converted to an office).  I worked in a posh front office area and was surrounded by beautifully crafted kitchens.  All of our customers were so nice and I loved being smiled at and thanked as they left.  The job was so quiet and not task-heavy and it was like a dream.  I was being paid to almost do nothing though I honestly prefer to be busy.  I was happy every second I was there and thankful for the money that I needed months ago that I would finally be getting soon.  I could buy all the makeup I wanted again, I mean priorities right? I got along swimmingly with the designers and office staff.  I couldn’t believe how well things were going.  I took pride in my role and was told that most of the staff before me were students who didn’t give a shit.  I was out to change that.  I took all kinds of initiative and send regular e-mails out to the staff asking for work. I would take even the most modest of tasks, anything that would keep me busy, and was so happy when I was offered small projects that increased with regularity.  I loved being trusted and being responsible for locking up the office, I could put “keyholder” on my resumé.  I went confidently shopping week after week at thrift stores and assembled an extensive office wardrobe, now where am I going to wear those clothes to?

I had a health crisis two months in rendering me barely able to concentrate and I was quite disoriented.  I had experienced that confusion many times before in my life and it was the last thing I needed right now.  I had to divulge to a few staff that I was doing projects for that I was not feeling well and had mental health issues.  My health one was again going to take me down.  I thought this job was surely going to end given what I shared.  It did not.  I was told I was doing fine but I really wasn’t feeling fine and I was messing things up.  But finally, a staff member lost confidence in me and got quite frustrated but he stood by me, ever begrudgingly.  I was so embarrassed.  Like so many jobs before in my life, what started off good soon went bad.  People were starting to be cold towards me and not talk to me.  The famous silent treatment began to happen to me. Relations that were once easy like Sunday morning turned rough and sharp.  The back office staff were the worst, they were outwardly rude to me.  They couldn’t even look at me.  I know it was because I was so nice and happy and people give a hard pass to anyone whose happy in life, after all, everyone else wears a perma sad-face.  All of a sudden everyone started to hate my guts.  I got rough treatment from the girls in the warranty/service office for not transferring calls the right way.  The rejection that I’ve known in past jobs started to happen here.  I’ve always been given a hard pass in jobs in terms of fitting in and I have a deep need to be valued in a job.  Why must this follow me? It was clear that word of my health issues had gone all around.  It got really bad.  I approached HR once and told her that things have to change. I was crushed that something that started so good was going so bad.  Things didn’t change.  I called HR again and we had an awful argument over the phone.  I alleged bullying and a human rights violation, she got her back up and took me down.  I was told that no one has to be my friend or like me.  Yes, I argued, but they have to talk to me and not ignore me.  They have to not be rude and abrasive to me.  That conversation was so upsetting, putting me in tears and shocking me that things had gone so sideways.  HR called me the next morning to see if I was okay.  It really, really went off the rails just as things with my Mom were going off the rails. I was dealing with far too much and I wasn’t coping well.  Things got messier.  I was coming home and crying too often.  I decided it was time to leave.  I loved my job but this will be the 8th time where I have been bullied in a job.  It may not sound bad but it was.  It was deliberate and exact and I couldn’t handle it.  I loved my job but not what the staff had done to me. I also felt like my old car made me look really bad and people knew that I was poor and judged me.  I was experiencing profiling again, I swear it was crueler than high school.  I gave my resignation with a really heavy heart.  It was so hard.  The tears came regularly, sometimes when I was locking the door at the office.  I was going to be unemployed and feel the pain of buying groceries but I won’t compromise when I’m being treated badly. I simply can’t do it anymore.  I can’t go through the pain of knowing people hate me and can barely look at me.  They can’t talk to me yet they can definitely talk about me, I’m the star of all the gossip.  It’s unfair that I cried for help and my cry wasn’t heart and treated the way it should be.  Now I have nowhere to turn but to tell my story to passerbys on the street who won’t care to hear it either.  I have five more days of sitting at the reception desk by the fire where it’s so quiet and I often don’t get a call after a certain time.  They hired my replacement quickly but wouldn’t let me train her.  I held tears back as I saw her sign the offer and meet some of the management.  I knew I was doing the right thing yet I was terrified.  This was another job that lasted less than 6 months.  My self-esteem was so shattered though and my Mom’s behaviour so upsetting that I was in too deep of pain to know what I was really doing.  I may have made a mistake and I’m starting to think I did.  Every day in fact I wish I could approach HR and ask for my job back but it’s likely too late and I’ll look like even more of an idiot than I see now, I’ve caused so much trouble but really all I wanted was to be respected.  Like every time before, I was never one of the girls and I never fit in and I know I’m really likeable.  I don’t know what it takes because clearly I don’t have it in me but it’s more like they don’t have it in them to respect a person who is different.  Time and time again, I’ve been told through actions that I don’t belong and here I am, not belonging again.  History repeats itself and the pain that won’t go away resurfaces yet again.  I’ve been running from job to job and it’s clearly not working.  The world’s heart isn’t big enough for me.  Their heart is not open, so I must go.

Most of the time though, I know I’ll find a way to make money, I always do.  I can’t keep getting hurt at work, I have to find a way to make money that doesn’t involve people, that’s a tall order, but I’m determined to find it.  My self-esteem is on life support.  I think that all there is for me to do in life is beg for money on the street.  I have nothing left.  I’ve been destroyed yet again.  I’ve never had a positive job experience in all of my life, I mean that’s really bad.  People go for me and I don’t know why.  They must do it because I’m so nice and refuse to be loud and sarcastic like the rest of them.  I will miss this job so much.  I know I’ll fall into a bad depression and grieve this loss deeply.  But I just can’t keep being strong on the job while I go home and cry.  I can’t let my heart be hurt any more.  I have a strong assurance that things are going to work out, I’ll beg for work on Kijiji and somehow find it.  I will get by no matter whatever it takes.  It’s so sad that they go for a nice girl like me and then I become a serial job hopper and quitter. It’s either my health or rejection but this time it was both.  I try so hard to get by but it’s more work than it needs to be especially when the jobs I get only pay minimum wage.  There’s no help and hope for me but to beg on the streets for that help, knowing I won’t find it.  Yet I am unbreakable. I’ve gotten by every year though it’s so much work to make any money and there’s always the fear that I won’t get paid.  I’ll go boldly ahead and believe things will work out.  It’s always been a rough road and the hard work of survival never gets easier.  Every year I start out with nothing and end with nothing and people aren’t getting any better. 

[a-woman-apart]

I Care What You Think

Yesterday I had a really helpful session with my therapist. We discussed the growing anxiety I was starting to feel with my part-time job. I explained that my new duties were challenging, and I disliked them, but I did not feel that that was the greatest source of my anxiety. I explained that it was the things that should have been routine to me—checking books in and out, dealing with patrons directly, and making dozens of transactions—that were causing me the greatest fear response. Yes, we are understaffed, I am helping with training, and we are busier due to summer programs. I have, however, been working at this job for over 4 years, and there have been times when lines have been longer, and things have been much more difficult. In addition to crowds of patrons we also had multiple stacks and carts of books to scrape stickers off of and clean. Of course, it was stressful, but it was also so exciting and fun when compared to the slower seasons.

My therapist asked me what I felt when the line was beginning to form, and I was the only one who could help. I told her that I felt afraid that someone would get impatient, or just that they “wouldn’t have a good customer service experience.” I explained that I try to always be considerate to customers (although I try to say, “Thank you for your patience” more often than “I’m so sorry for the wait” because the internet has taught me right) and I try to multitask better. I am better now with taking time to acknowledge patrons who are waiting as I am servicing the current patron. Even though I am doing all these things—and I have been working this job for over 4 years— my hands now sometimes shake whenever I get a “breather” in between patrons (rare af) as all the emotions that have been pushed down to deal with the “rush” come flooding in.

My therapist advised me to stop internalizing the needs of other people. If I am doing my best, I have no control over how impatient—or not—someone is. I need to be concerned with doing my job efficiently, but not take it personally if someone is upset. She told me, “You cannot be all things to all people.” We also talked about how guilty I feel when I have to call in to work because I am sick, and she said, “You are already in some kind of emotional state if you think you should go to work sick.”

As luck would have it, I had to call in today; I was in so much pain from the gastrointestinal stuff (and other issues) that I couldn’t even get up to get something to eat for hours. I knew that even if I forced myself to get up, I wouldn’t be able to eat, and not being able to eat would mean not being able to take my medicine—lest It cause me even more stomach discomfort—and that would mean going to work on an empty stomach and no medicine, which would be a recipe for disaster. Yet, I had already expressed a hesitancy to call in, even though I was talking about doing so as early as the end of my shift last night. I was telling a co-worker that I had not felt fully well for days, but I really did not want to let my team down as this was the last official SRC program of the season, aside from the finale on Saturday. Also, I had already volunteered to work afternoon shifts while we were filling in the remaining positions at the circulation desk, and I did not want to miss any.

I am trying to put the advice of my therapist in to practice. It’s a little after 8pm, the magical hour of the day when my mind usually decides to flagellate me over my life choices; this usually occurs especially or always when I have “done nothing” for the entire day. Several times, earlier today, my mind drifted to what might be happening at work; to whether the circulation desk got swarmed with patrons and it was just my manager and a trainee. Ultimately, though, my concern should be for myself and my recovery. I am not being lazy. I did not choose to become ill. My manager did not complain or bargain with me to come in; she just said, as she always does, “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” If there are any consequences or words to be spoken, I can deal with them tomorrow when I go in. It isn’t even the threat of consequences that concerns me, as much as the sense that I’ve “let someone down.” It is that feeling of misplaced responsibility that my therapist is trying to get me to address.

This is a paraphrase, but at the end of our session she told me, “I think that once you get a good sense of who you are—outside of what others think about you—that that would be a very great thing for you.” We have been working together for more than 2 years, but I think she may have successfully identified one of the biggest things that is holding me back.

Now it is time for a detour. I have been toying seriously with the idea of coming out to my therapist—even though I had decided not to a long time ago—and I did not then, but she had no idea how much her words encouraged me. Even if I don’t tell her soon, her words emboldened me to start working towards living as my authentic self in a more visible way. This is not about just “coming out” as bisexual, but also just living a less apologetic and more sincere life in general. It is about embracing my choices and owning them. It is about being more assertive when I want to say “no” and more enthusiastic about saying “yes” when it is something that I really want.

INFJs are notoriously thin-skinned, but I do not have to live my life in the confines of my MBTI indicator, astrological sign, or any other label of personality. I know that MBTI and astrology are not scientifically proven, but I think they appeal to the pattern-seeking part of our brain, and they are not inherently harmful. I do think that some aspects of our personality are fixed, but like Dr. Grande says, we can change our behavior. Words do hurt me, but I do not have to let them negatively affect my life or my actions. I can choose to live for myself instead of forever being in bondage to how people will react to me.

It is impossible for you, an individual, to make everyone in your life happy. That isn’t your burden to bear. People in our lives are here for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Keith Battista, of the podcast Adventures in Roommating, quoted something to the effect of, “People can still love you and not love everything you do” or “People can be disappointed in you and still love you” and I think that is such an important thing to remember. Of course, some people really will leave. It is really easy to say, “Just accept it” but that shit really hurts. Rejection hurts. At least now you know where you really stand with those people. Proverbs 27:5 says, “Open rebuke is better than secret love”, and I don’t know if I’m taking that out of context, but we are going to go with it.

Let us return to the main path in our conversation. I do not know why anxiety has decided to rear its ugly head in this way in my life. It has always been lurking under the surface, just barely managed, and now I think it is rising like a gator out of the murky depths to snap me apart (#notallgators, they’re actually kinda cute). This could be due to age. While bipolar disorders have a typical onset age of around 18-25, GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) usually manifests around the age of 30, with most people diagnosed saying they have been dealing with some form of anxiety since childhood.

In the meantime, I am trying to convince my psychiatrist to give me a diagnosis, so that if any alternative/herbal treatments become available (ahem CBD oil) the lack of a diagnosis does not hinder me. She pretty much looked at me sideways, but maybe she will get with my therapist like I suggested, and they can discuss the matter more. She said, “Anxiety is a part of your bipolar diagnosis” and I’m thinking, “Umm, not like this” but I’m sure that is not what I said. I also wasn’t forthcoming about how little hydroxyzine I have really been taking and paid a copay for 90 more pills when I have maybe 82/90 left of my original bottle. This is the lack of assertiveness that I really need to work on.

I know, ultimately, that my needs have started to supersede those that the clinic can provide. It being so close to my home makes getting there less anxiety-inducing and that is one bonus; my old clinic was superior, but it involved a trip on the highway, and between that and wait times it just wasn’t practical for me to continue going there because work and school took up too much of my time. My current therapist is good, but I only get to see her every 2-3 weeks—as opposed to the once a week I got with my old therapist— and that is not often enough for me. The situation with the psych doctors is roughly the same with both the old clinic and the new one, with even the most dedicated of psychiatric doctors really having no time/patience for adjusting diagnoses or really listening to you or doing anything besides prescribing medication. Of course, medicine is huge, but it isn’t everything. My co-worker has advised me multiple times to go to a different state where they have no record of me and talk to someone who will actually listen to me with fresh ears and tell me exactly what my diagnosis is. I would love to do that, but I am not sure that I have the resources.

Again, I know that in a time of upheaval, making anything other than small changes can be detrimental to my recovery. I have already put school on hold. I was on the waiting list for a long time to get into therapy with my current therapist, and there is no guarantee that if I change clinics they would have someone available right away. Since my income dipped for a while earlier in the year, I am currently receiving services from my clinic without paying a monthly fee. That is huge because that fee was a major pain in my ass. I am still adjusting to the demands of my new position at work.

I am severely burnt out and not feeling too well physically, so it can be easy to look for the weakest link to try to “break the chain” of misery. My therapist told me, though, “Be careful that you don’t remove the things in your life that are supporting you.” She identified my job, school, and my relationship as three things that I normally “go after” when I feel in doubt about the direction my life is going in. It may be time to move on from my current job, the clinic, and even my apartment, but sometimes that means adjusting and reframing those things, rather than abandoning them. I definitely do not want to abandon my boyfriend, but I am also sick of being apart and I want to do something about it.  That involves both making the time and finding a way to generate more revenue.

I know I’ve “given up” as much as I safely can. I’m so tired of everything but giving up on this job—without having a plan—would be tantamount to giving up on my apartment and my independence in one single regretful decision. Calling in sick—and I’ve been sick a lot—doesn’t mean that I have to feel forced to give up entirely. I was just advocating in an earlier post about picking yourself up and trying again when you are faced with failure. I still am.

Stay strong.

[canaryatlaw]

Omg I'm so tired. Today was good, it was just LONG. Very long. Sigh. I'm so dead but I still have a lot to talk about and decompress from (if you haven't noticed by now, these posts are my main way of decompressing from my crazy days). Okay. So alarm went off at 7, got up and went to work. I look through the file for today's hearing for a while, then my supervisor asks if I want to go down to court and observe some permanency hearings and I can take notes and such to see what gets asked and all that. So we do. First is a 17 year old girl who's there, and also her 16 year old sister who wasn't there, so after they do the first girl for confidentiality reasons they ask her to step out for her sister's part and the GAL and someone else (I forget) were like "oh will she be ok out there on her own?" and I was right there so I volunteered to go sit with her for like 10 minutes, so we talked. Nice kid, wants to be a cop and looks like she's actually gonna make it to college (this is an incredibly sad fact, but the percentage of foster kids that make it to college is like 3%) so that's good for her definitely. They didn't take too much longer, and then there was another permanency hearing that took for fucking ever, but it was interesting, just sad too. The kid was a 12 year old girl who was there with her grandfather who's the foster father right now and man, I just felt so bad for this kid. Her bio dad is incarcerated and apparently her mom married this asshole and had another kid with him, then he starts smacking the mom around and starts hitting the girl too and the girl is telling her mom but she won't believe her daughter and like, when the girl talked to the court you could tell that she was just so hurt by all of it. Like just so so hurt to feel like her mother betrayed her like that and now she doesn't even want to be in the same room as her, which are pretty intense feelings for a 12 year old. She was really bright too, definitely a smart kid. She really didn't want to do any therapy which I understand, but the judge pushed her into saying she would at least try a few sessions because even if she's not feeling the effects of the trauma now it could affect her down the road. And of course the mom has substance abuse issues and gave a drop that was positive for cocaine in January. I seriously just wanted to hug this poor kid. And the mom is also refusing to let the girl have visits with her little sister, who's like all of 18 months old, as long as she's not visiting with her which is like, so fucking slimy but because the baby isn't court involved there's nothing the judge can do to make that happen (I'm gonna see if there's any case law on that though). And then he yelled at the caseworker because they weren't monitoring the little girl, who only didn't get removed from the home because she was living apart from the mom with her dad at the time (so now she's living with her abusive mom and domestic violence committing father, lovely) so now that she's with them both they need to be watching that. Then there was a whole debate on the permanency goal, because the caseworker was recommending guardianship but as far as permanency goals go you have to rule out the better more permanent options before getting to the less permanent ones, so the judge wanted to know why adoption wasn't being considered, so that was a big thing but he decided not to enter a goal for today and just continue it to the next court date, which makes sense at this point. I did remark to the grandfather and we were walking out that she seems like a really great kid, and he just smiled and was like "oh believe me, I know" and it was really cute. Sometime during my morning I had realized I left my lunch box in my fridge this morning like a fucking middle schooler, so I had to go run out and get food for lunch and dinner because I had packed both, lol. Got pizza first for lunch from that bakery that makes the best New York style pizza I've had in Chicago (I know, a bakery selling pizza sounds ridiculous but this place is just awesome) then ran to the deli to grab a sandwich for later. I got back and started writing up my questions based on the notes I took, and pretty soon it was time to go down for the hearing I was doing. We spent a while talking to the foster mom, and I was alone with her for a good 10 minutes while my supervisor handled another thing. She was really just pissed at the agency because she felt betrayed by how the kids almost got taken from her over the whole heroin dealing boyfriend incident, and some of what she said had legit points but most of it was kind of nuts haha but she was ranting so I mostly just nodded and placated her, saying I understood but as long as the kids are in the system we have to jump through these hoops until they can get officially adopted (she was upset they wanted her to do a psych assessment) and she seemed to understand that mostly. She did bring up God a few times and we had a good little exchange on caring for others and the blessing he puts on our lives. It was good. And then, we were ready to go and I was set to do my first hearing! Ahh, so exciting. It was fine, very basic, though it managed to go on for over an hour (and my feet were killing me by the end). The judge kept kind of interrupting and going on tangents with the worker but he was cool about it like "I don't expect you to know what specific things I want more info on, so I'm sorry for interrupting" which was fine with me haha. But yeah, asked my questions and they mostly resolved the remaining issues. There was a lot of discussion regarding services the kids should be receiving, I know they both have some sort of learning disability/mental processing issue so they need to be dealing with that, and they all want the adoption to go through already because it's already been 2 years since the parental rights were terminated. But yeah, it was good. It was like, 4:20 by the time we got out, so I went back to my office and pulled up my LARC syllabus hoping I could see what reading I had for class tomorrow only to find out the syllabus says there is no class tomorrow, because we're doing individual conferences this week! I was happy to hear that, lol. I headed out a few minutes early to make sure I could make it to the gym for my 5:30 class on time, which ended up being a good call on my part. My job is like, one train stop west and a few blocks south of my church, so I can generally take the bus up the blocks, then take the train west, except now that entrance to the train station is blocked off for construction, and the other entrance is a full two blocks down the road and did I mention it was like 20 degrees out? Yeah, fuck that shit that would make me late anyway. So I called an uber haha and got there in time. For ready, then somewhat confused about which class I was going to because I thought it was Krav Maga when it was really more grappling, which I'm fine with but it is more or less the same class I broke my wrist in so I hesitated a few times with that, lol, but it was mostly fine. There were 6 of us, and I was the only girl. The warm ups and class itself kicked my butt of course, though I do feel good at doing like somersaults and shit because I'm always able to land on my feet with enough force to stand straight up and it works well lol. Then we practiced moves for a bit but it involved hooking an arm around your opponent's neck and kind of pulling them forward, and after a few of those my head started getting a bit dizzy from the pressure on my neck I think, so I bowed out of that a bit early so I didn't wind up like passing out and injuring myself again because I'm sure they are soooo over me getting injured there, lol. But that ended at 6:15, which gave me 15 minutes to get to my conference with my LARC prof because this was the only possible time I could fit it into my schedule, so I ubered again cuz that was the only real choice haha and it worked pretty well. The conference was good, she's an adjunct and doesn't have an office at school so we met in her office in the firm she works at which was cool. She was very encouraging, definitely picked out that I was having issues just organizing stuff because it's all supposed to be so precise, but she said she could tell I was a really good writer, which (as much as I know that already) I always like to hear. I had some time to get back to church for small group that started at 7:30 then, so I took the train instead of doing uber number 3, but this would prove to not be a good idea for reasons I definitely could not foresee. I'm getting off the train at the stop when my phone falls out of my coat pocket, dangles precariously on the end of my earbuds for a few seconds, then slips and falls into the gap between the train and the platform. I was literally just like "oh FUCK." Like ugh are you fucking kidding me???? So I get off the train of course and it pulls away a few seconds later, and thankfully it's on the side of the track and not on the track so it didn't suffer any damage from the train. There were two teenage girls who saw it and said they'd run and get the attendant, and were like "don't jump down and get it yourself!!!" which I may have been considering a little haha but I figured if I could avoid it I probably should, because that could turn out to be a really terrible move (there was like, amble space on the other side of the track so that if I was down there when a train came I could definitely get out of the way, but still, not preferable) though if I didn't have any other options I probably would've. But they get the attendant, who radios over to her supervisor (who's taller) who jumps down and gets it then is able to prop himself back up to the platform which I'm not certain I would've been able to do without help at least, so it's probably good I didn't try. I was very thankful of course and felt like an idiot, but the attendant was cool and was like "I mean, at least a phone is important, we get people wanting us to go down over gloves" so that helped me feel slightly less stupid. So I now ran back to church since I was now late (UGH) but got there quickly and of course filled in my new small group on my last minute adventure. It was nice, seems like a fun group of people. We did a like either or ice breaker game where you like stepped into the circle for the first thing or remained in your spot for the second, and I was wearing my batman t-shirt when he's like "batman or superman?" and every turns to look at me and I'm just standing there like....I like superman better!!! Haha it was funny. And then of course we talked for a while, the subject of the group is "knowing God and loving others," and while it was one of two groups that I could pick that actually worked with my schedule I liked the idea of that and it was pretty good! At this point I'm like, good at speaking theologically on things so it wasn't a stretch for me and they seemed to all like what I was saying. Ended a little after 9, train to bus and made it home and was soooo dead. But I did want to relax a bit and I considered rewatching this week's legends (which I'll definitely do some time this weekend) but I've had this week's flash podcast episode staring at me since Wednesday and haven't been able to watch the flash yet to listen to it, so I did that instead. Pretty good episode, though I'll probably keep my comments short because I'm tired. I'm glad they finally told Joe. I like the mentoring dynamic going on between Wally and Barry. CAITLIN AND JULIAN THOUGH. YESSSSSSSS. You better not kill him off or make him go evil though writers, because you need to fucking let Caitlin be happy, k? K. The whole phasing an entire train thing was obviously totally impossible even on a superpower level for so many reasons, but logic, I know (I did a full analysis of the medical reasons why Gideon was able to bring back Sara yesterday and everyone was like....uh, Rachel, you might've thought too he's about this....). And yeah, those are my basic thoughts and I'm finally done talking about my day and GOD am I tired. So goodnight pals. Happy fucking Friday.

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 125, October 2018

With the weather being a mostly sunny 28 degrees, it’s a shame that I didn’t have the motivation to do much of anything on Monday morning. At least I managed to call the NDIA and get an activation code so that I could link my NDIS plan to the mygov account and also access the services on myplace participant portal. My lack of enthusiasm could probably have been detected in my voice to the call centre worker who herself sounded like she was off with the fairies. But I really needed to get this done so that I could start using the funds in my plan. To be honest, I’m still confused as hell about this process but hopefully it’ll get easier for me over time.  https://www.ndis.gov.au/participant-portal-user-guide

I also did a bunch of housework which gave me a good excuse to get myself outside in the sun for a few minutes but otherwise today I’m very much home bound. Despite how little energy I had, I was determined to push myself out of the house and get to the final session of the Men of Doveton - 2018 program. However, I’m still feeling in two minds about it especially after how shitty and overwhelmed I was feeling from last Monday night. So I hesitated...again.

I had to ask myself some tough questions like: Who am I doing this program for? What if I don’t go and don’t finish the program? Will the others in the group be angry, disappointed, upset, worried or simply not care? Is this program making me happy and/or making me feel better about myself? The truth is that I feel like I’m going through the motions right now and attending the program more to please others which is NOT a good reason to be participating.

My relentless anxiety has been badgering me saying: If you don’t go, you’re a failure. The others think you should attend, so you should attend. You’re so close to finishing it. What are you doing with your life? What will the other guys think if you don’t go tonight? I also feel the need to place barriers around myself in order to protect myself from being hurt by others. It’s probably the irrational fears talking but at the same time, I really don’t want to put up with people giving me drama for not finishing the Men of Doveton program. https://www.wikihow.com/Make-Tough-Decisions-for-Yourself

The fact that I’m still stuck on the fence is a decision in itself. That I shouldn’t be forcing myself to attend because of outside expectations or what others will think about me if I don’t attend. I guess my own expectations about what I wanted out of this program have also been pretty unrealistic. You can’t form close friendships with 20 or so other males overnight. Also “dropping out” of a program is not failing. My excitement levels for the Men of Doveton program have significantly dropped since I started it back in July. So I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not for me. It’s not making me happy so it’s time to shut the gate on it. https://www.communityreachcenter.org/news/5-steps-developing-healthy-realistic-thinking/

I dropped out of my Bachelor of Science degree at Monash University 4 years ago for the same reasons. Sure I had an interest in science and enjoyed some of the material I learned in my first couple of years studying there. But at the time, I really wasn’t thinking long term, about where this degree would take me. Could I see myself becoming a scientist, researcher, lab technician or doing a PhD? Nope. So there’s my answer. And 4 years later, the world hasn’t ended. I’m still here. Life goes on.

The reality is that I have gained some benefits from participating in this program including counting and recording my steps daily, using a journal to record things that I’m grateful for, being more aware about men’s health issues, tools to help me cope better with depression and anxiety symptoms, being able to successfully participate in group sporting activities, learning new ball handling skills, making a few friends and forming relationships with like-minded males going through similar issues. So in that sense, this program hasn’t been a waste of time for me. https://www.caseystadium.ymca.org.au/whats-on/upcoming-events/event/men-of-doveton-free-health-program-2/2018/07/30

On Tuesday night, I went to an RPM class at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. It’s been a couple of weeks since I last went to a group fitness class so I consciously lowered my expectations. Tonight wasn’t my best performance but everytime I step onto the bike, I make sure to give it my all. Numbers don’t bother me as much as I used to because I’ve got enough awareness around my limitations and capabilities. Placing the bar too high is never a good thing because you set yourself up for disappointment but it’s still healthy to challenge yourself a little bit. https://www.lesmills.com.au/archived-rpm

Tonight we did release number 80 which features the tracks Easy Love by Sigala, Everybody’s Somebody by Don Diablo feat. Bully Songs, New Memories by DubVision & Afrojack and Get Low by Hardwell. It was a challenging set of tracks which featured intense racing sections, multiple sprints and attacks, uphill climbs and power rides. As usual, our instructor Kay was very empowering, motivating and encouraging to get us through the class. I couldn’t quite reach the speeds or resistance levels that I normally get to but I was fine with that because I was still constantly moving and pushing myself through the workout without burning myself out. https://www.lesmills.com/workouts/fitness-classes/rpm/tracklists/

On Wednesday morning, I had my annual free health assessment done at my workplace. My experience with doing these in the past haven’t been great mainly because I’m always susceptible of getting a bad reaction to getting my finger pricked by the needle. The good news was that I recognised the female nurse who facilitated the service last time. The bad news is that I still had that damn reaction. No matter what I try to do...take deep breathes, try to relax my body, tel myself that “I can do this”...it still happens and I have no control over it.

“Here we go!” I thought as I broke into a sudden cold sweat, red faced and feverish, my ears buzzing intensely and the blood draining from my face. Luckily, the nurse was switched on and responded very quickly, getting me to lie down on the floor and elevate my legs up on the chair. Thankfully I seemed to recover quicker from it faster than last time but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing and annoying to go through. The other positive was that we were inside the boardroom and therefore I didn’t have other team members witnessing any of this. https://kidshealth.org/en/teens/blood-draw.html

As for the results, they were mostly good. I got a blood glucose reading of 7.0 which is in the acceptable range, a blood cholesterol of 5.42 which is better than average, and my blood pressure was 117 over 74 which is acceptable-good. My BP had to be taken twice as the reaction made the initial reading invalid and dropped into severe-low territory. Waist measurement was 107cm and neck measurement was 44cm. Both of these can be improved with diet and exercise. The one area I was mostly concerned with was my chances of getting diagnosed with type II diabetes especially with a family history of it. https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/health-checks-for-men

With all the factors considered (gender, age, waist/hip measurements), I’m slightly over into the high risk category. The good news is that I do have some degree of control over it by improving my lifestyle habits like being more physically active, eating more healthier foods, cutting back on alcohol etc which I try to do but have recently been slacking off on a bit due to increased stress and anxiety, low mood, poor quality of sleep. But I am determined to keep on top of it and try really hard to prevent getting any major heath problems when I get older. https://www.diabetesaustralia.com.au/type-2-diabetes

On Thursday night, I went to my HIIT Strength small group fitness training session at CinFull Fitness. Truth be told, I was in a really weird headspace tonight probably from all the millions of thoughts in my head and external distractions. My anxiety was ready to pounce (Seriously what are you doing here Michael? You’re not female, a mum or a housewife!) but I did my best to tell it to zip it. The female to male ratio doesn’t bother me all much and even if I don’t relate to the other clients, who cares? I’m there to improve my fitness and self confidence, not to catch up on the goss (no offence ladies!).

We did a circuit-style session with various stations set up, doing intervals of each exercise with a short 10 second break in between. There was a mixture of weight training (bicep curls, dumbbell power lifts, kettle bell squats) and resistance training (push ups, mountain climbers, battle ropes). The fatigue set in fast but overall I did okay. I think I just had a lot on my mind but the class was a positive distraction from it and we did have a few laughs which is always a good thing. https://www.facebook.com/CinFullFitness/

On Friday morning, I attended the individual intake session for the research study Addressing Insomnia in Adults with Autism held at La Trobe University Psychology Clinic in Bundoora. This is the first time I’ve participated in research that relates to both my autism and my sleep problems so understandably I was feeling a bit daunted by the whole idea. However, I brought my mum along to the psych clinic for support. Being my first time driving to this university campus, I did freak out a little with the traffic, trying to get my bearings and be sure that I was parking in the correct car park (we even witnessed a parking inspector doing the rounds, enough said!). https://aspergersvic.org.au/Research-Requests

Once I arrived at the Psychology Clinic (located inside the George Singer building), I did seem to relax a little. We met with a provisional psychologist named Eliza who gave me some information about the study and some questionnaires to fill out as well as a consent form and a withdrawal form. She then guided us from the waiting room into one of the consultation rooms. This session was more like a general interview just to get some insight into my medical background and sleep problems.

Eliza was very warm, compassionate and easy going. Certainly not as cold, clinical and formal as I was anticipating inside my head. She asked me about my family history, why I decided to participate in the study, my expectations about the group intervention, what will be involved, what I think causes me to have disturbed sleep patterns and lack of quality sleep and how it impacts on my daily lifestyle and well-being.

I told Eliza that I’ve been having these sleep problems for about two years or slow due to work-related stress, general anxiety and depression symptoms, having lots of pressure and expectations from society, keeping busy and having lots of commitments and not being able to switch my brain off. I usually go to bed around 10-10.30pm and it can take up to 1-1.5 hours to fall asleep. Then I usually wake up around 3 or 4am and again struggle to go back to sleep again. Overall, I get around 4 to 5 hours of sleep per night on average.

These sleep problems have had a major affect on my well-being including poor focus and concentration, low energy, daytime sleepiness, difficult in getting motivated, regular crashes, physical and mental burnout. The group intervention part will involve me wearing a actigraphy watch device that measures physical motion and sleep/wake cycles for 7 days and filling out an online sleep diary as well as attending 4 two-hour group therapy sessions on ways to manage and improve my sleep.

I’m really hoping that this research study will be a pro-active stepping stone for me in helping to improve my sleep problems and all of the symptoms that I’ve mentioned above. I’ve tried many different natural therapies including using a weighted blanket, lavender spray, relaxation and guided meditation videos, using a vapouriser machine, reading, writing down my worries, having a bath or shower, taking herbal sleep vitamins but none of these have been 100% effective. http://otarc.blogs.latrobe.edu.au/sleep-help-for-adults-on-the-spectrum/

On Friday night, I attended a ten-pin bowling social night for the Adults in Their Thirties Aspergers Victoria group held at Healthways Recreation Centre - Mont Albert North. I actually found this drive to be a lot more mentally draining than the one I did this morning especially driving through Surrey Hills and Box Hill. The roads are so damn narrow and when you’re not completely familiar with an area, you can easily get yourself lost. Luckily I had my Google Maps navigator lady switched on to prevent that from happening.

Besides the moderate amount of traffic and the long distance I had to travel, it actually wasn’t too difficult getting there. I arrived just a couple of minutes before 7pm and found a few of the other Aspies upstairs where the bowling alleys are located. This particular bowling area has been around since 1961 with a retro 1980’s inspired colour scheme and design, featuring splashes of red, blue, yellow and pink.

The computer monitors are also a throwback to 8-bit computer processors with green text on a black background. As we soon learned, all the scores had to be recorded manually on the keyboard which added an additional level of problem solving to the night (aka figuring out how many pins have been knocked down). It’s been around 6 years since I last did ten pin bowling but I was surprised to see my beginners luck returning with a few spares and a couple of strikes.

It was also nice getting to know a few new members I hadn’t met before and chatting with Marcus Heath and Lucas Eldridge in between turns. For dinner, the group leaders organised a delivery of pizzas in the function room / kitchen area next door as well as some drinks. I honestly didn’t feel like being that social tonight but it was just nice to have some social company for once considering how low I’ve been feeling lately. I really needed this night to get out of the house and be with other Aspies around my own age. https://aspergersvic.org.au/events-groups

“If you can't wake up in the morning ‘Cause your bed lies vacant at night. If you're lost, hurt, tired or lonely. Can't control it, try as you might. May you find that love that won't leave you. May you find it by the end of the day. You won't be lost, hurt, tired and lonely. Something beautiful will come your way.” Robbie Williams - Something Beautiful (2002)

[newgirlsunshine]

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Didn't sleep. Nothing from yesterday to today. Got up at 6:30 a.m. since had to start the day at 7's morning. Went to weigh. From 71.2 kg I went to 70.8 kg. Again, 400 grams less. Maybe if had slept it would be a little more. Made a chamomile tea with a teaspoon of coconut oil. Was anxious for two reasons: planned to go early to clean the store and planned to eat at the most fancy restaurant in this mall.

Fasting a lot really makes us think of stupid things: like wanting to eat a dead animal. The neighbor was making some meat, don't know, but smelled it last night when was walking the dog. Who is vegan or vegetarian knows. Our nose gets sharper after a few years. Meat smells like carrion. And the supermarket's meat section smells like dirty bathroom.

Fixed my bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower, got ready, took some supplies, and went to the store. Must confess that these days of fasting and a lot of physical exercises have made me tired. Did everything as had planned in my head for today. Had gone through the items several times in my mind.

Got to clean a store's furniture and it really was a lot harder than had imagined. That furniture was very grimy. Furnitures at the store are white. The other employees don't care. Spent 2 and a half hours on just one furniture. And the mall would open at 1 p.m. today. Can not do this kind of heavy cleaning while entering customers in the store.

What kept me from cleaning the rest of the furniture today, besides the time too long, was that I almost fainted. The cleaning required a lot of effort. Had to squat down by wiping the sides of the furniture, rubbing it with a bushing. Then remove the cleaning detergent with cleaning cloths. My vision turned black. Felt dizzy. I stopped immediately and hoped to return to normal. Returned fast at least. But that worried me.

Was feeling a little hungry, despite was managing to control it, to prevent bingeing and to move on with the fast. But that worried me and decided to clean only one furniture a day. Was alone, the mall was empty, only a few casual workers passing my aisle and had to work until 8 p.m. today. I don't want to worry anyone, especially my parents.

It's easier for those who only stay home, doing nothing, go for many fasts. But for those who work hard it is not so easy to run out of food in the stomach for several days. Not that am complaining. Actually, Ana is helping me a lot. Thanks to her, finally got to the 70 kg's house.

Had started a calorie count diet almost 2 months ago. Left from 76 kg and went to 72 kg. After that, was stagnant for a month in 72 kg's house. Since nothing was working, am appealing to Ana. And I'm very happy today to have reached 70 kg. Although have longed more for today, know that not sleeping prevents the body from filling up muscles with calories to burn next day.

So, after finished first furniture, sat down in front of the computer and surfed on internet, waiting for lunch's time and resting. It was about 10:15. When 11:30 am arrived, went to lunch at the fancy restaurant. Packed a giant vegetable dish and some black rice. And took a water's coconut.

I love black rice. My town is known for producing black rice and red rice. Didn't even count calories of that plate. Most were vegetables, so am not sorry or anything. And after several days of fasting, needed energy, since almost fainted.

Thought about eating a chocolate Snickers, but read the calories and was aghast. Half a Snicker was 500 and few calories (can not remember the exact number). Thought that was ridiculous. An entire bar has over 1000 calories!!! Half of what a human being needs for a day! Could not the industry invest in research on something equally delicious but with far fewer calories? Rarely eat that chocolate, but had never read its calories. Then got a small chocolate wich was 120 calories in its full. Now I'm a little anxious for tomorrow's weigh-in ehehe.

After I ate, opened the store. Spent a lot of time resting between customer services. Also randomly surfed on internet. Felt better and started thinking that should do something more today, instead of just working mediocre, coming home and going to sleep like a loser. So decided to start the inventory of the store. Had 3 hours to do a small part at least. Oh yeah, who works in a store, not only serves customers, but also does everything: cleaning, cadastre, inventory, social medias, etc.

I made it! Worked the time I had, instead of whining. It was even easier than I imagined because there are many different codes. Did at least a little bit because this is a days job. Sales were few today even though have done prosperity meditation correctly. There's something locking my mind, have to sort this out.

When got home told my dog "just a little ride today because am very tired today". Think shouldn't have said that. Because, despite my legs and feet aching a little, I was happy. My mother and sister follow a philosophy that talks about the power of the mind and the power of the spoken word. Don't believe in many things that philosophy teaches, but believe that. You know, the positivity thing.

But, during the walk, began to feel very tired. And a bad mood too. We did only half the way this time, but felt like it was the time of a whole lap. Even my dog noticed because she started to walk slowler. Usually she runs a lot, she's a dog very eager to walk, smell everything and mark territory. ehehe

When got home my feet were swollen as if had been standing all day. Stood a long time, but not so much. The people who work at McDonald's are standing all the time. Here in the store can sit sometimes. Maybe it's the sedentary lifestyle. Am very sedentary. Or were my negative words from before.

Got home, took a shower, left to brush my teeth and floss tomorrow. Was in such a bad mood. Binging time! So thought about eating popcorn. Thought of weigh, if had slimmed down wouldn't eat anything, if had gotten fat, fuck it, would eat. Even if didn't sleep anything from yesterday to today, wanted to lose weight. ¬¬" Went to weigh and got fatter, can't remember how much.

Then ate a bowl of popcorn that was horrible because it burned. Don't know why, but corn was not popping. Maybe it was the disturbance in my mind. I've even been able to materialize strange things like insects and small pieces of steel sponges, why not? (involuntarily, just thinking about it). Ah yes, here at home we make popcorn in the pan, microwave's popcorn is very greasy.

So held the pan in the air for a long time over the fire because the beans were bursting very slowly and the already popped corn could burn. It got horrible, or it got a little burnt or it got hard. Ate only with salt. After ate was very eager to eat sweet.

Then again fuck it and made chocolate candy (brigadeiro). Brigadier is basically condensed milk, margarine and chocolate powder. Ate half a can by myself! Ate with no pity! To be honest, am not too upset about this. Don't know, it may be about 1k calories. Maybe more.

So finally slept. Without brushing teeth, without flossing, without typing and translating today's diary. Thought would just rest tomorrow. Don't do as many activities as am trying to do every day. And go to work a little later. Ended up doing no planning for tomorrow.

[dorothydelgadillo]

Why Being a Remote Worker Makes Me a Better Parent

All Skillcrush employees spend a few hours each month helping our customer support team answer emails. It’s a great way to learn more about our students and about the kinds of  challenges facing people breaking into tech. I’ve noticed there’s always a common thread in the questions I answer—people want to be happier and more fulfilled with the work they’re doing. It sounds simple enough, but during the time I’ve worked for Skillcrush I’ve noticed there’s something unique about tech jobs, particularly those offering remote or flexible work arrangements, when it comes to defining and achieving happiness.

When people describe their dream job, they tend to mention better pay, work that’s creatively or intellectually engaging, and a job that lets them integrate their personal and professional lives. These first two things can be found in plenty of professions, but the third is elusive, particularly if you’re on the 9-5 grind. Workers, both young and old, are seeking out flexibility in all aspects of their lives, and speaking from personal experience, the rewards are valuable in ways that you might not expect. Beyond making it easier to run errands or schedule dentist appointments, a flexible job that lets you build your work life around your personal life ultimately makes you better at both. Sure, it’s hard to hit all three points on the “perfect job” triangle, and it’s easy to settle for two out of three, but with industries like tech offering more and more opportunities for flexible work, why should settling be the norm?

In my past work experiences, “personal” was almost a dirty word— indicative of frivolous drama that was strongly discouraged from seeping into the office. But employees are people, and it’s totally logical that a healthy personal life is an essential part of a successful professional one. What makes a healthy personal life, though? Part of happiness is having time to take care of yourself, and the space to cultivate relationships with friends, partners, or families, but there’s another component of personal life that’s often overlooked, one that—in my own life—remote work helps make possible.

Seven years ago my oldest daughter started school. At the time I was five years into my life as a stay-at-home parent and school was a big transition for us. My wife and I had both had a lot of negative experiences during our own school years, and we wanted to be supportive advocates for our daughter whenever possible—the problem was, we just weren’t sure how to build that lifestyle. Since I was at home, I was able to answer the call when our Kindergarten teacher asked for classroom volunteers, and this ended up being our entry point into the world of parent volunteering. For the first three years of our oldest daughter’s schooling I volunteered at least a couple times a week in her classroom, and I did the same thing when my youngest went enrolled a few years later. Parent volunteering wasn’t something I had any background in or ever expected to be doing, but my role evolved naturally, and before long I found myself developing lasting relationships with both of my kids’ cohorts. I helped with art projects, facilitated reading groups, chaperoned field trips, and pretended to know how to do addition and subtraction. And sometimes—my most favorite times—I’d just end up sitting around with a group of kids, talking about their days, their lives, their families, and who they were as people.

When the school day was over and I was home with my own kids, I was able to keep them occupied while my wife helped with school fundraising, email communication, and event planning through the Parent Teacher Organization. My being home gave us the flexibility to make this work, and as the years went by, we realized we’d added a whole new dimension to our personal lives—we were active members of a community where we made an appreciable difference in other people’s lives, while they did the same in ours. Community is now a hugely positive aspect of my personal life that I didn’t know was missing until I embraced it.

During my first year of Kindergarten volunteering, a girl in my daughter’s class started calling me “Bob the Builder,” a nickname that spread throughout the classroom and persisted over the next few years. Today, walking across campus, I’ll still encounter 7th graders from that Kindergarten class calling out to me, “Hey Bob!”, which might seem like a small thing, but for me it’s a reminder of how those few hours a week I spent volunteering, formed lasting bonds in my community. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that a lot of the depression and anxiety I was prone to before having school-aged kids has melted away in the years since. Being plugged into a larger community and feeling like I was helping others in a direct way has played a big part in making me a healthier and more complete person.

However, it can’t be understated how fortunate I was being able to participate at the school—my wife’s career made enough money to let me stay home with our kids and we were both on board with supporting one another to make it happen. I remember one day in a classroom when a normally chipper boy looked like he’d lost his dog. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he was mad that his mom wasn’t there to volunteer. I knew that his mom was a concerned and active parent, but the simple fact of the matter was she had a job that didn’t allow her to get into the classroom easily during the day. And that’s exactly what gave me pause as our kids got older and I started thinking about going back to work. In every scenario I played out in my mind I saw myself having to give up volunteering. If I was going to start working outside the house it would have to be during the school day while my kids were gone, meaning I’d have to walk away from a part of my personal life that had become so important to me.

Still, with our kids on the cusp of their teen years and new expenses like college looming in the distance, our family needed to start generating extra income, so it seemed like I’d have to make a painful choice. Fortunately I discovered the “neither/nor” option of remote work, and that choice never had to happen. I now work remotely part-time, I’m able to generate the missing source of income we’d been looking for, and I can do it all without upsetting the personal life I’d established before returning to paid work. It was a solution that couldn’t have come at a better time, too—right after I started working for Skillcrush my wife took a new management job with a longer commute, which meant our family’s need for flexibility was at an all time high. Being able to work from home—in-between my other personal priorities—was really the only way I was able to return to work successfully, while picking up the slack at home and sticking to my volunteer commitments.

I’m thankful for this luxury that remote work made possible, but really, it shouldn’t be a luxury. Having the room to participate in our communities through volunteering and service projects (and benefitting from the personal growth that comes with them) shouldn’t be the domain of a lucky few—it should be embedded in the fabric of all our work lives. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that, by leading the way with remote work and alternative work schedules, industries like tech aren’t just offering a small convenience to their employees by letting them commute from their bedroom to their living room. They’re actually opening the door for a radical reframing of what it means to work and how our work relates to the rest of our lives.

If you put it under a microscope, you start to see that the conventional Monday through Friday, 9-5 office—with its rigid distinction between personal and professional—is a relic of extreme gendering, where males were assumed to be their family’s breadwinner while women attended to domestic tasks. In that model, flexibility wasn’t so much a non issue as it was non negotiable since roles were so strictly enforced. But as we grow past gender caricatures, as family models continue to expand and change, and as individuals take on the roles they’re best suited for, the need and desire for each of us to wear many hats increases. Remote work then is the clear path for climbing out of the limited “Honey, I’m home” model of a previous century, and into a new paradigm where we can all live our lives in the fullest, most befitting way.

And part of that fullness is community participation. Now especially—in light of our national climate and the alienation and isolation that lurks around every corner—there seems to be a desire to get involved in causes and institutions that can directly help others, where the results of our efforts are tangible and where we can be reminded of the ways in which we are all connected. Whether that’s through volunteering at a school, participating in a community garden, being a local Big Brother or Sister, or any other opportunity that speaks to you—the chances to reach out and engage are all around us, but for people with rigid work schedules it’s just so much harder to get involved.

Remote jobs give people the freedom to fit a few hours here or there into their daily schedule, making it possible to incorporate community involvement into the natural rhythm of the week. But that doesn’t mean remote workers aren’t also committed to their paid work. Working remotely isn’t working less and it’s not working easier, it’s just working smarter. It’s realizing that the artificial constraints of a physical office aren’t just unnecessary, they’re also inhibiting. And that we can be productive, successful professionals while living fulfilling personal lives. That in fact, each of these roles directly supports the other. 

  from Web Developers World https://skillcrush.com/2017/12/20/why-being-a-remote-worker-makes-me-a-better-parent/