#the dr phil one is my favorite its the best please use it

[shutuptenguu]

To celebrate the announce of Kyle’s route I decided to post all my cursed Kyle content including birthday cards and my favorite doctor edits

This diaster boy is coming god bless 👏😔

[fireflysummers]

Just Fiction (and When It’s Not)

I’ve been tying myself in mental knots for the last while about the “It’s Just Fiction” argument. At this point I’ve heard a lot from both sides that’s actually pretty valid, leading to a lot of general confusion. 

The conclusion that I’ve come to, though, is that “It’s Just Fiction” is not a universal defense, and its meaning shifts drastically when it’s shifted out of the originally intended lens.

I propose that there are three lenses through which the “It’s Just Fiction” argument can be viewed: in-universe, authorial intent, and public interpretation.

Before jumping into the analysis, I should note that there are a few assumptions here:

The fiction in question is actually fiction, and does not resemble any real life persons, living or dead in an identifiable capacity. Therefore, things like the Ted Bundy Case Files are immediately disqualified.

We are assuming innocence until proven guilty.

The In-Universe Lens

The “It’s Just Fiction” defense is most often applied to in-universe logic, and is related to the suspension of disbelief--the mechanism by which we can ignore our comparisons to the real world and immerse ourselves in a fantasy.

When you say "It's Just Fiction" about in-universe logic, it understands very clearly that fiction is fake, and that the characters and events do not exist in the real world. It may echo real life, and real people might to replicate it, but no matter how dark or gross or fluffy or fantastical the content, no matter how gritty and “realistic” it is, it is not real. 

Arguing that "It’s Just Fiction" is basically stating that you understand how to separate reality from fantasy, and treat characters and in-canon logic as the mechanisms by which an interesting story is told. While they may feel real, especially if you have a special connection with them, they fundamentally are not. 

As a result, content creators are generally allowed to use it as space to explore taboo topics and search for relationships and meaning in places that no sane person would enact in real life. 

However, this is not free reign to create whatever you want, and expect no consequences, as we will get to in our next point.

Authorial Intent

As stated earlier, the general assumption here is that the content creator did not intentionally have ill will towards anybody. Unfortunately, there have been too many case where this has proven to be bad faith. As a result, how to approach this aspect of the “It’s Just Fiction” argument is very difficult and controversial, because sometimes it is very difficult to “prove,” especially since the creative process is often multi-faceted as content creators draw from multiple inspirational and motivational sources. 

Oftentimes, content creators are young, ignorant, and lacking self-awareness. This leads to them not knowing how to take critique, especially if they are approached in a harsh, critical manner, and generally only alienates them in a way that stifles their desire to learn and grow naturally. It is generally not your job to educate strangers on the internet, either, since there are often trolls who disguise actual ill intent as ignorance.

The most surefire way to address this is to curate your own internet experience by blocking liberally those whose content you do not wish to see.

There is another case, though, that needs to be discussed: that of predatory content creators. These people usually straddle the line between “a distasteful lack of mindfulness” and “preying on vulnerable populations.” 

Accusations of ped/o/phil/ia against any individual are serious, and in process you have to consider a personal history of predatory behavior, rather than applying a blanket "if it's dark and taboo topics, then it automatically implicates the author as a pervert.”

You can usually identify these individuals based on the content’s tone and approach--that they aren't approaching a taboo topic for the sake of literary exploration, but because they are self-inserting themselves. There are heavy implications about people who  self-insert into that sort of fiction, such as people who write or draw cartoon character CP, and you can usually tell on a case-by-case basis whether or not somebody is hiding a gross perversion behind "It’s Just Fiction.”

Public Interpretation

Public interpretation is usually where the “It’s Just Fiction” argument breaks down entirely, because we are no longer working directly with the work (in-universe) or the people immediately responsible for its creation (authorial intent). Public reactions are very, very real and need to be treated as such--but first, you have to consider the likelihood that a work of fiction will actually contribute to swaying that public.

The argument here is “even if the person didn’t mean any harm, that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be held responsible.” And this is another tough one, because on one hand, yes, content creators ideally should exercise mindfulness about how their work will be received and interpreted. On the other hand, the public is beyond the control of any single individual, and things can easily be taken out of context or snowball out of their control, regardless of their intent. 

So, for the sake of this particular case, we have determined that the author did not mean to cause harm, the next question is how much harm is being done. 

In other words, who exactly is the public, and how many of them are there?

For instance, a bunch of kids filming a shitty monster movie featuring sharks may have the exact same messages as Jaws (sharks are evil and need to be killed). Neither one of them intend to do real sharks any harm; however, the one that needs to be held responsible is Jaws, not the shitty indie film. 

Why? Because Jaws was a box-office success that became a cultural phenomenon. It impacted the opinions of the millions of people, leading to a sharp increase of shark hunting. 

Yeah, the indie film was equally bad in the messages it was conveying, but it just fades into obscurity without actually doing any harm. 

It’s the same spiel with fandom works. Because fandoms are insular spaces, they feel a lot bigger than they actually are. That’s why fan-content creators are not held to the same standards as mainstream content creators, because the public they actually affect is actually quite small. 

When people say “It’s Just Fiction” in relation to content that is not intended to do harm, but is controversial in content, what they’re really saying is “fandom is a small, in-bred pocket of the internet, and and because it is not written by somebody intending to cause harm and will never likely see the public eye, the damage that it does is negligible, and any energy that you put into causing an outcry over it is merely a petty waste of time.”

At which point, again, the best course of action is to just block what you don’t want to see.

Applications

This is a long read, and the basic point is to exercise your own critical thinking skills. My general rubric for what I keep versus what I block is:

Is the content actually fictional.

Is the content creator acting out of a desire to hurt others?

If the harm is unintentional, how many people are affected, and how wide-spread is the damage? 

Let’s Practice

Case 1

Person A is obsessed with a villainous character from an anime.

They know that the character is completely made up.

They have no desire to hurt other people, since this affection for a fictional character is literally just them. Their actions do not pose a threat to vulnerable groups. 

The number of people even directly aware of Person A’s special interest is pretty small, and if you’re squicked out by it they’re an easy block.

Therefore, by this rubric, “It’s Just Fiction” works just fine as an explanation for their actions.

Case 2

Person B’s fanfic reduces your favorite character to LGBT+ stereotypes. The tone of the fic, though, is fluffy and light-hearted.

Again, this is entirely fictional and all parties know it.

It’s difficult to gauge whether this was done intentionally or not; sometimes a quick chat with the author will clear things up; otherwise, the tone of the fic and the lack of mean spirit in any of their other works, so it’s probably unintentional. It’s probably safe to give the benefit of the doubt.

The general readership on the fic and the number of kudos is pretty low, which means that it’s not getting much attention anyways. It was distasteful, it made you feel gross when you read it, but overall the damage is pretty contained.

Therefore, by this rubric, “It’s Just Fiction” still generally works, because of the limited number of people even aware of the fic’s existence.

Case 3

Person C made an AU with characters aged-up from the canon, and there are some N/S/F/W scenes or jokes!

AU = fictional

This is a tricky one sometimes, because there are absolutely people who age up characters just to “legally” draw them in N/S/F/W situations. 

However, there is a difference between people who do that, and others who say, project out an entire timeline full of unique character interactions and are looking to explore the various aspects of adult life, which sometimes involves consensual sex. The authorial intent here is usually pretty easy to pick up on, because a well thought-out aged-up AU often takes a lot of mindfulness on the part of the creator.

Again, things limited to fandom spaces are by default pretty small in the public that they reach. 

“It’s Just Fiction” absolutely applies here because of the amount of work that has been put into it to create an adult version of the world and characters, and it’s clear that the intent was not to expose minors for the entertainment of perverts.

tl;dr: If you’re going to treat fandom with academic scrutiny, please apply critical thinking to situations as they come. “It’s Just Fiction” does not work as a general statement because it wasn’t originally meant to be a general statement.

[doctortreklock]

The Breakfast Club - July 29, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Breakfast in Avengers Tower

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Title: the movie “The Breakfast Club”

Words: 1573

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The communal kitchen of Avengers Tower was in its usual morning uproar. Clint was sitting on the edge of the counter juggling eggs and cracking them one by one into the fry pans next to him, where Bruce was making omelettes with the vegetables Natasha had just chopped up. On the other stove, Steve was stirring a huge vat of oatmeal. Thor was in charge of squeezing orange juice, and had managed to splash every counter and flat surface in a four foot radius. Tony was nominally in charge of setting the table, though in actuality he was just sitting at the table fiddling with something on his StarkPad and complaining loudly about freeloaders and obsolete tech.

"--running missile software on eight-inch floppy drives, I tell you--"

"I think that's enough green pepp--or not, we can always add more."

"Maybe they didn't want you trying to interrupt a nuke launch."

"I require more oranges! Where may I find more of this mighty fruit?"

"It's well within my rights as an American citizen to know our nuclear warheads are--"

"I don't really think anyone believes you're curious out of 'patriotic duty', Stark."

"Where are the oranges?"

"Children," Phil chided gently, gliding into the room in full Agent Coulson mode and immediately taking control of the room. "Thor, there are more oranges in the pantry, bottom shelf on the left in the back. Stark, if the United States government required your input on nuclear protocols, they would request it. Natasha, I believe that's probably enough green pepper for Captain Rogers. Clint, please get off the counter; we prepare food there. Bruce, Captain, how long do we have left on breakfast?" His voice was firm, but Clint could see the warmth in his eyes that he only had when dealing with his favorite group of rogue elements.

The bustle of hungry superheroes fell instantly into smoothly organized chaos.

"Half a minute," Bruce called, absently poking at one pan.

"Just about ready," Steve declared. "Clint?"

Clint had just finished replacing the unused eggs in their carton in anticipation of the Captain's request. He hopped off the counter and whipped open a drawer, pulling a large, lopsided, crocheted potholder out of it and tossing it over to the table, where it landed neatly in the middle. Then he hip-checked the drawer closed and leaned over to give his boyfriend a short, but very warm welcome.

"Hi," he whispered after breaking the kiss.

"Good morning," Phil whispered back, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening in a smile.

"Oi, Barton!" Tony yelled, not looking up from where he was poking at his StarkPad. "You can canoodle with Agent later."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint shouted, waving an arm vaguely in Tony's direction and peeling off from Phil to help Bruce plate omelettes.

By now Natasha had neatly cleaned up her chopping station, the offending green pepper and her knives nowhere to be seen. Instead, she slid neatly through the whirlwind of her teammates to end up next to the silverware drawer and started picking through the haphazard mess of utensils with ease.

"'Scuse me," Steve said loudly, lugging the heavy tub of hot oatmeal through the kitchen easily. "Pardon me, coming through."

Thor stepped out of the pantry with an armful of oranges and nearly got clipped by the steaming pot. "Apologies, friend," he called, neatly sidestepping around Steve and back to his squeezing station. "I had merely gone to fetch the object of my quest and did not see you there!"

"'S fine," Steve said, concentrating on maneuvering the heavy pot around Tony's head, since the inventor didn't seem inclined to move.

Finally, the large silver stock pot settled on the potholder with a thud, and Steve sighed happily. "There."

"Hmm?" Tony looked up to find the oatmeal right in front of him and a supersoldier behind him. "Cool." He craned his head straight back to meet Steve's eyes. "We got any bowls?"

Steve put his hands on his hips and scowled down at the billionaire. "You do have legs you know. They're not even broken," he pointed out.

Tony just laid the back of one hand dramatically over his forehead and leaned sideways off his chair to get the appropriate depth to the motion. "Oh, but my good Captain," he exclaimed dramatically, "I couldn't possibly." He gave Steve his biggest, most beseeching eyes.

Steve wavered.

"Tony," Phil warned mildly from the other side of the kitchen where he had busied himself with the coffeepot.

Tony huffed. "Fine." He left his StarkPad on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Don't know why I have to do this," he muttered. "It's my tower, after--Hey!" he shouted as a spoon clipped him on its way to the table. "What was that for?"

"Oops," Natasha deadpanned, holding a fistful of silver.

Clint snickered. He was attempting to balance two plates on each arm and one on the top of his head, but the omelette on his head was wobbling dangerously with each laugh.

"Two at a time, Clint," Phil told him exasperatedly, reaching for the plate, but before the senior agent could reach it, the plate had already tipped past the point of no return.

Natasha caught it deftly, twisting her wrist neatly to avoid losing the omelette. "Ostorozhno, yastrebka," she scolded him.

"Sorry, Nat." Clint's grin was bashful.

Bruce sighed good-naturedly, the last two plated omelettes safely in his hands. "If we're quite finished...."

"Why is the floor sticky?" Tony wrinkled his nose as his sneakers stuck to the tile floor.

"I have vanquished the orange fruits and emerged victorious with pitchers of glorious orange juice!" Thor proclaimed, brandishing a pair of very large pitchers brimming with freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Oh," Tony said, staring at the disaster of orange where he used to have a counter. "Is someone going to clean that up?"

"On it," Steve said. "Thor, the juice can go on the table. Tony, bowls." Steve looked pointedly at the cupboard behind the genius.

"Make way, friends, for the sweet orange nectar which I have wrung from yon wasted fruits!" Thor swapped places with Steve, managing to set the pitchers on the table without losing any or running into Clint, Bruce, or Natasha, all of whom were now flitting around the table with their plates and silverware.

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," Tony said. "Hold your horses, Cap." He pulled the door to one of the upper cabinets open with a flourish, then paused and frowned. "Aren't the bowls in here?"

A suited arm cut across his vision and closed the cabinet before opening the next one over. "They're in here, the same place they've been for the past six months," Phil said, holding the door with one hand and sipping the coffee held in his other. "Grab seven. Clint," he called. "If you're done bothering Dr. Banner and Natasha, you could get the rest of the oatmeal fixings out."

"On it," Clint called, tossing Phil a grin and a sloppy salute.

Phil smiled into his coffee mug.

"That's disgusting," Tony said, gaping at Phil. "The two of you, in a public venue no less--"

"Bowls, Stark," Phil said, letting go of the door and turning to survey the table. The corner of his mouth turned up a little when Tony yelped at the cabinet door auto-closing on him.

It was almost time to eat. The table was just missing-- Natasha walked past him with seven glass tumblers balanced in her hands. Perfect.

Clint and Bruce finished putting the last of the brown sugar and raisins on the table around the same time Steve finished cleaning up the worst of the orange mess and Tony finally made it to the table with bowls. Phil topped off his coffee and joined them.

The seven of them converged at the table at the same time, pulling out chairs and sitting down before passing bowls of oatmeal around the table at high speed.

"Pass the raisins over here?"

"I thought you already had the raisins?"

"Didn't we say we were going to get two bags of raisins next time? Didn't we?"

"Where did the brown sugar go?"

"Give me the orange juice."

"Weren't we going to get dried cranberries for the oatmeal too?"

"Wow, that's--ahem--that's a lot of green peppers."

"I don't understand how you people can eat raisins. Ugh."

"The small grapes are most pleasing in a meal of steamed oats! You would do well to hold your tongue."

"Clint, if you throw one more raisin at Tony, we are going to be having words later, and you will not enjoy it."

"...Yes, sir."

"Wow, Barton, he's got you whipp--"

"See me after breakfast, Mr. Stark."

"...Fine."

Finally, Steve cleared his throat and looked around the table with his best, most earnest, team-building smile. "I'd like to thank you all for making time in your schedules for team breakfast."

There was a lot of poking at congealed oatmeal and scrutinizing glasses at that, the exceptions being Thor's sharp attention and Tony's uncomfortable scoffing. Phil just watched the whole thing with an air of faint amusement.

"It doesn't seem like a lot, but every bit helps when it comes to acting as a united force in the field." Then Steve put on his brightest bond-selling grin. "I'm sure we're only going to be closer after doing dishes."

That got him pelted with raisins.

--

Nat's Russian: Ostorozhno, yastrebka - Careful, little hawk (diminutive).

[lovemesomesurveys]

What was the brand of your first ever cell phone? Motorola.  What are your 3 favorite internet sites? Tumblr, YouTube, Twitter. Do you have a favorite pair of blue jeans? Describe them. I like all my jeans, which are all dark wash skinny jeans. Let’s be real, though: I haven’t worn jeans in over a year. I only wear leggings.  What profession do you respect? I respect many professions. Have you ever been the recipient of a practical joke? Nah.

Have you ever ate something you’ve dropped on the floor, if so what? I probably did as a kid, but I quickly grew out of the whole “5 second rule” thing.  Would you consider being an Uber driver if you needed to make extra money? Not sure how that would work since I don’t drive. How do you know when you’re in love, what’s the main sign? I just know. Have you ever gotten anything autographed, if so by who & what was it? Yes. Do you prefer Walmart or Target? I like both, but I can find a lot of cute stuff at Target. What do you long for? “I want something else, to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby.” That lyric just popped into my head for this. Anyway, I long for a life I’m excited about living. If you could be a personal assistant to anyone, who would it be? I don’t want to. What is the most important thing you can do to improve yourself? Better self-care would help. I’ve neglected myself in a lot of ways. My mental health definitely needs help, it has suffered greatly.  What makes it hard for you to keep your focus? My jumbled mess of a mind. What tragic love story do you relate to? Blah. Has your intuition or “gut” served you well? Sometimes. What’s the longest you’ve ever waited in line for something and what was it? Rides at Disneyland. I think once we waited like 3 hours for this one ride, which took so long because it broke down and had to be repaired. And it was just a long line in general.  Who is your favorite model? Like fashion model? I don’t have one. What have you done that is out of character for you? Hmm. Would you rather get a gift card or a gift that someone bought for you? I appreciate either one.  How do you handle a betrayal? I don’t know, but it sucks. What’s the biggest blooper you’ve never lived down? My life. If you owned a restaurant what kind of food do you want to serve? I wouldn’t own a restaurant. What will we find if we look in the bottom of your closet today? Shoes and other stuff. What kind of car did you learn how to drive on? I haven’t learned how to drive. What is the best thing you have done just because you were told you can’t? I don’t knowwww. Have you ever had to go to court or testify and if so what for? No. Do you believe in karma? No. Are you more worried about doing the things right, or doing the right thing? Both. Do you believe in the term “Mother knows best?” I mean, I definitely value my mom’s opinions. It doesn’t mean we always agree.  Who is your favorite movie action hero? Iron Man/Tony Stark.  What is one thing you can get in your hometown you can’t get elsewhere? My town isn’t special. How important are looks in someone you’re in a relationship with? I can’t say looks don’t matter at all, but they’re not the most important. Personality means a lot more, and it can also add to someone’s attractiveness.  What freedom do you feel is not really free anymore? I can’t think for this survey right now. What are you most thankful for? My family. Do you have any favorite talk shows or talk radio programs without music? Dr. Phil and Daily Pop. What was the last book you read? Burying the Honeysuckle Girls by Emily Carpenter. What’s your favorite online store? Exclusively online: Amazon. However, I shop a lot on Hot Topic, Boxlunch, and Kohl’s websites.  What band would you love to tour with or be a roadie for? None. I’m not a musical artist or in a band, and I don’t want to be a roadie.  If you were to throw a message in a bottle into the ocean, it would say? Hi.  Do you have common sense or do you think people are lacking in it? Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it’s so common.  What’s your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Coffee. How do you feel about thrift shops or flea markets? Not my thing. What do you like to put gravy on? I love country gravy on eggs, biscuits, and hash browns and turkey or pork gravy on turkey, ham, and mashed potatoes.  Have you ever gone canoeing/kayaking? Nope.  What one thing in particular makes you feel good about yourself? :/ What is priceless to you? Spending time with my family. What do you wait for discount sales to buy? I always look for sales on things whenever I can.  What is one thing you know about your family history you’re proud of? Hmm. What 3 songs will always be found at the top of your playlist? I don’t think there’s 3 particular songs that would always be there.  What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done for someone? It must be too late or something cause I really can’t think of an answer for a lot of these. Do you keep a budget? I just make sure my bills are paid first at the 1st of the month and then use the rest as I please, but try and keep around a certain amount in my bank each month.  If you could cast a spell on someone what spell would you cast and on who? I wouldn’t.  What makes you feel rested and refreshed? A day at the beach. It’s the only time I can actually relax for a bit while there. What is the funniest joke you have ever heard about? Who depends on you the most? I don’t know if anyone really depends on me. I’m the depender.  Could you ever be someone’s bodyguard? Ha, no. Has one of your biggest fears come true? Yes. Is there anything about the opposite sex you just don’t understand? There’s a lot I don’t understand about people in general. Have you ever let your mom or significant other fight a battle for you? My mom. Did you create a checklist for your ideal spouse?  Only when asked in surveys. If so, what were two things you wanted? Patience and understanding. Have you ever ridden on a subway or train an what did you like about it? I haven’t. What song on your playlist gets played the most? Spotify doesn’t tell me that. Do you prefer sporty or academic members of the opposite sex? If we vibe, we vibe. Do you have to experience something to fully understand it? I mean, I think so.  Has anyone in your family ever served in the military? Yeah. Finish the next line in your style: Roses are red, violets are blue… I’m tired, how ‘bout you? What embarrasses you instantly? If I spittle while talking or food or drink falls out my mouth while talking. Do you think you could be a firefighter, why/why not? No. I’m a paraplegic for one thing, so that’d make things kind of difficult. Do you often read your horoscope? I don’t at all. I don’t believe in that stuff. I never really did, it was more just for fun, but now I don’t even bother. What current event are you tired of hearing about? Trump. Are you a daredevil? HA. What common pitfalls do you find yourself dealing with in your work life? I don’t have a job. Describe your “poker face”. No expression? Isn’t that what it is in general, not just to me specifically? What do you think should be censored? I don’t see the issue of having curse words and nudity censored for children. Are you related to anyone famous or historical, if so who? Not that I know of. Would you ever donate a kidney to anyone, and who? I couldn’t. How do you encourage yourself when you go through hard times? I don’t encourage myself, I wallow. Have you ever fired a gun? Yes. I went to a shooting range with friends once.  Do you think people, including yourself live up to their full potential? Maybe this is my full potential. Maybe this is all I got to give. How are you different from most people? I don’t know.  What is the main quality you think makes a great parent? Love? What creature do you admire for its ability to adapt? Uhhh. How do you feel about GMOs? >> I think the whole process is interesting, and I think there are clear benefits to genetic modification, and I think there are clear detriments to genetic modification, and that’s just how it goes. <<<  Have you ever stayed up for an entire 24 hours, why? Yes. No good reason, just happened. Who is a female role model in your life?  My mom. What childhood dreams have you neglected? All of them? I know child me didn’t dream of a life like this. How often do you reevaluate your life? I need to really do that and start taking steps in the right direction, but I just haven’t been able to for some reason. What’s your favorite place just to hang out? My room. What gives you a zest for life? I’m not feelin’ very zesty. What do you have trouble seeing clearly in your mind? A future where I have better health and a relationship. I can’t see those things at all. What three things do you think of most of each day? A lot of things. My mind is a mess and it’s always racing. Would you travel to space if possible? No. Just the thought terrifies me. Name a famous person you wouldn’t mind for a business partner. I’m not a business person, nor do I desire to be, so I have no need for a business partner. 

[beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlej]

2 to 20 for the “questions you aren’t used to (or just do 2,3,6,8,10,11,13,15,16,18 it’s your choice)

go big or go home, bub

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

nope. if anything, ive convinced myself im a background character in other peoples stories i often doubt myself

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

2. comfortable walking around my own home in pitch black, and outside is fine too with a flashlight or smthn. i still get scared sometimes though.

3. The person you would never want to meet?

dr. phil

4. What is your favorite word?

“Hi” because it all depends on the context in which its spoken. it could be exited and happy, solemn, sexy, or scared and nervous. its such a minuscule word but think about how much or how often you say it and how it affects the people youre with

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

a japaneese maple tree because we used to have one in my backyard when i was little and i could climb that thing for hours, so i want to pass that on

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck~

7. What shirt are you wearing?

a deadpool shirt that i forgot to take off before i passed out last night

8. What do you label yourself as?

stupid

9. Bright room or dark room?

dark

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

watching “The Kings of Summer” because it is the best goddamn teenage rebellion movie i have ever seen and its so funny with the right amount of drama and its actually a really pretty film and theres so many good things about please go watch it, its free obn amazon prime

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

14 because all your [older] friends are getting cars and can drive you places and you finally start to get invited to some upperclassmen parties and your parents dont even have a clue that wow, they really do start young

12. Who told you they loved you last?

my mom when she walked out the door this morning

13. Your worst enemy?

myself

14. What is your current desktop picture?

spider-noir

15. Do you like someone?

oh i very much like someone~

16. The last song you listened to?

tainted love

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

mike pence

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

donald trump

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

jake johnson and i would have him wear sweatpants and a spiderman suit and make him feed me grapes

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

i have a great personality~ lmao well my hair has always been super important to me and i always have fun cutting it, dyeing it, or styling it. but i have taught myself to love my face, and so on good days when i smile right and have the perfect lighting, well, thats a major confidence boost and an even better selfie.

photograph to come later if i feel up to it ;)

thank you for asking!!!! my ask box is always open if you ever want to drop by again!

[stunudo]

BAU Prep School AU: 2018

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. (image link)

2016- 2017   Class of 2018

Messy

September 29, 2017 11:17pm

           Luke Alvez hadn’t expected this, despite his explicit instructions to his team to do so in the case of an emergency. And yet he found his phone ringing in the late-night weekend hours from an unsaved Virginian number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Luke Alvez?”

“It is, and you are?”

“My name is Frank Broadhead and I am—”

“The principal for the International School.”

“Why, yes, actually.”

“With all due respect, sir, but why are you calling me so late?”

“Well, you see, Mr. Alvez. Or Coach? Do you prefer Coach?”

“Semantics, please continue.”

“Right, well. Phil and I just so happened to find a few of your students breaking into our football stadium tonight. Now I wanted to call Aaron Hotchner myself, but young Mr. Malcolm has convinced us that you were the right call. Are you?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you the right call?”

Luke stared at the ceiling of his apartment and whispered a few choice curses beneath his breath.

“Are you pressing charges?”

“Now, Coach, we were very lucky to have apprehended the intruders prior to any hijinks. But, either you or another faculty member come and collect the lot of them or I am calling the police, followed by their parents.”

Luke could hear various protests in the background, this was not the way he wanted to spend his weekend. He also didn’t have a large enough vehicle to cart around multiple teenagers. “Besides Trevor Malcolm, who and how many are there?”

Luke grabbed his keys and double checked his back gate as he continued with the phone call.

“Well, I have a very aggressive young lady by the name of May Howard, a more demur girl named Azalene Curtis, a disrespectful punk who refuses to tell me his name and Mr. Malcolm.”

“Alright, Broadhead, tell Brooks to sit tight and I will be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Mr. Alvez.”

Luke hit the end call button and sighed. It was late enough that the bugs and occasional cars passing by were the only noises on his street. He stared at his list of contacts for a solid minute before making the call, which finally connected on the fourth ring.

“Man, you better not be drunk dialing me.” Morgan’s voice was amused.

“Sorry, Derek, but duty calls.”

An hour later, HM Hotchner, Coach Morgan and Coach Alvez all stepped out of the large black Suburban. The rival school was cast in near darkness, besides a few lights in a first-floor wing. Luke led the way, Hotch and Derek shared a glance at his familiarity with the campus. When they reached the door, Luke was texting on his phone.

“K, should be just a sec for them to let us in.”

“Anybody know about this?” Hotch looked at his two current sports’ coaches with concern.

“Honestly, Hotch, I had no idea. I gave the guys my number in case they needed a sober driver, I wasn’t exactly expecting a full bail out.” Luke admitted, scratching the back of his neck. Aaron nodded, he was grateful to have Alvez on his team.

“My whole focus has been putting in the work to stick it their football team come playoffs, Hotch.” Derek held up his hands as they were empty of precursors to the crime. “If I had heard Howard and company would be trespassing I would have nipped that in the bud.” Derek’s eyes lit up as someone opened the secure door wide.

A tall African American guy gave them an annoyed appraisal, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Brooks.” Luke sighed. “This is my boss, Aaron Hotchner,” he paused as the shook hands. “And I’m guessing you’ve met Coach Morgan?”

“Brooks. Sorry about this.” Derek patted the man on the back as he led the way through the dimmed hallways.

“That bulldozer on your line?” Brooks started. “She’s a pistol.”

“Are the students alright?” Hotch interjected.

“Yeah, the guys may have been on something, but they lost their buzz fairly quickly.”

Luke and Derek both groaned, Coach Phil Brooks led the way to the principal’s office as they passed through a waiting room. In a row, spanning the spectrum of fear to boredom sat four Submariners. Lena Curtis, May Howard, Trevor Malcolm and one Iggy Cruz. When their teachers and headmaster stepped into the room, they erupted into a slew of explanations.

“Sir, we didn’t even—” Trevor started.

“Coach, I am so sor—” May’s voice hitched as her favorite teacher looked at her with complete disappointment.

“Are you going to call my dad?” Lena squeaked, she had been crying.

“Enough!” Hotch raised his voice and the room quieted. “Submariners on your feet.” Even the coaches beside him straightened up at the direct order. Iggy was the last one to stand, letting a huff fall from his lips. “You will wait here with Mr. Morgan and Mr. Alvez. I am going to sort this out with Principal Broadhead, then we will discuss the consequences of your actions.”

October 2, 2017 12:58pm

Ms. Prentiss’s phone buzzed against her desk, but it didn’t register as she was reading going over the final act of The Crucible with her Sophomore class.

“Now Miller wrote this during the Red Scare, what parallels can you draw from the play and those events?” She looked out into the faces of some very bored and mildly confused teenagers. Her phone buzzed again, more obvious now in the silence left by the unanswering class. “Okay, let’s try this again. Red Scare? Anyone take post World War Two history, yet?”

Five hands were raised around the room, she sighed and nodded. Then Zachary Henkel’s hand shot up as if he was electrocuted.

“Yes, Mr. Henkel? What can you tell us about the Red Scare?”

“Nothing, actually, but Ms. Garcia is waving frantically and knocking at the door.”

The English teacher’s brow knit as realization sunk in.

“It’s time?” She asked the excitable guidance counselor.

“It’s definitely time. I don’t want to into details. But, hospital, go, you now.” Emily Prentiss gave a wilted glance back to the waiting class. “Go, Emily, I’ve got them.”

“Communism and Arthur Miller. You, go.”

1:14pm

The Kirsch Memorial Hospital felt like a maze, despite the now weekly appointments JJ had been having within. Emily soon found the birthing wing and signed in at the desk.

“Your partner is in room 13C. Breathe, Mama, you got this.” The beaming nurse said to Emily, who must have looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Right, thanks.” Emily gave a half smile and pinned her security tag on her blouse. The rooms were set up like hotel suites: very comfortable and spaced in pairs down a soothing hallway.

“Oh thank God!” JJ exclaimed as she saw Emily’s black hair peek through the double wide door.

“Or just Penelope, hey you.” Emily grabbed JJ’s hand. “Sorry I didn’t answer right away, I though it was an email notification.”

“You really need to stop being so professional.” JJ’s laughed cut short as a contraction started.

“Where are we at?” Emily watched the monitors they had on her girl and her bulging belly.

“Six minutes apart, but only dilated to 4,” JJ grunted. Emily rubbed JJ’s back with her free hand, as the pain eased so did JJ’s grip on the bed rail and Emily’s left hand.

“Good job, its like you’re ready to have a baby today.” Dr. Savannah Hayes smiled at the couple as she entered the room on her rounds. Emily watched JJ with immense pride as JJ sighed at her OBGYN.

“Ya think?”

Oct. 8 3:40pm

Matt Simmons had wrapped up his Sociology class early, telling the kids to enjoy the fresh air before a set of storms was due in for the weekend. Between his amazing stories, his looks and his more relaxed teaching style he had quickly won the hearts of the student body. He regularly received assignments early and was asked more than once if he was single, for their mothers or aunts. He politely declined the offers. Today he made his way down to the sound booth at the back of the Rothschild Auditorium to help set up for the coming musical. Rehearsals varied by day of the week as Lucas Turner was a lead this year and had recruited a few other football players for backstage work as well. The actors wouldn’t be in until 5:30pm. Matt found Alex Blake already playing with the levels as the set crew started showing up after the final bell. She held her chin in her palm, scrutinizing the coloring below.

“How’s it going?” He leaned against the door frame, his large arms folded across his chest. Alex jumped at his appearance, holding her chest. He tried to bite back his amusement, but her rueful smile told him it wasn’t going to be met with a scolding.

“Matthew! Damnit, I thought reporters liked an intro before they make an appearance.”

“Getting hard of hearing in your old age, Doc? Better keep up.”

“I am as quick as ever, thank you very much,” Alex tilted her head.

“Yeah, I bet,” He smiled at her confidence. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s up with the ‘Ms.’ Did you decide to forget your PhD?”

Alex sighed, spinning to face him and away from the control desk. He had leaned back in another chair, all young and firm and handsome. “When Dave and I split, I wanted a fresh start, so I left the Doctor title behind as it was always paired with Rossi.”

“I was sorry to hear about that, and Ethan of course.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes at the mention of her late son. “So, what exactly brings you to teaching? It’s not exactly high adrenaline, which I recall you always chased.”

“Hannah had a rough go of it last year and I, well, I needed a change of scenery.” Matt flinched but didn’t go into greater detail.

“Did your sister ask you to keep an eye on Hannah?” Alex’s voice was low and soothing.

“Are you kidding? She barely talks about Hannah, no, Hannah and I have been close since she was little. I figured there was going to be at least a temporary opening and I reached out to Hotch.”

“JJ probably loved that.” Alex smiled, turning back to the stage.

“Yeah, well, she has her hands full now.”

“True. You sure you want to give up your nights to help run sound?” Alex teased.

“I like to be useful, plus, something tells me the Director can keep me in line.”

She gave him a look before rolling her eyes at him, “Welcome to life in the Theatre, Mr. Simmons.”

6:08pm

Jake wasn’t certain his feelings meant anything in the grand scheme of things and that thought alone made him panic. But the gnawing in his gut was getting worse with each passing day. There was something about being in the wings, the dust and ancient currents were like layers of reality, secluding and enclosing them. Michel was going over their lines and Jake was trying not to stare or break their concentration.

Michel was had contoured today and felt drastically more confident now that the itchy school blazer had been discarded. They had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows and left the top buttons open, despite the draftiness of the theatre. Now if they could just get their lines down they would earn their bad ass title for another week. After rehearsal they had a late dinner with their parents, who were briefly stateside and probably another hour of homework. So much for senior year slacking.

Jake was going to lose his nerve, but the romantic leads were going over their first scene and it felt like they would be called on for their entrances at any moment. Michel had turned to him now, “Can you read Jackson’s lines I just need to stop using the script as a crutch already.”

“Sure. But, you could always ask him to run lines.” Jake didn’t mean to sound snarky, but his self-consciousness came off as annoyance.

“Jake, you are literally doing nothing right now. Come on,” Michel huffed. Jake stood up straight and accepted Michel’s script from their out stretched hand. He leaned over the folded booklet and waited for Michel to start, their character was Bellomy, the leading lady’s father and they adjusted their stance as they got into character. Jake was transfixed, clearly, he understood acting, but watching Michel do it was like watching water boil or leaves change color. A natural transformation resulting in something completely different than who was there before.

“Oh lady le di le da loo…”

“Oh, lady le di le da loo…” Jake sounded it out choppily. Michel grabbed him tightly as the characters would greet each other in the show

“Hucklee!”

           “Bellomy!”

“Neighbor!”

           “Friend!”

Jake hadn’t let go of Michel, though a wall was meant to be separating the men on stage. He dropped the script and turned to his longtime friend and crush.

“How’s the gout?”

“What?” Jake looked down at Michel mystified.

“That’s the line, Jake. What’s wrong?” But before Jake could answer or Michel could stop him, his lips were on Michel’s.

Oct. 10 6:54pm

“Now ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for the singing of our National Anthem?” The announcer’s voice boomed over the stadium filled to capacity with Homecoming crowds. The F.B.I. Scarlet Submariners were on the East side of their home field as their opponents the gold and black Kingsford Knights were on the West side. The sun had set fifteen minutes prior, letting the overhead lights illuminate the turf for miles around.

Mr. Walker raised his arms and the Pep band began the familiar bars, as Sacha Kane began to sing. The song wrapped up with thunderous applause and the coin toss followed. The teams stood lining the field as the captains returned. Sitting and stewing in their jerseys without their pads were the benched senior Ignacio Cruz and sophomore May Howard. The defense took the field and Lucas Turner sighed as his right side felt empty with an unreliable substitute. Coach Morgan had made the call, which Headmaster Hotchner backed fully. Coach Alvez had given Trevor a comparable two-game ban and a parent-approved drug test as punishment for the theatrics at the end of September.

“It had to be Homecoming,” Derek thought to himself as his back up kicker botched a punt, leaving the rival team on the Unsubs’ thirty-yard line. They went into the locker room down by six at half time. Thunder rolled in the distance. As well-spoken as Coach Morgan was, he didn’t need to say anything, the team knew they had to step it up. He let them breathe before offering a few shuffles to the lines.

“Unsubs! Whose house is this?!” Coach Morgan bellowed to the cement lined room.

“Our House!” They barked back.

“Whose house is this?!”

“Our HOUSE!” A deep booming response this time.

“Search and destroy, guys! SEARCH AND DESTROY!” The sweaty and pumped up bodies of forty teenagers jogged back on to the field to the enthusiasm of their stands. They went on to win by eleven, just as the cascade of rain flooded the stadium. After everyone had showered, Coach Morgan called Cruz and Howard over to discuss their reinstatements for the following week’s away game.

“You two care about your school, but there are better ways to defend it. Use your God-given talents to help your team, or you never were an Unsub. Behavior, Analysis, Unity. Earn it.”

Oct. 11 5:24pm

Chloe’s phone went off as she helped set the table for dinner. Her gaggle of siblings were either taking up space in the kitchen, trying to snag a taste early or lounging in the adjoining living room. All of her friends were off to take group pictures before heading to dinner at some posh restaurant or another. What a difference a year makes, the memories of last year’s dance clouding her thoughts.

She glanced down at the caller id before answering. “Lucas?”

“Hey, Chloe, listen, are you busy tonight?” He seemed quiet, like he was secluded.

“Helping with dinner right now, why?” She propped the phone against her shoulder as she began dishing out the salad.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Homecoming. With me. Like a date?”

She had not seen this coming, but that was probably because she had avoided romantic entanglements like the plague they had proven to be.

“Lucas…” She let her voice hang in the air. “I don’t have a dress, this is really last minute.”

“Wear anything, you can go in jeans. I just, I just want to dance with you Chloe, I swear.” He sounded sweet, not desperate and demanding. But nervous and sheepish.

“Lucas, you can dance with anyone there, you’re classically trained.” His nerves seemed to be infectious.

“They’re not you, Chloe. Please think about it? Call me back when you’re done with dinner. I won’t be hurt if you say no, but just think about it.” Lucas waited for twelve seconds before she replied.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later!”

“Later.” Chloe ended the call and turned back to find her entire family had sat down to eat around her.

“Who was that?” Her mother Anita asked suspiciously.

“Lucas, Lucas Turner.”

“Well, what did the boy want?” her mother sat down and patted Chloe’s seat beside her.

“He asked me to go to the Dance tonight.”

A mix of ‘ooohs’ and teasing burst from her siblings, her cheeks flushed and she ducked her head as she fell into her usual spot.

“Do you want to go, doll?” Her father asked as he started cutting into his steak. She shrugged and then nodded.

“He’s a good guy, then, not going to get fresh?” Chloe smiled at her mom’s concern.

“He’s a sweetheart. He was there for me when I broke up with Brayden in the first place.” The name drew a stunned silence among the Roycewood family. It had gone unspoken for so long.

“Alright then, it’s settled. Aimee, you’re to help your sister get ready right after dinner. You hear?”

“Sweet! Of course, Mama.” Chloe’s thirteen-year-old sister replied, the excitement of dresses and make up turning her weekend magical.

“Thanks, you guys.” Chloe tried to bite back a smile, but her cheeks were determined to stay up.

“Anything to keep that smile on your face, doll.” Her dad nodded.

Next Chapter: The Show(down)

@mentallydatingspencerreid @dontshootmespence @ultrarebelheart @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @cynbx @rikersgirl22 @pllfrommars @wheresthewater  @darknesstoglowing @adropintheocean1234567 @tleighstone12 @unitchiefwives @sam-carter-in-training @prettyboysjello @ddreammcatcher @thegirlinflames  @night–hawk @t25luver @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @thismiss02 @literallyprentissstwin @usercorgis

 @natalie-fangirl

[hxh-secretsanta-2017]

Here’s My Secret Santa gift for @patch-of-shore !!

The Chrollo/Phinks pairing was one I’d always found really cute but had never tried my hand at, so writing this was a really cool opportunity for me and was honestly such a blast! I’ve seen a lot of fics that explore these two at the beginning of their relationship so right off the bat I knew that I wanted to write them a little further in their relationship; past the initial awkward phase and past their first I love you, but just reaching the point where they start to work through real roadblocks like insecurities and doubts… Also I threw them in our world where Chrollo is a poet and Phinks really loves Starbucks.

Anyways, sorry for my stupid rambling. I really hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!!

Idiots, Muses and Stupid Starbucks Drinks

Phinks’ feelings were officially cancelled. Sure, without things like emotions he would lack the ability to cry, or love, or enjoy really delicious frozen Starbucks drinks, but Phinks had few qualms about terminating every single one of those abilities in himself. Forever. After all, it had been that exact, unfortunate combination of abilities that led him to the place he now found himself; wrapped tight in Chrollo’s arms and trembling from the combined effects of an overflow of emotion (manifesting itself via violent sobbing) and the bitter chill of the winter scene they found themselves immersed in. So whatever it took- a deal with the devil, black magic, ritual sacrifice- he was ready to give it all up.

His night hadn’t started this way. As with all good scenes, there was a build-up; of suspense, of insecurities, of upset. But upon later tracing the whole saga back, Phinks was unsure if he’d ever overcome his irritation at the fact that a coffee run had been the first domino in this obnoxious chain.

“Ah, Phinks, you’re back,” Chrollo startled out of his work, belatedly acknowledging his boyfriend’s reappearance on the balcony of their little apartment.

Chrollo’s gaze met Phinks’ own. He stifled a small gasp. No matter how many times Phinks would see Chrollo inspired, he was certain he would never get used to the shock of it. Despite the bags below his eyes appearing deep enough to give Mariana’s Trench a run for its money and the bite of prolonged exposure to the cold staining his face with a harsh flush, Chrollo was practically overflowing with ethereal beauty. Phinks was pretty damn sure the universe was trying to kill him in that exact moment. Pools of deep obsidian glinted in the soft light streaming from the bedroom that lay just beyond the glass door, betraying for a moment what their owner held within; passion, wisdom, and perhaps a touch of madness. Even compared to the cityscape that lay three stories beneath them, all tiny and twinkling and sleepy in the quiet fall of snow, there could be no contest. This may have been the view that Chrollo himself sought when the words were stuck and he needed inspiration, but Phinks would argue that Chrollo had it beat on every account.

“Oh, I nearly forgot what I sent you out for!” Chrollo exclaimed, breaking Phinks from his gawking. He eyed the cup in the blond’s grasp, receiving it gratefully when Phinks crouched down to the ground where he sat and placed it into his cold-numbed hands. Regardless of whether he remembered asking for it or not, Chrollo seemed pleased in the fact that, one way or another, he had a coffee warming his hands and dispelling the chill in his bones. “I’m not sure I even realized how cold it was before being reintroduced to warmth…”

Phinks frowned, moving from his squatting position to join his boyfriend on his makeshift seat of pillows and blankets snatched from their couch and bed. “You should come inside. How long have you been out here?”

“Not long enough. I’m still writing, Phinks. I’ll be alright.”

“Can’t you work in our room? You can still see the city through the door…”

Chrollo’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell backwards to rest on the glass of said door. “It’s not the same as out here. Out here I can feel it, you know?”

He didn’t. But he knew that it mattered. And he knew what it meant; Phinks wouldn’t be able to make Chrollo go inside right now if he had a SWAT team backing him. “I know,” he exhaled, “I’ll stay with you.”

“Phinks, you don’t-”

“I’ll stay with you.”

A small, grateful smile lit up Chrollo’s mouth and eyes as he met Phinks’ stare. Slowly, fluidly, Chrollo leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

“Thank you,” Chrollo’s words were consistent with the kiss they followed; gentle and sweet and taking nothing for granted.

“Y-yeah. It’s nothing.” Phinks’ gaze found the floor, equal parts flustered and emotionally inarticulate. Out of desire to have something, anything, to do with himself, his hands found his own nearly-forgotten drink.

A hiss of discomfort fell from Phinks’ mouth. In his close-encounter with forgetfulness, it would seem Phinks misplaced one pretty important detail; the drink he ordered himself was cold. As soon he came into contact with the clear, trademark Starbucks cup, his already cold-numbed fingers ached in protest. His hand slid to grip the cup where its rim met the base of the domed cap, fingers no longer subject to a quick and thorough freezing as they now contacted only plastic.

“Phinks, what the hell is that?” For the first time that night, Chrollo looked at Phinks minus that look in his eyes; the spell of perfect concentration and inspiration had broken.

Phinks grimaced inwardly, “Uhh… a chestnut praline frappuccino?”

“You’re-” Chrollo fought and failed to keep the amused smirk off of his face, “You ordered something frozen? Do you even realize how cold it is right now?”

“Yes, of course I do. I’m- We’re outside right now…” Phinks shuffled microscopically away from the man beside him. Despite the cover of night already obscuring the reddened shade of shame from view, Phinks still reflexively turned his embarrassedly flushed face out of sight.

Chrollo closed the tiny gap the other had made and then some. “I think I’m just having trouble understanding why…”

“Huh?”

“If, you know, you can feel and everything, then why in the world would you order something that’s as cold as the weather?”

Phinks’ mouth dropped open for a moment before clamping shut again. He huffed his breath sharply through his nose, considering where he wanted to start with this. “It’s one of the holiday drinks,” he said plainly.

“Starbucks offers hot versions of all of their holiday drinks, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well, yeah, but they just aren’t as good. This is my favorite drink from there and it’s only available during this season, so…” Phinks shrugged, hoping this would suffice as all the explanation he needed to give.

“Alright, but- Wait a minute…” Chrollo cut his thought short in favor of another, “when we went out to Starbucks with Nobunaga and Feitan the other day you got one of those generic espresso drinks. Not a holiday drink at all. If you love this drink so much then why didn’t you get it then?”

“Uhh, yeah. Those two would have ripped me to shreds for it,” despite the levelness in Phinks’ voice, it would be hard to miss the undertone of bitterness that coupled it, “I would never hear the end of it.”

“Well, it is the middle of winter…”

“Oh, great. And now I won’t hear the end of it from you.”

“Phinks, I’m not trying to upset you. I just genuinely can’t understand why you would go out of your way to make yourself more cold right now. And furthermore, why you didn’t get the drink you wanted the other day. Why were you were so scared of how your own friends would react?”

“I wasn’t scared! I was just-”

“Phinks, you were. You were afraid of their judgement and so you chose something that you deemed as safer,” his thin brows bunched together in concern. “Are you really so caught up with their opinion of you?”

“Wha- Alright, that’s enough, Dr. Phil. I thought you had poetry to write or whatever.”

The way Phinks projected himself in that moment, eyes cast down and guarded and arms crossed indignantly against his chest, was like the physical embodiment of a shop closed up for the season. Chrollo allowed his eyes to clench closed for a moment, breath coming slowly. It was possible to get through to Phinks right now, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that any kind of direct approach would only result in failure and hostility. After all, a closed-up shop wouldn’t very well leave the front door unlocked; you’d have to be a little more crafty if you wanted to break in.

“Phinks,” Chrollo’s voice was gentle, barely above a whisper, “I’m just concerned.”

“Oh, don’t do that!” Phinks snapped exasperatedly, causing both men to jump minutely. Genuine conflict between the two of them was not familiar territory.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know! Just… whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. I just want to ignore this. So just go back to doing your poet stuff and I’ll just sit here and enjoy my stupid fucking drink.”

“You can’t be serious…” Chrollo tried to keep the giggle from bubbling past his throat. He really did. But his experience of bodily betrayal proved unavoidable. “You’re really going to drink that? Out here?”

“What, you don’t think I’m serious?” The words tore out of Phinks’ mouth in a way that spelled out just how irritated he was. No matter how stupid the premise might have been, attempting to make light of the situation was probably not the best move.

The small smirk on Chrollo’s face was quickly swallowed. “At the very least, I hope you aren't…”

Rather than answer, Phinks leveled a look of stubborn determination at the man beside him and raised the green straw of his frappuccino to his mouth.

“Phinks, don’t.”

With his free hand, Phinks conveyed a certain gesture to the man he loved as he drained the contents of his cup. Said man simply looked on in stony silence, deeming it ineffective to attempt to intervene.

Only when Phinks moved the newly emptied cup away from his lips did Chrollo say a word. “Very mature. But if you’re quite finished with whatever tantrum you’re throwing, we ought to get you inside. You’re shaking.”

Try as he might to will it away, Chrollo was right. Phinks was practically a phone set to its its highest level of vibration. But despite every cell in his body begging to be given solace in the warmth of their apartment, Phinks refused to give in.

“No! I told you I’d stay out here with you.”

“I don’t care about that now. There’s no way we’re staying out here with you minutes away from freezing over.”

“So it is true?” The words were soft and felt a little bit broken. When Phinks was only met with a look of confused guilt, he continued, “I fucked up your focus. You were inspired, Chrollo. I could see it. But almost as soon as I got here it left you. You fought to stay out here; to work more, and now you’re giving up. Because of me.”

“Phinks-”

“No. Let me finish. You’re right. God, of course you’re right. I care too much about what people think. I do stupid stuff to prove stupid points and end up making everything worse. I always end up miserable because that’s how I always end up making everyone else feel. And now I’m sitting on our balcony, freezing my ass off, and probably proving nothing to my boyfriend except for the fact that I’m an absolute fucking idiot and not even half good enough for him. Not that it was much of a secret. But, God, I am so stupidly in love with you, Chrollo Lucilfer, but I can’t for the life of me understand why the hell you would ever decide to settle for some idi-UMPH”

Phinks’ words were cut short by a quick tug on his coat collar that resulted in a crash of lips and a sense of love so urgent he couldn’t possibly miss the message behind it; “Do you understand now?” He was trying. He would understand. A hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, allowing himself to be open; vulnerable. He embraced the new rhythm they set. When Chrollo pulled away, thumb softly caressing Phinks’ gentle flush, it didn’t feel like he was losing anything. Sure, he had lost some contact with him, but the feeling between them in that moment was one of wholeness. One that meant they were okay just to exist, so long as the other was there.

The pad of Chrollo’s thumb swiped beneath Phinks’ eye. “You’re crying.”

“I-” Phinks pulled back, wiping both hands down his face and examining them to find that they were, in fact, wet. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Phinks breathed out a laugh as tears continued to well up in his eyes. His vision blurred, distorting the image of Chrollo before him into vague shapes of ivory and black and grey. His chest heaved, transforming a laugh into a body-wracking sob. And then the tears fell, sensations of warmth and wetness along with the taste of salt overtaking his face.

He honestly wasn’t even sure why he was crying. He wasn’t feeling sad or frustrated or anxious. In fact, he was feeling more content than anything. At least, he was pretty sure he was. Perhaps he was relieved, or letting out bottled up emotions, or just overwhelmingly in love; or maybe some combination of them all. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it. The overflow of emotions channeled itself through his tears.

Phinks felt an arm snake around his waist, bracing him against a strong and steady body as he shook from the combined efforts of the winter air, his sobbing, and a goddamn Starbucks drink. The blond buried his face in the crook of Chrollo’s neck, effectively soaking the exposed section of his sweater. Chrollo’s opposite hand laced itself through Phinks’ hair, working soothingly in time with his whispers of reassurance.

“I love you so much. That’s right; you. I love you and I choose you and no matter how many idiotic things you do, I’m still going to be right here. I don’t expect or want you to be perfect. I want you to be happy. And if that means drinking frappuccinos in the middle of winter then so be it. I’ll just always have to be there to warm you up.”

Ever easily flustered, Phinks nuzzled his face deeper into his boyfriend’s shoulder. He was unsure if he’d ever be used to such declarations of affection. As the heat in his cheeks began to sink along with the tingly sensation that accompanied heavy bouts of crying, Phinks suddenly became quite aware of the situation he was in. Not only had he started a very real argument with the love of his life primarily over a Starbucks drink, but now he was quite literally crying into said love’s shoulder. Just as it had began to calm, Phinks felt the temperature of his face soar once more. At the very least, he didn’t have to worry too much about the cold for the moment. But he’d done more caring and sharing in the past half hour than he had done in most of his life, and he was not a ‘talk about your feelings’ kind of guy. Phinks groaned into Chrollo’s sweater, this sudden self-realization causing him to feel a bit like a burnt out socket.

“I don’t think I want to have feelings anymore.”

Chrollo only chuckled in response.

“Please tell me you won’t tell anyone about this,” another muffled groan, “Especially not Feitan.”

“What? And miss my opportunity to let everyone know that my kisses can bring men to tears? I don’t know about that…”

Phinks lifted his head, leaning away from Chrollo’s embrace and wiping away what was left of his tears with the sleeve of his coat. “Ha, ha,” he deadpanned.

A soft smirk broke out on Chrollo’s face. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone know about these top-secret feelings of yours. Now, come on, we’re going in. You’re only getting colder out here and you’re right; I do have all of my ‘poet stuff’ to get done.”

Phinks spluttered like an old car engine. “I- What? I thought you- being out here, you know… inspired you, and all.”

As Chrollo connected their gazes, Phinks inhaled sharply. Mischief, madness, and a previously missing spark of pure inspiration filled those obsidian orbs.

“Something tells me that I won’t have any trouble finding my inspiration.”

Phinks was beginning to consider uncancelling his feelings. Had they led to a stupid quarrel? A breaching of every wall he’d ever put up around himself? A close encounter with death via freezing? Definitely. But if that was all he had to give in exchange for moments like these- moments where he felt no shame in loving with his whole self, moments where he could exist free from fear of judgement (especially over choice of Starbucks drinks), moments where he was no longer some idiot but a muse for the man he loved- then he was willing to bear it all.

[webseoadd]

Practical Tips For Buying Your New Laptop

So you need to buy a laptop but don't know where to start. You're not alone. Buying a new laptop can present many challenges, especially if you're unfamiliar with laptops or bundle computers.

Over the conclusion little while so scads new laptop technology has television the market... Intel Duo Processors, SLI, Dual Graphics... it tins all be totally mind boggling to the average consumer. For the first time laptop buyer understanding all the techno gibberish can be downright scary.

Mainly because a whole new production of bundle technology comes around every two years or less; probably scads less when you consider all the new advances made recently. It tins even be a little overwhelming even for someone like myself who runs an online Laptop Guide and who has a keen interest in all belongings laptop.

Regardless of all these fantasy new improvements, devices and bundle technology, you must remember you're buying a new laptop for you and you alone. You must first decide if all this new things is important to you? Do you really need all this new bundle technology?

But most of all before you can consider that questioning you must first figure out WHY you need a laptop? Why are you buying a laptop? What chores or assignment do you protocol the laptop to perform?

If you just need a laptop for commoner hammock browsing and emailing, a laptop made five era ago evidence do the job nicely and charge you a heck of courtyard less. You really don't conditions a top of the files laptop unless of course, you're holding up with the Jones and misses the latest top model of everything. But that's mixing into Dr. Phil's territory... lets not campaign there!

So what do you need the laptop for?

Do you poverty a lightweight portable laptop for business trips or meetings? Do you assignment a student book for classes? Or do just failure a desktop reserve computer that you can easily claim around in your home?

Your answer testament greatly determine which makes of laptop you should buy.

In my case, I needed a desktop substitute that I could easily claim around my domicile and profits on very infrequent trips or vacations. Long cell life was not a major consideration because I would mainly be using it plugged into an electrical outlet. Besides, the laptop I wanted would be 7 or 8 pounds and I had no definition of lugging that child around over any great distance.

I work full time at residence and do a yards of web formatting so I needed a solid machine with a enclosure of RAM. I also enjoy downloading and enjoying the occasional film so a DVD Multi Drive and a wide screen parade were important. High caliber graphics and sound was also important for what I needed.

* RAM

RAM is to computer what location is to real estate. RAM or Random Access Memory is perhaps the capacity important factor to consider when buying your laptop or any computer.

RAM testament greatly determine the haste of your laptop or computer. How fast it testament relatedness your obligation and graphics. You must make sure you have enough for your needs. You can now discovery dozens laptops pre-loaded with 1 Gig of RAM and capable of upgrading to 4 Gigs or more.

Compared to yesterday's computers that's a pen of RAM. If you're not into gaming, relation large video files/editing, all that RAM is not needed but it testament type your laptop run faster. Also, remember if you're into gaming, Video RAM will be important -- you poverty a summit of the line (read expensive) Graphics Card and it evidence addition the prix of your laptop.

Also it may be wise to buy a laptop with upgradable memory - since new applications, multi windowed browsers, streaming video... of the very near future may circumstance high action on your laptop's RAM.

* Dual Core Processors

CPU or Computer Processing Unit is the sanity of your laptop and in this position you have Two Hearts -- Intel Centrino Duo is the front messenger in this area odds now. However, AMD is appointing Intel some fellow competition in the dual core battle with its Athlon(TM) 64 X2 dual core processor. Either one would be a wise choice.

* Hard Drive

The amount of disparity or extent of laptop hard drives are steadily increasing, a 100 Gig laptop is now common. If you don't shortage a yards of storage, buying a smaller size hard ambition evidence save you money.

Many laptop specialist choose the SATA hard ambition with a high 5400 or 7200 RPM.

* Weight or Size

Perhaps the adult reason you're considering buying a laptop is its size or encumbrance -- otherwise you're better of saving your crack and buying a desktop computer instead. A laptop is portable, you can carry it anywhere... tuck it under your arm and wagon it to class or your next firm meeting. It is shape for conveying your dope and employment to wherever you claim to go. This mobility is the main selling feature of a laptop.

Obviously you must pickax the best sized laptop to proceedings your needs. Laptops are divided into different categories, here's a quick rundown:

Tablet PC (smallest) Size of a paper capsule or notepad, less than 3 pounds.

Ultra Portable (small) 13" x >11" More than 1.5 inches, more than 7 pounds and up

Pick the extent that suits your purpose and use.

* Price

Laptop prices are steadily falling, it is now possible to get a quality laptop for well under a $1000. Many are selling at the $500 - $600 range. High caliber gaming laptops offered by such specialty laptop God as Alienware, Rock, will still system you back 3 to 4 grand. Ouch!

* Warranties

Don't overlook this factor, if you're buying an expensive laptop, you determination shortage to unit out these extended warranties. If you do a enclosure of traveling, you durability scarcity to purchase insurance against burglar and loss.

* Dead Pixels Was the Only Thing I Feared!

If you can band your laptop for any dead pixels. A dead pixel will give you white spots(pixels)on your LCD display screen. Most situation you're buying your laptop heterosexual out of the box, booting up and discovery you have dead pixels is not a pleasant experience. If you need to gang your laptop screen for dead pixels, just do a pursuit for the free 'Dead Pixel Buddy' software program and run it to check your laptop for dead pixels.

* Use The Internet For Information Or Even Purchase

I run a commoner Laptop Guide on one of my sites and I also keep a laptop blog so I am constantly using the Internet to gather information and compare prices. You must office around and check out the consumer reports on the different laptop makers and the different laptop products. You must also sketch out the service records/reputation of the major brand names.

I researched all the different laptops and found the one that met my obligation and price. I bought it in the real world at a local Computer store mainly because I wanted to examine the laptop's graphics and keyboard in the flesh. However, I checked out all of the product's details beforehand on this store's online lands -- scads easier than in a busy crowded store.

Make A List

It might prove helpful to create a scrolls of the minimum requirements or features you shortage on your desired laptop:

Intel Duo 1 Gig of RAM 100 Gig Hard Drive 15 Inch Screen 4 or 5 Hours Battery Life Burn/Write DVDs...

* Kick The Tires

Like buying anything, it is always a good objective to fully check out your purchase. Sample the laptop's keyboard, does typing emotion comfortable? Try the touchpad, is it responsive? Open your favorite programs and band the treating speed of your laptop. Bring along a DVD and sample the sound and graphics. Take note of any problems or irritations that may pop-up, in my matter it was a small benefit shift key but this was so minor I knew I could get used to it and it didn't stop me from buying my desired laptop.

* Research Your Laptop

Use the Internet to research your desired laptop, know exactly what segment it has and know what software is already preloaded. Be careful of salespeople who evidence trial to levy you extra for configuring or repairing programs on your laptop when these programs may already be preloaded at the factory stage!

I settled on a Toshiba Satellite P100-SD3: it has Intel Duo, 1 Gig of RAM, 100 Gig Hard Drive, 17" widescreen TrueBrite Display, compatible with the new Windows Vista... it meets all my needs and I am quite pleased with my new laptop. And I testament be manuscript a full review after I have used it for a duo of weeks... but that's another article.

If you consider mass of the simple points and sketch out the factors listed above then order your own laptop purchase will not only be quite painless but it may even prove an enjoyable experience. Do a little homework and you will easily discovery the perfect laptop for you.

The poet runs an online Laptop Guide featuring the latest top gaming laptops: Gaming Laptops For Timely Special Savings/Deals/Coupons on Dell, Toshiba, Apple, Sony, Alienware...click here:https://fashnos.com/product-category/electronics/laptop/ 

[oldguy56-world]

The Cable Guy

Full disclosure: I was raised watching television. I remember when shows like Gilligan’s Island, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Bewitched transitioned from black and white to color. (for those of you not a Tweenior [TM] this is fact not an old wives tale...besides I am not an old wife) We had 12 channels (for some reason no channel 1 existed) and the remote control was the youngest family member who had to go change the channels when the dad decided it was time.

There was only 1 TV in the house, so it also forced people to watch things together whether you liked what was on or not. If you missed a show, there was no PVR or VHS players to record, so you had to wait until a rerun of the show came on to know what happened.

This blog is not about that. The technology available now has made watching TV greater than ever. So it is not about that either. This blog is about how the great minds that run shows and networks are doing their best to get people to stop watching and find other avenues of entertainment. I cannot get over how many ways they have come up with to frustrate me when I am trying to watch a show.

Actually, there are seven, so henceforth (wow that word made me sound real old) I will refer to them as the Seven Deadly Sins of TV programs.

1) Splitting Seasons. We now have fall finales, followed by a couple of months of a show not being on, or being repeated, then the show resumes. I am not a TV genius but I have met people. Most like me have the attention span of a two year old at Christmas. If a toy gets set aside I will find another to play with, and maybe I will like it more. Give me back my first toy and I might play with it again, or perhaps I won’t. Remember when a show started in September, ended in April, was on every week, and was watched faithfully? Apparently not. If you are programming to millennials, here is a flash: they are streaming it, not watching on TV. Older people are. We forget all about the show.

2) Changing Nights. My favorite show is on Tuesdays. Wait, now it is Thursdays. Wait, now it is Sundays. Wait, now I don’t care anymore.

3) Logos on Screens. WTF!!! Watching opening scene of a movie that the subtitle shows takes place in New York 20 years, only I don’t know that because across the bottom of the screen is the logo for the Dr. Phil show seen daily on this channel. Now I am confused because the movie jumps forward, and the only reason I know it is because a subtitle says ‘Present Day’. Huh? When was that first scene I watched. Now I have to do a Wikipedia search to know what is going on and accidently see a reference to the main character being killed halfway through the movie. I decide to watch the weather station.

4) Story Arcs. Why can’t every show have a beginning, middle, and end? On today’s shows, to keep viewers watching, they will drag out an underlying (overlying?) major arc that may or may not end by the season finale. The only things that should be continuous are character families, background etc. Maybe the odd 2 parter (on a very special episode of....)

5) Ratings. Networks have no patience. Shows are cancelled after 2 episodes because of low viewership. Some of the greatest shows in history started poorly. Look it up. (please do. I can’t be bothered but I am sure I am correct) Also, connected to Deadly Sin #2, they move stuff around, lose viewers and take the show off the air. The other trick they like to do is take a show that was successful its first season, and change it. Add characters, subtract characters, or change the entire complexion of the show. Then they scratch their heads as to why people don’t like it anymore.

6) Series finales. Two things happen here that really vex me. First is just to stop making the show. No acknowledgement that it is ending for characters. Everyone needs closure and makes people afraid to invest in another series for fear of being left hanging, especially if there has been a prolonged story arc that never went to conclusion. The second is a lame wrap up. I won’t mention which show, but one of my daughters still has not gotten over the trauma of how one of her favorite shows ended. She also will not watch reruns because she knows how it all ends....

7) Closing Credits. For Pete’s sake let them show in their entirety, and at full size. I don’t need to see what is coming up next. I want to see if I was right about who played such and such without looking it up. Also, for some movies, the best songs are played over the closing credits, and there is also that neat trick some movies have of showing bonus scenes during credits. You have taken that away from an old man. Shame on you.

There are some minor annoyances as well, (like cutting scenes to fit a time slot. {Do you only take 2 of your 3 kids with you because they fit better in the back seat?) but I can’t expect a perfect world out there.

There is one big beef that has nothing to do with programming, and that is Cable Itself. (I am using capital letters because it is almost blasphemous to mention this). Why, if I want to watch the shoe channel, do I also have to order the mud wrestling channel? With the technology, wouldn’t it make more sense to say: ‘Dear customer. Because you are a good customer and we want to keep you, for $50 you can pick 50 stations you want to get. No strings attached. No packages involved.’

I better go now. My editor says that after that last paragraph it is obvious I missed my meds today.

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK: If you are going to a Christmas party, and planning on getting into an argument about politics or religion just for the heck of it, here is a tip to spot the crazy person at the party. Look in a mirror.

[hamilkilo]

Ardently

Prompt: ANONYMOUS: Request for hamilsquad x reader where one of them meets the reader at a coffee shop and kinda flirts with her asking her out and then tells her about the open relation ship a few weeks into there relationship and asked them if they would like to join them and the reader is really shy and has horrible social anxiety and is really worried about messing everything up (because this is aka me 24/7) Pairing: Mostly John Laurens X Reader, but also Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader TW: angst, drama, mild swearing, mentions of bigotry and intolerance, drama, self depreciating thoughts, social anxiety A/N: Hey guys! I’m really excited about this piece! I’m sorry for any typos; I pulled an all nighter to write this, so my brain is a bit fuzzy. I really hope y'all enjoy this! I did my best! If you want me to tag anything, please let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! I love y'all so much!!!! Please enjoy! Word Count: 10755

You liked to live by your aesthetics. You went to used book stores downtown, took polaroids of old buildings, went out of your way to a quaint little coffee shop for the feel of it. After you had gone to the bookshop, it was a habit of yours to go to the coffee shop, buy a warm drink, and read your book at a table near the window. You usually made the trip on a rainy day, for the aesthetic. You used old Polaroids as bookmarks and you wrote comments or thoughts in the margins of your book with a pink pen. The light chatter of background noise was soothing as you reread one of the Jane Austen’s. It was your first copy, therefore the most beaten up. You had always been a romantic, probably for the aesthetic. Which came first? Did your aesthetics extend from your romanticism, or did the romanticism stem from your aesthetics? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you loved the idea of love. You were deeply engrossed in your book when you heard the sound of the chair across from you being pulled out. Someone sat down, but you buried your nose in the book. What would Elizabeth do? Would she accept Mr. Darcy’s love? Of course, you knew the answer, but you read the book each time like you had no idea. You just hoped that your guest would get the hint and leave you to read. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re reading Pride and Prejudice,” a smooth voice commented, and you glanced up at the boy. Your breath caught when you saw how cute he was with his curls and freckles. You almost shoved your nose into the spine of the book in nervousness. You knew you should probably say something, but you didn’t wanna mess it up. What if you accidentally offended him? “Um, Yeah?” You managed to squeak out, and the guy smiled. He leaned closer, as if to get a peak at your face, but you were quick to bring the book back up. You fiddled with one of your polaroids to calm yourself. “I think Mr. Darcy is a pompous prick that nowhere near deserves someone as well thought and versed as Elizabeth,” the boy stated bravely, and your switch flipped. You didn’t know how to talk to strangers about the weather, but you knew how to talk books, especially if you were defending one of your favorite romances.

“Excuse me, sir, but I’d have to disagree with you. Your judgement is clouded by main character infatuation. As readers, we have the bad habit to believe that the protagonist is the hero, a do-gooder. Elizabeth wasn’t! She was harshly judgmental of her own family and quick to damn everyone else. While she wasn’t as upfront about it as Miss Bingley, she wasn’t exactly discreet about it. You’d have to be brick stupid not to see how she and Mr. Darcy are horridly wonderful for each other. They’re both horrible, judgmental people with ridiculous prejudices and even worse pride. They were made for each other!” You narrowed your eyes at him while he stared at you. Your cheeks were bright red from your outburst, your heart hammering. You could not believe you just did that. He just shared his opinion! You didn’t have to go ahead and give him an essay! This wasn’t literature and composition! You bit your lip and slowly brought your book back up, but his hand caught the top of it. You glanced down at his hand, then back up at him. “Dare I say, but you sound like Elizabeth. Passing judgment on them would make you just the same as her, right?” He asked softly, and you scoffed. “It’s human to judge, just like its human to be ugly and horrible to each other,” you dismissed, tugging on your book to no avail. “That’s a rather dreary outlook on life. Surely not everyone is as bad? You don’t seem ugly,” he smiled at you at his last comment, and you felt your face heat. “I haven’t met anyone capable of proving me different,” you countered, and he smirked. “Darlin’,” he drawled, and you melted. “You’ve been meeting the wrong people.” You laughed out loud, “And who would you call right people?” “I dunno,” he glanced around the coffee shop, then back at you. “I know a few.” “Uh huh,” you sassed, giving up on the book and placing a Polaroid in your spot. You closed the book, almost on his hand, and he grinned at you. “There’s the little bookworm, coming out to greet the world,” he teased in a weird voice, and you crinkled your nose. “No, I can’t read when your enormous hand is covering the page and weighing down my book,” you replied with a faux annoyance. “Why read about adventures when you can live them?” The boy asked as he reclined back in his seat and gazed at you. You tugged on the end of your scarf anxiously. “Books are better than people,” you stated simply, and he shrugged. “You’ve picked up the right books and wrong people,” he restated his previous claim, and you rolled your eyes. “Well, you go out there and find the right people, write a book about it, send it to the coffee shop, and I’ll read it,” you tried to sound frigid, but the boy saw right through that. He was determined. “I think you’re afraid,” he accused casually, and you went straight into RBF. “Afraid?” Your voice was monotone. “Yeah, I think you’re afraid of the adventure out there. You’re afraid of the Miss Bingleys, Janes, and Mr. Darcys. You’re afraid to get your heart broken. You’re afraid to love and be loved,” he took a breath like was about to go on, but you interrupted. “Who do you think you are? Dr. Phil? Oprah? You don’t even know me! Don’t go psychoanalyzing me!” You were only defensive because you knew he was right. Only you weren’t afraid, you were petrified. You liked books because the dialog was there. With books, you didn’t risk saying something wrong. You didn’t risk messing anything up. Books were safe. “It’s alright, sugar. It was just a hunch. I’m sorry I got you worked up,” he reached out and patted your hand soothingly, and your breath caught. He was so cute. He was talking to you. And you yelled at him. Oh boy. How had he not flipped yet? Somehow, you still couldn’t stop yourself, “You’re worse than Mr. Darcy.” The boy paused, then began to laugh. He chortled like there was no tomorrow. It got to the point where he was downright cackling. “That may be true,” he stared once he had sobered up, “But I think you’d make a wonderful Elizabeth, and I mean that as a compliment.” Your cheeks tinged, and you reached for your book, but you bumped his hand instead, and he carefully entwined his fingers around yours. “If you want,” he murmured as he traced his thumb across your knuckles, “I could introduce you to the people I was talking about.” You bit your lip, unsure. He was nice, but he know how to get a bustle in your hedgerow. You glanced at him and remembered what he had said about fear, then you found yourself nodding. “Great! Let me get your number, and I’ll set it up!” He beamed at you, and you bit your lip. You could have just put your number into his phone, but you lived for your aesthetics, and you wrote your number on the back of a black and white Polaroid of you against a brick wall before you gave it to him. With another shy smile tossed over your shoulder at him, you hurried from the shop. Hopefully, he’d lose your number. You’d embarrassed yourself enough for a lifetime.

Sadly, he did not lose your number. A few hours later, he had texted you. “Hey, Elizabeth,” was his cheeky greeting, but despite your heated embarrassment, you found yourself grinning. You felt like a school girl. You saved his contact in your phone as Mr. Darcy, nailing down the pompous prick part of his personality. “I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier,” you began to type, but you bit your lip and reconsidered. Then, you deleted it all and typed up a different message. “Hey.” Short and simple, was it too short? You grimaced as you hit send. You were such an idiot. You wished you were half as quick witted and good with words as Elizabeth. Your phone buzzed, and you found yourself grinning when you saw it was from Mr. Darcy. “So no one is available to actually hang out until about a month from today. For some reason, Eliza likes to plan things week in advance, which also ties up her girlfriend, Maria. I figured you’d like them most. They remind me of Jane.” You rolled your eyes. If only your high school English teacher could see you now. You were doing text to world connections. She’d be so proud. Somewhat relieved that you didn’t have to meet anyone any time soon, you feigned disappointment in your text, trying not to be rude. “That sucks! I was so looking forward to meeting the right people.” Right people. Jeez, this guy was way more arrogant than Mr. Darcy could even aspire to be. But he was also wayyy cuter than any of the Mr. Darcy’s you’d ever seen in the movies. “If you want, we can hang out next Friday night. I can take you to a club my friend works at!” When you read that message, you frowned. Dang. You faked your disappointment too well. You could always fake being sick, but you didn’t want to be rude, especially since he was making so much effort to be nice. “Okay,” you replied, keeping it short. You had found that the shorter the replies, the littler room for error. He didn’t respond right away. You weren’t sure how long had passed, only that you had read another thirty pages into your book when your phone buzzed. “So when you aren’t playing English teacher with some stranger at a cafe, what are you doing?” You felt embarrassment course through you. You were so lame. He was right. Ugh, you wished the ground would swallow you up. You had probably just single handedly destroyed any chance you had with another hot guy by being a huge nerd. You knew you had to reply though. “Drugs.” Before you could stop yourself, you hit send. You turned your phone off right after, trying to stop the message from sending, to no avail. You buried your head in your hands. Cheese and rice, you were so lame! And weird! He probably thinks you’re some crazy coke whore! “Just kidding!” You quickly typed. “I’m usually reading, writing, listening to music… How about you?” Jeez, is that all you did? You really needed to get out more. His response was quick. “Drugs!” Was he teasing you? Was he making fun of how stupid you were? Maybe you should change your phone number and move to Chicago or something? Maybe Antarctica? Yeah, that sounds good. Talk to the penguins, cry, live in an igloo. That’s a good plan. “You’re cute! Actually, I’m usually hanging around my boys. It’s almost a full house here, and we’re always getting into stuff. I’ll have to introduce you to them at some point.” You quickly caught onto his personal life, and you directed the spotlight onto him. “Tell me about your boys. Are they right people?” You bit your lip as you waited, your book forgotten to the side. “Okay. There’s three of them, and we all live together. There’s Alex, who I met first. He’s always been my best friend. He’d like you a lot. He loves to argue. He’s a writer, and he always has an opinion on something. Then there’s the frenchiest fry, Marquis de Lafayette, but we all call him Laf. He’s a French foreign exchange student that just kept coming back. He’s actually on his residency here! He’s probably the best out of all of us. He has such a pure heart, always giving. Last, but definitely not least, is Herc. He actually owns a little boutique uptown. I’ll take you by there sometime, you’ll love it. He’s probably kept me out of jail a few times, tbh. All those drugs, yo.” You found yourself laughing as you read through his long text. It was odd; when he talked about his boys, he seemed so much more like a Jane than a Mr. Darcy. He was actually kinda sweet, and funny, and he made you smile. Look at you, a blushing school girl all over again. You spent the night texting him, smiling and blushing as he talked to you about all of his right people and you stuttering through your texts, typing and deleting, editing, reconsidering. But no matter what you said, he always had something funny and sweet to counter it with. You never scared him off, even though you felt like you had given him several reasons to run for the hills.

“Hey, Y/N, deep breaths, you’ve got this!” “No! I don’t! He’s so cute, and I’m such a nerd! I totally geeked in front of him! Ugh, I don’t even know his name! Why did I agree to this?!” You were pacing around your room, the phone pressed to your ear. You were supposed to meet your Mr. Darcy at the bar his friend owned in less than half an hour, but instead, you were freaking out. “You’re the cute kind of nerd! Don’t worry, it sounds like he likes you! And by the things you’ve been telling me, he sounds like he’s a huge nerd too! And besides, names are overrated! He’s going to love you. Just be yourself and give him the ol’ razzle dazzle!” “You just say that because you’re my mom,” you sighed, sitting on your bed and covering your face with your hand. “Honey, don’t worry about it, okay? Just go out and have fun! Be safe and call me when you get home! I want all the details! Now get off the phone and go live one of your books!” You tried to protest her, but she wouldn’t hear it. As soon as she hung up, your stomach twisted. You had put on one of your favorite dresses, your hair was up, your makeup was done, and you looked killer, so why did you feel so scared? You stood and smoothed your dress before taking a deep breath and leaving to meet him. You stuttered your way through a cab ride, fidgeting with the hem of your dress the entire time. When you actually made it to the club, your stomach dropped at how long the line was. There was no way you’d get in. This was a mistake. You turned to crawl back into the cab when you heard someone yelling. “Elizabeth! Wait, Miss Elizabeth!” You turned around, confused, then you realized it was Mr. Darcy. He was running towards you, trying to stop you from leaving so soon. You frowned; it was too late for you to pretend you hadn’t seen him and go on your merry way. He knew you saw him. You turned around slowly and gave him your most convincing smile. “Mr. Darcy,” you countered as he came to a stop in front of you. He grinned, somewhat out of breath. He looked rather cute with his curls pulled back smoothly, his blue sports coat, all the way down to his snazzy dress shoes. What a pompous, well dressed prick that made your heart flutter. Where were your books when you needed to hide? “You look beautiful,” he breathed, and you realized you’d been staring. Jeez, his freckles were wonderful. It was like your own galaxy to stare at. “Thanks, you do too,” you replied, half listening as you took him in. There was just so much to appreciate. It was only when you heard him giggle that you noticed your mistake. Was it even really a mistake? Beautiful. Huh. Guys were actually very beautiful, this one in particular held your fancy. “Thank you! I wish I got that compliment more often!” His smile was so enticing. You scolded yourself for being so easily distracted tonight. He held his elbow out to you. “Shall we?” You took his elbow with a shy smile, and you hesitantly followed him into the bar. He nodded at the bouncer, then carefully made his way towards the stairs at the back. “I’m taking you up to the higher level; it’s more private up there. We’ll be able to talk more. Maybe you can give me more opinions on Jane Austen,” he teased you as your heels clicked on the metal stairs. When you heard his words, you blushed and were so distracted that your heel slipped. He caught you quickly to prevent you from falling down in a fairly embarrassing manor. His hand was warm on your waist as he stabilized you, and suddenly, the air felt way too thick. “Whoa, careful there. Save the falling for when there’s a bed behind you, eh?” You scoffed and quickly pulled away, not because you were repulsed by the idea of being in bed with him, but because you weren’t repulsed by it. He laughed lightly as you took his elbow again and quickly continued up the stairs. When you got to the top, there was a door that he knocked on, and in what felt like seconds, it was opened to reveal a goddess. Cheese and rice, if you didn’t go to bed with Mr. Darcy, you might go with her. She was tall and sleek, her perfectly sculpted cheekbones and wonderfully dark skin made her look like a goddess. Her curly hair was loose around her shoulders, and her pink dress only made her look even better. Of course this guy was friends with her. Then your reader’s brain clicked. Was she his girlfriend? Was she his right person? What if it was all in your head, and you didn’t even have a chance with him to begin with? Cheese and rice, you felt ridiculous and naive. Who did you think you were? Some special little book worm that got to live their trashy fanfic dream? Wake up, y/n. This was real life. You didn’t get the dream boy or the perfect heroine. You got embarrassment for being such an optimistic idiot. “Y/N, this is my friend, Angelica. She owns the bar. She’s one of those right people I was telling you about,” Mr. Darcy explained as he led you into the room. It was better lit than the rest of the bar, the music wasn’t as obnoxious, and the seating looked way more comfortable. There was a wet bar in the corner with a few different snack bowls laid out. “Oh, is this the Elizabeth you would not shut up about?” Angelica teased as she went over to the bar and poured herself a vodka tonic. You blushed. So Mr. Darcy had talked about you? To her? An actual goddess? What did that mean? “Don’t embarrass me, Angelica!” He playfully scolded her as he sat down on the couch. You bit your lip before sitting down beside him with an ocean of space between you two. “You do that well enough on your own, Johnny,” she countered with a smirk before she threw back a shot. So his name was Johnny? John? Johnathan? Good ol’ Jimmy Jam? Why wouldn’t your brain just shut up and let you focus for two seconds tonight? “And what’ll you have, Miss Elizabeth?” She put air quotes around the name, and you smiled. Uhhh, you never really went out, especially not to a bar. The wildest place you usually went on a Friday night was to Walmart around 11 when you were craving ice cream. To be fair, Walmart past 10 pm was reasonably sketchy. You made a knee jerk reaction. You figured it was best to establish dominance. Maybe, if you intimidated them, they wouldn’t come after you. “Vodka, straight shot.” You could channel your wild college days of crying, shoveling ice cream, and swigging vodka out of the bottle with your room mates instead of working on your ten page paper due the next day while watching the Notebook. Angelica raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t question you. She just poured you a shot, poured Good Ol’ Jimmy Jam a glass of whiskey, and brought you both the drinks. As soon as your shot was in hand, you threw it back. It burned like you had just made out with an angry, firebreathing dragon. Cheese and rice, how did this not kill you in college? Were you dying right now? No matter how bad it felt, you didn’t cough. You held it together. Establish the dominance. Mr. Darcy chuckled in wonderment. “Wow, John. She might be able to hang with you and the boys shot for shot if y'all ever go out together,” Angelica mused. So his name was John. You glanced at him. That seemed fitting. He looked like a John. “I know! I was just thinking the same thing! You might even be able to keep up with Herc. Once he gets going, that guy is a machine!” John swirled his whiskey while he stared at your face. “Herc’s the one with the shop uptown, right?” You asked as you tried to remember which boy he was talking about. “Yeah! I think I’ll take you there next time!” He gushed, and he went on to say something else, but you weren’t paying attention. Did he say next time? Was he already planning on taking you out again? Why? You were probably the lamest person you’ve known. At some point, Angelica poured you another shot, and you threw it back. They had been talking about Herc’s shop uptown, a lot of stuff you didn’t get because you didn’t understand the background. “Wait, Wait, so if you’re here with John, then he probably never told you about the Taco Bell incident?” Angelica suddenly changed the topic, roping you back in. She was a really good hostess… to your dismay. “Don’t tell her about the Taco Bell incident!” John quickly protested, almost choking on his whiskey since he was in the middle of taking a swig when she brought it up. “She needs to know! Everyone needs to know-” “Angelica! Don’t! You swore you’d never tell anyone-” “Yeah, but that was before you introduced me to a girl! It’s a great party story! And besides,” she leaned close to you. She had seated herself in the arm chair adjacent to John. “It’s revenge for him talking smack about Pride and Prejudice.” You snickered at her comment, those shots of vodka already hitting you. “Angie, please,” he gave her the cutest look, and you felt your heart melt. Angelica looked unphased. “Those eyes might work on Alex, but you’ll have to work a whole lot harder than that to deter me. So anyways,” you found yourself leaning closer, eager to hear the story, while John slumped in defeat. “It was our senior year of high school and we were both in marching band. It was our last performance at our last competition, so it was kind of a big deal. Earlier that day, we stopped for lunch, and we had four separate options: Panera, McDonalds, Steak N Shake, or Taco Bell. I, like anyone with taste buds and half a brain, chose Panera, while John and Alexander chose Taco Bell. Now, I’ve known John for years, and he’s always been that kid. You know, the one that thinks it’d be a good idea to throw a hammer at a hornet’s nest, jump out of the tree house instead of taking the ladder, stuff like that. So this kid, being the genius he is, and with the encouragement from Alex, ate fifteen dollars worth of Taco Bell. So fast forward to later, our first performance is fine. We have dinner provided by the band moms; we laugh; we cry; it’s great. We’re all getting into uniform for finals, and we’re marching off to warm up, when Alex comes up to me asking if I’d seen John, and I’m like, no? He’s not even in my section! I’m a flute player! He’s a tuba! He’s not even in my jurisdiction! But Alex is worried sick, so I go off, and after half the band searching for him we find him, crying in a portapotty-” “I wasn’t crying. I was just, uh, the smell, it was making me tear up-” “Oh shut up, you were crying. We could hear your gross crying noises. Anyways, needless to say, he had to miss his last performance all because he thought $15 of Taco Bell was worth it.” Angelica was laughing towards the end, and you found yourself chuckling with her. John had his lips pressed into a thin line while you both ended up in hysterics. “Mr. Adams,” she panted through her laughter, “was so disappointed! He actually refuses to stop by Taco Bell on band trips anymore!” You roared with laughter again. “Yeah, haha, laugh it up,” John pouted, “I have stories on you, too, Angie-” He stopped talking when Angelica shot him a look. “Try it, Portapotty, I dare you!” You laughed so hard that your sides hurt.

You and Angelica were quick to become friends, and you quickly figured out that she wasn’t seeing John. You ended up actually texting her more than you had texted John, usually just nonsense and inside jokes. Yeah, you had inside jokes with her now. It had only been a few weeks, but you were already close friends. You had spent most of the night upstairs with Angelica and John, listening to funny stories and laughing until you almost passed out. It was the most fun you’d had in a long time. It was around two in the morning when Angelica had her driver take you home. John had offered to walk you home, but Angelica insisted. Angelica struck you as the mom friend. She was always there looking out for you. She went the extra distance to ensure your safety. At first, you’d thought of her as a Miss Darcy, or maybe a Jane, but neither of those did her justice. You eventually decided she was more like an Athena. As much as you hated to admit it, most books didn’t have female characters strong enough to do her justice, especially not your beloved classic novels. It was a quiet Friday night. You had been texting Angelica that day, and you had discussed your plans for that night. She was running her bar, and she invited you out, but you politely declined. You had recently bought a new book you were just dying to read. She understood. It was things like that that made it so easy to talk to her. Maybe John was right. Maybe she was right people. You missed John and her, but both of them had been busy the past few weeks, and when they weren’t, you were. It was around seven that night, and the sun had just set. You were curled up in your armchair, halfway through Pride and Prejudice instead of the book you had planned to start reading. You had been obsessed with that book more so than lately. Perhaps it had something to do with the curly haired boy that kept wandering his way back into your thoughts. You were in a pair of leggings and an old college hoodie, positively comfy. You had your blankets and your mug of tea, which was almost empty. You had it made. Suddenly, there was a knock at your door. You were confused. Was your mom visiting today? No, she was visiting on Sunday. Maybe your neighbor accidentally got some of your mail? You stuck a Polaroid in the spine of your book and went to the door. It was probably Miss Higgins, looking for her cat again. You opened the door, expecting to see the sweet little old lady and half distracted by the door mat you accidentally messed up when you opened the door. “I’m sorry, Miss Higgins, I haven’t seen Tippy today, but I’ll let you know if I do,” you answered routinely as you nudged the carpet with your socked foot. A soft laugh from whoever was in front of you alerted you that it was not your little, old neighbor lady unless she just hit puberty and her voice dropped several octaves. “Who’s Tippy? Should I be worried?” John joked with a cheeky smile. You felt yourself break out in a grin at the sight of him. He was dressed down today in a pair of jeans, a striped sweater, and a pea coat. He had a scarf hanging loosely from his neck and your inner romantic swooned at the idea of grabbing him by that scarf and yanking him in for a kiss. “Um,” you began, shaking your thoughts away as you held the door open for him. You didn’t give him your address, but logic told you that Angelica probably did. Her driver had taken you home, after all. “My neighbor is constantly losing track of her cat, Tippy.” He came into your house, pausing by you to give you a gentle peck on the cheek, and if your head wasn’t so lost in the clouds, you probably would’ve fainted. You shut the door, hiding the blush creeping it’s way down your neck. You quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he took in your apartment. John was such a Mr. Darcy that he probably had a snobbish home somewhere instead of a small apartment in the shady part of town. Luckily, you had befriended the rookie police officer, Tommy, across the hall. If he didn’t give you such reassurance in safety, you would’ve already complained to him about the noise level coming from his apartment. You got it. He had two boyfriends that knew his name, that didn’t mean they had to scream it every night when you were trying to sleep. “Did I interrupt something?” He glanced over at your extended recliner, mug of tea, scattered polaroids, and tattered book. You bit your lip. “Yeah, but it’s no big deal. It’s not like I haven’t read it before,” you shrugged it off, shifting nervously. “What brings you by?” John turned to you, running a hand over his hair with a small smile. “Well, Angie said you weren’t busy tonight, and I figured I’d surprise you. I figured I could show you around Herc’s shop, maybe go for dinner if you want?” You felt your cheeks tinge with color again as your lips stretched into another delighted smile. Damn, this boy made you smile almost as much as your books did. “Hmm, I dunno,” you teased, pretending to ponder. “I mean, I’ve been looking forward to reading my book all week… besides, isn’t dinner a little too direct for Mr. Darcy? I was actually expecting a proclamation of love before, and then a heated, fairly insulting letter meant as an apology. You wouldn’t happen to have that planned before dinner, would you? Because I need to know whether to pack a snack and some popcorn or not.” As soon as he realized you were teasing him, he broke out into a grin. “You had me worried there for a sec! I thought you were blowing me off for a book you’ve read a thousand times!” “Excuse me, sir,” you looked at him as if he had just fatally insulted you, “that’s one thousand and one times. Get your facts straight!” He laughed again, and you were suddenly aware of how close he was standing to you. Was this customary for guy friends? You weren’t really sure. You had been too caught up in your books to ever pay any attention. It was something about the way he looked at you and seemed to laugh so genuinely that distracted you from your fear of messing up, but it was also the way he looked at you that made you stutter your words all the time. “So, Herc’s? Sounds fun. Lemme just go get changed,” you stated quickly. You needed space. You were getting lost in your head with him standing that close. You quickly retreated to your bedroom, throwing clothes around in search of the right outfit. You were deep in your closet, your mind tangled in thoughts and panic as you thumped around. None of it was right. No no no. Then you grabbed a pair of jeans with rips in the knees and you tossed them on your bed. Your hands found your favorite sweater that you threw with the jeans. Your fingers laced around a cute scarf that matched, and you were set. You didn’t have time to second guess as you stripped and began to dress. You were standing in your underwear, cursing as you stumbled around the room trying to fit into your jeans, when the sore opened and John came in. “Hey, someone’s at the door and-” he stopped talking when you both made eye contact, and you froze-which was a poor move on your part when you toppled over. John moved towards you to help you up, then moved back when he remembered the predicament. “I knocked! I swear, I knocked. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean-” “John?” You interrupted as you stared up at him from the floor. His eyes were darting around the room, falling on anything but you. “Yeah?” his voice cracked nervously. “I’m still half dressed. Would you mind…?” You didn’t know how to phrase it, but he got the hint. He continued his stream of apologies as he quickly retreated and closed the door. Then you started to laugh. It was quiet at first, but then it developed into full body quakes that left you breathless. You couldn’t stop laughing. The cute boy you had a crush on that probably thought you were nuts just walked in on you half naked! At some point, your hysterical laughter turned into ugly crying when you realized that your life was a disaster. You only ever managed to embarrass yourself. John probably already left! He probably thinks you’re psychotic, and he wants nothing to do with you! You got dressed, hopeless thoughts swirling in your mind, then you finally left your room. Surprisingly, John was still there. He was flipping through your polaroids, trying extra hard not to look at you. “It was Miss Higgins,” he explained after clearing his throat a few times. “She was looking for Tippy. I told her you hadn’t seen her cat.” You nodded, heading to the door. When you turned around, you caught John staring at you, and you both blushed. “So, Herc’s?” You trailed off, and he nodded eagerly. He followed you out of your apartment and you locked the door behind you. You walked to the elevator in silence. Once in the lift, you kept the three foot friendship distance between you two, still not saying a word. It was only when the elevator stopped at the third floor and one of your creepier neighbors got on that you moved closer to John. “Hey, baby,” the guy said, and you rolled your eyes. Flippin’ Ralph. He was the scumbag that cat called you from the wall outside while he smoked through four packs. He smelled like piss and an ash tray. “Maybe later tonight, you can tell me your name so I can scream it for ya. Would you like that?” He reached out to grab you, but John was quick to wrap an arm around you. With Him by your side, you felt empowered enough to stand up for yourself. “Gee, Ralph. I knew rats in this city got big, but I didn’t know they came this big,” you gave him the disgusted once over all of the girls perfected in high school. “Honestly, the idea of even touching. You makes me wanna Ralph. Besides, with the number of packs you smoke these days, I’d be surprised if you could even get your voice above an embarrassing rasp. Besides, why would I settle for you when I’ve got a boyfriend that makes me scream instead?” Ralph had never heard you speak up before, so it was a fair reaction when he was so shocked that the cigarette fell from his mouth. You felt John shaking with quiet laughter behind you, and you stood tall. “You know what? You’re a disgusting little tramp-” there was the reaction you were waiting for. You shrank into John, waiting for the verbal onslaught, but John was ever the valiant Mr. Darcy. “You’d better watch what you say next or you’re gonna have trouble speaking with no tongue and no teeth, my friend,” John growled out as he shoved you behind him. The elevator dinged, and you all but threw a party. You cursed the cheap apartment and it’s decrepit elevators. Your grandma could navigate those stairs faster than that lift, and she’s dead. Before John could deck Ralph, you pulled him off the elevator with you and quickly out of the building. It was only when you were down the street and your breathing had calmed that things had caught up to you. Number one, you called John your boyfriend… and he totally went with it. Number two, you insinuated that you and John had really good sex… and he also totally went with it. Number three, you might need to start carrying a gun to protect yourself from Ralph. Number four, John totally stood up for you! Wow, that was actually really hot. Number five, you were still holding hands from when you dragged him off the elevator. When you looked up, you noticed he was looking down at you. “Hey, you okay?” You gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’m sorry back there. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it, and I’m sorry about the comment about our wild sex-” John cut you off by bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “Hey,” he murmured, his lips tickling the skin before he slowly brought your hand down from his lips, “don’t worry about it. Any guy would be lucky to be called your boyfriend.” You felt your heart thrumming in your chest, and you were suddenly hyper aware of everything your body was doing. Was he into you? “Well, I…” your words failed. You didn’t know what to say about the entire ordeal, so you didn’t. Instead, you said, “Which way to Herc’s?” John’s lips twitched to a frown, but it was quick, and you didn’t ponder it. He didn’t drop your hand as he led you down the street. It was about ten minutes into the walk when you started shivering. You were so embarrassed by what happened in your apartment that you forgot your coat. John put his arm around you at first, holding you near him as you walked, but your teeth still chattered. He then tugged off his pea coat and quick to swaddle you with it. You protested, but he was quick to shush you. Your heart stuttered when he put his arm back around you for the rest of the walk. About thirty minutes after you left the lift, you found yourself outside of Herc’s Four Sets of Corsets and More. John opened the door for you and ushered you in. He took the coat off your shoulders and draped it on the mannequin as if he’d been here a thousand times before, which he probably had. “Herc!” He called, causally throwing his arm around you again and wandering around the shop. You heard footsteps on the staircase behind the counter and turned to find a tall, dark drink of damn son come down the stairs. Did John only know hot people? What did that make you? “Hey, babe! Who’s this lovely, little lady with you?” Herc asked as he came around and leaned against the counter, waiting for an introduction. You were confused by his pet name for John. Since when did bros start calling each other babe? Whatever, you were on board for it. “This here, is the Elizabeth from the coffee shop,” John explained. How many people had he told about you? And how many people only knew you as “The Elizabeth”? You decided to take a leap of faith, “Hi,” you said shyly as you extended your hand, “most people actually call me Y/N.” Herc shook your hand, but you felt John’s eyes on you. That’s when you realized you had never told him your actual name. You blushed in embarrassment. You’d been talking to this guy for at least a month now, and you hadn’t even bothered to properly introduce yourself! Your mama raised you better than that! “Well, I’ve heard a lot about you!” Herc beamed, and you returned the smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too!” You replied, and Herc’s face lit up. “I’m so glad John told you about us! You two must be really close now for him to mention us!” Herc wiggles his eye brows. Although you were confused, you dismissed it. Their friendship must be really tight. They did live together, after all. You carried on with light banter, and Herc gave John an occasional jab or two. You had fun, and eventually, you had Herc’s number written on a scrap of loose cloth he had tied around your wrist. Apparently, he too had an appreciation for aesthetic. Herc showed you around the shop. You noticed a mannequin without arms and complimented his Greek architectural taste, but he laughed and said it was an accident. Apparently, it was a “long story.” You ended up picking up a few items, and you were excited to purchase them, but John footed the bill. You argued, but one shared look between Herc and John ended any discussion. Herc handed you the bag, and you thanked him again. John wound his arm around you again, and you both said farewell to Herc before you left the shop, you wearing John’s pea coat again. “So, where do you wanna go for dinner?” John asked as you both moseyed down the street. You shrugged, “I dunno, I’m kinda in the mood for Italian.” John grinned down at you, and again, you were hyper aware of how close he was to you. “I know just the place.” John took you to a quaint, little place downtown called Belladona, and you were quickly seated at a table in the back. John was ever the southern gentleman, pulling your chair out for you, draping the jacket over the back of it. He was sweeter than any guy you’d ever met. You knew if you voiced that, he’d just say you were meeting the wrong guys. “So what do you recommend, Mr. Darcy?” You perched an eyebrow at him as you unfolded your menu. “Hmm,” he looked at you and thought for a minute, “you strike me more as a ravioli type…” You rolled your eyes at him with a smile, “You only know that because you saw the cans of Chef Boyardee’s ravioli sitting out on my counter from my recent grocery store trip.” He chortled, “What can I say? I’m an observant guy!” “I’m torn, now I want ravioli, but I also really want spaghetti,” you pouted at him, and he laughed. “Tell ya what, you get the ravioli, I’ll get the spaghetti, and we’ll share,” he offered, and you eagerly nodded. This guy was the gift that kept on giving. “I knew I kept you around for something,” you poked him on the nose, then you spent the proceeding twenty minutes regretting that action. He laughed in response, “What? The free food?” “Hey, you paid for the clothes, the least I can do is buy dinner,” you responded, moderately offended that he’d think you’d expect him to pay for everything. “Please, I brought you out. Let me treat you,” his smile was so kind; it drew you in. “We’ll see,” was your answer before you let your resolve dissolve. He smiled at you and your stubbornness. Maybe you were wrong before. Maybe he isn’t Mr. Darcy. You couldn’t imagine Mr. Darcy being this kind. Of course, you’d never admit that to him. “So, Y/N,” he tested the sound of your name on his tongue, and it caused your heart to falter. “What do you know of polyamorous relationships?” You were taken aback. He brought you all the way out here, to a nice restaurant, to ask you your opinion on that? “Well, I know what it is. I’m sorry, are you asking my knowledge or my opinion?” He bit his lip, then he ran a hand over his hair and toyed with his curls. “Uh, opinion?” You shrugged, “Well, I know a few people in one, and they seem to make it work really well. The only problem is that the sex is louder with more people and it keeps me up at night… I mean, I’ve never been in one, but I think I’d be open to it with the right people. It’s always been intriguing to me, but I guess I’ve never been in the position to be in one before.” You paused. “Why do you ask?” He glanced around the room nervously, then tugged at his curls once more. “Well, I… Um… Alexander would be so much better at this,” he muttered. “I mentioned earlier that I live with my boys.” He gave you a hard look, clearly trying to communicate to you. You nodded slowly, waiting for him to go on. He swallowed. “My boys,” he repeated, a bit more enunciated this time. You stared at him blankly. A few seconds of awkward silence lapsed where he waited for you to have a lightbulb moment, and you waited for further explanation. Then it clicked. “Ohhh… your boys,” you breathed, almost to yourself. You had to work quick to mask your hurt and disappointment. For some reason, you really thought you had a chance. Obviously not if he had three boyfriends. You bit your lip hard as you stared down at the table. Way to go, Y/N. You messed it up. Again. You felt your stomach churn with embarrassment and shame. No one would want you. Of course not. You were way to much of a nerd. Jeez, you were such an idiot to think someone like that would ever go for a stuttering moron like you. This is why you kept to yourself. Books wouldn’t do this to you. They wouldn’t change like this. They wouldn’t let you down like this. You just wanted to go home and read. Well, read and cry. And maybe yell a little bit. “I…. I gotta go… I think I left the stove on…” you managed to stutter through the lump in your threat. You felt foolish. Were you really going to cry over a boy you didn’t even have a chance with? “Why? Did I do something wrong?” John’s eyes searched your face, but you ducked your chin to hide. You’d kill a man for a book right now. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you stood up and turned to leave. He stood abruptly and grabbed your wrist to stop you. “It’s me, isn’t it?” He sounded hurt, too. You couldn’t focus on that. If you looked up and met his eyes, you’d start crying in public, and you couldn’t handle that right now. “Don’t touch me!” You snapped as you tore your arm from his grasp. You turned and dashed from the restaurant as tears spilled down your cheeks. You were right. Books are better than people.

As soon as you made it back to your appartement, you put on the kettle and called your mom. It was about ten o'clock, but you figured she’d still be up. She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” “Momma?” Your voice broke. Hearing her broke the dam, and you began to sob. “Oh, pumpkin, what happened?” Her voice was soft, and you could practically feel her wrapping her arms around you. “I’m such an… an idiot!” You sobbed, slumping down against the wall. “No, baby, you aren’t an idiot…” “Yes, I am! I was naive to think that a guy like him would ever want me. I’m such a loser, Mom!” You wiped your tears on your sleeve, but they were quickly replaced by more. “Hold on, honey, I’m on my way over. What kind of ice cream do you want?” You cried even harder. You loved your mom so much. She was always there when you needed her. You told her your favorite ice cream, and she said she’d be over as soon as possible. She hung up, but you didn’t move from the floor. You continued crying. You didn’t feel like moving. Why bother? You just wanted to lie there. At some point, the kettle went off, and you managed to pick yourself up, change into your pajamas, and go to the kitchen. Your tea was ready, but you ignored it. Instead, you went straight for the liquor. You needed something hard. You started throwing back shots. You felt like you were back in your college days. When your mom first showed up, she tried to get you to stop drinking, but quickly realized her efforts were futile. She let you drink while also making you drink plenty of water. You both are ice cream while you cried. She wrapped you in a blanket and vented with you about the stupid boy. She said he led you on, but you disagreed. You’d just read too far into it. The rest of the night blurred away when you started taking straight swigs out of the bottle.

A week had passed. Then two. Angelica and Herc had sent you texts, but after a week of you not replying, they decided to give you some space. You’d deleted John’s number from your phone. You were right about him being Mr. Darcy. He was a pompous, arrogant prick and you were the foolish Mr. Bingley. You were just some optimistic idiot blinded by emotion. You went to work. Came home. Read until your vision doubled. Passed out. Repeated. You were back to your old ways. The first week that had passed had a dreary Saturday. Before John, you would have gone to your bookshop, then the cafe. But now, you couldn’t risk seeing his face; you couldn’t do it. You stayed inside, read your books, listened to music, and watched romantic movies that made you cry. It was on a Thursday the second week that there came a knock at the door. You shuffled over and answered it to reveal Ms. Higgins. “Mornin’, dearie,” she said hoarsely. She held the elusive Tippy under her arm and an envelope in her free hand. “I got your mail again.” You forced a smile and took the small stack of junk mail from her. “Thank you.” “Are you doing alright, sugar? You look awful tired,” she seemed to lean closer to look at your face, and you looked down, ashamed. Now you had your elderly neighbor worried about you. Way to go. “Yeah, just been busy lately,” you lied. It’d be true if you counted crying as an activity. “Ahh, a broken heart makes for a busy soul,” she replied simply before she turned and went back to her apartment. You stood there for a minute, miffed, but you shrugged it off and went back inside. You stood over the trash can, absentmindedly sorting threw the mail. Junk. Junk. Junk. You tosses envelope after envelope into the bin. However, you reached back into the trash to retrieve one envelope you had skimmed over. Your stomach twisted as you opened it and pulled the letter out. “Elizabeth, I hope you are doing well. Angelica and Hercules are both worried since they haven’t heard from you. Please call them when you can to let them know you’re okay. Angelica tends to obsess about people she cares about. I’m writing because it’s the only way I’m sure you’ll get my message. I wasn’t sure if you’d blocked my number or not. I’m sorry if I disgusted you, but I assumed you’d be more open minded given that it’s 2017, not 1917. My mistake. I didn’t realize that you would find the concept of love so abhorrent. You seemed so sweet and lovable, but I guess most bigots do as well. The worst part is that I actually let you close to my heart. I liked you, but I guess that was wasted emotion, huh? I guess you were right about Elizabeth. You suit her, you know: judgmental, rude, harsh, horrid… sound familiar? I am unafraid to say that I love my boys, each and every one of them, and I don’t care if that offends you. I don’t need you in my life if you can’t accept me for who I am. I opened myself to you. I was vulnerable, but you showed me that you can’t be trusted. I’m glad I got that out of the way before things progressed any further. Maybe one day, you’ll find your Mr. Darcy-some horrid man that compliments your horridness, and you’ll go on your horrid way. You’d be perfect for each other. Maybe the reason you only saw bad in the characters was because you were looking in the mirror. News flash, it’s not that you’re meeting the wrong people, it’s that you are wrong people. I’m not going to miss you, but I will miss the idea of you. Do us both a favor and lose my number, John.” You were so angry that you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was sit there. Then it hit you all at once. How dare he. How dare he assume all those things! He was such a complete moron! You grabbed a piece of paper and your pink pen and you went to work. “Dear Mr. Pompous Prick, First of all, how dare you. How dare you go and assume all of those horrible things about me. I can’t even begin to comprehend where you got those opinions from? Unaccepting of your relationships? If you had listened to a word I had said, you’d actually get it through your pea sized brain that I support polyamory and I’m open to it! But no, you were to busy thinking about God only knows what to actually see what was right in front of you. I liked you! I had a crush on you! I know, ridiculous. It was absurd of me to even consider you to be my Mr. Darcy! You know, at some point, I thought I was wrong and that you were nothing like Mr. Darcy. I was right! You’re so much worse! You led me on, made me think I actually had a chance. Stupid me. Although I appreciate your honesty about your relationship, I wish I’d known before I’d been so emotionally invested. I didn’t leave because you disgusted me; I left because I realized how stupid I was to think you were into me! You have three other boyfriends, clearly I misunderstood. But sure, go ahead and assume I’m some bigoted asshole. Rip apart my character and everything I stand by if it helps you sleep at night, but know that you broke my heart, you son of a bitch. You made me think I had a chance, then you told me the truth and spit on my character. Tell Angelica and Hercules I’m fine. I’m sure they won’t miss me anyways. And don’t worry about your number. I lost it weeks ago. Thanks for nothing. Y/N.” You wanted to say more. You wanted to swear and curse at him until your fingers crumbled apart, but you couldn’t let him be right. You couldn’t let him have substantial proof to any of his claims. You couldn’t be that person he claimed you to be. You sent the letter to the return address, then went back to your books. You just wanted to forget the whole ordeal.

Weeks had passed, and your heart ached with the echo of his cruel words, but you couldn’t let it get to you. You were healing and repairing. You eventually got the nerve to go back to your bookstore on a dreary Saturday. You had stopped reading Pride and Prejudice a while ago. It reminded you of too much. You needed new books to hide your face in. After you bought a few books, you went to the cafe. You had forgotten your umbrella today, so you were sopping wet by the time you had gotten to your cafe. You dashed inside and ordered your old drink. You sat at your old table. You pulled out your old novel and a black pen. You began to read as you wrote in the margins. You wished the cafe would swallow you whole so you could live in this moment forever. “Elizabeth?” You recognized that voice and you froze. You shoved your nose deeper into your book as the chair scraped in front of you. He sat down with you. “Hey, Y/N,” a gentle hand tugged on your book, but you harshly pulled it back up. You did not want to speak to him. “Y/N, please, hear me out-” You snapped your book shut, not even worrying about marking your place. You grabbed your bag and fled the coffee shop. He called out behind you, begging you to stay. You didn’t. You dashed down the street, not caring about the pouring rain. You just needed to get away. Then you felt a hand in your wrist. You turned around to face him, anger sparking in you. “What, John? Have you come to bash my character again? Have you not done enough?” You demanded as you stared up at him. The pouring rain plastered hair to your face and blurred your vision, but it didn’t lessen your glare. “Y/N, please. I was wrong. I was ignorant, harsh, unreasonable, and a completely pompous prick. I was scared and hurt, and I lashed out at you-” “So what? You come here thinking some shitty apology will suffice? Obviously, you misunderstand me completely!” You were furious. After all he did, all he said, he thinks he can fix it with a few words. “I’m sorry, Y/N! What can I do to get you to see that?” He was exasperated, but you didn’t care. You would not let him hurt you again. “How about you get lost and never talk to me again?” You snapped at him. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? “I can’t!” He was angry too now, which pissed you off even more. He had no right! “Why not? Isn’t it obvious? I hate you!” You shoved him away from you, trying to force him to leave, but he grabbed both of your hands. “‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and-’” “Don’t say it,” you whispered, tears in your eyes. “If you care about me at all, you won’t say it.” ��'You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and-’” “Don’t,” your lips trembled as a tear slipped down your cheek. John cupped your face. “'How ardently I admire and love you,’” he finished, and you began to cry. He tried to pull you into his arms, but you pushed him away. “Oh, John,” you began crestfallenly, “Dont you remember? Elizabeth could never accept that proclamation, just as I cannot.” He let you slip away from his fingers as he stared at you. He wanted to reach for you, hold you, you could tell. But he didn’t. “But I do,” his voice cracked, and you shivered as more tears fell. “I wish I could believe you, John. I really do.”

Needless to say, your mom made another trip after that encounter, and it was only after speaking with her that you came to your senses. But it was too late now. You’d done your damage. “Honey,” your mom had said, “if you believe in romance at all, and if you truly live by your aesthetics and romanticism, then you will not sit idly by and be satisfied by this excuse. If you are half the girl I know you to be, you will find this boy and tell him how you really feel.” She was right. It took a few phone calls with Angelica, who was completely relieved to have heard from you, but also completely pissed off from the whole ordeal. She was delighted to help after you had explained everything. So there you were, fidgeting anxiously at the Belladona, waiting for John to show up. You were relying on all of the books you had read to aid you in this one moment. Would he show? Angelica had invited him out to dinner with her. Word on the street was that you’d left him a complete disaster. You felt horrible. This whole ordeal was your fault. Cheese and rice, you royally screwed this one up. There’s no way he’d show. Not after everything you’d done. You didn’t deserve another chance. But then you saw him. He looked beautiful, just the way you remembered him. As soon as he came in, his eyes locked on you. Would he turn to run? You prayed to anything and everything out there that he wouldn’t. And he didn’t. He slowly, hesitantly, approached your table, and you stood. You made your way over so that you were standing before him. This was the bravest thing you’d done in your life. “John, I…” and words failed you. You had nothing. You’d built everything up to this moment, and you were flatlining. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was stare at him, hoping he’d understand. “I…” Speak, Y/N! This is your last chance! “I…” Where was your fire? Your spark? Suddenly, you were back in the coffee shop the first time you’d met, and you finally found the words. “You’re my right person,” you finally managed to get out. You stared at him, waiting. He blinked. Then he blinked again. “I’ve always been afraid of saying the wrong thing, but with you, it’s like all the dialog is already there. You already know what I’m going to say before I say it. And I know I’m the wrong person, I’ve always been, but you’re my right person and I could never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you that-” you couldn’t stop talking now. You were rambling. You were losing him, you could feel it. Without warning, his lips were on yours, and he was kissing you like there was no tomorrow. He was desperate, trying to convey everything he had been holding back those past weeks into that single moment. When he pulled away, he whispered, “If I’m your right person, then you’re my right story.”

You could fill books upon books with the different aesthetics you got to wake up to now. You had dozens of polaroids filled with your boys’ faces. It had been two years since you met John at the Belladona. Your relationship had been far from fanfic material, but maybe that’s why you loved it so much. Fanfics were predictable; this was an adventure. John was right. Your boys were right people. They were everything you’d been hoping for and more. It wasn’t perfect, not by far, but that’s what made it perfect. You were happy, and you knew you would always be happy as long as you were with them. You didn’t read as much anymore. You didn’t need to. You had all the adventure you needed. It was bittersweet to watch your beaten up copy of Pride and Prejudice collect dust on the shelf, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, it was all for the aesthetic.

[mrjeremydylan]

My Favorite Album #227 - Elizabeth Cook on Neil Young ‘Zuma’ (1975)

Sharp of tongue and deep of soul, one of Nashville’s most compelling singer-songwriters joins me to talk about an underrated Neil Young and Crazy Horse classic, ‘Zuma’.

We talk about how Elizabeth discovered the album on a road trip, the elusive concision of Young’s lyrics, how this record defines a certain version of his sound, how the album documents the end of Neil Young’s creative grieving over guitarist Danny Whitten, how Elizabeth wants to steer her future recordings in a Neil-ward direction and what it was like to be a witness to the taping of the ‘Heart of Gold’ concert film.

Listen in the player above or download the episode by clicking here.

Subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts here or search ‘My Favorite Album’ wherever you listen to podcasts.

My Favorite Album is a podcast on the impact great music has on our lives. Each episode features a guest on their favorite album of all time - why they love it, their history with the album and how it’s influenced them. Jeremy Dylan is a filmmaker, journalist and photographer. He directed the the feature music documentary Jim Lauderdale: The King of Broken Hearts (out now!) and the film Benjamin Sniddlegrass and the Cauldron of Penguins.

If you’ve got any feedback or suggestions, drop us a line at myfavoritealbumpodcast@gmail.com.

LINKS - Buy our album of the episode on iTunes here.

- Elizabeth Cook’s website, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook page and on iTunes.

- Jeremy Dylan’s website, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook page.

- Like the podcast on Facebook here.

- If you dig the show, please leave a rating or review of the show on iTunes here.

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Danny Yau, Andrew Hansen, Gideon Bensen (The Preatures) and Mike Carr 36 - Doug Pettibone on Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris 35 - Ross Ryan on Late for the Sky by Jackson Browne 34 - Michael Carpenter on Hard Promises by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers 33 - Davey Lane (You Am I) on Jesus of Cool by Nick Lowe 32 - Zane Carney on Smokin’ at the Half Note by Wes Montgomery 31 - Tony Buchen on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles 30 - Simon Relf (The Tambourine Girls) on On the Beach by Neil Young 29 - Peter Cooper on In Search of a Song by Tom T Hall 28 - Thelma Plum on Stolen Apples by Paul Kelly 27 - James House on Rubber Soul by the Beatles 26 - Ella Hooper on Let England Shake by PJ Harvey 25 - Abbey Road Special 24 - Alyssa Bonagura on Room for Squares by John Mayer 23 - Luke Davison (The Preatures) on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 22 - Neil Finn on Hunky Dory by David Bowie and In Rainbows by Radiohead 21 - Neil Finn on Beatles for Sale by the Beatles and After the Goldrush by Neil Young 20 - Morgan Evans on Diorama by Silverchair 19 - Emma Swift on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams 18 - Danny Yau on Hourly Daily by You Am I 17 - J Robert Youngtown and Jon Auer (The Posies) on Hi Fi Way by You Am I 16 - Lester the Fierce on Hounds of Love by Kate Bush 15 - Luke Davison on Green Onions by Booker T and the MGs 14 - Jeff Cripps on Wheels of Fire by Cream 13 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 2) 12 - Mark Holden on Blue by Joni Mitchell (Part 1) 11 - Gossling on O by Damien Rice 10 - Matt Fell on Temple of Low Men by Crowded House 9 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 2) 8 - Pete Thomas on Are You Experienced? by Jimi Hendrix (Part 1) 7 - Sam Hawksley on A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin 6 - Jim Lauderdale on Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons 5 - Mark Moffatt on Blues Breakers by John Mayall and Eric Clapton 4 - Darren Carr on Ten Easy Pieces by Jimmy Webb 3 - Mark Wells on Revolver by The Beatles 2 - Mike Carr on Arrival by ABBA 1 - Rob Draper on Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

[nessnessquik]

The Nanny - Chapter 2

I am completely overwhelmed by everyone’s amazing and encouraging responses to my first chapter. It’s hard to explain just how much your comments mean to me! You guys are just the best. I hope you enjoy everything to come!

Special thanks to Corinna, my amazing Mandarin translator!! And always Kaiya and Liz. Love yall. =)

Also on AO3.

“Do I have to go to school today?” Daisy looked up at Melinda imploringly from behind her bowl of cereal.

“Eat another bite, Daisy, and yes.” Melinda answered, glancing at her daughter from the island where she was assembling a turkey and cheese sandwich for Daisy’s lunchbox. The disappointment on Daisy’s little face made her want to change her mind, but her shift started in an hour. She couldn’t call out now unless there was some kind of emergency.

“But-but I wanna go to work with you.” Daisy sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Melinda set down the sandwich and immediately went to crouch beside her little girl. She was used to Daisy's reluctance to part from her. Especially when she was a baby, her separation anxiety had made it difficult for Melinda to go anywhere alone. But this was something different. She usually wasn't this clingy anymore unless she was sick...or something was upsetting her.

“Daisy, xiǎo huā,” Melinda had given Daisy the Mandarin nickname when she was still just a baby: little flower. Melinda put a hand on her back and switched to Mandarin, as she frequently did at the house with Daisy. “What’s wrong?” She probed.

Daisy put her spoon down and threw her arms around Melinda’s neck for a hug. “I don’t wanna go to school. And I don’t like aftercare. I wanna stay with you.” Daisy’s voice was muffled by Melinda’s shirt.

Melinda held onto her and stood up, rubbing her back soothingly as Daisy straddled her waist. “I know you don’t like aftercare, xiǎo huā, but Mama has to go to work.”

She was loathe to leave Daisy in the daycare program after school. Her previous nanny, who moved away in January, usually picked her up right after her class ended. The past couple of months without a nanny meant that most days, Daisy had to stay in aftercare until she (or Peggy or Maria) were able to pick her up. Even though the school was good and the teachers were kind, Daisy expressed how much she disliked it. On particularly long or bad days, she would cry in class about having to go. Ms. Anne Weaver, Daisy's VPK teacher, explained to her that Daisy played by herself most of the time in aftercare. She thought it had to do with the fact that many of the other students in aftercare were older, and none of her classmates stayed after school. Melinda hated that her daughter had to be in a place where she felt she didn’t fit in, but without a nanny there was just no way for her to make sure Daisy was taken care of for those few hours without being at the school. Part of the burden of being a single mother, she supposed.

Melinda could feel Daisy relaxing in her arms the longer she held her, and finally Melinda pulled back to look into her daughter’s face.

“Hey,” Melinda moved the brown strands of hair away from Daisy’s face. “Guess what tomorrow is? My day off! You know what that means.” She saw the beginnings of a smile start to creep up. “We can do Tai Chi in the morning, and after school we’ll go to Aunt Peggy and Aunt Maria’s classes at the gym. Then at night we’ll eat ice cream. How’s that sound?”

“And play Chutes ‘n’ Ladders?”

Melinda groaned, causing Daisy to let out a giggle. “Okay, Chutes and Ladders too.”

Daisy hugged her once more. “Wǒ ài nǐ, Mommy.”

I love you. The phrase warmed her soul. “Wǒ ài nǐ, xiǎo huā.” Melinda set her down. “Now, finish your cereal.”

Daisy peered into her bowl and wrinkled her nose. “But it’s all squishy now.”

Melinda sighed and quickly began packing Daisy’s lunch away. Their little heart to heart (though she cherished every second of it) had left them with little time to linger. Looked like it was going to be another protein bar breakfast kind of morning.

“Okay, go get your shoes and backpack on, I’ll be right there.”

Melinda was sitting at her desk, reading through a few patient files and filling out paperwork when Natasha barged through her doorway, knocking once as if that was all the warning she needed.

“What are you waiting for?” Natasha demanded, hand on her hip.

“This mother’s latest report from her OB/GYN.” Melinda replied without looking up.

“I’m talking about Phil. You haven’t called him yet.”

Melinda finally lifted her head to roll her eyes. “I’ve been a little busy. And how did you even know about that?”

“Pepper told me.” Natasha sat on her desk, which she knew Melinda hated, and leaned on some of her papers. “Phil was one of Clint’s teachers in high school, so when he moved back here, Clint introduced us. I think you and Daisy would like him.”

“Good to know. Now get off my desk and go find someone to patch up.” Melinda knew what Natasha was doing. She was trying to annoy her into contacting the man.

“Are you going to call him?”

Melinda sighed. “Nat, you’re more of a four year old than Daisy is sometimes.”

Natasha folded her arms. “Well where do you think she gets it from?”

Melinda shook her head, concealing her smile. “For your information, I was going to call him today.”

“Hmm, well let me help you with that.” Nat swiped up her phone from her desk faster than she could blink and, moving just out of reach, began dialing Phil’s number.

“Natasha!” Melinda lunged and grabbed the phone back, but it had already started ringing. The glare Melinda sent the redhead would have caused every intern (and some doctors, for that matter) to apologize profusely and run the opposite way, but her friend just grinned back.

“You’re welcome!” Natasha called out as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Melinda huffed in annoyance, but quickly turned her attention to the phone...which had just stopped ringing.

“Hello?”

“Dr. May? Hi.” The man stuck his hand out, his blue eyes betraying some nervousness despite his easy smile. “Phil Coulson.”

“Most people just call me ‘May,’” Melinda stood briefly to shake his hand. “Thanks for agreeing to meet on such short notice.” She gestured for him to sit in the chair across from her before sitting back down.

Melinda chose her favorite breakfast cafe as a meeting spot for her interview with the renowned-yet-surprisingly-ordinary-looking Phil Coulson. The mid-morning sun peeking through a few clouds and the gentle breeze made for a very pleasant day for an outdoor brunch.

Phil thanked her as he seated himself, looking around the quaint patio and the rest of the cafe and nodding in appreciation. “I’ve never been here before, but I find that those little, lesser-known restaurants are usually the best ones, don’t you think?”

Melinda nodded in agreement, gazing at the property fondly. “I’ve been coming here for years. The owner, Sif, and her husband are good people.”

“How long have you lived here?” Phil asked, leaning forward with eager eyes.

Melinda cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking questions here?”

“Oh-geez, yeah you’re right. Sorry.” Phil seemed to deflate slightly as he looked away from her to study his menu instead.

Melinda suppressed a smile at Phil’s obvious embarrassment. It was healthy to be a little nervous at an interview-it meant that he cared about what she thought about him.

All the same, Melinda could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head, chiding her for speaking without thinking first.

“It was just a joke, Mr. Coulson.” Melinda’s voice broke the silence. No need for him to already think the worst of her.

“Phil,” he responded immediately, looking back up at her. A slightly more cautious smile tugged one side of his mouth back up. “You can call me Phil.”

“Well, Phil, Pepper said you work at a bakery and substitute teach at a high school?” Melinda picked up her menu. “After we decide on what to eat, I’d like to hear about how you got into that.”

Melinda’s first observation was discovered less than a minute after ordering their food: Phil Coulson was a talker.

She listened, making internal notes of his appearance while he spoke: he had brown hair (thinning at the top), blue eyes (the blue button down he wore really made them stand out), average height (still a good amount of inches taller than her), nice smile and voice (sincere and pleasing), he wore a suit jacket over his dress shirt (disguising what appeared to be a strong set of arms). Hmm. Perhaps he wasn’t as ordinary as she thought he’d been when he walked up.

In fact, she mused to herself, he’s actually kind of attractive…

Was all of this information she needed to know about a nanny?

Probably not.

Melinda mentally shook herself and forced herself to tune back into Phil’s story. As his bacon and spinach quiche cooled on its plate, he told her about his difficulty in choosing a subject in college to focus on. He’d bounced around for a while until he’d finally graduated as the only history major with an excess amount of culinary electives. It was there, apparently, that he’d met and roomed with Tony Stark.

“Which was just as fun as you can imagine, if you know Tony at all.” Phil stated dryly. Melinda snorted in understanding before swallowing a forkful of her own ham and cheese quiche.

“Has he changed at all since then?” Melinda inquired.

Phil chewed a bite of his (nearly forgotten) food thoughtfully. “He likes to act the same as he did in college, but it’s more of a front now. He’s grown up a bit since then, thanks to Pepper and Fitz.”

Melinda scoffed again and muttered. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Phil grinned at her, and Melinda was surprised at how easy it was to smile back at him.

Sif chose that moment to swing by, refilling their drinks with expert precision. The brunette raised her eyebrows, glancing between her and Phil as she poured. “Enjoying everything?”

Melinda sent her a look, knowing exactly what she was hinting at.

The double meaning seemed to go right over Phil’s head as he nodded enthusiastically. “This quiche is delicious. Is there any way I could convince you to give me the recipe?”

Sif smiled. “I’ll speak to the cook.” She walked away to serve another guest, but not before throwing another smirk over her shoulder in Melinda’s direction.

She pretended not to notice.

“And after college?” Melinda prodded him.

“Oh, right. I taught history at a local high school here for a while. That was interesting since I was only a few years older than some of them. Then my father passed away suddenly and I moved back to my childhood home to be with my mom.” Phil’s eyes looked distant. “She helped me rediscover my love for baking, and she’s also the reason I came back here.” His smile was back, though it held a bit of embarrassment. “She basically kicked me out and forced me to pursue my idea of opening my own bakery.”

“She sounds like a great mom.”

“She is. She taught me a lot. She’s also the reason I love kids.” Phil fiddled with his fork. “She taught me to take care of them when I was still young myself. With a bunch of younger cousins, I was basically the family babysitter. Until, unfortunately, college forced me to retire from my budding career.”

Melinda let out a surprised chuckle at the joke. At the sound, Phil's blue eyes snapped quickly to hers and he beamed back, looking delighted with himself for causing her to laugh.

“I’ve been rambling. I’m sorry, I’ve been told I do that a lot.” Phil tilted his head as he looked at her. “What about yourself? And Daisy?”

“Daisy’s four, she’ll be five this July.” Melinda subtly ignored the prompt to speak about herself. It didn’t matter what Phil thought or knew about her personally, as long as he took good care of her daughter. This isn’t a date, it’s an interview, Melinda told herself firmly. She pulled out her phone as she spoke. “She loves dressing up, Chutes and Ladders, ice cream, and playing outside. Here’s a picture of her, in case you haven’t seen one yet.”

Phil studied the photo with a smile. “Yeah, I have seen some of you before, actually.” Melinda glanced at him quickly and watched his ears turned pink. “I mean you as in plural, like the two of you. Y’all, as some might say. Pepper and Natasha have shown me a few of you and Daisy.”

Melinda bit back a smile at his stammering. With anyone else, the admission might have sounded creepy, but with Phil it was almost...cute. In a dorky, kind of endearing sort of way.

Phil cleared his throat to break up the awkwardness. “She looks sweet.” He finally stated.

Melinda squashed down the urge to tease him, deciding it would be more professional to just ignore the exchange. “She is.” A little, affectionate smile crossed her lips as she looked at the picture. “She can also be a bit of a handful. Many of the other nannies found her difficult to keep up with.”

Melinda’s eyes suddenly focused above the picture to see the clock in bold letters. She nearly groaned aloud. When did it get so late? “I’m sorry, I need to go pick up Daisy from school now or she’ll be waiting on me.”

She stood up and grabbed her purse, then hesitated and considered Phil in front of her. He was now on his feet as well and he looked at her with slight concern in his eyes. “Would you...like to meet her?”

Phil’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly grinned and nodded. “I’d love to.”

[sonofhistory]

Could you tell us about Hamilton's relationship with his children? I know he closed himself even more after Philip's death, but what about the other 7? Was he close to them?

All sources from Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow.

Of Alexander and Eliza’s eight children–Philip Hamilton, Angelica Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton Jr., James Alexander Hamilton, John Church Hamilton, William S. Hamilton, Eliza Hamilton and “Little Phil” Hamilton–not one appeared to utter a single unkind word about their father.

On January 22, 1782, Eliza gave birth to a son, named Philip Hamilton. On his birth, Alexander Hamilton wrote, “whose birth, as you may imagine, was attended with all the omens of future greatness.” He used to rock Philip’s cradle and played with the infant. At seven months, “it is agreed on all hands that he is handsome, his features are good, his eye is not only sprightly and expressive, but it is full of benignity. His attitude in sitting is by connoisseurs esteemed graceful and he had a method of waving his hand that announces the future orator. He stands however rather awkwardly and his legs have not at all the delicate slimness of his father’s… If he had any fault in manners, he laughs too much.”

On September 25th, 1784, the Hamiltons had their first daughter named Angelica. Their third child, Alexander was born on May 16th, 1786. Due to Hamilton’s busyness, Eliza ran the household and supervised the education of their children when they were small.

According to Ron Chernow, fourth born James Alexander Hamilton was their “favorite child”. Eliza gave birth to James Alexander on April 14th. While at Columbia, James frequently sought his fathers advice, urging him to review speeches had had written and etc. 

On October 12, 1788, the Hamiltons went down to the end of Wall Street and had Philip, Angelica and Alexander all baptized at the same time at Trinity Church. 

James Hamilton said,

“His [Alexander Hamilton sr.] gentle nature rendered his house a most joyous one to his children and friends. He accompanied his daughter Angelica when she played and sang at the piano. His intercourse with his children was always affectionate and confiding, which excited in them a corresponding confidence and devotion.”

Angelica Hamilton was very musical inclined and her father had Angelica Church find the best piano that she could find his daughter. When they were in separate cities, Hamilton usually kept one of the younger boys with him. He worried much about his children and enjoyed tutoring them. He had high expectations and wanted them to exceed. 1791, age nine, Philip and Alexander Jr. were sent off to boarding school in Trenton. Hamilton wrote this to his Philip:

“Your teacher also informs me that you recited a lesson the first day you began, very much to his satisfaction. I expect every letter from him will give me a fresh proof of your progress, for I know you can do a great deal if you please. And I am sure you have too much spirit not to exert yourself that you may make us every day more and more proud of you.”

A letter to his daughter, Angelica:

“I was very glad to learn, my dear daughter, that you were going to begin the study of the French language. We hope you will in every respect behave in such a manner as will secure to you the goodwill and regard of all those with whom you are. If you happen to displease any of them, be always ready to make a frank apology. But the best way is to act with so much politeness, good manners and circumspection as never to have an occasion to make any apology. Your mother joins in best love to you. Adieu, my very dear daughter.”

On August 22nd, 1792 Eliza gave birth to their fifth child, John Church Hamilton. In 1784, John began several ill and Hamilton–who scarcely asked for a vacation–pleaded with Washington to allow him “permission to make an excursion into the country for a few days to try the effect of exercise and change of air upon the child.”

A couple months after publishing the Reynold’s pamphlet, Hamilton had a scare after Philip nearly died of severe fever of some sort of typhus. In tending to Philip, Hamilton was both nurse and physician, leaving the doctor amazed by both his medical knowledge and his closeness towards his children. When he learned his son was to be well, the doctor said there were tears in the father’s eyes.

On August 4th, 1797, Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby, William Stephen Hamilton. 

On multiple occasions, Hamilton would have his six year old son John Church write his letters for him, taking bizarre precaution to that his letters would not bear his handwriting during his plots in the Adams cabinet.  

Smart Philip Hamilton walked in the footsteps of his father. He graduated in 1800 with high honors, was a good speaker and studied to be a lawyer. Hamilton regarded Philip as the family’s “eldest and brightest hope”. Hamilton had a prepared daily schedule for Philip that included writing, reading, church and ruled his waking moments from dawn to dusk. Philip did have reliance and rebellious streak which his father tolerated, “I am anxious to here from Philip. Naughty young man.”  Before Philip’s duel with George Eacker,, he sought counsel from his father who told him that he should throw away his shot on the dueling ground. At the duel, Philip followed his father’s advise and did not raise his pistol at the command to fire. Eacker mirrored and they stood dumbly staring at one another. Finally, Eacker lifted his pistol and Philip did like wise. Eacker then shot Philip and he fell.

When Alexander Hamilton learned of what had occurred, he called for Dr. Hosack who later recalled that Hamilton was “so much overcome by his anxiety that he fainted and remained for some time in my family before he was sufficiently recovered to proceed.” The entire night, Alexander stayed with Philip at his bedside, and when he had to approach his son’s gravestone, his friends had to help him stand. Seventeen-year-old Angelica Hamilton who was extremely close with her brother suffered a mental breakdown and her father tried to restore her health. He got others to send her watermelons and birds (she liked birds), this didn’t work and she only grew worse.  

After Philip’s death he fell into the deepest depression he had ever felt. Usually in his grief, he was able to publish papers and worked endlessly. This time, Hamilton was unable to write any more and did not respond to any of his correspondence for four months. Even his physical appearance was altered, always appearing troubled, melancholy and the childish glean that flinted across his eyes, had parted.

When Eliza went off to care for his father (her mother had recently passed) and Hamilton took care of their children at home.

In Hamilton’s duel with Burr, he used to very same dueling pistols that Eacker and Philip had used–a pair of guns that had caused the death of his son. It is possible Hamilton wanted to use to pistols as a homage to his son.

On his death bed, Hamilton had not been able to see his children until it was time to bid farewell. “She held up their two-year-old boy, Philip, to his lips for a final kiss. Then Eliza lined up all seven children at the foot of the bed so that Hamilton could see them in one final tableau, a sight that rendered him speechless.” According to the doctor, “he opened his eyes, gave them one look, and closed them again till they were taken away.” At his funeral on July 14th, 1804, the procession was followed by two of Hamilton’s oldest sons, James Alexander and Alexander Jr. Angelica Hamilton, four-year-old Eliza Hamilton and Philip Hamilton stayed with their mother, whom was not at the funeral. Gouverneur Morris gave the eulogy and sitting beside him on the stage weeping was Alexander (eighteen), James (fourteen), John (eleven) and William (six). 

“The scene was impressive and what added unspeakably to its solemnity was the mournful ground of tender boys, the sons, the once hopes and joys of the deceased, who, with tears gushing from their eyes, sat upon the stage, at the feet of the orator, bewailing the loss of their parent! It was too much. The sternest powers, the bloodiest villain, could not resist the melting scene.”

Of their five sons post-duel they all gravitated towards law, government and military (the Hamiltonian way). 

Angelica Hamilton lived under a physicians care and died in 1857.

 Alexander Jr. Hamilton graduated from Columbia University weeks after his father’s duel. He became a lawyer, fought over seas in the duke of Wellington’s army, returned to America as an infantry captain during the War of 1812, and wound up as US district attorney in New York. He represented Eliza Jumel when she divorced Aaron Burr. 

James Alexander Hamilton graduated from Columbia, served as an officer in the War of 1812 and was an acting secretary of state under President Andrew Jackson (and surprising was against the second bank of the United States) and became attorney for the southern district of New York. He developed a close relationship with Martin Van Buren and was an early supporter of emancipation of slaves. As a tribute to his father, he created a home which he called “Nevis”.

John Church Hamilton was a lawyer who fought in the War of 1812, and devoted decades to writing a biography of his father and sorting throughout his papers. 

William Stephen Hamilton was “charming, handsome and eccentric”. He studied at West Point, fought at Black Hawk War, surveyed lands in Illinois and lived on the Western frontier. In 1849, he was drawn to California because of the gold rush, and opened a store to sell supplies. He died there of Cholera in 1850. 

Eliza Hamilton cared for her mother in her later years and scolded her brother John at getting the seven volume biography done quicker. 

“Little Phil” Hamilton was a “kindhearted, sensitive man”. He married the daughter of Louis McLane, daughter of a member of Andrew Jackson’s cabinet. He served as an assistant US attorney under his brother James but leaned on altruistic pursuits and was a reputation of “lawyer of the poor”.

[aparoxysm]

Tag Game.

Tagged by @hvlliwells

Tagging... @dimpsandhoes @cathasmuse @snikklefritsrps  @tehkatieofrps  @midnight-howlings  basically everyone that sydney already tagged plus @rebeccabreeds , @eizawrites , @narrctives , @tobeephemeral , @sammrps , @angeliicaschvylers , @collateralxbeauty , @olivicmunn , @requicms ...

1: Are you named after someone? well. embarrassingly, yeah. my dad already had 3 kids when he had me so he was kind of over the whole creating & naming shindig so he was lazy when i was born he was like “if its a boy, name it ned and if it’s a girl, name it kelly” (if you’re australian or just super buffed up on your history, you might get the joke) and my mom (especially being american, i think) was super offended and was all !!! LIKE HELL-- oh damn she actually kind of looks like a kelly, well fuck okay if you get to pick the name, i get to ruin her life and choose an unconventional spelling~ that is exactly how it went down, mhm, i know i was there. 2: When was the last time you cried? literally about an hour ago. a character death in a tv show that i already knew was coming hit me right in both eyes anyway. 3: Do you like your handwriting? yeah. i mean, it looks like a shitty no-name brand version of my mum’s. but hers is super cool so if i try really hard or have lines to at least fucking write straight, then it can look nice. 4: What is your favorite lunch meat? ham i guess, but like the shitty plastic kind you get for like $2 at coles. and my bread rolls are always 80% mayonnaise anyway so does it even count really. 5: Do you have kids? nope. 6: If you were another person, would you be friends with you? probably not. 7: Do you use sarcasm? the dark, rude, crude or sometimes all three kind. and it usually makes people uncomfortable if anything. jokes on them tho. it’s how i sus out my Tru Friends™ . 8: Do you still have your tonsils? yeah my mum never let the docs steal them from me. 9: Would you bungee jump? id literally rather do anything else 10: What is your favorite kind of cereal? cap’n crunch which we dont (really) get in australia. or like. well there’s no way i am paying an arm and a leg and probably uni fees to buy it from one of those “quirky foreign food stores” either. i dont love it that much. i hate cereal otherwise. 11: Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? no and i kno i am going to hell for it okay leave me alone 12: Do you think you’re a strong person? too strong. it turns me to steel sometimes. 13: What is your favorite ice cream? cookies & cream. 14: What is the first thing you notice about people? lipstick if they’re wearing it, or their... idk, ~vibe, and whether i can instantly tell if they’re intro or extrovert. this is v important to me. 16: What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself? my piece of shit immune system. 17: What color pants and shoes are you wearing now? black underwear, no shoes. 20: If you were a crayon, what color would you be? brown. 21: Favorite smell? my jasmine soy wax candles. or probably jasmine scented anything. or a cologne that my boyfriend only ever wears evey 84 years because he hates me and doesn’t want me to have nice things ((((: 22: Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? my mum probably. 23: Favorite sport to watch? notps in tv shows becoming otps.  24: Hair color? red. and if i had a dollar for every time someones ever commented on how nice my hair is i could probably own x500 more useless things than i do already own now. i also have mermaid teal streaks sometimes. rn, theyre blonde because im lazy. 25: Eye color? brown. 26: Do you wear contacts? no i just suffer and pretend im not blind sometimes 27: Favorite food to eat? mexican. a burrito will literally fix any crisis happening in my life at any given time given its got guacamole. otherwise --- my dad’s special laksa. 10/10. 28: Scary movies or comedy? both. but probably more on the comedy side for me. weirdly i am only very good with horror video games, movies scare me too much. please explain that, dr phil. 29: Last movie you watched? legally blonde #nostalgia 30: What color shirt are you wearing? white sleeveless run dmc top 31: Summer or winter? winter, i thrive in the cold 32: Hugs or kisses? neither tbh. but when i am in the mood; probably hugs. 33: What book are you currently reading? none. i am still greiving the end of my last book. 34: Who do you miss right now? an old friend who came out of the woodworks to catch up with me yesterday, who i havent seen or really spoken to in a year because apparently i said something super mean to her one night that stuck with her. i dont remember it, but im very sorry about it, and we’re both super glad that we can put it behind us and be friends again. she is literally such a gem. i feel like a jerk. 35: What is on your mouse pad? a mouse? 36: What is the last tv program you watched? i paused skam & the walking dead to do this. i am alternating between episodes. i do not know why (except that i super need to finish them both IMMEDIATELY). 37: What is the best sound? the kind of break in music that i literally cannot describe to you except that it makes me think of wide open spaces, stars in the night sky, and the nerves under your skin buzzing something electric whenever you touch something. that sound gets me. 38: Rolling Stones or The Beatles? beatles. 39: What is the furthest you have ever traveled? germany. 40: Do you have a special talent? i can tie just about any noodle-esque thing into a knot in my mouth with my tongue?? i also am super spectacular at forgetting things. 41: Where were you born? hell. i mean, sydney, australia.

[atommadchen-blog]

Greenhouse Effect (GreenhousEfect) on Twitter – “Manipulation” 1992 Palle Carlson Drummer. SuperNetCelebrities.Com 2010.

89,357 Views – The hillarious but highly Rocking Greenhouse Effect Videos from their “Final band meeting” Of November 1992 at El Segundo California’s Jet City Sound Studio have been spliced into other G.e clips. Four Songs were shot that night; Three Versions of “White Black Thang’, Search and Destroy, Two Versions (Or more) of the Beatles cover version of “Please Please me”, …and ofcourse several for the somewhat uptemp G.e. Rocker “Manipulation”. Clark Hagins calls the Video for “Manipulation” his favourite; “We look like we’re havin’ fun there,..we look silly but one can tell that when we played live – We Rocked,..and we rocked hard,…we were a weird unusual band,..to say the least.” Greenhouse Effect exploded in notoriety in 2007 with some of Google Videos Most watched clips World Wide; “Our drummer died in 1999 in a bizarre Gardening accident (Laughs)” says Clark Haggins. Ofcourse Hagins is only kidding as he is referring to hillarious Danish Drummer Palle Carlson , the Denmark Drummer who resembles Spinal Tap’s first percussionist in old 1965 black and white clips. “Greenhouse Effect was a World sensation for quite a long time,..we attracted alot of attention and 50,000 Twitter Followers,…I never wanted all the internet fun to end,…but I do see things now finally slowing down in 2010” says Clark Hagins. “We only get about two Million looks a day now,…thats pathetic compared to the kind of business we used to do in 2008.” – There are ofcourse no plans for Rock’s most watched band to reassemble any time soon and Hagins sees the 1992 demise of the band as just another bizarre mistake from his life’s journey; “We were around for like 7 years,…Me and Flipper (Phil Keegan Guitarist) had planned to be the biggest Rock Stars in the musical universe – but it never happened,… ,…until I was like 50 years old (Laughs) ” says Haggins. “We watched all those music industry bands like Nirvana and Green Day hit it big while we did things like work in cubes and clean Pools,..its just a damn shame” says Higgins. Hagins says that the tired band eventually grew ‘into futility’ by late 92′ ; “We had all these Great songs and a great live show but we made enemies with all of the biggest wigs in Hollyweird …there was no way I was ever gonna kiss their arsses – I would clean Swimming Pools before I would do that (Laughs).” Hagins calls the Video for “Manipulation” the absolute Last Hurrah for G.E. ; “The End of the video is hella fucking cool – it looks like Ted is trying to fuck me in the ass and then Palle just picks his nose,.. its pure Lame Rock n roll the way you love it,..it’s fuckin’ hella cool ” ================== 148,037 Views – “Ripping Reason” Comes roaring Out of the speakers with sheer Psychedelic Power !! This Track Sounds so Great in this ‘other’ version – A 1992 “Remix” by sound studio engineer Bill Krodel in El Segundo California with Clark Hagins. “Ripping Reason” is a personal favorite of mine” says Higgins. “I was trying to make it a ‘hit’ I remember,…sorta like “Brandy” but it is so much ‘more’ !! It’s not really a hit so-to-speak ,…its just a flat out Good solid song – A Great piece of Songwriting,…and it sounds Great At Jango Radio !! ‘Ripping’ was recorded in the frantic final days of G.e. and it doesn’t rely on gimmicks like punk speed or guitar solos to get by,…it drudges along in pure melody to near abstract rock perfection and brilliance !!! The confused and tortured lyrics make this track a real winner in cyberspace – and a somewhat ‘unusual’ song for the always quirky G.e. !!!!!!!!! =============== Irie Bob. This 1992 Track is a real Winner for Greenhouse Effect Music Online and in particular at Youtube and GoogleVideo.Com “I started SuperNetCelebrities.Com with Homestead Web hosting who I found through Michael Savage’s Website -…to help bands get exposure” says Clark Hagins in 2008. “Its my goal to make sure that Great bands like Los Angeles’s Batlord get seen more,….and man, do I ever get them seen – ALOT”. IRIE BOB IS THE Pixies-Like 60’s Stooges Like track that appears as the second song on the 1995 “Fountain Weird CD” available at itunes and CD Baby. “The Song was originally entitled ‘Yuri-Bawb’ says Clark Higgins; “But when I suddenly saw the Red CD out of the boxes that day – In October of 1994 from Rainbow Records in Los Angeles – ,…I was horrified to see that they called the Song “Irie Bob”,..I just laughed in horror because the CD was all printed and all done !! And it seemed to be promoting all that 420 Marijuana culture cliche crap,….’Something I personally never wanted any part of in my life,….but now after 17 years,..the name has stuck,…and sometimes people email me,..thinking that I am this pot-head,..because I wrote Irie Bob by G.e. !!! (Laughs) – IRIE BOB Has become a cult classic of G.e. lore what with it’s annoying repetition, distorted bassline, fuzzy guitars (Which Haggins feel need to be turned up more in the final mix), and meandering lyrics and singing which yappily tell the story of a guy who “has been too apathetic,…and thus finally ‘approached Gold thats gleaming”….all in a 4/4 beat of some of Hagins’ best dance beat drumming. This 1992 pop emo song would certainly influence the likes of Beck, Weezer, and others; “When ‘Irie’ was all done and recorded, I just loved the whole ‘feel’ of this little tune,..it was so built around it’s beat and chorus,….Recording Engineer Bill Krodel did an incredible great job at Jet City Sound Studios in El Segundo,….I played all the instruments on this thing myself ,..except then, I got Billy to come in and add these keyboards,..which today – turn out to be the ‘key’ as to why this song is so killer !! I would direct Billy on which sound to implement on the synth,….all the keyboards were always my call with G.e. – though there are many in the South Bay today who try to say that Billy did everything for me,…thats NOT true at all,…Bill Krodel let bands do their own thang,…though he did put in alot of input,…I always had the final calls,…the silly 1960’s keyboards here were entirely my doing,….I dreamed up all my songs,…my songs are good ,..not because of alcohol or drugs like many in the South Bay try to say,…they are good songs simply because I am creative,..and I have been since i was four years old when I drew all those ‘paintings’ at 251,…” Irie Bob, Like all G.e. material Would be rejected by the Program directors at KROQ back in it’s day; “Well,..I would painstakenly try to set up appointments with KROQ Radio Fm programming way back then and they would just say that my songs suck,….I would give them all my tapes,…and nothing would happen,…I would follow up and call back but it was pointless,…thats just the way it is in music industry – even way back then in 1992 and 94��,….you simply ‘had’ to have some kind of major label affiliation in order to achieve FM Airplay,…so thus, songs like IRIE BOB and BRANDY,….NEVER saw their potential back in their day,….I couldn’t do it all alone,….nevermind the fact that I had all the shit goin’ on with Bam Magazine and all. Today, IRIE BOB has racked up Great ‘views’ numbers at Google, Mefeedia, and other websites as it is simply one of cyberspace’s catchyest little secrets. – Originally Recorded September – November 1992 and Appears as part of the 1992 “Big Teen Dollar$” album cd. Produced By Clark Hagins and Bill Krodel. Greenhouse Effect Photos – ?µe???? ???s??? Rock s?????t?µa “fa???µe?? t?? ?e?µ???p???” t?a???d?a.Description199,403 Views – ?µe???? ???s??? Rock s?????t?µa “fa???µe?? t?? ?e?µ???p???” t?a???d?a. – “Misogynistia” is the Great Song that is heard thousands of times a day in 2007 for G.e. – This August 1992 Song was recorded right around the same day as “Five Years” (Which sounds nothing like Miso) and the epic classic “Addicted”. These Songs would compile the September 1992 “Big Teen Dollar$” CD that Clark Hagins Would issue through Massachusett’s Label “Rock City Records’ as well as on sale locally in Redondo Beach at Goboy Records and Mark Theodore’s Alternative Groove Store in Hermosa Beach. “BIG TEEN DOLLAR$” Would be recorded in Early September 92′ with Sound Recording Engineer Of the South Bay Bill Krodel at Jet City Sound Studio in El Segundo Ca. “BTD” Would be a cultural and Lyrical triumph for Haggins as he belittled and attacked Music industry Standard Barers from Kurt Cobain to Henry Rollins to Sammy Hagar to Def Leppard and Bon Jovi too; “BTD” is definitely one of my favorite songs ,..just for how silly and retardedly angry and ironic it is” says Hagins. “Misogynistia is like the anti-dote to BTD,…IT IS just like such a cheesey confused song from 1973 by the Who or Chicago ,..or maybe 80’s-like Duran,…the Song is so serious where-as BTD is absolutely toungue n cheek and DEFINITELY ‘NOT’ !!”……”Writing Sarcastic funny songs from “Star” to “Ben is dead” to “Hey Negrita” in early 91′ had prepared me for some of my ultimate Songwriter moments,…and these would be among my final recordings as I had run out of money by late 92″ Says Higgins – “Waiting 4 Your Love 2 Fail!” explodes with brutal anger, punk speed, angry passion, technical guitar and drumming and plenty of Angst from the World’s Most watched band; Redondo Beach California’s Powerful Greenhouse Efect !!!!! Guitarist Phil Keegan (Dr. Phil) blazes a revolutionary hard rock guitar path here that no other band after the Mighty G.e. could quite copy or capture (Nevermind keep up with !!) …. Clark Hagins pours every ounce of his tortured angry soul into the chilling lyrics and bassist Rick Carmody hangs on for the ride !! – “So Much Better” or Simply “Better” is an ‘ahead of it’s time’ G.e. Song From November 1992 that would also effectively function as quite possibly the last ever idea that Greenhouse Effect and Clark Hagins would ever record. “The Bam Magazine Scandal devestated our band, ruined my concerts, and shook our group’s confidence to the core,…Our bassist Rick Carmody left and soon joined up with the South Bay Redondo Beach Punk band ‘The One Handed Readers’ says Clark Higgins in January 2010 from his offices in San Diego’s “North County’ where today he is a full-time Swimming Pool cleaner,…a job that Hagins says ‘pays the bills’ in the household with just him and his wife; “My life is nothing today,…People say that back in the 90’s I shoulda been a huge Star,…after G.e. flamed out,…I turned more and more to alcohol and by 95′,…I felt my life was technically “Over” up there in Bel Air ,..where I was a Professional Landscaper,…people and other organized bands would still call me, wondering if G.e. was ever coming back,..or if I was ever gonna start throwing concerts again,…but I couldn’t get my psyche into it,…in 96′..i took my Swimming Pool cleaning job with A To Z Pool and Spa in Torrance Ca,..when I moved back down there to the South Bay, ..thats when I knew music for me was over,…I tried to get some people into my shit or to help me but no one would,..nobody cared,…I financed the Rock Opera “White Suburban Liar$” all by myself in 95′,…’put it on sale at GoBoy in Redondo,…but I was 30 years old and not in an active playing band,..man, ..it was over,…I couldn’t do it without Carmody,..atleast I knew I had to have him there”. – Today, Greenhouse Effect explode on the internet (and at itunes) with their old tracks like 1991’s “Brandy” but Hagins calls the scene of music today “almost pointless”. “You got bands like Green Day and Foo Fighters and all their songs sound the same,..they are completely boring people who have never suffered or been picked on in their lives,…they are robotic and their music reflects this,…Dave Grohl is like some jock on a football team,…that guy is ‘NOT’ Rock n roll at all,..yet today, he passes for like as if he is Great like Pete Townshend and the Who or Zeppelin or something,…its disgusting,..People today are so fucking stupid and addicted to drugs and video games,…they don’t know shit about fucking piss ass nothing !! Music sucks now,..and thats all there is to it,..I think Rap music is pathetic….People hear my music,..and suddenly, they hear a trully fucked up person who is ‘really authentically’ fucked up,…thats why I work with a large World audience,…people will never understand what i went through as a child,….but when you hear Greenhouse Effect music,…you suddenly hear it all crystal clear !! I’m a Great drummer and a great guitarist who ‘got that way’ because I had no friends,…I had nothing else to do,…I didn’t fucking learn shit in a book like Dave Grohl,….that guy is not the last of 8 kids,…fuck that guy,..he doesn’t know shit about shit !!” Hagins says that his number one goal and desire would be to see Barack Obama impeached from Office; “If me and my music can play a small part in getting Democrats un-elected,..and getting people out there to ‘learn’ about rightwing politics,..and to stop voting for these assholes,..then that is Great and more power to ‘THAT’,…DEMOCRATS ARE ELITEST TYPES OF PEOPLE WHO RAISE TAXES AND STEAL YER MONEY,…I’m not saying Republicans are all that much better or different,…but they are definitely the lesser of two evils,…..I think that drugs are one of the most serious evils of our Western culture,…We need tougher laws to stop people from using them,…People get high on weed and then they simply naturally are gonna vote for evils and snobs like Your typical Democrat type person,…’when I hear some fucker in a suit and tie say that he wants to ‘help’ people out there,…well, to me,…that is an immediate code RED FLAG word for he wants to ‘rule’ and be bigger, more important, and better – ‘OVER’ the people,…!! Because he is an insecure piece of shit !! Used car salesman,..and ,..like some Leo mother-fucker,…he naturally knows how to get over on people,….I DON’T WANT ANYONE FUCKING HELPING ME,….I HELP MYSELF THANK YOU !!” Hagins says that people need to get ‘properly educated’ and learn to stop voting for socialist minded individuals at all cost. “I practically virtually feel that we need to “Outlaw” people from saying that they are running for office because ‘they want to help people – FUCK THAT,…THEY TAKE THE POWER AND CREATIVITY ‘AWAY’ from the individual – thats what they are really trying to do – period – THEY ARE TYRANTS IN SUITS !!” ============================ In September 2009, Greenhouse Effect achieved a very important personal goal for Los Angeles Top Musician Clark Hagins. The Goal you ask ?? 10,000 Twitter Followers. “We got our 10,000th Twitter follower at One of our many Twitter accounts, but in reality, We really have over 63,000 Followers because we have like 33 different accounts,…its hard work” says Hagins. The pressure is always on Haggins because he is probobly Los Angeles’s “Most seen” musician along with his other bandmates Bassist Rick Carmody and others as his band is always loaded at the very tops of all search engines with the Net’s Top tracks of indie music from “Brandy” to the classic “22nd Street” and “Coke Snortin’ Love Boyz”. “We get seen alot – way more than any other band,…its attracted the attention of several Cable TV Networks,..among them Halogen and others,…People want us to go do a brand new album but I am now nearly 50 years old and I am a swimming Pool cleaner kinda stuck in ‘that’ life,..I doubt seriously today that I could pull off another song like “Brandy” in the studio although I am very intrigued by this new idea for “The Famous on TV”,…thats this new track I’ve been fuckin’ around with…” Hagins says that the Potential for the Halogen Tv Show could produce a windfall of itunes mp3 music sales for G.e. that the band badly needs; “Well,..My wife and I ,..we watch alot of Halogen Tv here with our new Cable Company Time Warner Cable in San Diego’s North County,..I could really improve their Tv network,..it needs to be more gritty and hip and there is nothing more hip online with people than G.e.” 10,000 Twitter Followers isn’t a small thing in an era where some of Mtv’s biggest Hip Hop artists only have 900 or so; “We are a big band online,…we are like this huge phenomenon where websites and businesses fight to link and exchange with us or just be word associated with us,…you know yer big when even porn wants to be near you” says Hagins. “I’ve been tryin’ to convince Halogen Tv to let me do it all my way and let me be 100% completely in charge of my project,…They will get big ratings if they listen to me” says Higgins. – Guitarist Clark Haggins Blogs about his band’s ability to get ‘heard’ on the Web and the importance of Jango Internet Radio and other Web Radios such as Pandora. “The key to something Like Jango.Radio or Last.Fm, Pandora, and all these is ya gotta have good songs first and foremost,…..if yer Songs suck, then its really not gonna matter what you do. You gotta have a good recording too. If you have a song or a demo that sounds like a piece of shit,…then Jango and alot of these are probobly not gonna wanna play it,…and even if they did,…a potential new “Fan” or Twitter follower is probobly gonna wanna change the channel,..just like a TV….” – For many consecutive years, the Greenhouse Effect Song “Brandy” (and other songs of theirs) have been able to fight their way to the tops of search engines and into constant rotation at Jango and Pandora. “Our Song sells itself,…because it’s a great song,..we got lucky there when we wrote that one,…alot of people say that it doesn’t even sound like a typical Greenhouse Effect Song,…but then again,..what does ??” says Hagins. “I would recommend at Jango, if yer an artist there,…don’t let people just ‘play’ yer song at yer profile,..instead rather,..let them “add” it,…that way , you will get into more playlists and stations,..you will become ‘preferred’ more,…it will add up to ALOT of Airplay” Hagins and the band’s Management Team say that “Brandy” is responsible for “about 75%” of G.e’s success in cyberspace. “We are known primarily for one song,…but we got other good tunes,..its not like we’re a complete one hit wonder on here,…When people see me in the street, they always comment on Brandy but some have said it’s really not our best Song in reality,..but it ‘is’ the one that the web seems to like and that Jango and Pandora seem to ‘use’ to get listeners to their network sites,….I would advise bands to stick firmly with just one indie radio site,…Jango is the biggest and the best,..it is sorta like a version of Myspace or Youtube in it’s own rite,…Pandora forces you to ‘mail them’ a cd and as we all in bands know – ‘that’ is a big hassel,….at Jango,…you just upload songs,..its easy,…its sorta like i-sound or Sound.cloud ,..or one of those,…all of those millions of little ‘indie’ so called web radio sites are sorta a waste of time,….yer better off just sticking at Jango,…if you get into a zillion different little sites – and i mean places like Echoboost,..well,..if you got alot’a money sittin’ around to burn ,…then maybe,…but i think it’s more likely that you’ll just go insane at night,….just get yer band onto Jango Radio,…and stick with one -‘that’ one !!” Haggins says that Last.FM has in recent years become kind of a hassel. “I used to love LAST.FM but they mix bands profiles together and they do some weird shit,..i admit that i rarely go there really anymore,…there and Pandora”… – Hagins says that if You are an indie band that the odds of getting on to a Real Fm dial Radio Station like KROQ FM or KLOS FM In Los Angeles are at best slim to none. “Alot of those so called ‘real’ radio stations are just shills for the Record Labels , lawyers, and Hollywood,..theres alot of shady shit goin’ on where there are back room ‘pay offs and payola’ no better than back in the 60’s,…I’m sorry but thats just the way it is and reality…..it would be great if you can manage to get your band played on them,…but you probobly gotta be on some major label or lndie label that gets big cred and respect,…but i would say that a good band that likes it’s own independent sound and image would have to adapt and change too much,….and that can be a bad thing,…all in the name of airplay,..its not worth it ,…but….theres really Great good news though now !! – These days in 2009 and 2010, the ratings for real FM Dial Radios have really fallen,…infact many of them are struggling to stay afloat and are going off the air too … ,..EVERYDAY,…..THE REALITY IS now, more people listen to Jango Radio than they do listen to a station like say KROQ FM,….ALOT of new bands are really gettin’ discovered and getting their sound ‘out-there”,….I would say that technically, its probobly more important to have a hit song at Jango than at KLOS, POWER 106, or Kroq FM,….because now, nobody is listening to those three anymore,…not nearly as much anyway,…the web has taken over,..as a vehicle,…plus things like Talk Radio on the AM DIAL in people’s cars – Stuff Like Michael Savage and Hannity,….nevermind the fact that alot of today’s pop music sucks,..I mean just watch the Grammys if ya don’t believe me,…it all sounds the same and it’s boring,…things like Rap music have been a God-send to guys like me,…people get sick of Rap and they listen to Songs like Brandy by Greenhouse Effect – So it all works out well” ———- “22nd Street” is the Soaring classic from G.e’s 1991 epic cd “Going Legit” which was an album Simply recorded by Haggins and Bassist Rick Carmody alone in the studio; “They Shoulda just signed me long ago” says Hagins “Now,..I’m one pissed off hombre,……I won’t stop until i take over EVERYTHING,…..I see my Google Stats n shit at Webilizers,…I get big plays,…it gives me alotta fuckin’ confidence,….I know I got good shit” – Rock City Productions Pro Management SuperNetCelebrities.Com ============== “Big TEEN Dollar$” is the Hillariously ironic Song and anthem from August 1992 that Clark Hagins wrote over the long hot 92′ summer while mowing lawns “up in Bel Air” and “talking to himself” for inspiration and “coaching”; “Bel Air was a very beautiful place,…I worked for this wealthy Arab at Owlwood Estates – thats where Tony Curtis and Sony and Cher once lived,….and Jane Mansfield lived next door at the big “Pink House” on Carolwood,…at the time, Englebert Humperdink lived there next door,….and Marylin Monroe once lived in our Dog House,..where we kept the German sheperds,…Molly, Marko, and Midnight,….Some people suggested that her ghost was in there (Laughs),….I remember those beautiful hot Beverly Hills afternoons and drinking my 40 of beer….I don’t drink now though,..i’m 45 years old,…” – Backing Vocals ; Jeff Crisfield, Bill Krodel, Mark Nathanson – Remainder; Clark Hagins. Idea for Song conceived in Redondo Beach at 251. Lyrics @ www.LyricsMode.Com – SuperNetCelebrities.Com ===================== Hagins admits that websites Like Blip Tv allow Over-self indulgent bloggers like himself to fully ‘create’ their own arenas and that unlimited blogging spaces are a Heaven ; “Vimeo and BlipTV are awesome incredible things,….I can really vent my spleen thoroughly,…and ofcourse many people read,..and thats the goal,…to get them reading,..then they go to my other sites, ..or Youtubes,…and then they go to itunes,..and they buy,….the bottom line is they get interested in me and my music,…and they get to read alot,…it gets them more intelligent,…its way MORE educational than a video game,….Video games are something that Democrats cooked up so you will just sit there and be a moron and smoke pot and be a fucking idiot,….and thats how people like Barack Obama and other Democrats get voters,…they create their own pool of morons THAT THEY CAN EASILY CONTROL,…..I would prefer to get the intelligent, more informed votes of hard working American people ,…People like electricians and or Swimming Pool People,…they tend to be way more informed and intelligent because alot of them listen to Dr. Michael Savage in their trucks during the day as they work – Him and Mark Levin talk radio too.” – “Wilson Phillips” comes barrelling out of the Speakers as a heavy Black Sabbath like G.e. Anthem of hard rock. “Ted told me on the phone one day about 1995 that he thought that ‘newer G.e.’ wasn’t as heavy and was too “Happy”,…man,…I guess he was referring to stuff like “Addicted” and “Irie Bob”…, i just fuckin’ laughed at that shit,…I think Ted just started to smoke too much pot and it fried his head !! Clark Hagins blogs that his ‘ideas’ for society and his ability to ‘copy and re-paste entire blogs elsewhere’ is as important as the music itself ; “Shit like Tubemogul can be awesome,….Everybody knows that I don’t do all this writin’ shit so much for the music,..infact, I really don’t even give a rat’s ass about the music so much as I care about getting my politics and society philosophies across to the general public,…..Greenhouse Effect was always about being political,….We were good irish boys who went to church and who had fears,….but then others in the world would come and try to corrupt us,…and try to make us be like everybody else – to conform,….I say ; fuck that,….I keep the same shit that I was at 16 and 23 today still at 44; I am an old fashioned conservative – what-ever that means,….I’m against abortion and Gay marriage and legalizing or promoting lame drugs that I know destroy great minds,…you can write better shit whilst sober !! I listen to Michael Savage,…and if people don’t like it,..then what the fuck,…they can suck my cock” – Tags – tagcloud, asher roth, politics, lil wayne, eminem, asher roth, susan, mel gibson, brandy, wayne gretzky, kroq most played, paramore, muse, radiohead, tom delonge, weezer, pork, hole tour, hip hop, bmo, brandy, lmfao, sky blu fox, cnn, smokey robinson, michael savage radio ———— ============ The exciting Greenhouse Effect are the New “Nirvana” of the internet for these times of the new millineum of 2008, 09, and 2010 !! Great Songs that evoke melody of the 1960’s and bands like the Mersey Beats to the Sounds of the 70’s and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer to Zeppelin !! High Melody is always G.e’s aim !! This little Redondo Beach three piece band has spread their music all around the World like no other band in History !! They use a tight mix of Jango Radio constant Airplay, Pandora Radio attack with the classic “Brandy”, and millions of constantly running Google Videos and Twitters !! Virtually every person you know HAS SEEN A G.E. VIDEO and probobly Downloaded it !! Clark Hagins considers himself every bit as much a “Politician” as a Great musician; “I can see why all these Arab Countries hate the west and the United States in a way sorta… – They don’t want our shit in their countries !! We despicably take our freedoms for Granted and we abuse and take libertys wrongly,…..Hollywood is a buncha fucking Liberal scumbags,….But Thank God, Our Country is on the right track now,….We have won three key races in a row in Late 2009 and here in 2010,….We won in Virginia, New Jersey, and Massachusetts and even though this Scott Brown character just seems like another RINO,….I will still choose ‘that’ over the Obama-Liberal Martha WTF her name is !! Thank God Almighty that we won that Massachusetts one – that was critical !! I am certain that the angry things that I write definitely play a role with the TeaParty Protesters,…THEY READ MY SHIT – THEY’VE BEEN READING IT FOR YEARS !!,……NOT ALL MUSICIANS are Liberals,…Some of us listen to Dr. Michael Savage and Mark Leven Talk Radio,….We are informed,….but we already ‘knew’ from the beginning,….I’ve been a conservative from birth ,…probobly because I am a Taurus born April 27,…..people say that I am crazy – and I fucking AM !! BUT I know that music is the key,….it takes beautiful music to get people to the ballot booth and pull the lever !!! As the unofficial “Leader” of the Tea Party movement, Hagins blogs are often caustic, terrifying, angry reading – but effective. “People used to pick on me,..back in the South Bay and I figured it out,…it was ‘Liberals’ that WE’RE PICKING ON ME,…..tryin’ to say how I’m so “close-minded” when all along it’s THEM who is really that… Liberal Pot-heads and People who sit around listening to Rap and playing Video Games who DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING – ‘THEY’ ARE THE ONES who are always putting other people down,…and usually because they are insecure Gealous Motherfuckers who got no TALENT – ATLEAST NOT LIKE ME !! ” ========= Tags ; tags, tagcloud, asher roth, politics, lil wayne, eminem, asher roth, susan, mel gibson, brandy, wayne gretzky, kroq most played, paramore, muse, radiohead, tom delonge, weezer, pork, hole tour, hip hop, bmo, brandy, lmfao, sky blu fox, cnn, smokey robinson, michael savage radio Likes: 40 Viewed:

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A Chi Machine is an electrically powered unit about the size of a medium sized suitcase.  Chi Machines provide what is known as a passive aerobic workout, by moving your feet and legs from side to side, more on that later.

One favorite supplier of these units, PikUmii, provides you with a twisted disk along with the unit.  This handy item improves the effectiveness of their units and gives you extra comfort during your Chi Machine sessions.

The Chi Machine was invented in 1990.  The inventor, Dr. Inoue Shizuo, worked for over 35 years to build the right machine for his vision.

Hi’s original intent was to produce a device that helped in the practice of meditation, which requires an upright posture and an erect backbone.  Ever since their introduction, Chi Machines have been growing in popularity.

How Do I Use the Chi Machine?

The use of a Chi Machine is straightforward.  The first thing you want to do is to find an out of the way area of your house or apartment, near an electrical receptacle, and place a yoga mat, or similar, in that area.

The yoga mat is to keep your body comfortable while you are using the Chi Machine. Then you place the Chi Machine at the foot of your pad, make sure it is centered relative to the mat and plug it in.  Before using them, it should be mentioned; it is advisable to drink a glass of water, around 8 oz or so.

Lay down on the mat, place your ankles in the cradles (For comfort and effectiveness ensure that your ankle bones themselves protrude past the supports) and turn on the unit.

From here, the unit takes over and gently moves your feet and legs side-to-side, creating a very pleasurable sensation. Moreover, this is just the beginning.

The Chi Machine is quite versatile when it comes to your body as there are several positions you can try while the unit is running. Remembering to keep your body straight relative to the machine, you can place your arms over your head.

This technique helps to stretch your back and remove muscle tension and shoulder pain.

Another method to try is to put your hands under your head; this technique contributes to relieving symptoms of a sore back and headaches.  Another way is to put both arms at your side to relieve symptoms of general tension, experiment with palms down and palms up, you might be surprised at the difference.

When using the Chi Machine, remember to concentrate on your breathing.  Ensure you are inhaling and exhaling comfortably, you will find within a few minutes of using the Chi Machine you will find your breathing becoming quite natural.

What Are the Benefits of Using a Chi Machine?

The Chi Machine offers a multitude of benefits.  They have been known to address the problem of tendinitis and mitigate the pain and mobility issues associated with gout and arthritis.

People have reported that the Chi Machine has also helped reduce the occurrence and intensity of migraines by reducing overall tension in the body.  Others have also said relief from insomnia and even constipation.

As the name implies, the Chi Machine works to release and realign your body’s energy.  Senior citizens have especially noticed the healing effect that the Chi Machine provides; from loosening up stiff joints to improving the flow within the bodies lymph system, senior citizens around the country are reporting very positive results.  They mention the improvement in mood, stamina, and mobility.

Clinical studies have shown that regular sessions with units like the Daiwa Felicity Swing Master or the Daiwa Felicity Vitality Swing have reduced swelling in ankles and legs of the test subject.

These benefits were shown to have lasted for weeks after the test sessions. Also, regular use of the Chi Machine reinvigorates the effects.  Similarly, studies have also shown that flexibility of the spine was also maintained which helped with the discomfort of a spinal curvature.

Use of the Chi Machine in conjunction with light exercise has also been reported to aid in weight loss and to improve mood and sociability.  Because Chi Machines deliver what is known as passive aerobic exercise, the motion produced in your body is quite similar to that of active aerobic exercise.

As such, you may notice some improvement in your muscle tone in addition to increased flexibility and reduced weight.

Famous Chi Machine Endorsements.

People from many different professions endorse the use of a Chi Machine for the overall physical and mental benefits it provided.

The Chi Machine was featured on a segment of Dr. Phil’s show, The Doctors, and the conclusion among the team was that using a Chi Machine provides noticeable and beneficial results.

The units have shown promise and are used in many nursing homes; by health care professionals, health spas and many more health-oriented facilities, such as alternative medicine clinics and the offices of chiropractors.

Many athletes testify to the effectiveness of using a Chi Machine, here are but a few:

Pro golfer Kevin Alexander.  Kevin mentions that he uses the Chi Machine after rigorous practice sessions and that they have helped to relax his muscles, improve oxygen flow, and to limber up his spine.  Because of these benefits, he says his golf game has improved considerably.

Pro Golfer Steven Nole.  Steven uses the Chi Machine for the same reason as Kevin Alexander, and he states that, because of the Chi Machines ability to make him more limber, his golf swing is much more relaxed and therefore more effective.

Professional football player, Earl Christy, was a defensive back for the New York Jets when they claimed the world championship in 1968.  Shortly after he began sessions with his Chi Machine, he said he noticed a significant decrease in his aches and pains, both muscular and skeletal.  His wife even mentioned that his snoring subsided!

Athletes of all kinds, models, actors and actresses and even regular people like us have great things to report about the fantastic results they receive from the Chi Machine’s simple but effective oscillating motion.

What Are Some of the Best Chi Machines?

You will find two of the most highly rated Chi Machines at the PikUmii website.  Here you will find endorsements for the Vitality Swing Professional Model and the Swing Master Deluxe Model.  The Vitality Swing Professional model measures 16 x 11.5 x 11 inches and has wide, comfortable saddles for your ankles.  Its compact size allows for easy storage and use.

However, don’t let its size fool you, the unit weighs around 18 pounds, and it has a sturdy motor.

The ability to set oscillations anywhere between 85 cycles per minute and 155 cycles per minute, this unit will provide enough flexibility to meet your needs for a long time to come.  Read more about the Vitality Swing Professional Model here.

The Swing Master Deluxe Model has somewhat different dimensions and weight, measuring a comfortable 13.5 x 10.5 x 9 inches and weighing roughly 9 pounds, this unit has a slightly smaller motor and is capable of shifting oscillating speeds between 38 cycles per minute and 110 cycles per minute.

Because of its lighter weight and lower oscillation selection, this unit is considered ideal for seniors or for those who don’t want a more substantial unit. Read more about the Swing Master Deluxe Model here.

You can read more information and browse customer ratings here.

What If I Am Dissatisfied with My Chi Machine?

While we are sure you will love our products, there is a chance that the unit may not be for you or the unit arrives damaged or defective. If you want to return your unit for any reason, PikUmii has a 14-day return policy.

We will reimburse you the full costs of your order, including taxes. Unfortunately, we do not reimburse for shipping.  At Pikumii, customer satisfaction is our passion. So, please take a look at our health-promoting products today, you will be glad you did.

via Adam Kemp Fitness