#awning cleaning

[sunroomvancouver]

Awnings made of fabric (canvas or vinyl) sometimes have their maintenance ignored. if you want to avail yourself of the services of Rv awnings, experts at Strong Build, Awning Vancouver will do.

[eyedowindows]

In and around Fresno County, Eye Do Windows specializes in Residential Window Cleaning Services. With Windows, we have more than 25 years of experience! Do you sense the urge to improve your home? Give it a fresh, contemporary look by updating it! Eye Do Windows is available to assist. In California, we provide Professional Residential Window Cleaning that will improve the appearance of your house.

[glitterhoof]

uhm okay IF i had a YouTube channel would u guys watch me maybe. im thinking of showcasing my ponies and / or toy rescues and giving general info on them AND cleaning them up or just maybe i dont know, playing with it!???

[deathsweetblossoms]

Lockwood & Co really didn’t have to go this hard with the soundtrack….

[pressurewashings-stuff]

Top 5 Areas Around Your Home That Need Pressure Washing

Discover the top 5 areas around your home that need power washing. Keep your property looking fresh and well-maintained with these essential cleaning tips from Staten Island's pressure washing experts.

[omgitsjoegilgun]

Patio in Hawaii Ideas for a mid-sized, contemporary, concrete patio renovation in the front yard with a fire pit and a pergola

[kleanwaypressurecleaning]

Awning cleaning near me Miami

To keep your Miami property looking its best at all times, hire Kleanway Pressure Cleaning's professional Awning cleaning in Miami services. To clean your awnings thoroughly and restore their original appearance, our staff uses cutting-edge tools and methods. We value the trust our customers place in us and work hard to earn that trust by providing services that leave the outside of their home or business looking clean and attractive.

[paulconstruction]

What is the Best Way to Clean an Awning?

While keeping you cool as it shades you from the sun, your patio awning is vulnerable to dirt and mildew buildup. And think about it: when was the last time you really cleaned your awning? This often-overlooked and forgotten task is important for maintaining the condition of your awning so it lasts for a long time.

And if you think the rain can handily take care of any dirt, mildew, or other grime on your awning, the truth is you need to thoroughly clean your awning to keep it working and looking its best.  Specifically, cleaning the awning fabric that soaks up mold and mildew in its pores. This then raises the question: What is the best way to clean an awning? 

Follow our expert cleaning instructions below to make sure your patio awning is spotless.

Fill a bucket with cool water and about 3 oz of laundry soap (not detergent). Mix the solution until it’s visibly foamy.

Using a broom—and climbing up on a ladder, if necessary—remove all of the dirt or debris, including leaves, cobwebs, and twigs, from both sides of the awning.

Using a hose, spray the awning with water so it’s substantially wet.

Once wet, scrub your awning with a heavy brush and the cleaning solution you made. Scrub the awning thoroughly in order to get it as clean as possible. A circular motion has been shown most effective when cleaning an awning. However, also make sure you don’t spend too much time in one place because you don’t want the soap to dry on the awning.

Once you’ve finished thoroughly scrubbing your awning, if there are any remaining visible stains, you can sprinkle a little bit of baking soda over them. Let the baking soda sit for a few minutes but then rinse it off.

Once you’ve finished scrubbing the awning and treating any specific spots with baking soda, rinse off the soap with the garden hose and allow the awning to dry.

To make sure your awning stays as clean as possible in the future, you can read the service manual to see if your awning is approved to handle a protective coating. This will protect your awning year-round from dirt, debris, mildew, or any type of fungus. However, not all awnings are cleared to use this coating, so don’t just assume you can use it on your awning without checking first.

You can also rinse off your patio awning with your garden hose every month to help keep it clean. However, you should never use detergent or chlorine bleach when scrubbing your awning because they can rot the fabric.

Your retractable awning is an investment that you want to keep safe for years to come. You don’t want to bring out your awning one day and find that it’s caked with mold or mildew. This means you’ll need to replace your awning fabric. By properly maintaining your awning with a thorough cleaning plus washes every couple of months, you’ll definitely help increase its life span.

[dumbbitch1997]

hello everyone I spent 6 hours at the dentist today my ass is numb and my mouth feels.....not good

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[sunroomvancouver]

Installing window or patio awnings on your house or business can provide much-needed shade from the hot sun. Awnings can also add character and curb appeal to a bland Melbourne house or business exterior. Therefore, if you want to install awning at your place then you must contact to Strong Build, awnings Vancouver. 

[katsumiiii]

hobie brown x gn! reader

omg was at work and had a hugeeee hobie moment!!

hobie being a nuisance and popping up at your job. let’s say you work at a local pub right around the corner from his apartment complex, be sure to be on the look out for rabid hobies because he will come and beg for your attention.

he always thinks you look so cute in your uniform, a simple black tee and some tight jeans, you never really see the appeal but his gaze lingers appreciatively at the curve of your ass and the plush of your hips.

your coworkers think it’s so cute whenever he pops in, doing everything in his power to gain your attention for more than 30 seconds at a time, whether that be sending you a coy smirk, or looping his fingers between your belt buckles and pulling you in. his goal is always the same, wanting desperately to see that flustered look on your face, and he will get it, no matter the cost.

today the bar had been particularly empty. only a few customers toggled in and out, and they all had simple requests, a glass of beer and the check. the day went on without a hitch, night soon seeped in and you were starting to close down, checking out the last six individuals which sat at the bar.

“surprised hobie didn’t pop in today.” your coworker teased, brushing the side of your shoulder as you wiped off the countertop below you.

“shhh, don’t say his name, you’ll summon him.” you shuttered playfully, grinning at your quip.

“funny funny, so is he sick or wh—”

“wha’s going awn? who you havin’ a chat about?” speak of the fucking devil. you slowly tilted your head towards the seat in front of you and watch as hobie leans his upper body towards your own, sniffing as he licks his bottom lip, tongue clashing with metal.

“what the fuck?” your coworker cackled, shaking their head in disbelief.

“hobie, what a surprise.” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“well you don’t sound too chuffed to see me, love.” hobie tapped his fingernails against the freshly wiped counter, his black polish (which you painted) shinning dimly from the lights above.

“well usually you’re here earlier so I didn’t know if you were coming to bother me or not.” you set an arm beneath you and placed your head against your palm.

“bother? didn’t know that’s what it was.” he shrugged his shoulders, inching his head closer to your slouched figure.

“really? then what would you call yourself?”

“your only source of entertainment. ‘m livenin’ up the place, a bit drab in here ain’t it?” hobie turned to observe the area around him, chuckling at the lack of customers.

“well we are supposed to be closed, bee.” you muttered, turning to place your cleaning supplies into an opened cabinet on your left.

“really? wouldn’t ‘ave guessed that.” he sucked his teeth at the sight of you bent over, nodding his head in appreciation. “why don’t you put that down and come gimme a kiss, hm? been waiting on one all night.”

“yeah, you say that every time you come see me.”

“don’t make it less true.”

[glitterhoof]

i am THE BEST puppy i am so good at waiting . and also maybe the best at being very bored.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (10/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's dinner time. Time to find new friends, since your roommate decides to treat you like shit.

Warnings: fluff, angst (whoops), asshole!Charles, alcohol consumption, Google translated French, swear words

Word Count: 3.9k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a podium part! grande, Charlie! feedback is appreciated

Charles' mood has deteriorated quite a bit between his lunch and his return. 

Funny, easy-going Charles, who would have loved to drive to dinner with you in potato sacks, is now sitting next to you in the Renault and the silence is deafening. Not a word does he say, but at least he's not crushing the leather of the steering wheel with his hands like yesterday. He doesn't just sit there like a statue, but in every now and then he rubs his forehead, runs his hand through his hair, or twists the rings on his long fingers. 

The fact that he looks and behaves like a real person and not a sculpture calms you down a bit, but the stress is still clearly visible in his face. At least he looks more approachable, like you could talk to him. Like he needs someone to talk to about what happened.

Determined to get him out of his foul mood, you turn in his direction on the seat so you can look at him properly. "You want to talk about it?"

Your roommate clenches his jaws even tighter and exhales loudly, as if annoyed by your question. Good start to a conversation. "About what?" He stares ahead, propping his elbow against the car door as he steers the vehicle with his right hand. 

You furrow your eyebrows. "About whatever is going on inside you right now."

He gives a short laugh, but it sounds spiteful and not at all like the Charles you know. "It's none of your business." 

So at this point you've both arrived again, how nice. Your gaze moves from his eyes, to his nose, to his mouth, and you try to read his expression, but find only irritation and displeasure. Finally, you lower your gaze to your hands folded in your lap. "At least pull yourself together for your friends. Otherwise you'll screw up everyone's evening with your bad mood," it slips out of you.

"I won't."

He knows that you know that something is wrong. And if he wanted to talk about it, he would have answered differently than so snippy and irritated, so annoyed. But apparently he'd rather sit grimly next to you and take out his frustration on you, which would be fine with you if you knew the reason. 

You can't help him if you don't know what it's about, and you'd love to grab Charles by the shoulders and shake him until he comes clean. But you're afraid he's not one to be talked down to or pushed into something he doesn't want to do, so you let it go at that. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find you.

You don't know the restaurant Charles stops the car in front of, but it looks beautiful from the outside with the ivy vines winding around lamps and awnings. Some of the tables inside are occupied and even from the car you can tell that the food on the plates looks delicious. 

As you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle, your roommate doesn't move a bit. "You go on in. I'll park the car and catch up with you." He doesn't even look at you, but clenches his jaw and waits for you to exit the car. So you just nod at him and get out. 

You're about to ask him what name the table is reserved in, when he leans over the center console and closes the passenger door from the inside before sitting down normally and speeding off, disappearing around the next corner. He leaves you on the side of the road, and the wintry evening wind swirls around you so coldly that you can't be mad at him, but enter the restaurant directly, where you stop at the hostess's counter. 

"Bonsoir," she greets you with a friendly smile, typing away briefly on the iPad in her hand. "Avez-vous réservé une table?" good evening. have you reserved a table?

In your mind, you give Charles a pat on the back of the head. Couldn't he have waited a moment longer? 

Behind you, the glass door opens and other guests enter the restaurant. You press your lips together. "Bonsoir. Une table est réverée, mais je ne sais pa à quel nom," you try to say in your best French, and apparently the hostess even understands you. good evening. a table is reserved, I just don't know what name.

The friendly hostess opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, a slender hand rests on your shoulder. "Je crois qu'elle est avec nous." I think she's with us. Confused, you turn around and look into giant brown eyes. "Y/N, right?" The woman in front of you is so beautiful that you can only nod mutely. Smiling, she takes her hand off your shoulder and looks at the hostess. "La table est réservée au nom Gasly." the table is reserved in the name of gasly. 

Behind her stands a young man with one hand resting loosely on her hip. He smiles at you as he notices your puzzled look. "We're Charles' friends. I'm Pierre and this is-"

"Kika," the brunette grins, interlocking her arm with yours, "nice to meet you. Where's Charles?" she asks as the three of you follow the hostess who takes you to a long, set table. There are individual chairs on one side, with padded booths across from them. 

You shrug your shoulders. "He's parking the car. I should go in already."

"Ah." Pierre pulls one of the chairs back so Kika can sit down - a gentleman, that is - but she just shakes her head. 

"Girls belong on the booths, Pierre," she says, and before you know it, you're sitting side by side at one end of the table. "So, Charles said you're a photographer?"

Charles. English pronunciation. Somehow it sounds strange, so out of place for the Monegasque. The fact that his friends pronounce his name so differently unsettles you, as does the fact that he seems to have been talking about you to his friends. But if Charles's friends call him Charles and not Scharl, then it must be right, no?

You nod. "Right."

Kika picks up her purse and sets it next to her on the bench. "How cool! So where do you work?"

Before you can answer - you wouldn't even know what exactly, to be honest - Charles pops up behind Pierre, who's sitting across from Kika. "What are you talking about?" He puts both hands on his friend's shoulders and squeezes them briefly before standing next to him at the table and leaning over.

"We're talking shit about you," Kika jokes, also leaning over the table so that the two of them can kiss each other on the cheek. In contrast to just now, he actually seems changed, just like yesterday when you went to Joris. It's almost creepy how well he can mask his feelings. 

"Doesn't surprise me," your roommate replies with a smile and sits down on the free chair facing you. But he doesn't acknowledge you at all. 

Is he ignoring you? Did you do something wrong during the time he wasn't home that he doesn't pay attention to you now? Or is he angry because you just gave him a piece of your mind? If it's the latter, then he can go to hell. 

But maybe it's the former. Maybe you shouldn't have written him while he was gone. Just picked out clothes, got ready, and waited for him. Maybe you misjudged the friendship. 

You make yourself smaller next to Kika, almost invisible, and watch as more and more people join the small group. They all introduce themselves briefly, but you immediately forget their names as they sit down. The seat next to you remains empty, for which you are somewhat grateful. But the fact that the person you know best here gives you the cold shoulder makes you feel uneasy - 

- and suddenly you are ten years old again, in the back seat of your father's car, trying to breathe shallowly so as not to provoke a sudden choleric fit in him. 

You avert your eyes from the people and study the menu, on which the actually not-so-expensive dishes are written, so you don't even notice how someone else joins the group until your name comes up. 

"Y/N?"

You look up and see the blue eyes of your helpful stranger from this afternoon. This time, however, he is wearing a white shirt, which greatly accentuates his tanned skin, the top two buttons are undone despite the weather, and light-colored pants hang from his hips. On his head, instead of a cap, are now brown curls that hang a bit in his forehead. 

You'd be lying if you said he wasn't incredibly handsome. And as you look at him, his smile widens.

The feeling from just now has fizzled out as you stand up and walk towards him. As you face each other, he spreads his arms, wraps them around your middle, and squeezes your body tightly against him. "I didn't think we'd meet again so soon." His arms are so long that his hands are on your sides while you have your arms around his neck. You're so close you can breathe in his scent. 

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?" you ask him as you pull away from each other, but his hands remain on your hips. He looks down at you. 

"You two know each other?" 

You turn around, feeling Lando's hands slide off you, and behind you stands Charles, who looks at you with a look you can't interpret. Apparently you're talking to each other again. 

Uncertainly, you look from him to Lando. "Yes. We met at the grocery store this afternoon."

"She was shopping for her roommate," Lando continues, then points to Charles, who smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "So you're the roommate, I guess?" He looks back at you and smiles. "I knew Charles had a roommate, but I didn't know she was that beautiful."

"And bam, there went my hunger," Kika calls out to you, rolling his eyes playfully. 

Embarrassed, you look back to Lando, whose gaze is already on you. "Shall we?"

To your amazement, Lando sits down in the empty seat next to you and not with his friends. He pulls your menu over a bit, even though his own is right in front of him, and scoots a bit closer to you so you can browse the dishes together. 

"So," he finally says, leaning back. "I'm afraid I can't find any canned soup."

You nudge him with your shoulder. "I'll eat something else, too."

"There's no BigMac on here, either."

Before you can shove him off the bench, Charles interjects. "Canned soup? BigMac?"

Lando nods. "We found out today at the supermarket that Y/N's culinary journey ended somewhere between canned soup and BigMac." He points his index finger at a spot on the menu. "Ah, look. Kids' plate, with fries and chicken nuggets. How about it?"

You roll your eyes. "I think I'll order the carbonara."

"Ohhhh. Are we venturing out of our comfort zone?"

"Shut up, you dumbass," you say, playfully annoyed, and are glad to see the waitress come to the table shortly after, taking both drink and food orders. You ignore Charles' cold stare.

Kika taps you on the thigh. "You two know each other already, too?" She points to you and Lando, who has risen briefly to greet someone at the other end of the table. 

"Since noon today, to be exact." The waitress puts the drinks on the table. Coke for Kika and you, and a beer each for the three guys sitting with you. "I went shopping and couldn't find some things. He was kind enough to help me find them."

"You didn't tell me that." Charles tone is as cold as his gaze. You would have preferred him not to talk to you at all. You don't like this Charles. Not at all.

You don't know what you've done that he can be so friendly and lighthearted toward others, but act completely idiotic toward you. But you definitely don't let that happen to you. "I had to go to another supermarket because ours doesn't have some of the things you wanted." You raise an eyebrow and shrug. "Lando helped me find the sesame seeds and chili flakes."

"That's very kind of him." Charles's expression is impenetrable, but anyone who knows Charles even a little can pick out the underlying sarcasm.

You smile at him sugary sweet. "Yeah, right? He even walked me home and carried the bag."

Kika, whose gaze bounces back and forth between you like a tennis match, is glad Charles doesn't respond, just rolls his eyes. "And you two have only been living together for two days, right? What's it like having a roommate?"

Your gaze wanders to Charles, expecting a snarky comment or whatever he would come up with to put you down right now. But the opposite is true. His previously serious expression softens, his shoulders don't seem so tense anymore, and the little smile around his mouth makes your heart skip a beat, even though he was acting pretty out of line until just now. He's looking at you - really looking at you. This is Charles right here. Your Charles. 

"Y/N Is the best roommate you could ever ask for," he replies, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "She's kind, considerate, and so funny. I couldn't ask for a better one."

You're definitely still going to talk about what's happened so far this evening, and you're definitely going to throw words back in his face about how dare he ignore you for half the evening. But right now, you're too relieved that Charles is Charles again that you can't even be mad. 

Kika pokes you in the side. "So what's Charles like?"

"Charles," you begin, but don't quite know how to answer. Charles is so much more than your roommate. He's your savior in times of need. Your confidant. Your friend. He's that warm feeling that spreads through you when you're together. 

Charles is everything. 

When you say his name, he barely noticeably screws up his face. 

"You can go ahead and say he's an asshole," Pierre grins, catching Charles' fist directly as he gently punches him in the shoulder. 

"Does he leave his dirty socks everywhere? We were all on vacation together once and you couldn't enter his hotel room without stepping on his dirty laundry," comes Max, sitting next to Pierre and thankfully far enough away that he only gets a nasty look. 

"Or does he take too long to style his hair? Ouch!" Kika rubs his shin and gives Charles a venomous look. "What? You take longer in the bathroom than I do in some cases!"

"You're all soooooo funny." Your roommate leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head. The sleeves of his shirt stretch across his muscles. He winks at you. "I'm the very best roommate."

You take a sip of Coke and look at him over the rim of your glass, grinning. "The jury's still out."

Several waiters bring the food and the conversation takes its course. The carbonara tastes delicious and the conversation between Kika, Charles, Lando, Pierre and Max changes topics so frequently that you can't keep up with questions and laughter. In the meantime, Kika asks for your number "so you can talk to someone other than Charles" and you are infinitely grateful to have found a friend in her. 

The small group you are in seems like a small family and as much as they include you in everything, you feel like a part of it. A feeling that is foreign to you, but doesn't feel strange.

You knew that Charles must have such great friends. But you didn't expect them to accept you directly as part of their group. 

The plates are getting emptier, the conversations are getting louder, and people are changing their seats to be able to talk to others. Charles has gotten up to sit down three seats away, but not before asking you if it's okay if he leaves you alone for a moment, whereupon Kika has wrapped her slender arm around your shoulder, saying, "Don't worry, Charles. Y/N is in good hands with me". 

In between, he still gives you glances as if to ask if everything is okay, to which you just smile and nod. 

"So, was the carbonara better than canned soup?" Lando takes a sip of his beer.

"Nothing comes close to my favorite canned soup," you joke, "but I have to admit, I didn't know pasta could taste so great."

The Brit laughs up. "I saw that. All that was missing was you licking the plate."

You cross your arms in front of your chest and act offended. "Would it have surprised you?"

"Definitely not." He slips his tongue into his cheek, which is much more attractive than it should be. "So, about dinner-"

From across the table, someone calls his name and you notice him hesitate to get up, but the guys wave him over energetically. 

Lando looks at you. "Is it okay if I just-"

You wave him off and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all good. Go ahead and see your friends. It's definitely not the last time we'll talk."

He reaches for your hand on his shoulder and presses a fleeting kiss to its knuckles before standing up. He doesn't let go of your hand until the distance between you grows too far. "See you in a bit."

Before you can realize what just happened, Kika catches your attention by scooting close to you. "What was that about?"

Your gaze lingers on Lando, who slaps his buddy on the shoulder and then sits down on a free chair there. He glances back at you and winks before turning to his friends. "I have no idea." 

As you turn toward Kika, Charles catches your gaze. Despite the dim lighting in the restaurant, you can see that his cheeks are flushed, almost certainly due to the beer. His smile is warm and infectious, and as you smile back he stands up and makes his way over to you. 

As he plops down in the seat next to you, he's still smiling. "Hi."

"Hi yourself."

Your roommate bites his lower lip and nervously twirls the rings on his fingers, and you wish you could have grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers with his. But even though everything seems to be fine between you again, you have a relatively poor grasp on him, which is why you let it go.

"Listen," he begins, turning his whole body to face you, "I'm sorry I was so shitty to you." He looks down at your hands. "You - you were so understanding and kind and you just wanted to help and I treated you like crap. And you definitely didn't deserve that." When he looks you in the eye again, his gaze is soft and there's something sparkling in his green eyes that makes him look so young you melt. 

Pull yourself together. 

"It's okay," you reply, taking a sip of your Coke to wash down the lump in your throat. 

"It's not. I don't know what got into me, but my behavior wasn't okay." He takes a deep breath, as if he needs to buy time to think about his next words. "I, um, was with my ex and-"

"Charles," you interrupt him gently, and he barely flinches. But you're so close that, of course, you can't miss it. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready for it. You don't have to tell me at all if you don't want to. But if you're ever that mean to me again and don't give me a reason, I'll kill you in your sleep."

Charles smile turns into a grin. "Then I guess I'll sleep with one eye open now." He takes a big swig of his beer. A drop of it escapes his lips and runs out of the corner of his mouth toward his chin. When he catches it with his tongue, you have to look away for a moment. "I wasn't lying, by the way. You're actually the best roommate anyone could ever ask for."

"Stop it."

"I'm serious." He puts his beer down and looks at you. "We've known each other for two days - two days - but somehow I feel like we've known each other forever, you know what I mean?" You can only nod in response. "And I've never had that feeling with anyone." He takes a deep breath. "And I also think I can tell you everything, which is why I really need to tell you that I-"

"Charles!" The guy the roommates had been talking to until recently sits down in the vacant chair across from you. "I heard about Annika, by the way. I'm really sorry."

In all your life, you've never witnessed how quickly the mood can turn. 

The easy-going Charles, the warm, friendly Charles, is gone as quickly as a shooting star. His body is tense to bursting, his fingers are clawing at his pants, and his jaws are clenched so tight you fear he's breaking his teeth. He doesn't even breathe. 

Is Annika his ex? The one he was probably with today? Is that why he was in a bad mood?

He doesn't breathe, for a minute he hasn't taken a breath, just stares ahead, through the guy who apparently realized his choice of subject was absolute shit. Charles isn't present, as if he's on another star. Like he's short-circuiting. But by God, the man needs to breathe before he turns blue.

Without giving it much thought, you press your knee against his. You're so focused on helping him that you ignore the heat of his skin burning through the layers of fabric, and the goosebumps spreading all over your body, and the closeness you've never felt with anyone before, even though there are two pairs of jeans between you. You focus only on him, on making him breathe again.

Until he pulls his knee away. Like you've burned him, electrocuted him. As if you had crossed a line. And for a moment your heart stops because you think you've done everything wrong. 

But then he presses his knee against yours again, more than that, he moves a little closer to you, so that not only your knees but also your thighs touch. Fire spreads through your veins even though your skin isn't even touching, but just being near him, this familiarity, causes lightning to twitch through your veins into your brain and your thoughts to stop. All you feel is heat. All you feel is Charles. 

Charles next to you takes a deep breath, but you're too absorbed by him to realize he's looking down at you. "I'm alright. I have everything I need."

next part

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Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Ball

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Let's throw a ball, my darling. It is the age of elegance and opera gloves. Etiquette during these events was as intregal as the music. So let's delve in and dance the night away.

Preparing to host a Ball

Balls in this period weren't just little get-together with a little music in the corner. These were large productions and required the entire household to pitch in. The ballroom would have to be cleaned, chandeliers would need polishing. Any large halls would need to be cleared of any furniture to accommodate a large crowd. If throwing a ball, you need to set aside more rooms than just the ballroom. You will need a room to store any cloaks, coats and hats (a valet and lady's maid would have charge of this), a room for refreshments and sometimes a room set up for any other entertainment such as cards. The dining room would also be needed for a supper (yes, suppers are expected). A ball requires the best of the best. Musicians would be hired, the kitchens will be slaving all day, butlers will be decanting the best wines and select the finest liquor, and rooms made up for anybody thinking of staying the night. The kitchens will have to prepare light snacks as well as the late supper, so everything must be cooked at exactly the right time and kept in optimum condition until needed. A red carpet would be laid from the front door right down to the pavement with an awning to keep the worst of the weather off. Invites should be sent out a few weeks prior and should attempt not to clash with any other event, you may compete who has the best ball but you should never force guests to snub another to go to your ball. Servants should be prepared for a long night, so they may dine earlier in the day to sustain them. Footmen would wait outside to open carriage doors and direct guests to the door. The butler would have to greet them, announce their arrival (not by order of rank but simply in the order they arrive) in the hall and then toward the coat rooms to relieve themselves of any coats or hats. These balls were very expensive affairs. Between food, drink, entertainment, their clothes, wages and getting their house up the snuff, a host could expect to fork out thousands if not more. Alva Vanderbilt's great costume ball cost her $6 million in today's valuation ($250,000 in her era).

The Hosts on the Night of the Ball

The hosts of the ball should be ready to recieve guests promptly. The lady of the house should be downstairs an least an hour before kickoff to check the work of the servants and provide last minute commands. The hosts would wait in the hall and greet guests. The butler will announce every guest while valets and lady's maids take charge of any coats. After guests have shed their coats, they would then greet the host, usually exchanging a few words and thanking them for the invitation before being escorted into the ballroom. The hosts would usually begin the ball themselves or if there was a guest of honour, they would allow them to open the ball. Dancing is only meant to begin with the invitation of the hosts. If there's music playing, it's not an invitation to dance. Hosts have a duty to ensure everyone is having a good time. They will be expected to dance and ensure people are partnered.

Guests

Guests are expected to arrive in a certain time frame. Balls usually begin quite late into the night, usually around 10pm. It would do no good to arrive too early and ride to arrive midway without a viable reason. There may have been a previous event, such as a theatre engagement or an opera so if you are coming from there and everybody eksevgas arrived on time and you show up late, you had best apologise. Guests must only attend if they have been invited by the hosts. You can't just rock up to a ball and expect to be admitted. If a guests wishes to have a friend who is a stranger attend the ball, they can request for the host to invite them. Guests will arrive by carriage or on foot if they live nearby. If arriving by carriage, one must allow for appropriate space between coaches and room for them to pull out. Also, it is a good idea to remind your driver when to collect you. Guests are always expected to greet the hosts as soon as they can, thank them for the invitation and be courteous at all times. Guests should not comment negatively on anything the hosts have provided such as the food or music, it's better to reserve opinion until another less public event. Guests are encouraged to mingle but strangers must be introduced by a mutual acquaintance or even the host. Wandering off through any section of the house not designated as part of the ball is prohibited as is sneaking off into the gardens. Also if one expects to stay for the night (say you live far away and have travelled to get there) you must have requested it of the host a few days at least before.

Dancing Etiquette

Dancing is one of those things in this era that isn't just a pastime but a ritual. Men asked women for the privilege of a dance, a waltz perhaps. Women would not ask a man. Women would have dance cards where gentlemen could request to partner them for certain dances. If a woman has turned down a gentleman for any reason but has no designated partner for the dance, she must sit that particular dance out. A lady should limit dances with the same partner lest it be a root of scandal: it is not considered terrible to dance two dances with the same partner but questionable if you were to dance with the same partner for multiple dances in a row. It is frowned upon for a lady to reject a dance partner when it is his honour after accepting him earlier. And also highly insulting for a man to spurn a dance partner he has sworn to dance with. It is usually customary for the man to ask whether his partner would like a refreshment, wherein he can escort her to find it. They may chat until the next dance whereupon he must excuse himself with a bow and relieve her of his company so she may dance with her next partner. When supper is announced, the last partner is ecoected to escort his lady into the dining room.

Timeline of a Ball

As stated above, Balls usually start around 10pm (but can be held earlier). Once all the guests have arrived and the hosts enter the ballroom, the dancing can go on. Around 1am there would be a light supper. Small refreshments such as canapés would be available throughout usually offered by footmen stationed around the house. Servants would stay up around the clock to unsure that everything runs smoothly, fetching drinks and later after the ball studying up. Balls would end about 3-4am, whereupon carriages would return to fetch guests and ferry them home. Guests staying would head upstairs. Anybody staying over would be treated to a breakfast in the morning.

Theme

Many balls were themed. Themed balls were usually announced months in advance to allow costumes to be made. A guest should not arrive without having paid attention to the theme as it not only can show poor time management but may be seen as an insult to the host. All guests were expected to adhere to theme where it be a "servant's ball" where they would dress as servants or even a Costume balls are all about extravagance but it's better to rein yourself in (we're side eyeing you, Kate Strong). The grandest costume ball of all time was of course Alva Vanderbilt's grand affair of March 26, 1883. Costume balls were very expensive affairs, with some guests spending up close to thousands of pounds/dollars on their looks. At one ball in 1893, the infamous Bradley-Martin affair, guests spent nearly $400,000 on their costumes - during a particularly bad financial crisis. The overall party cost $10 million.

Dressing for a Ball

Dressing as you know from the previous post is a large part of etiquette of this era. The right costume for the right event is paramount if one wants to make the right impression. Newspapers often wrote about who wore what so it was important to dress your best.

Men must wear a suit or tailcoat, always black. A ball is white tie so he must dress accordingly. He would arrive with a top hat which he would surrender to a valet. He would keep his gloves on when dancing.

Ladies are encouraged to wear a gown usually of a subtle colour with with a décolleté that leaves the upper arms snf shoulders bare. A woman's gown was important as it not only helped her stand out.

A sensible woman for goes her heels and wears pumps to dance as she will be on her feet all night.

Tiaras are beautiful but when dancing all night, it's perhaps best to pick the lightest or go for a simpler headpiece such as a feather or a broach. Wearing a heavy tiara all night while dancing will give you a migraine (it's painful).

Also it's better not to over accessorize. You don't want to be mid spin and all your pearls go scattering across the floor or catch a bracelet in your partners' jacket. Minimalism is best.

A woman may even chose to decorate her gown with fresh flowers.

How to Behave at a ball

Gloves are to be worn at all times when dancing. You only remove your handling food or playing cards. White gloves are preferred but light shades can be forgiven. Gloves for women are worn to the elbow, men's to the wrist.

No lady should arrive at a ball without an escort, either an older woman or a family member.

Men who come to the dance and are unwillingly to dance despite being able to should stay away (I'm not kidding, this is in several etiquette books)

Married couples are not expected to dance together but it is not barred.

A man should always be careful of his lady's train and that of any other. Do not stand on them.

Outward PDA is not permitted. A kiss on the hand or kiss on the cheek is permitted, as is a hand tucked into the crook of an arm but one must swing out of people.

Don't hurry onto the dancefloor (even if it is your song)

When a gentleman seats a lady at the table, he must offer her thanks for her favour.

If a lady does refuse to partner a gentleman but then dances that dance with another without prior agreement, the gentleman is expected to restrain himself from confronting her. He is permitted to never offer her a dance again if this happens.

No lady should ever be unaccompanied at any time. They should have a companion or an escort to make sure they are kept in the loop at all times.

If dancing a set, your choices must be made swiftly and wisely.

A gentleman is without saying barred from going into the women's coat room. That's a no no, stay out of there.

If a gentleman wishes to partner a woman he doesn't know, he must have a mutual friend to introduce themselves and if they don't have one, the host would be on hand to introduce them.

When attending a ball, it's better to avoid heavy topics of conversation. It's better to stick to neutral smalltalk. No party is enjoyable with people standing on soap boxes.

When dancing, good posture is not only favourable but stops the body from any undue movements.

Try not to join in when the dance is midway or almost over. Be prompt.

If your partner is missing, you should not replace them. You should sit the dance out.

The hostess is in charge of ensuring that her female guests are provided with a partner if they wish to dance and gave not been asked.

If a man accompanies a woman to the ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

If one invites a lady to a ball, a carriage must be provided to ferry her.

Popular dances of the era

Waltz: The Waltz is seen by many as a reserved dance nowadays but in this era it struck many as a questionable dance because of how close the couple must get. It is a simple dance, requiring 6 steps all with a "box step". It's an elegant and popular dance of the time. A gentleman or whoever is leading should place their hand on the waist of their partner and their partner should rest their hand upon their shoulder.

Cakewalk: The Cakewalk had it's beginnings with enslaved peoples on American plantations. It was a satire poking fun of white plantation owners, mimicking the way they behaved at their own balls. It was later adopted into white society who did not get the joke. It was a group dance where multiple couples set themselves in a square (men on the inside), stepping and strutting to the music. In some instances, a cake was awarded to the most impressive couple which gives the dance it's name (also because it was a piece of cake to perform). The Cakewalk is seen by many as the seed of many of the jazz dances that would dominate the 20s.

Polka: A Polish dance. It requires 3 swift steps followed by a hop. The music is at is 2/4. The couples circle about the dance floor.

Krakowiak: A Polish dance for multiple couples. The leading male dancer (from the first pair) leads the steps for all the couples, and on approach to the band must tap his geeks and sing an improvised verse to his partner, the rhythm the band must match. The couples break up to form a circle. The leading couple will remain before the band. The couples would then dance around the room during the rest of the tune.

Mazurka: This is a lively dance, with it's beginnings in Polish folk dance. Couples gather in circles. The dance requires music with a forceful accent on its second beat, in time at 3/4 or 3/8. This dance has no set figure, relying on the skills of the couple yo improvise. However there are over 50 different steps.

Redowa: A Czech dance. The dance begins with a closed position, their clasped hands pointing the direction they will dance. A leader (the first couple) will take a slight leap around his partner with their left foot tmfollowed by a gliding step with their right. This foot must be pointed, the left leg slightly bent and the back straight. The next set turns the leader about toward the front line again, their left leg is now forward and straight, the right now bent. The left leg is now meant to tuck beneath the right leg with is extended backwards. Another leap to the right leg finishes the pattern. The next couple, the follower, begins movement on the early beats where the leader makes moves on the second set of beats

Castlewalk: The leader moves forward while their partner goes backward. The partner is guided around the room, the leader's arm around their right side under whilst their lest hand rests on the leaders opposite shoulder. Their other arms are clasped, held aloft. The leader begins on their left foot, their partner on their right. They will move with gliding steps, stepping on each beat of the music. They will dance in a circle, moving about the room with other couples, their circle gradually growing smaller and smaller on three very quick turns.

Quadrille: The Quadrille is an older dance but still very popular in Gilded Age America. It is made up with a series of 4-6 contredanses (country dances). The Quadrille is a group dance, made up of sets. The standard Quadrille is five parts, the Viennese contains six. Each section is danced with a combinations of figures. A combination was a set of steps and movements. Examples would be the ladies chain (chaîne des dames) or the two hand turn (tour de deux mains).