#by god i survived a bachelors in business management and BY GOD WILL I MAKE USE OF IT

[ruumirmir]

Employee of the Month

really, i dont think half of this should be taken seriously, HOWEVER:

I think loverboy's peakest babygirl moment in all of his career should be singlehandedly getting pantalone to invent the concept of "employee of the month" for the sole reason of having a workplace excuse to spoil and praise him without raising suspicion. 👀 Which I'll set in the timeline Before pantalone becomes the harbinger, and is just a fairly high ranking official at present.

(theres like a whole backstory ive cooked up that my moot is currently writing now so this entire post might make a lot more sense after my requested fic is out lmao)

like yeah,, pantalone eventually does come to realize and notice that Hmmm! This one man is a particularly diligent worker! His excellent workplace charm and wet puppy eyes have captivated me !

Perhaps a little shy to praise.

(lil bro is actively trying to avoid the spotlight in such a line of work)

Celestia knows how many hundreds of fatui are trained and raised in the soldiers way 🙄 With the Tsaritza's mercy the organization will rarely happen upon a handful of sparkly-eyed new recruits that can actually be COMPETENT with the brunt of the logistics, diplomacy and theoretical PAPERWORK that keeps the fatui running.

God knows that harbingers like Pantalone, Pulcinella, and occasionally Arlecchino NEED subordinates behind desks rather than on the field.

So the idea comes to pantalone on a fine sunny day with a stroke of genius !

because the work environment under each harbinger is so Different, you could categorize pantalone to (relatively) have the safest, and most boring work imaginable.

Definitely in which case, job motivation is very..... low. Well not anymore apparently,, in comes loverboy, newly enrolled in the fatui

with a personal vendetta against risking his precious life on the field, who damn well MAKES SURE his work merits and skills direct him towards a cushy job with good pay. and that eventually catches pantalone's attention, whos like

Wow! I wonder how i can get myself to play favorites in my department in broad daylight without it being suspicious... Hmmm...

And then on the first day of the upcoming month, out goes a notice to every subordinate, manager, accountant, secretary and etc etc, about a brand new system set in place! and would you look at that:

Loverboy nearly digs a hole and buries himself on the spot out of embarrassment when he sees a nice framed photo of him hung up at the Northland bank's noticeboard with nice bold letters saying

"Fatuus of the Month"

followed by a nice motivational speech by pantalone that goes a little too into loverboy's personal quirks rather than his excellent contributions to the bank.

Really, it might've only been a little over 1.5 years into his mandated fatui service, but he's already been sent off with a neat bonus.... a small material gift that pantalone bought him, and a strong surge of interest from his fellow colleagues/comrades.

So much for trying to avoid the spotlight :P

also pspsppspsps @eluxcastar would you like some loverboy thoughtposting

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

[udon-udon]

2022 recap

Let’s see... 2022 was a pretty wild ride, not gonna lie

Shall we start from the beginning? Hmmmm the beginning of 2022..... SheEEEESH. It was my last semester of my final year for my bachelor’s degree in graphic design for marketing (wait, I have a bachelors? LMAOOOO I forget that I have one now holy cow wait a sec). I also remember being very very stressed out about my 3 week practicum I had to do in Feb. Alongside that were a ton of projects like portfolio making, final projects for said portfolio, the grad show etc etc. It was VERY busy and stressful. Luckily, the practicum went on without a hitch, and school projects were done with, and one of the bigger projects was well received so YAY!! And then of course, graduation rolled around in April, and I finally made it!! And then I got hired right after graduation which im still super thankful for cause I got hella lucky, really. 

So work started in around late May/early June and it took a while to get used to things. I’ve never worked full time at an office before so there were many things I had to learn and stuff, but other than that I’m just glad I’m able to deliver the things I’m tasked to do, and they seem like they like me, so :’) Of course I still have my moments where I feel like I’m not cut out for the job or I think I’m doing horribly and for some reason think they’re going to fire me any time soon LOOL...  but anywho... I started a deskmat project (which is still delayed unfortunately, i don’t want to talk about it...) but hoping that can get picked back up sometime soon... I was also rushing on new prints as well for con season so that was pretty wild. 

Summer then came and WHEW. I got covid. Luckily it just felt like a regular cold, so I might have gotten a weaker strain of it. It was quite scary though since I live with family and I was afraid of spreading it to them (of course I ended up doing so cause we share the same bathroom, but they survived) Aside from that, I tabled for the first time in 3 years! AND I DID GREAT! I really missed tabling and honestly it might have been because of the turnout at the events but damn I did better than I’ve ever did, which is crazy. It really makes me want to get better and table more, but it do be pretty exhausting. Anyway, the summer was great imo, but jesus the fall took a nosedive.

September was alright, and for the second time, I didn’t have to worry about going back to school anymore which was kind of surreal again. I was finishing up the art commissions that I paused to work on the anime convention prints. I finished those up so I can focus on the Yuri Game Jam 2022 in Oct-Nov but little did I know.............. I would not be able to make it v n v. I underestimated the time management needed while working a 9-5 job and my lack of discipline... Also cause I didn’t have a clear vision of this year’s game which made me literally go in circles until I had no time left by the time I actually kind of had something down.... I became so stressed over the story that it branched out to other bad thoughts and I just spiraled really hard. Things that I said I would not let bother me had bothered me again and god I hated it so much. Why can’t I just... not think about those things. Hoping to stop those thoughts in 2023 though. So yeah I got really stressed so sadly I had to shelve the project and not release anything for this year’s game jam. I was very disappointed in myself, and it was a very tough decision to break my visual novel streak but I had to do what I had to do. After dropping the project I felt much much much much much better. Hoping to revisit the project again sometime though, now that I decided to release it whenever it’s ready (but will i have the proactiveness to go back to it? that is another story LOL)

So November was over with and December rolled around. December itself was stressful yet okay at the same time? Stressful in terms of spiraling at work again, but I also managed to just chill out and do whatever. And of course, the week-long break from work helped a ton (as I’m writing this thinking back I did absolutely nothing that week but that’s what I wanted most) Hopefully I’ll go back to work rejuvenated again cause I was clearly burnt out from work lmao. I should make use of my vacation days more man. Anyway since it was recent, I vividly remembering spiraling again over subject that shall not be mentioned, and I had no one to ground myself with so I had to try to ground myself somehow which I do try to do more so than rely on others. Luckily I recovered from the spiraling relatively quickly, so maybe it’s an improvement and if I ever encounter that subject again it’ll be an even faster recovery and soon it will be over? That’s what I’m hoping for 2023. Definitely a goal. Please let my 2023 self not let it bother me anymore please please please please (though i think i said that in 2022 no? hahaha) i jsut want to be loved v n v and not feel like my friends are leaving me one by one :’)))))))))))))))))))))))) 

ANYWAY Thank you for reading until the end. Ultimately, I want to worry less about subjects that make me go insane and just be happier. I’m a Bocchi that needs to find a close knit of supportive friends that can make me take another step in life :’)))))) LOOOOL And of course, I would like to draw more. Planning on opening art commissions in the new year some time soon so stay tuned. Hoping to table some more too! Though I don’t have much to sell hahahaha;;; Well then, until next year! 

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon. 

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet. 

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

[introvert-bella]

life lately

After months, I can finally say the famous line —hi, it's been a while! Well, I have been pretty busy and couldn't find time to write again (busy for me was laying all day haha). As you all know (or maybe not), I'm a second year accountancy student which have gone through qualifying examination for me to continue with the program. I only had a one week break after finals and decided to review right away for the eight major subjects I need to take. It's been a stressful month for me 'cause it's really hard to focus and just fight the urge to sleep. Given that there's so many distractions and all, I really had a hard time reviewing.

I used to wake up at 8 am, prepare our breakfast (sometimes, lol) and start at 9 am till 5 pm. But of course, schedule are just there and not followed most of the time hehe. During the entire month, I had this thought in my mind always —should I still continue?

I believe some of you were on the same stage as mine — not knowing what to do in life. When I first thought of what to take up for college, I honestly don't have in my mind. I don't have the skills I can relied on to know where I'm good at or simply, I don't really know where I'm good at. It was this moment when my sister told me that she wants to take accountancy program during college that made me think eto na lang. Thank you so much ate, for opening my life to dream. So when the Philippine government implemented the k-12 program which adds another two years of studying after highschool, I took up Accountacy, Business and Management strand knowing that I will really take up accountancy for college plus, my friends are there (number one reasons of some who can't decide, aminin na natin). So it all went well, I've graduated on time. But here's the major decision I need to do, choosing three programs to put on my application for college. Since I made up my mind few years ago (or so I thought), I put Bachelor of Science in Accountancy as my first choice and voila! I already finish two years of it. But the process wasn't easy —everyone knows that. I had a hard time during the first year. As an introvert, it wasn't easy to move to city to study all of a sudden. I'm used to going home to my family for my whole life and then suddenly, I need to be independent and live alone (not merely alone 'cause I'm with my friends but, you know? it's still different). I honestly think of it during high school, like there was a time me and my friends would talk about living in the same house when we got to college and all the fun things we will do —But it wasn't that easy. I need to prepare my own food, do grocery and laundry plus the struggle of studying.

I feel overwhelmed. During the first weeks, I barely passed my exams, I had so much in my mind, I'm not ready with the pressure alongside my program. It's as if we're used to hearing ay accountancy yan, matalino mga yan, but in reality, I'm not. I'm an overthinker, like a lot. And it didn't do good on me. After the first semester, I decided to moved back to my parents house, even if it meant to travel 4 hours everyday, back and forth. Luckily, my schedule wasn't that tight. I feel like a little burden was off of my shoulder when I decided to but of course, the struggle to get to pass my subjects was still there. Not a long time since second semester started, the virus came making all of our lives turn around all of a sudden. Schools were shut down for a moment expecting that after the first implemented lockdown, we will all go back to normal but that didn't happen. Online schooling was the new normal —which I've never expected to be this hard. Learning and studying things on your own wasn't that hard to think right? but it shaken the hell of me. I find it really difficult to study and learn, especially when 'home' for me was my resting place, where I'm running whenever I used to find a hard time from school and all of a sudden, it turns around! And with all the events going around, it made me overthink so much. Will I survive? Will I pass? Will I still going to get that three letters after my name? The entire time, I still have this thought in my mind, even if I'm doing all of I can to get through the program, I still think if this is really what I want, if this is where I really belong. Maybe because I still didn't get enough answers? or I'm just trying to find an excuse whenever I feel like I'm losing it? or maybe I just really didn't know if this is where the Lord wants me to be. Ang hirap kapag hindi mo alam kung anong gusto mo. Ang hirap kapag hindi mo alam kung saan ka magaling.

It's easy to say, especially those in older generations, that you'll get through it, that mental health issues was just an excuse. I know, we do have different take on life, especially with our generation, our thoughts and the way we see the world seems different from their's. And that's exactly because we actually lived in different time, it's not the same circumstances anymore. So it's not fine to say that arte lang yan. There's a bigger reason behind.

During those times before qualifying examination, especially when the rules were laid down, I was sure I will not make it, that I will not make it to the cut-off even if I pass. Who would have thought of passing if I barely passed my subjects right? So from that moment, I didn't get my hopes up that I will (less expectation, less pain). Even though I have doubts if this is still what I want, I still reviewed, I still hold on to the thought that maybe this is where I'm meant to be. I used to pray, Lord ikaw na po bahala sa'kin, if hindi para sa akin, sige lang po pero sana makapasa pa rin. Confusing right? Maybe it's because I still don't know where would I go if I didn't pass? How will I explain to my family and to those who knew and expecting that I can that I didn't make it? How will I make them understand? What will going to happen to me? What will I do with my life? What would my future will be? Saan ako pupunta pagkatapos? Those questions were lingering inside my head that I couldn't get enough sleep for weeks. I was so scared. Scared of disappointing those who believes in me. Scared of disappointing myself, 'cause I couldn't give my best to what I've decided. Disappointed that it is still not for me no matter what I did. Growing up, I've always been seeking for validation. I've always think that I need to do good for them to notice me 'cause if not, I will always just be left in the corner. I will always just be left behind. So I'm scared, takot na takot ako. Given also that I'm the youngest in the family, I have given this feeling that I'm the last resort of my parents that will give them a good life. I feel like I needed to do good 'cause they're expecting so much from me. But what if I got stumble? What will I do?

So tonight (days after the exam and days after I first started this entry), results are finally posted. I didn't make it. I did not pass the qualifying exam.

I honestly expected it already, I know it will be a miracle if my name would be included. But still, there's a little hope, I still have despite of how the exam happened. My friends checked on me upon knowing that the result was posted but all my replies are the same, that I'm okay and I will not cry. But still, I shed a tear, I'm still crying —cause finally the burden was finally lifted off.

I can now breathe.

I dreamt of becoming a CPA, and I still do...just in a different way, just in a new path. Congrats to those who made it! Padayon, CPA's!

I'm still scared...but I know God has better plans.

Onto the next one! 🥂

ciao⚘

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hi, I’m pretty sure we’ve all heard the news about naya so can you recommend a fic where it’s Santana friendly or naya friendly? Hopefully a multi chapter that’s very light hearted?

I’m still reeling from the news of Naya’s death. 💔 Under the cut are 14 fics with a strong Santana friendship. Let us know what your favorites are, and we’ll include them in this post. - HKVoyage

Jitters by whatiknew

Blaine Anderson gets up at 5am every day to serve coffee with Santana Lopez. And that is the easiest part of his day. As he starts his sophomore year at NYU, Blaine tries to navigate his inevitable conquering of Tisch while figuring out how to talk to the beautiful boy who’s started frequenting the coffee shop. There might be dragons involved

~~~~~

One Fine Day by xxxraquelita

Kurt witnessed many moments in his life as a bridal designer – he moment a bride found her dress, saw herself in it for the first time, the one where she could see herself standing up in front of her family and friends and saying ‘I do.’ Working as he did in that industry, he hardly expected to have a moment of his own while he was at work, but that was exactly what happened.

~~~~~

Life Is Short, Eat Dessert First by dreaming_kate

Kurt’s bakery is his pride and joy. When another bakery opens down the street he is determined to prove that he is the best no matter how adorable the dorky owner is.

~~~~~

Emotions in Limine by whenidance  

As one of the founding partners at The Firm of Hummel, Lopez, and Smythe, Kurt is far too busy to worry about a personal life – on top of the stress of trying to make a name for himself as one of the most promising young attorneys in the Midwest, he’s got to keep a handle on his own office politics, which consist of Santana hooking up with their receptionist and Sebastian trying to get into his pants. When they hire a few new paralegals to help with their impending caseload, the last thing Kurt expects is to fall in love with one Blaine Anderson – and especially not on the eve of his thirtieth birthday. Can their secret office romance survive when their coworkers are quite possibly the nosiest group of people in the whole state of Illinois? (written for gleebigbang on LJ)

~~~~~

Take Me All the Way by Knightlycat

Successful fashion designer Kurt Hummel has lost his inspiration. When his friend and assistant, Santana Lopez, banishes him from New York so that he can find his missing muse, he takes a trip to Washington State to visit the decaying Victorian house he recently inherited. Small towns are not Kurt’s cup of tea, but he tries to make the best of his month of exile. Then he meets construction manager Blaine Anderson at a bachelor auction and Victorian-themed costume party and a month starts to seem not nearly long enough.

~~~~~

It’s Not Just Me by joycie89

Kurt is 21, has a dead end job in a diner in Lima, and a four year old

at home.  What happens when Blaine comes in the picture? 

Read the sequel:  More Than Three

~~~~~

Fix by rainjoy  [PDF/EPUB]

He has - god, his grin is wolfish and wicked and somehow, in the bright darkness of his eyes, sweet

~~~~~

Going for Broke (orphan_account)

Kurt Hummel finds and fixes the broken people, armed with a purple sharpie and his own secrets. He finds Blaine Anderson, who never expected that Kurt might need him just as badly.

~~~~~

One Night in Vegas by @mrscriss2012

AU Kurt and Blaine meet on a drunken night out in Vegas. But what the hell happened? 

~~~~~

Desperate Times verse by @caramelcoffeeaddict

Blaine Anderson is a college student studying theater. He is also a well known porn star that goes by the name Devon Anders. When Kurt Hummel starts having some financial difficulties he asks his classmate Blaine to help him get a job doing porn. Virgin!Kurt / Pornstar!Blaine AU 

~~~~~

Ready to Fly by @gleekmom

The Ready to Fly series is my Blaine Anderson series. It’s Glee’s “missing moments” with my own Blaine backstory. 

~~~~~

Threadbare verse by MeriKG

Slave!Blaine AU.  Blaine is a service-slave owned by a hotel.  He is available for rent as a courtesy to guests to entertain them during their stay.  His life is irrevocably changed one night when he is called to to serve by fashion designer Kurt Hummel.  Very Klaine. 

~~~~~

Saturday Morning Therapy: Keeping It Together by SlayerKitty

“All of us,” Kurt answers. The wheels are turning in his head. “You, me, Santana, Brittany, Karofsky… and Sebastian.” Blaine’s eyes go wide as Kurt rattles off the list. “We need to be there for each other, support each other so that next time, it’s not one of us trying to do what Dave did… and so he’s not tempted to try it again.”

Note: part 1 of the Therapy Series

~~~~~

The Seduction by @hkvoyage (active WIP)

Venetian Blaine arrives at Carnival’s masquerade ball, looking for his next conquest. His reputation as a lover is legendary, and no one can resist him. Virgin Kurt captures his attention, but seducing him will require careful planning. As they spend time together, will Blaine be able to carry out his plan successfully? A historical Klaine AU set in 18th-century Venice.

Note: The fic will be completed posted on July 18th.

[ETA] here are some new fic recs from our readers.

Sotto Voce by GSJwrites

Wine critic Kurt Hummel can make or break careers with his column for Taste Magazine. But when his publisher orders him to spend a year profiling rising stars of California’s wine country and organizing a competition between the big name wineries of Napa and the smaller artisan wineries of Sonoma, his world gets turned upside-down by an enigmatic young winemaker who puts art before business.

Note: thanks for the rec @theyaskedmeto.

~~~~~

Somewhere, Ohio by @grlnxtdr30

What do you do when all of your dreams come true? You look for a new one, and sometimes you find them in the most unexpected places. When Kurt Hummel left Lima, Ohio fifteen years ago, he never thought he’d ever move back. But when he gets some news from his dad, he realizes There’s no place like home. My First Future Fiction!

Note: Also check out Scarves and Coffee and The AmazinGlee Race by the same author.

[msjr0119]

One Temptation

Introduction

*This new series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags using combine taglist- if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @beardedoafdonutwagon

******

Riley Brooks returned to New York City, five years ago she left the city that she was brought up in. It was one of the hardest cities to live in - but if you could survive, you would be able to live anywhere. Moving to Florida to live with her Gran, she enjoyed her time there- but she was terribly homesick. Landing back in the Big Apple, subconsciously she kept checking over her shoulder, afraid of seeing the ghosts of her past.

*******

Unflinching, the mysterious dark figure blocked my way. I needed to not show the fear that was building up throughout my body. Carrying on walking, I wanted to scream for help, but barely a whimper could escape my lips. He spoke almost too confident, in denial as if he wasn’t doing any wrong. I could tell this wasn't his first time doing this type of thing, but it was my first time being this type of victim. "Purse now!” He demanded, as he pushed me against the cold stoned wall. Punching me like a punch bag, my body was slowly giving in- the grip of my bag slowly loosened. Hearing more footsteps behind me, I knew I was surrounded. My hands shook as I handed over my purse- why did I give in? There was only a few dollars in it, nothing sentimental. The credit card could be frozen. As if like ghosts they disappeared in an instant. I stood still frozen, shaking still in shock, not wanting to leave the alley in case there was an ambush awaiting me. In that moment the quietness that had surrounded me was now the opposite, exiting the alley- the familiar noises of New York begin ringing through my ears again. It was as if time had frozen, and someone had clicked their fingers bringing me back to reality.

Riley’s perfect ponytail was now messed up, loose hair falling over her features. Not knowing where she was staying due to her impromptu return, she needed to find her way to somewhere familiar. Stumbling as she walked the streets, she began to feel dizzy- flinching as she felt a calloused hand touch her.

“Are you okay Miss?” The concerned couple gazed at her, as the blood began to dry around her button nose. Her cheeks were swollen, anyone would think she had overdosed on Botox.

“Yes, sorry. I’ve just been mugged that’s all.” The two people looked at each, Riley felt defeated and agreed to allow them to help her eventually. Either way, a little bit of warmth from two strangers was better than sleeping rough. Believing now, it was a mistake returning back ‘home’ in the first place.

*****

Arriving at the location, the two strangers cleaned Riley up. Gently dabbing her nose and cheeks with some ice and gauze. She was still in shock, that she didn’t comprehend that the ‘bar’ was in fact a strip club.

“Honey. If you want, you can stay here with us- work for us. We will keep you safe.” They were intrigued to find out a background story on the vulnerable girl in front of them. They assumed she had no living family, struggling to make ends meat. They may seem like murderers, but they took young women under their wings all the time.

“I... I... Erm... I don’t dance. I was a waitress though.”

“The girls could teach you dancing. It won’t take long- a matter of hours. And if you have a strong determined mind, you’ll smash it.” Riley didn’t want to degrade herself, Sure the money she would earn would help her until she found something else. What else had she to lose?

****

Liam Rhys was an successful business man, he had taken over the business when his father passed away. By rights, his older brother Leo should have taken over the business- but he wasn’t responsible enough. Liam had his head screwed on, and prioritised his families business over his happiness. He had been in a relationship with Leo’s ex girlfriend, Madeleine for five years and tonight was his bachelor party.

Leo dragged them to the ‘Wild cats’ strip club; Liam, Maxwell and Drake weren’t that impressed. Liam knew Madeleine would throttle him, Maxwell was quite content just socialising in a normal club where he could bust out his infamous dance moves, Drake would have just preferred to drink whiskey in a dive bar, he was the newest member of the group moving to New York from Texas recently.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I’ll be right back.”

The men looked at him furiously, Leo dragged them here and then ditched them. Observing him walking over to the bar, they laughed at the woman who had just busted his nose. Overhearing the laughter coming from Leo’s direction, they saw the woman delicately seeing to his injuries that she had caused.

“Is that?” Maxwell thought his imagination was playing tricks on him, shaking his head. He wondered how strong the alcohol was that they were consuming.

“That’s Riley.” Liam confirmed Maxwell’s question. He felt as if his heart had stopped. She was still as beautiful as he remembered.

“Who’s Riley?” Drake asked his two friends who were hypnotised- waving his arms in front of them they both ignored his frantic hand gestures- staring with their jaws agape. As he couldn’t get their attention he decided to sit back sipping the brown liquid.

Leo walked back over to the group, holding the ice to his nose. Feeling like he was lacking in masculinity- he was wondering where she learnt to throw a punch like that.

“I asked her for a dance but she refused. Just said she was the waitress. But I could imagine her straddling me. I swear she’s got hotter these last five years. That ass, those tits.” Liam rolled his eyes back, frustrated with Leo for dragging them there. Did he know she was back? Did he know she worked here? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop admiring her even though she was providing him with looks that could kill.

*****

“Riley honey. Could you go and serve the bachelor party over there please. Keep them entertained. We will get big bucks...”

“I... I can’t. I know them. Well I know three of them. Can’t Mercedes do it instead? Please?”

“Riley please baby. If you know them it’ll be so much easier. They will give us a good reputation, just flirt with them then get on the pole. You’ll make a good cut on your second night, it’ll boost your confidence.” Sighing, she knew she had to do it keep a roof over her head.

Walking over to them she took a bottle of scotch, not knowing who the mystery brown haired man - but she was intrigued to find out. Gulping, she placed the bottle on the table. Just imagine it’s someone else- she kept reminding herself.

“Blossom!” Maxwell jumped up like an excited puppy.

“Hey Maxi, long time no see. Sit down!”

Riley pushed him back to his seat, before straddling him. “Just play along please, my manager is watching....Oh my god Max! Seriously?”

“Well you are sat on my cock! I can’t help it Ri. What are you doing back anyway? You just went poof.”

“My gran passed away last month and I was homesick.”

“I’m sorry Riley.” Ignoring Liam’s sympathy, she brushed past him and moved on to Leo’s chair with him.

“Well hello baby. Who feels better, me or Max?” Smirking at her, he knew he was pushing his luck. Holding her tightly, he had probably missed her the most. They were close friends, since he had split up with Madeleine they began to have this flirty banter.

“Well Max is like my brother, so I’d say you. Sorry not sorry Max.”

“Ah don’t worry about me. The feelings mutual. This is Drake by the way. He’s the newest member of the wolf pack. Don’t worry he doesn’t bite.” Maxwell impersonated a wolf, Drake couldn’t believe the group of people he hung out with; one was a melancholy depressed millionaire, one was a child still and the other was just a kinky so and so.

“Hi Drake. I’m Riley.” Drakes eyes widened as she sat on his lap. Unable to prevent his unexpected erection, he felt embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. You’re blushing babe.” Riley kissed him on the cheek, if it was possible to blush anymore he would be looking sunburnt.

Getting on the pole, she laughed secretly at Liam’s disheartened expression that she didn’t get closer to him. After hearing different men whistle at her, he couldn’t cope seeing men gawk at her- enough of this. Abruptly standing up he dragged her off the pole much to the disappointment of the other punters- her managers saw the commotion and headed straight over with security. The main rule was that no client could touch the staff. Riley waved them away explaining it was okay- a misunderstanding.

“Do not ever touch me again Liam! Do you understand?”

“How could you degrade yourself like this? You’re acting like some whore!” Raising her hand, the slap was that loud that it echoed throughout the room- the lingering sting on his face, made him rethink about what his mouth had just spat at her. Clutching his face, his eyes began watering. I deserved that.

“I’m a whore am I? Seriously! Look in the mirror arsehole!”

[the-desolated-quill]

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 3

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

You know, people often ask me why I get so angry when I’m reviewing BBC shows. I mean yes I give Disney and Marvel a hard time too, but they don’t get nearly as much bile and venom as I give the BBC. Well that’s because, unlike Disney and Marvel, BBC shows are funded by the British taxpayer through our TV licence fees. I’m effectively paying for them to make this crap. That’s what pisses me off more than anything.

Yes we mercifully come to the end of this... this. Episode 1 was a slow, plodding and utterly tedious affair that was about as exciting as an Amish bachelor party. Episode 2 was even worse thanks to its poor narrative structure, terrible characterisation and less than subtle allegories. Now Harness has come to hammer the final nail in the coffin with Episode 3. Is it bad?

...

You’re right, that’s a stupid question. A more apt question would be how bad is it. Very, very bad is the answer. Very, very bad indeed.

Lets start with the obvious problem. The non-linear narrative introduced in the previous episode. The stupid early reveal that the Martians ultimately lose and that Amy survives completely destroyed any and all tension and suspense thanks to Peter Harness desperately trying to outwit the audience instead of just telling a story. Now, bizarrely, he tries to reintroduce tension by having the characters umming and arghing about what killed the Martians off and whether this could help stop the Earth from terraforming. One teeny, tiny problem with this though. The audience already know! Even those that never read the original book know how it ended! And even if you didn’t, the episode drops enough hints like great fucking boulders. The prevalence of typhoid throughout the episode and its correlation with the Martians stumbling around like a drunken prom date isn’t exactly hard to miss. Harness’ writing is still as unsubtle as ever. But worse still, he completely undermines and misses the point of the ending to War Of The Worlds.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people (mostly Americans) criticise the end of the original book for being a deus ex machina. I mean the Martians get killed off by the common cold. How stupid, right? Except it’s not because those people (mostly Americans) are looking at it the wrong way. Your main takeaway shouldn’t be that the Martians were easily killed off by bacteria. Rather that we failed to stop them. The reason humanity prevails in the end is more down to luck than anything else. The narrator even attributes this to being an act of God. But here’s the thing. We didn’t stand a chance against the Martians. We didn’t beat them. They lost because they just happened to catch a cold. Now it’s not hard to imagine a society as scientifically advanced as their’s to be able to find some kind of cure or vaccine for it. And if and when they do, what then? We’d be fucked, wouldn’t we? Should the Martians ever return to finish what they started, the human race would be well and truly doomed. It’s not a deus ex machina. It’s a dire warning of what’s to come. A brief respite before the inevitable. That’s what makes the ending so effective.

The BBC series however completely misunderstands this, changing the story so that Ogilvy (an astronomer, don’t forget) somehow manages to weaponize typhoid in order to kill the red weed, which is presented as some kind of victory, when in reality it’s quite an insulting deviation from the source material. If only the Commonwealth could shake off the remnants of British colonialism as easily as these guys dealt with the red weed. Not to mention it just makes the Martians look really stupid. So they come to Earth, drink our blood, keel over and then... what, they just give up? Are they just waiting for humanity to die by itself? What happens when Mars HQ realises the red weed hasn’t worked? What then? Are they just going to shrug it off? It doesn’t make any sense.

Which brings us to the Martians themselves. The picture above comes from the Jeff Wayne musical version and is without a doubt the most accurate depiction of the Martians from the book. Most of the other adaptations have wildly different interpretations, which isn’t a problem in and of itself provided it works within the context of that particular narrative. However the reason I bring up the original design is so I can talk about what H.G. Wells intended when he came up with them. See, while the Martians are highly intelligent, they’re also presented as being quite vestigial. They’re sluggish thanks to Earth’s heavier gravity, rendered practically deaf thanks to Earth’s dense atmosphere and apparently have no organs with which to digest their food, hence their need to inject human blood directly into themselves for sustenance. The Martians represent what humanity could become as we become more and more reliant on technology. The Industrial Revolution brought about a lot of societal fears and concerns at the time, and the Martians are those fears manifested. Heartless creatures reduced to being simple brains, unable to properly interact with the world around them.

The BBC series goes a very different route. Instead of the giant brains, we instead get giant brown crabs, which, again, isn’t necessarily a problem provided it works in context. And that’s the problem. It doesn’t. The original Wells design told us what we needed to know about their biology, their motivations and their society. What do we learn about the BBC Martians? They’re big, generic monsters that look like rejects from Stranger Things. They don’t even inject blood into themselves. They feed off of us directly, leechlike. They’re more like animals. Not the vast, cold, unsympathetic intellects they were described to be. At no point do you buy that these creatures would be capable of building the Tripods or colonising the Earth. They just exist for some cheap jump scares and horror movie cliches.

What’s worse is that by changing the Martians’ design so drastically, any subtextual allegory gets chucked in the bin. The Martians from the book are meant to represent the British Empire at the height of its power. Merciless tyrants stomping all over the lives and cultures of the so called ‘lesser races,’ changing the environment to suit them rather than adapting to the existing environment. It’s Darwinism crossed with arrogance. And yet, ironically, the oppressors (the Martians) are technically inferior to the natives (the humans) as they are incapable of surviving without the aid of technology. The BBC series is unable to make this allegory, so Harness has to resort to straight up telling the audience the allegory. In by far the clunkiest scene in the entire series, we see George argue with his brother about how the Martians are no different from the Brits in their colonial ways. Not only does this break the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule and stands as a perfect example of bad storytelling, Harness doesn’t even bother to do anything with this other than just making the comparison. It’s been previously established that Amy was born and raised in India. You’d think she’d have something to say about all this, but nope. At the end, she wistfully describes India to her son in the most patronising and insulting way possible. It’s really quite disgusting. I mean H.G. Wells was quite patronising towards the Tasmanians in the book, but in his defence, he was a privileged white man from the 1800s. What’s Peter Harness’ excuse?! Ostensibly he pays lip service to the idea that the Martians are no different from the Brits, but he doesn’t want to really explore it or get us to actually think about it. Probably because it’s all a bit too complicated to get into, but if he’s not confident about exploring such topics, why the fuck is he adapting War Of The Worlds in the first bloody place?! Write something else!

In fact I think this is the root of all the problems with this adaptation. Harness clearly isn’t capable of exploring the complex themes of the source material, so instead he either introduces irrelevant social issues that aren’t nearly as complicated (women’s rights, empires are bad and so on) as a token show of progressiveness, or he goes as far as to uncomplicate themes and ideas to an almost offensive degree. In the book, the narrator is trapped in a church with a priest who is going through a major existential crisis and risks giving away their hiding spot to the Martians, who are busy terraforming the planet. So he resorts to knocking the priest unconscious and watching as the Martians drag his body away. In the BBC series, we see the old woman and the kid get killed off for no reason other than shock value and the characters have nothing to do with their demise, so they’re morally in the clear. The priest meanwhile doesn’t even appear in the scene, instead being relegated to the shitty flash forwards where his faith remains very much intact and even protests against the idea that it’s humanity’s illness that stopped the Martians rather than an act of God (brief side note, would Ogilvy really be this open about not believing in God? At the time of the book’s publication, the scene with the priest losing faith was considered extremely controversial, so this just seems utterly wrong). Plus there’s no tension in wondering what the Martians are doing and whether they’re going to find the characters. In fact there’s no tension whatsoever because we know the Martians have fallen ill and the characters are just hanging around, waiting for the fuckers to die. I cannot stress enough how atrociously awful the writing is in this show. We know the Martians are dying and the episode is about the characters waiting for them to die.

Jesus fucking Christ!

The Artilleryman from the previous episode was the same. In the book he was a deluded crackpot who willingly bought into imperialist dogma, believing that humanity could rebuild underground and eventually rise up and defeat the Martians. In the BBC series, he was a scared, innocent little waif being forced to fight in a war he wants no part of. It’s an incredibly shallow and uninteresting reinterpretation of the source material.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is what Harness does with George.

To be clear, no I’m not upset he gets killed off. I’ve made my views on him quite clear. He cheated on his wife because she was infertile and ran off to make whoopie with some redhead. The bastard deserves everything he gets, frankly. Plus I’ve had enough of Rafe Spall’s gormless acting to last a lifetime, thank you. What I am upset by is the way he gets killed off.

One of the most interesting parts of the original book is the fact that there are no heroes in War Of The Worlds. The Artilleryman is a young, impressionable, nationalist fool, the Priest descends into a pit of nihilistic despair, and the narrator survives only by his cowardice. He even goes as far as to attempt suicide, throwing himself in front of the unbeknownst to him dead Tripod because he cannot bear the idea of living in a world like this. It’s extremely dark and very cynical. The BBC series goes a very different route. We see George slowly become delirious as a result of the typhoid infection he got by drinking the poisoned cup of water in the previous episode (so all that stuff about the Martian terraforming was a load of bollocks) before, realising that he is becoming a burden to Amy, deciding to make the supreme sacrifice and facing the lone Martian alone while she makes a run for it. Not only does this open up a major plot hole - who the fuck was Amy expecting to arrive from the North if George is dead? They try to dismiss this as memory suppression, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to losing a loved one to a fucking alien - it also completely stands at odds with the themes of the book. When facing annihilation at the hands of a higher power, the arrogant Brits, who previously lived a life of privilege on the backs of millions of subjugated, reveal themselves for who they truly are at their core. The BBC series says yeah, we were a bunch of racist tosspots with delusions of grandeur, but we weren’t all bad. The main takeaway I got from this despicable, badly written series was a three hour pity party about how all those selfish POCs don’t consider the feelings of white people and asking why can’t we all just get along.

Peter Harness’ bastardisation of War Of The Worlds is without a doubt one of the worst adaptations I’ve ever seen. In fact it’s quite possibly one of the worst TV shows I’ve ever seen, period. It’s not just the sheer disregard for the source material that upsets me. It’s also the absolute amateurish nature of the whole fucking thing. This series fails in some of the most basic ways. His writing is truly terrible, somehow getting steadily worse and worse with each episode. It’s not just upsetting to see someone get the fundamental elements of storytelling so spectacularly wrong, it honestly makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Peter Harness, please, for your own sake and my sanity, stop fucking writing. You’re clearly not good at it and I don’t want to see my money go to someone who obviously hasn’t the faintest fucking idea what they’re doing. Enough is enough.

So it would seem that Jeff Wayne’s musical version remains the best adaptation of War Of The Worlds. In fact can we just have a movie adaptation of that please?

[shielathegreat04]

Hello everyone,  a little bit about me: 

          Shiela Mae Bais

Hi! My name is Sheila. I am 19 years of age; I am a person who loves the color of green, that reminds me of nature and tells me “hey you can unwind also” and a color of light blue that reminds me of the ocean and the sky that can make me relax every time I am looking on it. My hobbies are reading wattpad, watching horror movies, playing badminton and I really love to play with my nephew. I am the youngest among the three of us. My father is Norberto Paragan Bais who is a farmer, and my mother is Lourdes Olivares Bais who is a housewife and she is our so called supermom. My older sister, a graduate of Bachelor of Science in Accounting Information Systems is Rizza Bais who supports my education and has a son whose name is Rain Zanfford Salcedo and now 2 years of age, my older brother, a graduate of Bachelor of Industrial Technology Major in Electronics Technology is Elmer Bais, he also supports my education. I was born on January 04, 1999 and a fourth year student at the University of San Agustin taking up Bachelor of Science in Business Administration Major in Marketing Management. My family is my inspiration and the one who makes me complete. They are my strengths and also my weakness, I don’t want to lose any of them and I will make sure that before the day ends for them I already make them proud and deserve the comfort and all the hard work and sacrifices that they made for me. We were not a rich family that you will admire (in terms of money) but I am proudly to say that we are the family that rich with love. My friends are my second family who reminded me every day that we can survive and surpass these challenges of us. Maybe our friendship is not perfect, we also fought, but we maintain the respect and love with each other. I am also a human who does mistakes but I try my best to correct it also I have lots of down’s than up’s, but this all, I’ll just think it positively and a challenge that god have made for me to become ready and a reminder for me that no matter how many times you fall, you need to stand up in order for you to survive. I also a student assistant of the University of San Agustin I was currently assigned at Nursing Program of the University, this is my 4th year being a Grant In-Aid Scholars. I was thankful that I was given such privilege; it was very a big help for me and one way to finish my studies. Before I end this I would love to leave you some quotes that says “Stay true to yourself, yet always be open to learn. Work hard, and never give up on your dreams, even when nobody else believes they can come true but only you. These are not clichés but real tools you need, no matter what you do in life, stay focused on your path”. Lastly this is Shiela Mae Bais signing off.

[the-demelza-robins]

Tea, Greengrass?

a/n: Two Slytherins walk into St. Mungo’s... 

request: none - the words “tea, Greengrass?” popped into my head one night. 

words: 1.5k 

warnings: a blood curse

shameless self promotion: I have a multichap Drastoria fic that’s almost done. Read it here!

Read this story on FF.net

“Tea, Greengrass?”

The woman jumped; she’d been so preoccupied staring at the St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries reception floor  that she hadn’t noticed the shiny black shoes that were now occupying part of it. Cautiously looking up (she knew that voice from somewhere, she just couldn’t place it…), her eyes immediately narrowed when she saw the tall figure of Draco Malfoy looming over her. His angular face looked almost handsome in the sterile light of the waiting room, but of course she wasn’t going to tell him that.

He blinked at her, and she figured she’d been looking at him for a little too long.

Shaking her head as a response (her throat felt too constricted to talk), she tried to focus on anything or anyone else.

Instead of leaving, as any reasonable person would’ve done, the man set one paper cup of tea down on the end table besides Astoria’s couch and sat down. “Never thought I’d see you here,” he said conversationally.

She shrugged, watching out of the corner of her eye as he surveyed the waiting room, his face a mix between interest and disdain. “Most of these people are just fools, don’t you agree? Who doesn’t know how to mend a bloody nose?”

Astoria didn’t know how to mend a bloody nose, but what she did know was that the Malfoys - especially Draco - were known for their judgmental ways, and that it was best not to reveal any weakness while in close proximity to them. She stayed silent. His gaze shifted to her, no doubt looking for any signs of illness or injury. She knew he would find none. Only her close friends had noticed how her shoulders sagged a little more, or how her voice (when she could use it at all) was quieter and more raspy.

“You were much more vocal at Hogwarts, you know.”

She snorted. He seemed pleased to get a reaction out of her. Leaning back (his shoulder was close enough to hers that she could feel it), he took a sip of tea.

“You sure you don’t want some?”

Astoria nodded and pushed some jet-black hair out of her eyes. Her mother claimed she was going grey at the ripe old age of twenty-two. “I’d always known my little Asty was wise beyond her years,” Melodia Greengrass would say, tapping her daughter on the shoulder affectionately.  She was still ignorant - in denial that the blood curse still existed. Ignorant of the fact that her “little Asty” showed all of its symptoms.

God, how Astoria hated that nickname.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at the large card with the words I’m rooting for you! emblazoned on the front. “Who’s the card for?”

There was no nonverbal way to answer this, but Astoria, feeling her throat contract painfully, knew that she was in no position to speak. In an effort to buy herself time, she picked up the tea and sipped some of it. It was scalding hot, as she had anticipated, but it did unblock her throat a little. Coughing a few times (and feeling like a complete fool), Astoria cleared her throat. “My mother.”

She was not ready.

“Your mother? What happened to her?”

Astoria glared at Malfoy. It was bad enough that she had to sit through this alone, but with someone else there - especially if that someone else was no other than Draco Malfoy - she’d never make it to the test results center.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to be polite,” the man said.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Malfoys? Polite? Never.

He must’ve seen the disbelief etched into her face, for he leaned forward, mirroring Astoria’s position when he’d first walked in. “We are polite sometimes, you know,” he muttered, staring at the floor. When she made no response, he switched his focus back to her. “What, have you gone mute or something?” he demanded.

“No,” she croaked, wincing at the pain that that small little word caused.

He stared at her for a few more seconds. “It’s usually polite to reply when people talk to you.”

“Ms. Greengrass?”

A new voice cut over the din of the waiting room, and Astoria stood up quickly. Her head felt light and unattached to the rest of her body (something which she was sure was not a good thing) as she walked over to the nurse that was waiting for her by the hallway that led to the examination rooms. She scrutinized the young woman’s face - were there any hints regarding the outcome of the test in her expression?

“Let’s go,” the nurse said, her smile bright. Was it a pity smile, or a genuine one? What did it mean?

Astoria knew she’d soon find out.

The examination room they put her in was bare. St. Mungo’s, Astoria knew, didn’t have much expense to spend on such frivolities such as the decor in such rooms, but the woman couldn’t help but wonder if a brighter coat of paint would decrease waiting-room anxiety. She was familiar with this kind of anxiety because she’d experienced it every time she’d gone to the Wizarding hospital - that period of time when she had nothing to do but pace within the confines of the ten by five space and wait for a piece of life-changing information.

It was harder to pace, now, but she still managed. Her feet echoed across the linoleum floor until a knock sounded on the door.

She froze, then cleared her throat. “Come in.”

What had her mother said? “Hold your head up high, dear, and shoulders back. Don’t soil the Greengrass name by being improper.” Astoria had laughed when Melodia had first suggested this (“I’m sure what’s left of the Greengrass name is already damaged beyond repair, Mother”), but now, of course, she straightened her back and lifted her chin up. Over the course of her life, she’d come to realize that pretend ambivalence made her feel more in control.

A heavyset woman with her mouth set in a grim line entered the room, barely taking in Astoria before sitting down on the stool across from the examination table and drawing in a deep breath.

“No easy way to put it,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, kid. You’ve got the curse.”

And just like that, Astoria’s life imploded.

The woman didn’t mess around. After giving the life-changing diagnosis, she made herself busy by mixing Astoria’s hair into an almost-finished Symptom Smashing potion, which the young Slytherin would take every night before dinner, no exceptions. Feeling like a ghost, the patient left the room after a hurried goodbye. She dodged nurses and other patients in the hallway, a question bouncing through her mind. Who do I tell?

Her mother, surely. But perhaps Daphne first - after all, Melodia Greengrass could be very stubborn when she wanted to and it would take a lot to convince her that her daughter really had the curse.

Her friends, probably. She had few - she had always been a quiet girl with a sardonic exterior beneath the surface that not many people got to see.

Not Draco Malfoy, who was standing in the reception area, waiting for her. No, she should definitely not tell Draco Malfoy, should definitely not walk over to him, should definitely not wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

She shouldn’t do those things, shouldn’t have done those things, because that’s exactly what she did - walked over to him and kissed him.

He shouldn’t have reciprocated, shouldn’t have put his arms around her waist.

Shouldn’t, couldn’t.

Did.

And when they finally broke apart, and something like a smile passed through Draco’s face, and Astoria realized that she’d just made out with the Slytherin prince in the middle of the reception room at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, it was too late.

Something had passed between them, and even as she removed her arms from his neck and he disentangled his from her waist, they still stood close.

“I have a blood curse,” she whispered into his ear. It sounded like a joke, why did it sound like a joke? It shouldn’t - it was her life, her future, her hopes and dreams all extinguished quickly. But on her tongue and in her (somewhat tired) head, it sounded like the funniest thing ever. A blood curse.

This was not part of the plan. Her mother would freak out. A sickly daughter had no prospects, no potential suitors (not like she’d had many before). And speaking of suitors, she realized she’d just kissed the most wanted bachelor in the Pureblood community. It was a mistake.

To put it more bluntly - she was hopeless. A disappointment. Her mother would love her in her own twisted way, but her father? Forget it.

They’d take her inheritance away, of course. She wouldn’t survive to see her parents die. No prospects, no money - it was hilarious. A wrench in the machine which was set on rebuilding the Greengrass name.

Draco’s gray eyes flicked around the waiting room before landing on her again. “We should go,” he muttered. “Coffee?”

She smiled. “What about tea?”

After all, she had nothing to lose. Her life was already being thrown away.

And besides, that kiss hadn’t been that bad.

[oneshul]

Pinchas: Survival and Prophecy

“The LORD spoke to Moses, saying, ‘Attack and afflict the Midianites and smite them utterly—for they afflicted you by the trickery they practiced against you, because of the matter of Baal Peor, where the Israelites engaged in promiscuity with the Daughters of Midian, and because of the matter of Cozbi bat Tsur, daughter of a Midianite chieftain.’”

--Numbers 25:16-18

Scene: The Command Tent of the Israelite Defense Force. Seated on a low stool, studying handmade charts and maps of the Midianite Army, is General-in-Chief Joshua ben Nun. On his right hand sits Brigadier General Calev ben Yefunneh, Joshua’s aide-de-camp and closest confidante. Also present are Col. Peretz of the Tribe of Judah, and Lt. Col. Ahiram of the Tribe of Benjamin. These two do not like each other, and often glance sideways to keep a close eye on their rival.

Calev (to Joshua): General, that was a very impressive ceremony at the Shrine of God, when Elazar the Priest commissioned you as successor of Moses. I especially enjoyed when Elazar, wearing the Urimv’Tumim, the twelve precious and semi-precious stones on his priestly breastplate, asked the Lord, “Will this one, Joshua ben Nun, succeed Your prophet, rabbi, and leader of Israel, Moses ben Amram?” For, then—

Ahiram: And then, not to interrupt you, Brigadier Calev, but the precious stones—

Peretz: --lit up! A wonder, truly.

(Calev and the two rivals for leadership speak all at once, their words overlapping one another’s.)

Joshua (raising a hand): Silence! Will you two officers be still, or must I clear the tent? And you, Brigadier, will you behave like a schoolboy, in this time of crisis?

(The three quiet down, gradually)

Joshua (continuing): We have not yet accomplished that which we set out to do, here in our Council of War: that is, to inflict serious hurt upon the Midianites, rout their forces, steal their cattle, and abduct any women worthy of our attention, to make wives for our bachelors. Thus will we add to the Congregation of the Lord!

Calev: If it please you, General, should we not spare the women? After all, the Lord is displeased with them—they took a leading role in seducing our menfolk, and seem to be most effective at turning our weaker-minded fellow Israelites away from the worship of the One True God.

Joshua (Sighing; he feels the burden of leadership all too keenly): Well, Calev, what would you have me do? We must bloody them, to teach them that one does not attack us. In addition, a military defeat and abduction of their women will also teach the hostile tribes that camp all around us, that one does not attack Israel, the People of God, with impunity. (Turning to the colonels) What think you, my colonels? Shall we practice against the Midianites as they did to us?

Ahiram (puzzled): I agree that we should put their crops and homes to the torch, Milord Joshua, but do not understand how we can reciprocate against the Midianite women as they treated us. It is not in the nature of our faith to practice orgies—would you have our women seduce Midianite men, as their women did to ours?

Joshua (as Calev shakes his head vigorously): God forbid! No: I mean to abduct the women, so that they help to increase our numbers, by pairing with our men.

Peretz: I support the suggestion—or is it an order?—of General Joshua.

Joshua: Then, we agree (All shout out, “Aye! Aye! That we do!” But suddenly, the tent-flap parts, and Serah bat Asher enters.). Oh, Mother Serach: what brings you to our Council of War? Women do not generally attend to these matters….

Serah: Joshua! I, Serah, knew you when your father Nun dandled you upon his knee. True, you are grown now, and Moses did well to appoint you his successor; but that does not put you beyond the advice of a Tribal Elder, and I am senior of all in that respect. What is this I hear, of your planning an abduction of Midianite women?

Joshua (smiling; he is humoring the old woman): Old Mother, how did you manage to hear our discussions? We were not speaking so loudly.

Serah: When one is a prophet, one can hear even eagle’s-eggs hatching, high up in her mountain nest. And your plans trouble me, Joshua.

Ahiram (interrupting):Who is this gray-haired termagant, and what gives her the right to interfere in our plans? Do you wield a sword and shield, Madame? Have you ever taken the field against the enemies of Israel? Why, you should depart, instantly—

Serah (pointing a long, bony finger at Ahiram): Be silent, Upstart! I guided Moses to retrieve the bones of Vice-Pharaoh Joseph from the depths of the Nile. I counseled Father Jacob when his several sons hesitated to inform him that Joseph was yet alive. I did all this, long before your great-great-grandfather was born! Do not presume, Young Man, to tell me my business.

Joshua (holding up a hand for silence): Col. Ahiram, apologize to Madame Serah. You have never met her, but she is our foremost and eldest prophet. She went down to Egypt with the Brothers, and lived to join the Exodus.

Serah: I will also enter the Land of Israel, for such is the prophecy. But that is not my affair, today. Joshua! I have orders for you to follow.

Calev: Begging your pardon, Madame Serah, but do they derive from the Lord, God of Israel?

Serah: Of course. Joshua! You are to attack and destroy the property of the Midianites—that is the practice of war, though I loathe it—but spare all the women and children. Not one Midianite woman will be abducted or assaulted by our Israelite men.

Peretz: Why, what a calumny is this! Am I not to have my Midianite sweetheart, Milord Joshua?

Serah (turning a gimlet eye on the young man): You, Peretz, will be lesser than your descendant, our most magnificent king of Israel, but also greater. (Turning to Ahiram) And you, Upstart, will have a future king of Israel go down from you—but he will be both mighty and weak. Heed what I say, and do not question. (She sweeps her cloak over her shoulders majestically, and leaves the tent.)

Calev: Why, that was an impertinent visit! Will you not arrest and judge her, General Joshua?

(Joshua looks thoughtfully at the tent-flap through which Serah departed, and shakes his head, slowly.)

Joshua: She speaks truth. (He sighs.) Brothers, let us resume our planning—but for vengeful war on Midian only, and no planned assaults on their women or children. It is the will of Serah, and the Lord.

Rabbi David Hartley Mark is from New York City’s Lower East Side. He attended Yeshiva University, the City University of NY Graduate Center for English Literature, and received semicha at the Academy for Jewish Religion. He currently teaches English at Everglades University in Boca Raton, FL, and has a Shabbat pulpit at Temple Sholom of Pompano Beach. His literary tastes run to Isaac Bashevis Singer, Stephen King, King David, Kohelet, Christopher Marlowe, and the Harlem Renaissance.

[kisskissbanggang]

In Cold Blood-Pt. 2 Lucky Rabbit’s Foot. 3 years later we meet rabbit’s foot and Mark lee. Rabbit is a female merc for hire who escaped her abusive boyfriend 3 years ago. After two weeks after escaping she realized he had sexually assaulted two women shortly after her escape, then learned that he faced no charges or jail time. Angered by this, She decides to take the law into her own hands since a lot of sex crimes go unpunished. She spent the last three years doing martial arts, self defence

And dance, she eventually became one of the most skilled, intelligent, dangerous and sadistic vigilante ever. Her main mission is to find her ex and make him pay but unfortunately hasn’t been successful. Mark grew up in Suburban Toronto living a decent life until it was taken away when his family’s house caught fire claiming the lives of both his parents and only leaving Mark injured. Mark wakes up in a hospital to find out his parents didn’t survive and that he would go live in foster home

Which is a bit much for a 12 year old to hear. Mark also learned that he was diagnosed with PTSD, luckily his foster parents supported him on it, and with that proper support Mark managed to cope well all through the 6 years in that home by working some part-time jobs, occasionally baby-sitting the foster kids, and discovering his love for writing and journalism. After all that support Mark managed to get into university and graduated with an Honour’s Bachelor degree in Journalism and managed

To find a job at a local newspaper out in Vancouver. Unfortunately working for a local newspaper isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be, too many biased and opinionated article and weren’t allowed to express the raw truth. Mark eventually quit the job and used some of the money from his scholarships to start his own private investigator business. One of his missions ironically was to figure out who Rabbit’s foot was. One day while walking on the street Mark is dragged into an alleyway by some thug

And they start beating him senseless until he is saved by Rabbit’s Tail. Rabbit proceeds to walk Mark back to his home/ PI office. Rabbit is invited to stay and overtime the two start to get to know each other a little bit better and eventually decide to partner up and become a business for hire. Mark would do the investigation while Rabbit would be the one to get her hands dirty. Fast forward 3 years and the two have almost made a name for themselves, by calling their business the “7th sense.

Rabbit and Mark and just wrapped up and investigation, involving a online predator and sex trafficker the two decide to celebrate by having victory pizza. After cleaning up, the two walk down to their headquarters only to be met up by a man Dr Victor Park and his youngest son Charlie. Victor self employed physiotherapist explain Ms how when he started his business with a bit of a struggle to a point of desperation. He met a strange man from a bar who happened to work for snake eyes. They

Promised they would help get his business running again as long as Victor would pay them back. Victor was stupid enough to take it on and even though they got the business running he wasn’t able to pay in time resulting in the kidnaping of his wife and his two other kids and taken overseas, and if he doesn’t pay them back in time, his family will be killed. Mark was unsure about taking on the case but Rabbit is all in. Victor provides them a little more information on what they need to know.

Victor tells them about someone who used to work for the organization but had a huge falling out. The man they are sent to is Ten a sorcerer and master of martial arts and is currently hiding out at a base in Chicago. Mark and Rabbit thank Victor for the info and Victor heads out with Charlie trusting these two hoping they could save the rest of his family. End of pt 2 hope you enjoy 😉 because plot Line writing is a pain in the ass I don’t know how you do this and work a full time job

OH MY GOOOOOD I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS JUST PART 2. This sounds so amazing I love how the plot twists and turns 🥺 I hope you're having fun! And I do this in my free time and when I can't sleep, which is often. 😘 Terrific job babe oh my god I can't wait to see what happens next!💕

[kimcapistrano-blog]

Beginning for the BEGINNER

Hello everyone \(> - <)/  I’m kimcapistrano and i just created my own tumblr account last night. It was so hard because the internet connection was very slow and I can’t load the site. After several times of trying I finally succeeded in creating this account and finally starting a blog. This is my very first blog and my very first blog post ever, all my life. I am a seventeen year old girl turning eighteen next year and I’m currently studying my Senior High School at St. Paul University Philippines which is located at Tuguegarao City, Cagayan. First of all I am not a social media person, this is my first attempt to sign up in a social media other than Facebook and yahoo, I don’t even have a twitter account. i am also an awkward friend maker. I grew up close to my family which resulted to me being too shy to say hello to new classmates and i’m not very talkative when we are not that close that’s why only few people know my secrets which are my very close friends a.k.a besties. Also, even though I have Facebook, I rarely use it, I only use it as means of communication to look up onto the requirements we have in class and to communicate with my relatives. i love to: listen to music, read novels and other books, watching movies ( especially fantasy), and most of all I love watching ANIME!!!!

My favorite song is When I Look at you by Miley Cyrus. kinda old you think? Well it’s because i really appreciate the song and I’m not really into English songs right now. I listen more to Japanese songs because of influence from anime. Whenever I fancy a song I download it and add it to my playlist. So I only got few English songs in my phone right now and it’s mostly composed of Japanese songs. I don’t have a favorite movie because I appreciate all movies I’ve watch and value them all the same. The same goes through with all the anime I watched, I treasure them equally. I love anime and I don’t regret being open with it because without it, I wouldn’t be the person I am right now. There are many times that it helped me go through all the trouble i experienced and I also learned useful knowledge and life-lessons in some anime so I can say that it is a wonderful part of culture in the Japanese history.

 Aside from that I love to make poems and I’m planning on making a collection of poems until the end of the academic year, especially this year that I found a good inspiration for doing this. Most of the poems I make are about love. My friends consult with me on their love problems so I kinda know the feeling even though I’ve never been committed in a relationship before but I also get a crush on someone sometimes so that doesn’t count me as someone abnormal. here is a sample poem i just made for about 30 minutes ago before starting to type this blog post. 

“When I Met You”

I wish you knew

Words can’t express how I feel about you

For every little eye contact

And every little chat we had when we interact

I was a person with a missing piece

I can’t do anything, it’s like living like a fish

Caged in a small aquarium where everyday is the same

Or so I thought but you came

I was walking at the hallway

You were passing at the doorway

We didn’t see each other and we collide

Since then, we’ve been at each others’ side

It’s like the fish on the aquarium went to the open sea

You showed me many things that I couldn’t see

I learned to feel how to be free

And every day gets filled with glee

I found myself when I met you

And I know that you found yourself too

Your presence was the greatest gift

Of all my life that I ever received

I thank GOD for giving your life

Cause with you I learned how to live my life

And I don’t know what I’ll do

If I ever lose you

Ten Years from now, I still can’t see myself. Just a few days ago, i was decided on being an accountant but my mother ans sister notice my talent in making poems, stories and etc. so they told me if i’m really set on being an accountant. I told them that not really because I was still wondering what course do I really want to take myself and then they suggested that I should take business management instead and take units for journalism. When I heard that, a part of me became happy and relieved at the same time. I felt like my heart pumped for the first time and since then, I felt so much more alive than ever. So I set my goal to be a businesswoman for now.  I also believe that my learning in SPUP is vital to where I’m leading to because SPUP molds me to become an upright person and it teaches me how to survive in the society.

For me, choosing the ABM strand was the best because i had no confident in other track or strand and I believe that this is where I belong and where I’ll see my future.

i want to take the course Bachelor of Science in Business Management and I’m still not set on the major but it will most probably be in Finance. I want to take this course because i want to have my own business someday and it has many job opportunities.

Fpr the subject Empowerment Technologies, I want to learn how to make a site and learn more about HTML and CSS.

And lastly, For our teacher, i just want to ask if there will be many requirements where we will be doing it online?

[imaginarybird]

Rucas Fic Week 2017

Day Eight// AU + Free Choice: Unwilling and unable to face everyone on her own when it comes time to attend Auggie and Ava’s wedding, Riley Matthews hires a solution in Lucas Friar. Loosely based on The Wedding Date.

Part One II 

Notes: Obviously, this is an AU and it takes place in the future. The characters are adults. While I’m not someone who will ever write smut, and I don’t plan on getting particularly graphic with language or even implications, the vary nature of this story is a bit more adult than what I’ve written previously. I’d place the rating somewhere around a PG-13/14.

Also, this is essentially the first installment to what has started developing into a multi-chapter fic. So this starts a lot of threads and leaves them dangling by the time you reach the end. But you will get answers eventually.

Enjoy!

The invitation comes on a Wednesday and Riley immediately considers throwing it in the trash and pretending she never got it.

It’s not that she hasn’t known it would be coming–Auggie had told her about the engagement weeks ago and asked her to be what he called his ‘Best Sister’–but receiving the invitation makes it real. Auggie and Ava are getting married, they’re holding the wedding in Cape Cod, and Riley is expected to join them and the family for a week of wedding festivities at the end of the summer. Riley could just about throw up at the thought. It’s really the sort of scenario she’s been trying (semi-successfully) to avoid since high school graduation nearly eleven years ago, and if the invitation were from anyone else she probably would crumple it up and pretend it got lost or RSVP with an easy lie about not being able to get the vacation time at work, but this is for Auggie.

The only acceptable reason for Riley not to attend would be massive injury and/or death.

With a resigned sigh, Riley clips the invitation up onto the fridge. She has to go. She’s already agreed and Auggie will be devastated if she goes back on her word. Still, in her heart of hearts, she knows the whole thing will be an unmitigated disaster.

Maybe she’ll be abducted by aliens before September.

“Ava wanted me to remind you that she wants heartfelt speeches only at the reception, no jokes or embarrassing stories. And she said if you want to submit a draft for her to look over and give you notes on, which, I’ll be honest, is less of a suggestion than it sounds like, you need to do it by Friday at noon and not a moment later.”

Riley rolls her eyes, cradling her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear as she pulls her street clothes out of her locker; Ava is a controlling bride, and it’s absolutely not a surprise. It’s actually a relief that Ava has stayed true to character. At least Riley knows the girl will have no truck with anyone causing trouble during any of the wedding festivities and stealing her thunder. With Ava’s domineering personality being well-known and feared throughout the Matthews’ family, everyone will, in all likelihood be on their best behavior. Which doesn’t make going seem any less intimidating and dreadful, but at least it will help provide a small layer of security. “Duly noted.”

“And to remind you that since Uncle Josh is handling my bachelor party, she wants you at her bachelorette party instead.” Auggie says.

“That depends on the rest of the guest list.” Riley answers primly, kicking off her shoes and starting to change. She’d normally shower here before getting changed, but since she’d happened to catch her brother’s call as she’d gotten into the locker room, she’d just shower when she got home.

Auggie sighs. “Maya’s coming to the wedding with Josh. If you’re not going to do things that she’s at you’ll miss the entire thing.”

“I wasn’t asking about Maya. I was asking about mom.”

“She’s gonna be at the whole wedding too.”

One of the many facts that Riley’s not looking forward to but has accepted that she can’t change. “No, you dork!” If they weren’t separated by a phone line (and in fact across the country from each other), Riley would shove Auggie’s shoulder. “I meant, Ava is having a Pleasure Party for her bachelorette, and I’d rather be stuck smoking cigars and playing cards with you and the rest of the Matthews Men then find out any details about what my mother likes in a sex toy.”

Auggie’s groan of disgust is definitely worth it. “I’ll tell her that’s a ‘maybe’ pending more information.”

“Wonderful. Anything else I can do to soothe the bride-to-be’s nerves?

“Well, she wanted me to ask you why we haven’t gotten your RSVP yet.”

Riley nearly rolls her eyes again. “Because I’ve agreed to be in the wedding. My RSVP is implied.”

She hears some muffled conversation on the other end of the line; Auggie is obviously talking to Ava with his hand half over the receiver, so she finishes changing while she waits for his return to the call.

“Ava says she needs an official RSVP anyways. She needs your choices for the food for the caterer, and she needs to know if you’re going to be bringing a plus-one.” Riley freezes at the notion, but she manages to control her breath so Auggie doesn’t notice and he keeps talking. “I told her that you’re not seeing anyone but she insisted that you might bring Zay, or that you might be seeing someone that you haven’t told me about and you might want to bring him so my say-so wasn’t good enough.”

Riley’s mind races to contemplate her options. Desperate to avoid facing her family and childhood friends alone, her first thought had been bringing her best friend and roommate, Zay, with her as an escort; unfortunately his career is starting to take off and he’s simply unavailable when he would be needed. She’s not seeing anyone (her love life having remained stalled other than a handful of ridiculously terrible first dates ever since her official break up with Charlie Gardner in their junior year of high school) so left without a boyfriend, and lacking the options of available friends, her only real choice is to attend alone.

Not ideal, but it won’t be the first time she’s dealt with her family on her own.

Except…

Auggie had just said it. Maya will be attending with Josh. And in all likelihood, the attendees will also include innumerable other figures from the past that she’s tired of presenting the same life story to, and hearing the same not-so-whispered comments and judgments. In the past it would happen over the course of a couple of hours at a dinner or a party and then she could find an excuse and retreat for another five years before putting herself through it again, but this will be an entire week. Carefully planned and scheduled and filled to the brim with activities that she has no choice but to attend and facilitate as Auggie’s ‘Best Sister’.

She can’t face that alone.

Riley’s not entirely sure what she’s going to do to make it happen, but the lie is falling out of her mouth before she can stop it. “Actually, Ava’s right. I have been seeing someone.”

A week later, and a full day and a half before she has to board her flight to Boston to get to the wedding, Riley finds the solution to her non-existent boyfriend dilemma.

“Hey, I need you to give me a call around 1:00 today.” She announces, leaning in the door frame of Zay’s bedroom. Her best friend is sitting on the bed, slipping on socks and shoes before he heads to work for the day, so she’s lucky she caught him. “You don’t have to say anything special, I just need to have a call in case I need an out.”

Zay stops pulling on his shoe, and looks up at her raising an eyebrow. “What for? You got a blind date or something, Sugar?”

Riley looks askance briefly under the scrutiny. “Or something.”

“What? Did you finally decide to stop waiting for a grocery store meet-cute and venture into the world of online dating?” Riley doesn’t know how to answer that, but she starts to blush and Zay gets a wicked grin on his face as he continues to probe.  “Don’t tell me Little Riley Sunshine has gone straight into the deep end and made herself a Tindr date. How will her innocence survive?”

“I’m not that innocent and you know it.” Riley crosses her arms over her chest. “And I’m not going on a date at all, for your information. It’s more like a…a business meeting.” In that money will be exchanged and if she understands the information she read on the website correctly a contract will be signed, but that’s neither here nor there, and absolutely none of Zay’s business.

The pointed expression on Zay’s face tells her that he doesn’t buy that one bit. “A business meeting that you might want an excuse to leave? And just moments ago you practically compared to a blind date?” His eyes and grin both slowly start to widen. “Riley Eleanor Matthews, are you meeting with an escort!?” The last word comes out in a heightened whisper.

Riley doesn’t answer, choosing silence over either confirming or trying and failing to deny the accusation, but Zay takes the silence as confirmation anyways.

“Oh my god, you are! I can’t believe this. My sweet little Riley,” he claps a hand to his chest, wiping a fake tear away from his eye, “going to visit a male escort. How will we survive the scandal?”

“First of all, there will be no scandal, because no one is going to find out.” Riley says, quite firmly. It’s really a foolproof plan, if she does say so herself. She doesn’t use social media for posting any personal updates so there’s no evidence to the contrary that the man she’s found isn’t her boyfriend, and every article and review she had found on the service she had stumbled across was full of praise at the level of ‘boyfriend experience’ the escorts were able to provide; as long as this initial meeting goes well (and for a somewhat shameful amount of money), she’ll have a doting companion for every moment of wedding festivities and everyone will stop seeing her as the unfortunate girl who never got past what happened in high school. That’s two wins for the price of a major dent in her bank account. She can live with that. “I just need someone to bring to Auggie’s wedding since you’re not available, and this is the perfect solution.” She explains why it’s a great plan. “And it’s not like he’s a prostitute or anything.”

“Sugar, I am not passing any judgement. You can do what you want to do with your money and I am all for a plan that makes sure you’re not going back to deal with those people on your own. But in what universe is a male escort not a prostitute?”

“It says right on the website, ‘Outside of the occasional chaste kiss, sexual encounters of any nature are strictly forbidden. Our fees cover solely emotional companionship.’”

Zay shakes his head, chuckling. “Oh Riley. My sweet, innocent, beautiful Riley… You know they put that to cover their asses, right? Because technically speaking, money for sex is illegal and having that on their site keeps them mostly out of trouble. You know, unless a scandal breaks.”

“Oh god.” The floor falls out from beneath Riley’s stomach. “I’m having lunch with a prostitute.”

Riley white-knuckles her drink while she waits for her lunch companion. She’d been very tempted to cancel the entire thing, cash in the second plane ticket she had bought and just suffer the embarrassment of showing up to the wedding alone, but with some well placed arguments and the decision to cease teasing her, Zay had convinced her that meeting with the guy couldn’t hurt.

“Just because he has sex for money, doesn’t mean that if you give him money he has to have sex with you.  This is a business transaction. If outline your needs and expectations clearly, that’s all that will happen. Otherwise it wouldn’t be very good business.”

So she’s at the little sidewalk cafe, resisting the urge to order something stronger than water, and silently wondering if every guy under the age of fifty that walks past is going to be the one who recognizes the agreed-upon signal of a daisy pin near the collar of her sweater. So far, two minutes past the scheduled meeting time, no one has approached.

Maybe he got a better offer and he’s standing her up. Or he came and saw her and decided there’s no way he could make it work.

Both options are upsetting in their own way, and Riley’s so caught up in her own paranoia and feeling conflicted about being a little disappointed if he’s really not coming that at first she doesn’t notice the tanned, sandy blond approaching her table. Right up until he’s standing directly in front of her. “Hi, you must be Riley.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Lucas. We’ve been e-mailing the past couple of days.”

Riley’s eyes scan up his body–muscular in a way made obvious by the way his green t-shirt stretches across his chest–right up to a handsome smile and the softest, most gorgeous set of green eyes she’s ever seen, and her mouth goes completely dry.

She doesn’t remember seeing anyone this good looking among the profiles on the website.

“Y-yes.” She struggles to swallow around her sudden onset of cotton mouth. She does manage to rise from her chair and shake his hand, hoping that she’s only imagining the sweat that might have sprung up on her palm.

Lucas’ smile shifts in a small way that Riley can’t quite place as they sit back at the table. “This is the first time you’ve done something like this, isn’t it?”

“Is it that obvious?” As she asks the question, her wrist bumps into her water tipping the glass over the edge of the table.

Lucas catches the glass as it topples, although the water still sloshes out, and he chuckles softly as he answers. “Only a little.” He pauses to set the now empty glass back down. “But there’s no need to be nervous. This is just a first meeting. A chance for us to get to know each other a little bit, and to talk about what you’re hoping to get out of this if we move forward. Nothing’s going to happen today, or at all if you don’t want it to.”

The waitress comes back to refill the water and get Lucas’ drink order. When she leaves, Lucas looks to Riley, obviously waiting for her to step and say something, but she can’t even manage that. Her nerves are at a high, still reeling from the fact that she’s meeting with an actual escort (even if she had had the opportunity to change her mind and cancel but hadn’t taken it) and that he’s quite possibly the most attractive guy she’s ever seen outside of a movie screen. He’s the sort of guy that never even looks twice at her and at the moment the entire thing is feeling a bit…much.

“Would it help if I did the talking first?” He asks, taking pity on her. When Riley nods, he continues. “OK. Well, since you’re new to this and a bit nervous, how about we see if this is really something you think you’ll be up for? I can tell you a bit about my packages-,”

“You have more than one?!” Riley squeaks, unable to stop herself from glancing down towards his lap, even with the table blocking her view.

Lucas’ laugh is a bit more obvious this time. “My experience packages. You know, ‘The Doting Boyfriend’ package, the ‘Dad’s Worst Nightmare’ package…those sorts of things. I accompany people to all sorts of different events for any number of reasons. How I act, both with you and the people around us, can be tailored for that.”

“Oh. Right.” Riley starts to fiddle with her napkin, just to have something to do; if she doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t have to see him noticing her embarrassment and taking pity.

“Now, from your e-mail, it sounds like you’re primarily looking for some backup for this wedding of your brother’s, right?”

“Yeah. A week in Cape Cod with my family.”

“And you don’t get along with a lot of the people there, but you’re not really interested in freaking them out, right? You just don’t want to be alone all week.”

Riley agrees, feeling some of her nerves inch back. At least two of them. There’s something about Lucas that has a soothing presence. Even from across the table, he comes off as steady and calm–someone that’s there for her. She supposes that’s part of him being a professional.

“Then I would probably suggest a variation of the doting boyfriend. We could agree on the pertinent details when we’re travelling, but essentially I’ll be your boyfriend. Your very loving, caring, supportive boyfriend, who takes care of you as much as you require the entire week, and runs interference between you and the people you don’t want to deal with.”

“You really do that?”

“As long as it’s legal, I do what’s required to make a client happy.” Lucas nods.

As long as it’s legal…Riley wonders if that means if the disclaimer on the website is actually true, but she doesn’t ask. Instead she thinks about what’s actually on the table. A week where she’ll be on the arm of the very good looking guy sitting in front of her, and he’ll be doing his job which is to make her look good, and keep her comfortable and happy. She has to wonder, can she get over her nerves and play along with the game? Does she want to?

Riley pictures what it will be like, staying true to everyone’s expectations and showing up in Cape Cod tomorrow alone. Then she imagines showing up with Lucas on her arm, and finally getting to lay some of the perpetual assumptions and rumors about her to rest. Even if it’s only pretend, only she and Lucas will know that. And the temptation of that moment of satisfaction, and of having someone by her side and looking out for her (even if she is paying him to do it) is too great to pass up.

“That sounds…fantastic.”

“So you want to move forward?” Lucas asks, his smile taking on that unfamiliar quality once more.

Riley’s fairly certain that if she weren’t already seated, she’d swoon. Resolving to work on that before they officially start putting on a show at the wedding festivities (being swoon-worthy is pretty much his job after all, and not at all indicative of how he feels about her), she matches his smile and nods. “I do.”

“Great. We can work on the contract and get to know each other a bit better after we order.”

[randoreviews]

LONDON, WORLD WAR 2

     “So you’re telling me the King smells like shit?” Dave asked, sitting across the circular coffee table from me.       “Right now he does. If you believe he doesn’t have any soap either,” I told him.      Dave thought about it. He had half a cigarette in his hand but he wasn’t smoking it. Everything had to be rationed. And parceled out. He had gloves with the fingers cut off but I told him, even in these circumstances, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him if he wore them, so he kept them in his pocket.       “I bet the sumbitch is taking bubble baths,” Dave said.      “That would really be the limit,” I said.      “You can’t go from being a prick your whole life and then suddenly not being a prick,” Dave said.      Someone walked by and we looked at them as if they could have been a spy, which they could have been. At any rate, they probably wouldn’t have liked us defaming their King, if this person was a Brit.       We were sitting in the lobby of a hotel that wasn’t entirely a flophouse, though not much better. It had a chandelier that would shake when the Gerries dropped their bombs. We’d been sent by the Kansas City Star to do some reporting, give the people back home something to read along with their Sears-Roebuck. In short, we were trying not to get killed and to keep our senses of humor.       We had hats and suits but they smelled too. Everyone smelled. No soap. At night they shut all the lights off -- a blackout, a curfew -- and it would really be dark. We were scared to even light a match for fear of attracting attention from overhead. I personally, being from the Midwest, had never been bombed before.       The Brits had too much pride to directly look at us for saving... not that Dave or I could do anything besides write a few measly bylines and parararagraphs... but when they heard our flat, hokey accents, you could see it behind their eyes. Not so high and mighty now, and then you’d remember we were all in it together. We all smelled.       “How much soap does Adolph have?” I asked Dave.      “God,” Dave thought aloud. “The irony of him being the only one who smells good.”      “I bet he wears cologne,” I said.       “Yeah, something strong too. I bet he smells like a bear,” rolling the cigarette back and forth between his fingers. “He doesn’t scrimp on the pomade. It must affect his thinking, that much pomade.”      “Someone should poison his pomade,” I suggested. “Strychnine directly through the skull. Would make for one hell of a head-ache.”       “I’m sure they’ve thought of it.”      “They?”      “The eggheads.”      I nodded.      “And the German eggheads too,” Dave went on. “Everything must be tested on someone else first. Who’s that guy?”      “Who?”      “The guy who hasta, you know, try his scrambled eggs before him, the guy who has to sample his pomade.”      “Must be a very helpless bird.”      The waiter, George, brought us our gin fizzes in tall glasses. 1/20th gin to soda, if we were lucky. Just enough alcohol to kill anything fishy in the ice cubes, one hoped. It wouldn’t get us drunk but it would put that tang on your tongue that reminded you of better days. And just the act of drinking, of course, the social ceremony.       “Thank you, Georgie,” Dave said, and leaning forward as George bent down, his insignia faded over his breast pocket, Dave put a couple tidy notes in the pocket.       “Not at all, sir,” said George. The Brits would certainly stand on ceremony until they were killed. That’s one thing you had to respect about them. If manners were to go, then really, everything was lost. “Too kind, sir, too kind.”      “You take that scratch and you buy some nice socks or something,” Dave told him.      “I know just the place, sir.”      “Will they have polka dots?”      “Polka dots, sir, I believe they will, sir. And I do like a good polka dot, sir.”       “That’s why I like you, Georgie,” Dave said.      “Well thank you, sir,” and he bowed and left.      A woman walked through the lobby wearing a fox around her neck and we watched her with our drinks in our hands. I had half a mind to point it out to her but she must have been aware. Were only the fox to come alive again and give her a good scare. If she had any conscience, she must have had dreams as much. Who was the rabbit she was chasing? I had to stop my mind on this line.      “A porter steak,” Dave said, apropos of nothing, to divert me back. “With hollandaise.”        “I don’t know if I want to do this right now,” taking my hat off and fitting it on my knee.      “A porter steak!” Dave insisted.      “All right, all right, ummm... french fries and a cola.”      “Any ketchup?”      “What do you think? A whole mess of ketchup,” I said, the gin fizz saturating into my tongue and maybe a little bit my head.       “A rib-eye!” Dave said.      “Are you just going to say different steaks?” I asked.      “Couscous!” Dave said.      “Ooo, that’s quite worldly and not a bit American.”      Dave seemed pleased with himself for this. All over the city, whether you were scurrying through an alleyway or loitering at the bottom of a stairwell, you would always hear this back-and-forth, if only in whisper, of foods people were craving for, sometimes talking to themselves. It was like a woman who had gotten away, who you might see again. Or I guessed if you were a woman, a man who had gotten away, who you might see again, and he’d be wearing just the right cologne that would drive you crazy.       “Raisin bran!” I threw out.      “Raisin bran?” Dave asked.      I shrugged.      Dave thought about this and then shrugged himself and nodded his head. “A steak sandwich!” he shouted.       The woman with the fox came back through with a younger, slighter man on her arm this time. Oh, do behave, I thought, as they went out the entrance, behind the palms, and back out into the not-at-all-safe street. Something told me that woman could survive anything. She was well built and appeared very resolute. She could have probably killed Hitler with a single blow from her purse.       “How would you like a few rounds with her?” Dave made me imagine with one eyebrow raised.      “I don’t think I’d make it,” I said, washing the truth down with a sip.      A man with an eyepatch walked through.      “What do you think they’re doing in Kansas City right now?” Dave asked.      “Listening to the radio. Eating steak.”      “God that sounds grand.”      “Making love. Raising children.”      “God, stop it. Our country really is the best.”      “No, probably just wondering about things over here.”      “Some people must be making love though,” Dave said.      “Statistically, I think so. The few guys left over there must really be quite busy.”      “Well the women think, well who’s this twerp not at war.”      “That’s true,” I said, thinking and nodding.      “But maybe they still have a go at the guy, out of sheer desperation.”      “I have bone spurs! Now make love to me!”      Dave’s laugh was easier than it had ever been, and started almost inaudibly before going down into his center.      “Sirs,” George appeared, hands behind his back and leaning forward as ever, “A telegram has just come through the wire for you, from your employer.”      I had gotten up to get the one a couple days ago so Dave got up this time and came back with it, some letters and symbols that had made their way over, through, under, across the pond. He handed it to me. “STILL ALIVE?” it read. “SEND SOMETHING JUICY... OR DON’T COME BACK ATALL - YOURS, J.J.”       Jonathan James was our managing editor, and like the wife that was always on you about something. Some men needed that though, and maybe we needed him to be just who he was.      “Should I respond saying, ‘HAD TEA WITH THE QUEEN.’ Stop?”      “How about, ‘HITLER SMELLS’?”       “Although he probably doesn’t.”      “J.J. must be cleaning up. A bachelor who has no scruples,” I said.      “If a person has no scruples, can they ever get scruples?” Dave wondered.      The man with the eyepatch walked through again, but I swore he wore it on his other eye this time. Maybe it was the fizz. But I swore.      “Where are all of our friends of the Jewish persuasion?” I asked.      The lights cut out, the chandelier started rattling. George closed the curtains behind the palms. Dave quickly lit the other half of his cigarette. 

[anodyneer]

Bring a Wild Man Back Home (Stiles/Parrish)

It’s still Thursday in a small part of the world, so here’s my contribution for day 6 ( How to Kiss a Boy - Stiles/male) of Shipping With Stiles Week 2017! Also, surprise - I wrote a non-Sterek fic! ;)

Bring a Wild Man Back Home | Stiles/Parrish | Explicit | 4k | Also on AO3

Stiles ran through the preserve, losing himself in the peacefulness of the early morning and the steady rhythm of his shoes pounding in the dirt. He was alone, on a seldom-used trail that was closed to the general public (and far away from the nemeton), and the weather couldn’t have been better. A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth as he thought back to his high school days, when he could barely run laps at lacrosse practice without upchucking or passing out. Oh, how he’d changed.

Without the same distractions that had plagued him through high school, Stiles had managed to get his bachelor's in computer science in three years, then stayed at GWU for another three years to get a master's in digital forensics.

Knowing he’d need to pass the FBI physical fitness test, but with no experience in any of the university’s D1 sports, Stiles had opted for club lacrosse and Brazilian jiu-jitsu instead, and he’d flirted his way through enough personal training sessions at the gym to learn what he needed to get fit. By the time he was ready to apply to the FBI, Stiles had been in the best shape of his life.

That, along with his impressive grades, his analytical mind, and the tentative affiliation he’d managed to forge with Scott’s dad, had helped Stiles make it through the FBI’s rigorous application and testing process. It had been rough, but he’d succeeded. Any time he’d even remotely considered giving up, Stiles had resorted to the memory of his dad openly weeping when Stiles had gotten his master's, hugging him fiercely, barely able to choke out an I’m so proud of you.

He’d managed to mostly avoid Beacon Hills while he was in college and at the academy. It felt good to get away, to start a new life somewhere else, in a place where he wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of high school past. He’d even gotten in touch with Derek, who’d given him the number of a supernatural-savvy therapist in Rosslyn. She’d practically worked miracles for Stiles, mentally preparing him for college and beyond, and had never asked for payment. (A few years later, Derek had admitted what Stiles always suspected - that he’d covered the cost of Stiles’ sessions.)

After being assigned to the San Francisco field office, though, Stiles had run out of excuses for avoiding Beacon Hills. His work with the cyber division kept him busy, as did getting himself set up in his new apartment and getting acquainted with the city, but he could only put off the visit for so long. He made his dad promise not to tell anyone he was coming back. He wanted to ease into it, see people from his past on his own terms.

It wasn’t that he was avoiding anyone, except that he was. He didn’t particularly want to see Scott or anyone else from the McCall pack, though he knew it would have to happen at some point. Scott would smell Derek on him. Okay, and Isaac. And Jackson and Cora. Then he’d have to admit that after reconnecting with Derek, they’d become close during Stiles’ early college years. The two of them had been able to persuade the rest of Derek’s ragtag pack to return from around the globe, and they’d solidified the bond that they should’ve had in the first place.

The five of them had lived together in DC for as long as Stiles was there, and then when Stiles got his post-Quantico assignment, they’d made the cross-country trek together. They lived in the same building (which Derek bought, because Derek), but in separate apartments, in Sausalito. After all, though both of them had matured, there was still no way Stiles would be able to share a place with Jackson. He shuddered at the thought, but couldn’t help grinning about how far all of them had come.

He was almost back to the parking area when he felt that familiar tingle at the nape of his neck, the one that developed during full moon outings with the rest of the Hale pack, the one that told him he was no longer alone in the woods. Stiles fought the instinctive urge to look back over his shoulder, not wanting to give in to the underlying paranoia that came with being back in the preserve. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

He struggled to keep his pace steady, having to remind himself that he wasn’t fleeing from anyone, and it wasn’t long until he started to hear footfalls behind him. By the time he could see his Jeep - a newer Wrangler he’d bought after arriving on the west coast - up ahead, the person behind him had almost caught up to him.

“Stiles?”

Stiles knew that voice. It was one he hadn’t heard in quite a few years, but he’d recognize it anywhere. He pulled up, slowing to a jog to let the other man catch up to him as they approached the parking area.

“Oh my god, it is you!”

With a nod, Stiles dropped back to a walk and glanced over at a stunned Jordan Parrish.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said as he started to pace the length of the parking area, letting his muscles cool down as he caught his breath. Beside him, Parrish did the same.

“I - I didn’t know you were back. The sheriff didn’t say anything.” Parrish barely sounded winded.

“I asked him not to tell anyone,” Stiles admitted. He turned and started back toward the end of the trail, not necessarily wanting to elaborate. Thankfully, Parrish was a quick study.

“I get it,” he said softly, still keeping pace with Stiles. “You want to do it on your own terms. I won’t say anything to anyone.” Stiles heard the unspoken promise in those words. I won’t tell Scott. He turned to find Parrish watching him as they walked, a look of sincerity on his face.

“Thanks, Parrish. I appreciate that.”

“It’s Jordan,” he replied with an easy smile. “We’re off the clock, and we’ve definitely known each other long enough to be on a first name basis.”

Stiles relaxed a little and offered a grin of his own. “Yeah, we have, haven’t we?” He turned again, this time to walk over to the far side of the parking area, where a shiny orange Tacoma sat next to his Wrangler. Stiles snorted as he grabbed a towel from his Jeep. “Nice truck. What do they call that shade of orange?”

Jordan let out a laugh, opening the passenger door to pull out a towel of his own, as well as a bottle of water and what looked like a light blanket. “Inferno.”

“Seriously?” Stiles huffed as he ran the towel over his face and neck.

“I swear. Drove by the dealership every damn day for four months with that thing calling to me before I finally caved and bought it.”

“It was meant to be, man.” Stiles reached back into the Jeep for his water bottle. He took a long pull from it before resting it against his cheek. The condensation felt heavenly against his overheated skin.

“I’m going to stretch out a little.” Jordan held up the blanket. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles agreed. He followed Jordan back across the end of the trail to a small, flat clearing under the trees. Jordan shook out the blanket and spread it out before sitting down near the edge to take off his socks and shoes. Stiles followed suit, and he couldn’t help giving Jordan a once-over as they got situated at opposite sides of the blanket.

The years had definitely been kind to Jordan Parrish, who was probably about 34 years old, if Stiles was doing the math right. He looked a little more rugged than he had when Stiles left, with a few more laugh lines around his eyes, a forehead that was a bit higher, and some hints of silver in his morning stubble. Like Stiles, he was wearing mid-length running shorts and a tank top, and it was obvious he still worked out regularly.

Back in high school, Stiles hadn’t really thought of Jordan as anything other than his dad’s young deputy-turned-hellhound. And there was the whole thing with the Dread Doctors and the Wild Hunt and Stiles fucking vanishing. By the time it was all over, he wasn't thinking of anything outside of surviving and getting the hell out of Beacon Hills.

College had changed Stiles, though. He’d explored his bisexuality, he’d become more confident in himself, and he’d come to discover that he had a “type” when it came to men - well-built, reasonably muscular, great smile, someone who could be both beautiful and ruggedly handsome at the same time. And damn, but this older version of Jordan Parrish was hitting all of those buttons, hard.

“What?” Jordan asked as he spread his legs and started stretching, giving Stiles a knowing smirk.

And well, Stiles definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship in Beacon Hills, not by any means. Still, he wasn’t going to shy away from some flirting, especially when it looked like Jordan was more than okay with the attention.

“You look good.” Stiles held the eye contact and mirrored Jordan’s stretches.

“So do you. All that time away, and the training you put in...it looks good on you.” He smiled, and Stiles returned it.

As they cycled through various stretches, they fell into an easy conversation about Stiles’ training, both in college and at Quantico.

“I really haven’t had to use the defensive tactics outside of training,” Stiles said as they finished up. He reached for his water bottle and took a long drink. “I mean, I’m cyber, so most of my work is online.”

“You don’t look like you sit at a desk all day.” And okay, flirty Jordan was back. Stiles wiped some water from his upper lip with his thumb, and Jordan’s eyes followed the movement.

“I stay in shape. Still have standard physical evals.” He paused, debating with himself about how much to reveal. “And I have to keep up with the rest of the pack.”

To Stiles’ surprise, Jordan just nodded. “Derek’s pack.”

“How’d you know that?” The sheriff knew, but Stiles doubted he’d shared the information with anyone else.

“Derek and I have a mutual friend.” Jordan shifted so he was sitting closer to Stiles, pulling his knees up. “He put me in touch with someone who could help me with my control. I - I learned a lot about who I was and what I could do. Sharpened my skills.”

Stiles gaped at him, stunned. Derek hadn’t said a word to him about being in touch with anyone from Beacon Hills.

Jordan gave him a sheepish shrug, answering Stiles’ unspoken question. “I didn’t want him to tell anyone. I just - it took a long time for me to be okay with what I was. A really long time.” He glanced away, and Stiles got the feeling Jordan still wasn’t completely comfortable sharing his skin with a hellhound.

“You’ll get there,” Stiles said softly, nudging Jordan’s bare foot with his own. “It took me awhile to get over...everything.” The Nogitsune. The Dread Doctors. The Wild Hunt. “Derek helped me find someone, too. I mean, it’s not like you can just Google shrinks who know about the supernatural.”

Jordan huffed out a laugh. “And you ended up joining his pack.” When Stiles nodded, Jordan cocked his head at him. “I didn’t think he was an alpha anymore.”

“He wasn’t, or at least not the last time you saw him. It happened in South America.” Jordan’s eyes got a little wider, and Stiles hurried to clarify. “He didn’t have to kill another alpha or anything. He won’t tell anyone the whole story, but it had something to do with evolving and with the fact that he’d given up his alpha spark to save Cora’s life. I guess it was kind of like the true alpha thing, but…” He trailed off, trying to find a way to explain without mentioning Scott. “You know, for someone who actually deserved it.”

Jordan nodded. “He made a sacrifice worthy of a true alpha.”

“Exactly. And once the pack elders helped him work through everything from the past, he actually wanted to be an alpha again. He wanted to take responsibility for the people he’d turned, and for Cora.”

“And you.”

“And me.”

Thankfully, Jordan didn’t ask why Stiles was in Derek’s pack instead of Scott’s. He did ask about the pack, about how Derek and Isaac were doing, and about the two members he didn’t know - Cora and Jackson. Stiles told him about their move back to California and how they were settling in before following it up with the Cliffs Notes versions of Cora’s and Jackson’s stories. Jordan remembered learning about the kanima when he was trying to find out what he was, but he didn’t really know anything about Jackson.

“So it was Lydia’s love that brought him back to himself?”

“It was.” Stiles sighed, absently rubbing his thumb over the seam of his shorts. “I mean, compared to Jackson, you and I were just blips on Lydia’s radar.”

Jordan leaned into Stiles’ space, bumping their shoulders together. “So, was I ever a blip on your radar back then?”

Stiles considered the question a moment before shaking his head. “Gotta be honest, man. There was way too much shit going on in those days for me to even think about exploring the idea that I was bi. I didn’t even realize that was a thing until right before you showed up.”

Jordan gave him a long look, one corner of his mouth curled up in a small smile. “But you have explored it since then?”

“Oh, thoroughly,” Stiles said with a laugh. Jordan grinned back at him, and something in Stiles’ stomach clenched. He leaned a little closer, gaze still locked with Jordan’s. “So, since we’re asking...was I on your radar?”

“No,” Jordan answered, a little too quickly. At Stiles’ disbelieving look, Jordan shook his head. “Oh, come on! You were the underage son of my boss, who, oh by the way, was also the county sheriff.”

“Jordan.” Stiles fixed him with a pointed stare.

“What?”

“Jordan.”

“Shit.” Jordan ran a hand through his hair, still a little sweat damp. “Okay, I thought you were, uh, cute. You had - have - the most beautiful eyes. But you weren’t even out of high school.”

“Neither was Lydia.”

“Asshole,” Jordan laughed, giving Stiles a playful shove, and yeah, that was definitely a move if Stiles ever saw one. He leaned back into Jordan’s space.

“You know...I haven’t been underage in a really long time.”

Jordan’s eyes raked slowly up and down Stiles’ body, and his gaze darkened. “I can see that.” He hooked two fingers in the front of Stiles’ tank top and reeled him in slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Stiles pushed forward instead, closing the distance. The kiss was amazing, better than he expected, slow and deep and hungry, and he got lost in it. Lost in the feeling of Jordan’s hand slipping around to the back of his neck and the tongue pushing into his mouth.

One of his own hands went to Jordan’s hip and rolled him just far enough so Stiles could lean over him. Jordan groaned into his mouth and hooked a leg over one of Stiles’ to pull them even closer together. And yeah, if the manhandling wasn’t enough to get Stiles hard, the nudge of Jordan’s own half-hard cock against his thigh definitely did the trick.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles breathed when they finally came up for air. Jordan was panting a little harder than he should have been, his head down, forehead nearly resting on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles brought a hand up to cup the back of Jordan’s neck, scratching lightly over the damp hair at his nape. “Hey, you okay?”

Jordan nodded and rolled his hips just enough to be convincing. He lifted his head and brought Stiles in for another kiss, shifting to line up their erections. Stiles moaned and thrust against him. He slipped a hand under Jordan’s shirt, only to find his skin feverishly hot. It startled him enough to pull away from Jordan’s mouth, and Jordan’s hips stuttered to a stop under his.

“Jordan,” Stiles started, breathing hard, “not that I want to stop, because I really don’t, but I have to ask…” He trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the heated air between them.

Jordan finally looked up at him, a bit of apprehension mixing with the desire in his green eyes. “I haven’t - not since before Afghanistan.”

Stiles gaped at him, even as his fingers glided over Jordan’s stomach in what he hoped was a comforting rhythm. “Really?”

“When I got back, I was just adjusting to being out of the Army. Then I got the job and moved here, and you know the rest.” He dropped a kiss at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “I’m not sure what might happen, and I didn’t want to take a chance with someone who doesn’t know what I am.”

Stiles pulled him in for another kiss, the hand that was on Jordan’s stomach slipping between them to palm Jordan’s cock. Jordan cried out against Stiles’ lips, his own hand fisted in the back of Stiles’ shirt.

“I know what you are,” Stiles reminded him, still close enough that his lips brushed against Jordan’s. “How’s your control?”

“Perfect,” Jordan gasped, “in most situations. This...I - I’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you. As long as…” He trailed off, lust-darkened eyes drifting over Stiles’ face.

“As long as what?” Stiles toyed with the waistband of Jordan’s shorts.

“I, uh, get pretty overheated when I jerk off. How hot do you like it?”

Stiles couldn’t help chuckling at that, a low rumble that made Jordan’s eyes widen. “Try me and find out.”

Jordan’s green eyes flashed orange for just a second, and before Stiles realized it was happening, he was flat on his back on the blanket with Jordan straddling his hips. Jordan pushed his own shorts and briefs down below his balls and gave his hard cock a few long pulls, his gaze fixed on Stiles’ face. Stiles whined and, not to be outdone, shoved his shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh. Jordan’s eyes immediately went to Stiles’ erection, and a growl escaped from deep in his chest, just loud enough to remind both of them that he shared his body with a shapeshifter.

“You should probably take this off.” Stiles tugged at the hem of Jordan’s shirt, and he stripped it off in one smooth movement before leaning down over Stiles, holding himself up with one arm. It should have been awkward, but before Stiles really had a chance to think about it, he was thoroughly distracted by Jordan licking his own palm. “Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.”

“Not yet,” Jordan breathed, wrapping his hand around both of their dicks, drawing a low moan out of Stiles. “But it will be soon.”

Stiles could only stare, mouth agape, as Jordan jacked them off. It felt amazing, a little too much friction at first, but god, it had been so long, and Stiles was leaking enough precome to slick the way pretty quickly. He shoved his shirt up to just below his chin to get it out of the way before things got inevitably messy.

Panting above him, Jordan squeezed his eyes shut. As soon as he did, Stiles started feeling the heat building everywhere - from the hand wrapped around them, from Jordan’s body above him, in the air that surrounded them. It was so much better than Stiles could have expected. Instead of making him too hot, the warmth enveloped him and spread through every muscle in his body. It was soothing and arousing at the same time, like nothing Stiles had felt before.

He slid a hand up into Jordan’s hair and tugged him down into a long, lusty kiss. When Jordan pulled away, he opened his eyes, and Stiles saw the beautiful natural green around his blown pupils instead of the orange he almost expected.

“Stiles,” Jordan moaned, his body going taut as he came unexpectedly, hot splashes hitting Stiles’ chest and stomach. His head hung down, and the arm that was holding all of his weight started to shake.

“Let me,” Stiles managed to choke out, moving his own hand down to wrap around their dicks so Jordan could hold himself up with both arms. As Stiles started to thrust into his own hand, Jordan leaned down low over Stiles’ chest and ran his tongue, hot and rough, over one of Stiles’ nipples. That was enough to push Stiles over the edge, and he came with a shout, his body going rigid under Jordan.

The warmth that still surrounded them lulled Stiles into a state of post-orgasmic bliss. He sank into it for several minutes, barely noticing when Jordan used his own discarded shirt to clean them off or when he shifted to lay down beside him, pulling Stiles’ shorts back up as far as he could.

“Stiles.” Jordan’s voice was a little rough, deeper than usual. Stiles groaned and shook his head. He still wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened, but he knew he wanted to do it again, preferably more than once. “Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t go to sleep here.”

Stiles sighed and opened his eyes to find Jordan’s stupidly beautiful face just inches from his. “I know.” He brushed his lips over Jordan’s and grinned at him. “Fuck, that was awesome.”

Jordan’s eyes lit up and he smiled back, open and maybe a little relieved. “I’m glad you thought so.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean you didn’t? Not for nothing, buddy, but I think your dick would beg to differ.”

“Oh my god, Stiles.” Jordan laughed softly against Stiles’ shoulder. “I - I was a little worried.” The hint of doubt in his voice was enough to bring Stiles the rest of the way around.

“Hey, you don’t need to be.” He traced Jordan’s jaw with his index finger. “Seriously, that was amazing. And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to do it again sometime, hopefully soon. And preferably indoors.”

Jordan swallowed audibly, and there was a shine to his eyes for just a moment before he blinked it away. “Yeah. That's more than okay with me.” He pushed himself up, then helped Stiles sit up beside him.

Stiles leaned against him, hand resting on Jordan’s thigh. “First, though, I think I’m gonna need some food, and maybe a nap.”

“My place?” Jordan asked, giving Stiles’ fingers a squeeze. “I can make us pancakes, or bacon and eggs. I’m good at breakfast.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

After a few minutes of just sitting in comfortable silence, Jordan stood and pulled Stiles up with him. They got their things together pretty quickly, and Stiles couldn’t help reeling Jordan in for another deep kiss before they parted.

As Stiles followed Jordan’s truck out of the preserve, so many thoughts tumbled around in his head. He was still having a hard time believing just how good it had felt to be with Jordan, how safe he felt in that warmth. He wasn’t particularly looking for a long-term relationship, though, and he didn’t know if Jordan was either. He tried not to get too caught up in thoughts of the future.

For the time being, he was content with the idea of hooking up with Jordan, being that person who knew what Jordan was and was still willing to be intimate with him, giving him the reassurance he’d need for whatever his future held.

If that future included a relationship with Stiles, then Stiles would be okay with that, and they'd figure out the details when they got there. If not, well...at least they’d enjoy themselves - and each other - in the meantime.

***