#god. do i just go back to my python code like everythings normal

[boygenesis]

i didnt prepare myself for the show and so i didnt prepare myself for AFTER the show either

[spencerspecifics]

Okay yes hi hello this is me gracing y’all with my writing Bc I’ve had this idea forever!! This is going to be multiple chapters, here is chapter two. Enjoy :)

~

Technical Analyst (ch.1)

~

Short description: Spencer works as a technical analyst alongside Garcia and Kevin, though he hasn’t ever really worked directly with the BAU team, he works more in filing and researching. But when Garcia goes on vacation leave, and Kevin is busy with his own work, Spencer steps up to help- and that’s when he meets Derek Morgan.

———————————————————————

Spencer hated technology. He hated computers, tablets, cell phones, he hated it all. He hated everything and anything that isn’t on printed onto paper. So how the fuck did he end up as a technical analyst- whose entire job was based around proficient use of technology? In very short, budget cuts.

He originally worked in domestic terrorism, though he never fit in well there. He was a good worker, fast and able to do a lot. But his coworkers never let him feel included. He would hear them make plans without him, ignore him in conversations, only reaching out to him for his great memory to help solve a case. It was dehumanizing. He was just a brain for them, nothing more.

Then, the budget cuts came. And he got removed from the team, as he had the least amount of hours in the field- which wasn’t his fault. The rest of his team always forced him into the research position, so while they were off chasing the bad guys, he was stuck researching with a computer he doesn’t trust.

So yeah, he wasn’t an asset to them. But the bureau knew a mind like his in general was an asset, a fountain they’d like to keep a tap on. So they made work for him. It was mostly menial. He would assist with intense cases when necessary, but even then it was just research. No one knew what he would be like in the field, because they never gave him the chance.

Spencer tried not to think about how unfair this was, how stupid and purely tedious it was. He would rather be working as a T.A. at this point- which wouldn’t even be that bad. At least he gets heard and seen then.

~

Spencer’s normal day consists of going from his apartment to the bureau building, to directly into his cramped little office that was about the size of a jumbo walk in closet. A nice size to store clothes, but not so nice when you have to have a person, a desk, a chair, three computer monitors, two filing cabinents, a trash can, a fax machine, and a printer all crammed in there.

Yeah, his workplace was entirely too small. Thankfully it didn’t impact his ability to work, though, most the time Spencer finished his work quickly; and would end up reading. Spencer didn’t venture out from his office that much at all, (he always brought his own coffee so he didn’t have to worry about bugging the field agents.) the exception to leaving his office was to go across the hall to Penelope Garcia, his only sort of friend that he had at work. She was always so bubbly, it was a breath of relief for him to go see her- she reminded him of all the positive things, he definitely couldn’t do the job without her.

Not to mention, she had to train him from starting point zero. Spencer hated technology, after all. So he never made an effort to learn coding, hacking, how to re-route and track things. He knew nothing like that, hell, he struggles with his cellphone turning on sometimes.

Thankfully, she was able to get some sense into him, and he was pretty good at what he could do. Though he was still working out python coding, he was enjoying the learning process of using technology.

That being said- he still despises technology, and he hopes that once he leaves the job, he can throw away his very unnecessary but work mandated laptop.

~

Spencer made his way into the bureau building, messenger bag slung over his shoulder awkwardly as a thermos of coffee was held tightly in his right hand, while the left one reached for the door handle to enter. He got in no problem, security didn’t stop him anymore, thankfully. Though in the beginning, they did check him constantly, verifying that he belonged there. After all, he looked young, and he definitely didn’t belong in the bureau building. But then again, Garcia didn’t look like she belonged there either.

Security just made presumptions about people, he shrugged that thought off as he made his way to the elevator. Thankfully no one else was in there, he pressed the button for floor six, and the elevator doors shut.

The elevator whirred to life, taking him up to the sixth floor slowly. Thankfully today was a slow day, there wasn’t really any important case he had to work on. (Not like he ever really got given cases to work on, anyways.) So Spencer was hoping he would be able to finish his work quickly, as he had some books he brought with him that he wanted to read and re-read before the day was finished.

The elevator dinged, a signal it had reached its necessary location, before the doors finally slid back. He stepped out, taking his usual left down the hallway immediately. Forward through the glass doors was the bullpen with the agents who worked in the BAU. And god, what he wouldn’t give to be a field agent, working as a profiler. That’s why he wanted to join the bureau, and yet he was so close- his office only down the hall. But he was simultaneously so far, not being trusted by all the bureaucratic bosses, who didn’t know if he would be a good agent to warrant being put out into the field.

He hated it, but he tried not to think about it as he reached his office, Garcia’s door was shut, she was on vacation, or so he had heard. Spencer pulled on his office door, entering with ease as he moved into the cramped workspace.

Spencer sat his messenger bag down onto his desk, sitting himself down in his office chair and taking a minute to breathe in and out before continuing. Spencer hated this job. It was mind numbingly boring, he was so close to quitting. He knew the bureau would fight tooth and nail to keep him, however, but if that was the case, why not give him a better job- he didn’t want a nicer office, he wanted to help people.

He sighed, today was just one of those days where he was extra mad about not being treated right, he tried to ignore this thought process as he got ready to work; setting his coffee down by his computer mouse to his right, setting his messenger bag onto the floor next to him, pulling off the scarf that was wrapped loosely around his neck and hanging it over the back of his chair. Now he was ready for the day.

~

Penelope didn’t mean to forget to tell the team that she was going to be gone- she assumed they knew. At least Hotch did, all the rest of them knew was that she was going to take a week off to relax, they just didn’t know when (she had too many vacation days saved up, so she had to use them or lose them. She chose the former.) It was just a total brain fart moment on her part, so while she decided to hit up her favorite stores, spas, and websites; the team had no idea, they assumed she was holed up in her office, hacking away at whatever she normally does.

This would only show itself when Derek needed her, calling her office number and it going to voicemail “Hi, this is Penelope Garcia with the FBI and I’m too awesome to come to the phone right now, if it’s an urgent matter please call Aaron Hotchner-“ yeah, Derek hung up his phone by then, deciding to call her personal cell.

“Hi, hot chocolate!” She answered cheerfully, the sounds of people talking and laughing could be heard in the background, which Derek took note of. “Babygirl- your work phone sent me to voicemail, where are you?” Garcia was quiet for a second, before practically blowing Morgan’s eardrums out; “Oh- damnit! I knew I was forgetting something!” “Care to fill me in?” He asked her curiously, “Yes-“ Garcia sighed before continuing on, “Sorry. I’m taking those vacation days Hotch told me I had to use or else I’d lose.”

“So you’re not at the office.” He stated, “That I am not, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you! But my pal Spencer Reid should be covering for me.” “Spencer Reid?” Derek asked, unfamiliar with that person, “Why not kevin?” “Ugh, I don’t know- he’s doing that thing where he’s actually busy with other work for once. But Spencer is good, I taught him everything he knows- and I’m pretty sure he’s got three PhDs, so yeah, you replaced one genius with another- so don’t worry!” “Okay, well...” Derek took a second, “You sure I can ask Spencer about everything I’d ask you?” He meant work related, within being able to hack and get everything that Garcia would be able to get. Because Morgan knew that her talents were very special, and having someone else replicate them seemed near impossible, so he was a bit hesitant to trust someone new.

“Oh yeah- he’ll find everything easy peasy lemon squeezy. Don’t worry yourself, sugar.” “Okay, thank you mama. Have a good week of rest.” “I will! I have an appointment for a spa, and oh my god Derek- they do a seaweed wrap thing, isn’t that crazy?” “So you’re gonna get rolled up like sushi?” “No! Ew! Don’t compare me to raw fish!”

The phone call continued for a bit after that, as Derek wasn’t in an urgent matter. It was just a filing day at the office, before he hung up he asked where Spencer was, though; “Oh, he’s in the office next to mine, across the hall!” Garcia told him happily. Derek had thought that was a storage closet, but he didn’t tell her- instead thanking her and hanging up.

Now to pay this mystery computer whiz a visit.

~

Spencer was in the middle of re-routing a bunch of information that Garcia needed to send to her boss, Aaron Hotchner. Spencer didn’t share the same boss, since he was technically working in a more basic division of the bureau, he instead answered to Strauss- which was a royal pain in the ass, but he always turned his work in on time, came in when needed, he had never had to face her wrath yet, thankfully.

Spencer typed away, trying to get all the data to get to Hotchner as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to wait, though it wasn’t crucial the work did get completed right now. Spencer just liked to get things done.

A knock sounded Spencer out of his methodical typing, it wasn’t Garcia, obviously. And he knew Kevin was in a meeting right now with some IT people over his keyboard acting funky (Kevin could fix it by himself, but office administration forced him into talking to IT.)

“Yes?” Spencer asked curiously, turning around in his office chair, because he had no clue who it was that could be interrupting his work. The door pushed open, revealing a tall, classically handsome, muscular man carrying some files in his hands. Fuck, that would be Spencer’s luck. An attractive guy swooping in and making his IQ of one hundred and eighty seven go down to sixty in two second flat

“Hi- you Spencer?” The man asked, stepping forward into the cramped office. Spencer stood up instinctively, “Yes, I am. How can I help you?” The man handed the files over awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I usually ask Penelope Garcia for this but she’s on vacation and she referred me to you- I just need these put through VICAP, I’m not too familiar with the system as a whole, ‘cause Garcia usually handles it.”

Spencer nodded, taking the files and looking through them briefly, there were nine of them. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot of work to do... I’m sure I can figure it out myself-“ Derek started, doing his best to apologize. Little did he know Spencer could get this done within an hour or so.

“Oh no- not a problem at all, this should only take me about an hour, two at most, but that’s a generous estimate.” Derek raised his eyebrows, “An hour or two? Garcia usually finishes up this many files within three or four. How are you able to get this done faster than her?”

“I have an eidetic memory, which helps me recall anything that I read. I can read these files once and put all the information into VICAP knowing it’s accuracy is one hundred percent without having to double check, that cuts down my speed by half per case file.”

Derek looked confused and shocked. Yeah, Spencer could understand why. “Sorry, um. That’s a weird explanation, but it shouldn’t take me as long. I’m assuming you’re out in the bullpen?” Spencer asked him, putting the files down atop his keyboard.

“Yeah, I’m Derek Morgan with the BAU.” Derek finally introduced himself, reaching his hand out. Shit, this was Derek Morgan? Garcia has mentioned him a few times to Spencer, saying he’d love him “oh he’s so handsome, but so sweet and loving, like the hottest man on earth- I’d marry him in a heartbeat, but we don’t roll like that, Y’know?” That’s how she described him once, and of course Spencer remembered that word for word. Spencer felt like it was just his luck, that his only work colleague was best friends with a man so attractive that his mind isn’t working fully.

Not to mention he was in the BAU, Spencer guessed he was, since Garcia was their technical analyst. But still, it would be just his luck to know this insanely attractive man was part of the team he wanted to belong to so bad. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond as he kept his composure. After all, yeah, Derek was attractive. But they probably wouldn’t speak again after this exchange. It wasn’t worth Spencer thinking about him, or how Garcia described him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t shake. But it’s nice to meet you, I’ll find you once I’m done. If you need anymore help, feel free to let me know.” Spencer told him, looking back at the files on his desk as a distraction away from this hot guy that was just standing so calmly in his office, as if Spencer ever had any visitors into the cramped space besides Garcia and Kevin.

By the time spencer looked back up, Derek’s arm was back down by his side. “Okay, thank you.”

~

Derek was surprised by their exchange, to say the least. How did he not know about this genius before? How was he not more well known, a memory thing, three PhD’s- that would be a useful asset? How come he was hidden away in a closet sized office? He had to know more. Even if it was nosy and stupid.

Normally, he’d call Garcia and ask her if it was about an employee. But in this case, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t go to Spencer, that would be weird.

So, he did the next best thing. He asked Hotch.

~

He knocked slowly on Hotchner’s door, hoping he wasn’t going to tell him to mind his business and not ask about employee facts when they definitely were irrelevant.

Derek was smart though, he figured out a foolproof way to play this. So when Hotch said, “Yes?” He came in, starting his plan into motion.

“Hotch, where’s Garcia?” He asked him, as if Derek hadn’t immediately checked up on his babygirl when he couldn’t find her. “Oh,” Hotch started, setting a file down that he had been looking over, “She took some vacation time.”

“So, who am I supposed to go to for computer help?” Derek asked, “Well,” Hotchner started, matter of factly, while he reached for a thin, unopened file on his desk. “We have a new guy helping us. Kevin’s busy with helping the child abduction unit reset their computers, as well as he’s in an IT meeting right now, so we have..” Hotch stopped, looking down to read the name off the file; “Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m sure he’ll be just as good.”

“Hotch. No ones as good as Garcia.” Derek pointed out, Hotch shrugged. “Maybe not. But this guy has a glowing personal history- and Garcia told me she taught him everything he knows.”

“What’s his personal history?” Derek asked curiously, stepping a bit closer but still trying to play nonchalance. “You know I’m not able to disclose that. You can go ask him for yourself.” Derek sighed. Of course Hotch wasn’t gonna tell him shit. He should’ve expected this. But sue him, call him hopeful. He was hoping he could’ve gotten some information on this mysterious doctor.

~

Derek made his defeated way back to his desk in the bullpen. And Emily, whose desk was directly across from his, immediately noticed his slight annoyance at Hotch. So she asked in a hushed voice as soon as he sat down;

“Did you get yelled at by Hotch?” Because in her mind, that was the most logical explanation that made the most sense. Derek just shook his head as a response, “No,” he clarified, “I was asking about our Garcia fill-in, and Hotch wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Garcia fill-in? She’s gone?” Emily asked confusedly looking back to the hallway that led to Penelope’s office, as if she’d magically appear. “Yeah, but just for the week.” Derek explained, “She’s using those vacation days she had saved up. And Kevin isn’t our standby, ‘cause he’s busy. Instead it’s some new guy.”

“Who?” Prentiss asked, this time she was curious. And as if on cue, Dr. Spencer Reid came through the glass doors, and into the bullpen, carrying Morgan’s stack of files.

“Him.” Morgan pointed back simply as a response as he waved Spencer over.

~

To say Spencer felt out of his element by being in the BAU bullpen was an understatement, he felt like a fish out of water. Like he was suffocating and everything around him was too much.

He purposely avoided the bullpen, first reason being because he didn’t have any work with the BAU. But the second reason was he knew if he stepped in, he’d be more upset that he couldn’t be on the team. And the last thing he wanted to do was make his job worse for himself.

But, this experience was an outlier. And though Spencer can remember almost anything and everything, he planned on doing his best to purposely forget all of this. Every last detail.

He wasn’t going to let himself remember how there were field agents with real life guns holstered at their sides, how they were all sitting casually, looking over cases and drinking coffee, how they had the title of SSA (he only had SA, which he still was bitter about.), and then how at a moments notice they could fly away in a jet. How astonishing their work is, how jealous he is.

But Spencer entered through the glass doors nonetheless, looking around quickly before seeing Derek wave him over. Derek was sat at his desk, talking to a woman whose head was turned away from Spencer, all he could see was that she was his desk mate, and that she had black hair.

Spencer made his way over at a brisk pace, he just needed to get in and out. If he stayed for too long, he’d let himself remember to much.

“Hey, I- I got these into VICAP no problem,“ Spencer started as he handed Derek the case files, “But I noticed some errors on the date stamping on when you found the unsub so I corrected it myself, I hope you don’t mind.”

Derek shook his head casually, “Not a problem at all, I have a habit of messing that up. Thanks doc.” Fuck, ‘doc’? Spencer hadn’t been called ‘doctor’ in months, let alone ‘doc’. This was turning into a tailspin moment for him as he smiled awkwardly, feeling a blush rising to his face, he wasn’t sure what else to do. But he wanted to get out of there.

Thankfully, the woman with black hair introduced herself, as once he had rounded the corner to see Derek, he also saw her face. She was pretty, and had bangs. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Emily Prentiss.” She reached her hand over to shake Reid’s expectantly, “Oh I-“ Reid started, hands down at his sides, he wasn’t going to move them.

“He doesn’t shake, Prentiss.” Derek explained casually, “Oh,” Emily said, dropping her hand down, “Sorry! It’s still good to meet you, though. So I hear you’re covering for Garcia?” She asked Spencer, who nodded as he pushed a piece of hair back behind his ear.

“Yeah she’s taking vacation time, and Kevin is currently busy with helping the child abduction unit. So I’ll be you technical analyst for the next week or so.”

“I’m sorry, but how long have you been with the bureau? You look really young. I don’t mean to be rude I’m just-“ “You’re really asking him the rudest possible question, though, huh?” Derek joked to her, and she just smacked him on the arm lightly before turning her attention back to Spencer.

“No you’re fine to ask I- um, I’ve been with the bureau a year and a half, but originally I was on the domestic terrorism field unit.” He explained shortly, he didn’t wanna go into how he got on the bureau to begin with, or how he left the domestic terrorism unit. All he wanted to do was have this conversation end, or else it would just be that much harder to forget.

“Domestic terrorism? So how do you end up doing technical analyst work?” Derek butted in curiously, up until now it has been Prentiss asking all the questions.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment, before finally responding, “If you need anything else, my office is next to Garcia’s. It’s been nice meeting you, Emily.” All he gave to Derek was a curt nod before walking out at the brisk pace he had entered with.

~

“Wow, well you fucked that up.” Prentiss spoke to Derek once she saw Spencer exiting through the glass doors, and turning down the hallway.

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her, “I’m just curious about him, can you blame me?” Emily just chuckled softly in return, shaking her head as she turned her chair around to face him more head on.

“Are you curious about him because he’s cute, or because he’s replacing Garcia for the week?” Derek blinked at her in surprise; “I never said he was cute.” He protested, more confused than anything else.

“You didn’t say it, but your body language did. You think he’s cute. You called him ‘doc’ and he almost blushed, and I have a feeling you’re gonna try and call him ‘doc’ again to see that same result- and you watched him the entire time, even if I was talking.”

“You think random bureau agents are cute all the time, what’s it matter?” Derek rebutted, trying to deflect and ignore, because Prentiss wasn’t making sense. Derek wasn’t attracted to Spencer, he didn’t think he was cute. Spencer’s level of attractiveness had nothing to do with his curiosity.

Derek did have a right to be curious for other reasons, anyways. This guy was replacing Garcia for a bit. It made sense Derek would wanna know more about the guy, even if he was or wasn’t attractive.

“Yeah, I find agents cute. But I don’t go asking Hotch about them.” Prentiss said with a smirk, Derek just shot her a glare. “I asked Hotch because he’s replacing Garcia. And I’ve not heard of the guy before.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Was all Emily replied with as she turned back to her work, Derek just rolled his eyes at her again before turning to his own computer.

Okay, so he knew Spencer was in domestic terrorism. It couldn’t hurt to just search it up, right? It wasn’t anything classified, he’d be able to see it, Derek hoped. He wasn’t meaning to be nosy, but he was just so curious and confused. He just had to know more.

———————————————————————

[irarelypostanything]

Slice of Life[6]

[Andy]

“There have been some increasingly controversial topics in the news,” began Andy, in the milionth meeting they were holding that week, “and I know that not everyone here is in agreement with regard to personal beliefs.  Though there is some merit to discussing these topics, I would encourage you to do so outside of work.

“So please,” he continued, “for the love of the old gods and the new, stop arguing about the last episode of Game of Thrones.”

“It was kind of bullshit though, right?” asked Jake, to murmurs of approval.  

“I haven’t watched it yet,” complained Kevin.

“Spoiler,” said Jake, “it sucked.”

“Jake, please.”

“There was a shocking twist about Tyrion being the Night King.”

“Kevin, Jake may or may not be messing with you.”

“I did think the part where Eddard rose from the dead was a little out of left field, though.”

“Amy, please proceed with your presentation.”

Amy was standing in front of their conference room’s projector.  Her long, dark brown hair was tied into a bun, and her usual Davis badminton jacket was replaced by a white button-up.

“Thanks Andy,” she said, relieved that the meeting was back under control, “as I was saying, this project is worth roughly 25.6 million dollars, collectively.  As is the usual case, the largest defense contractors are going to take the majority of business.

“But this is where things get interesting.  I’m going to have to be intentionally vague about the next portion of this, since we’re in a nonclassified setting, but we have certain...capabilities...that even some of the largest corporations don’t.  Thanks to some wise decisions we made early last year with regard to our research allocations, we are actually the first team we know of that can use...”

Her voice trailed.  “Well, that’s also classified.  But the figures aren’t.  Look at this.”  The slide changed.  “We are poised to become the government’s preferred vendor for the entire sensor, and all we have to do is give them a taste.  They expect delivery within three weeks.  For this to work, all teams have to collaborate perfectly.”

“It’s really important that we execute this now,” agreed Andy, “that means it’s really, vitally important that we not let our meetings diverge into arguments about petty bullshit.

“Kevin, we’d like a status report from you.  What’s the important software issue you said you wanted everyone to know about?”

“I know we were told not to compile on the hardware,” began Kevin, “but unfortunately, with our system, it’s unavoidable.  The time stamps are messed up, so doing basic things like compilation is surprisingly difficult.”

“Why not code it in Python?” suggested Jake.  “that way you won’t need to compile it.”

“Wow,” said Dan, with mock amazement, “switch programming languages.  Brilliant.  This is the kind of empty-headed bullshit that only a hardware engineer would come up with.”

“Right,” Jake retorted, “because messed up time stamps is a hardware issue.  Do you guys also give your system administrators mops, then give your janitors root access?”

“Switching to python actually isn’t a bad idea,” said Ryan, “but there’s a much more obvious solution to this problem.  You can-”

“Hang on,” interrupted Dan, “care to repeat that comment about root access?”

“You guys don’t understand separation of duty,” said Jake.

“You guys don’t understand fuck about fuck,” said Dan.

The next half hour went about as productively as that conversation.

[Nora]

Saturday.  It was a surprisingly clear morning, for San Francisco, and the sun was just starting to rise.  Because it was San Francisco, though, the morning was ice cold.

Nora made her way up the steep trail of Mt. Davidson.  Kevin said he knew every trail and angle at this place, and she believed him.  The park was tiny.  She reached the peak with ease.  She glanced in the direction of the sun, then turned away to look at downtown in the distance.  She could see the bay, and Castro, and a bunch of major downtown buildings until her view reached Sutro Mountain.

She pulled out her cell phone.  “This is boring,” she told Kevin through the speaker.

“Did you know it’s the tallest hill in all of San Francisco?”

“Highest of the seven hills?”

“Sure.”

“What, because of the giant cross?”

“I admit that the giant cross is cheating, but the point still stands.”

“Not sure what the big deal is, to be honest.  I’ve had a more fun time at Bernal Heights, and that place has some pretty good coffee.”

“Giant blue building.”

“What?”

“Find the spot where Balboa is, look a bit to the left, and you’ll see that giant blue building.  It’s a water tower.  We used to sneak up there, forever ago, when we were young.”

“Okay...”

“I used to love this city.  It’s not the same now.  Whenever I came back it was never the same, always a little different.  So I started to come home every month, then every other month.  The last time we spoke, it was my first time back in almost a year.”

“Well, what’s changed?”

“It’s just different.”

Nora looked at the tower, then at Kevin’s high school, then at the water again.  From a distance, it was all tiny.  Like none of it mattered.

“You used to love this city,” asked Nora, “and now you don’t because it’s changed?”

“Exactly.  You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“So you believe that the city you once loved is gone.  I believe that the city you loved never existed.”

“That’s morbid.”

“Seriously, how much of it had you really seen?”

Nora looked again at the view.  “Oh wait, technically you’ve seen quite a bit of it.”

“Technically.”

[Kevin]

Sunday.  Kevin was at a church.  Again.

After another sermon, a middle-aged person named Leo (whom he had met a couple of weeks ago) sought him out.

“Hey Kevin,” he said, “do you know a lot about social media?”

The question hit him with surprise.  Kevin had once been obsessed with social media.

“I know a little bit,” said Kevin, “why do you ask?”

“I’d like to give our church more of an online presence, but it’s all new to me.  What do you know about Facebook groups?”

“Well,” said Kevin, “not too much.  I know that you can pay to have the algorithm favor you, so you get more traffic.  I also know that you can integrate it with Google Analytics, and I believe the algorithm will favor you if you can rack likes or comments in a five-minute window.

“The whole thing is very calculated.  The emojis you use, whether you use GIFs, whether you use tags...all of these are taken into consideration when considering your post placement.”

“That’s all fine and good,” said Leo, “but you don’t sound super enthusiastic right now about Facebook.”

“Have you heard of Life Church?”

“No.”

“It’s a nice resource, it’s an online church, but it’s just a little bit too good.  It’s hard to describe.  It’s ridiculously high quality video, full Facebook integration, professional band.  You can view the likes and comments in real time.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s weird.  All of this is weird to me for some reason.  Doing that kind of thing for a church?  I prefer sites like Medium.  I can harvest so much sweet, sweet data.”

“Are you okay?  You just turned red.”

“You know, I get crazy about this a lot.  I used to be a normal guy.  A couple likes here, a couple likes there.  I started to find forums where I could get 100 likes a post, consistently, and I started to get a presence.  Click, like, share.  Click, like, share.  It’s no way to live, man.  Every second a feeling of wanting judgment, every act of communication a desperate plea to please the algorithm.

“But this one time, this one night I’ll never forget, I put up an article that went #trending.  It got 36,000 Facebook shares.  Pretty okay, sure, but then I found the real analytics.  3 million hits.  3 million people read it, all around the world.”

For a little while, Leo just stood there.  Finally, he spoke again.

“Kevin, I just want to share some videos.”

“Oh, okay.  Have you considered YouTube?”

“What’s that?”

Kevin walked back to his apartment after lunch.  Part of him wished he could be as enthusiastic about church as he was about technology, but there was still something he couldn’t get over.  It was a belief that was fundamental to him for as long as he remembered.  It was a belief that went against everything he had read in every book of the bible.

Kevin didn’t think it mattered what people believed.  All that mattered to him was what people did.

Some Christians donated to the poor, built schools, saved lives.  Some atheists donated to the poor, built schools, saved lives.  Both Christians and non-Christian people had done great things, and horrible things, but so had Muslims.  And Hindu people.  And scientologists, and probably a million other religions.  But no one thought it was okay to believe that your beliefs didn’t matter.  

Kevin wasn’t sure if he believed in everything or nothing.  He figured it was impossible to believe in nothing, because that would mean that he still believed in something.

[Dan]

Monday.  8PM.  Dan was one of the only people in.

It was a long meeting, followed by a crucial lunch meeting, followed by coding, followed by another meeting.  These past few days had been tough on everyone, but Dan sometimes wished he could just hole up, not talk to anyone, and code.

He finally had a few hours to himself.  This was when he felt most productive.

2, he thought.  2, 4, 8, 16…

Dan’s weapon of choice had always been C++.  He knew bitwidths, 56-megabyte proprietary structs, obscure abbreviations that only meant anything to him, Andy, and the Department of Defense.  He knew 18 different ways to bind to a socket.  He knew 19 different ways to accidentally bind to the socket incorrectly, which is why he was careful who he hired.

He looked at his code.  100 lines.  18 minutes.  It compiled, implemented a client/server, verified that both sides were properly using the data.  Not bad.  He added error handling, comments, varied conditions.  He updated his code like a skilled writer polishing his prose, and like a skilled writer he knew how important every individual unit was.  He knew how significant the difference was between --i and i--.  He knew the implications of using [] on a vector instead of .at()

Having accomplished his main goal, he decided to spend a few minutes making fun of other people on Github issues.

He saw one branch of code where someone failed, failed again, then tried changing all the include statements from using “” to using <>.  Dan laughed.

He saw one branch of code where someone tried to log everything as fatal.  This was surprisingly common, especially for people too dumb to figure out how to set log level.  Dan laughed.

Then Dan saw a branch made by one of his best friends.

Ex-friends.  No one ever figured it out.  Things were mysterious, but for reasons he never understood this friend’s family chose not to mention their company (or Dan) once.  But how did it happen?  This was also mysterious.  Dan compiled a list of all the things he had learned after college, and it was long, but one item stood out:

When an obituary omits cause of death, that usually means it’s suicide.

What appalled Dan wasn’t the act itself, but the sheer indifference that their company displayed.  They just didn’t care.  His cubicle was replaced by an intern’s, then another intern’s.  That’s more or less how he felt the company regarded this death.  It was a name tag change, a commented out line in payroll.  It frustrated Dan to no end, the sheer meaningless and triviality of the ordeal.  

Silently, when he was sure no one was there to hear, Dan wept.

He cried to a timer.  When five minutes passed, he got back on track with coding.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - One Shot, Been Shopping

As we munched our Kung Po chicken (Chinese food was a Thursday tradition at the office, I was informed by Gavin, whose face was bright red and sweating from the intensely spicy concoction) I remembered I’d yet to inquire as to what I was expected to turn up in for Phaedra’s event at the Cube Gallery the following evening. Simon’s chopsticks fell from his fingers, mouth agape.

“Do you always wait until the very last moment for this sort of thing, Maude? I thought New York was just a fluke because you had no idea you were going to Daniel…is this a pattern? I am tres disappointed.”

Using my entire hand, fingers spread, I pointed at the worn Lord of the Rings T-shirt I’d thrown on that morning. “Dude, does it LOOK like I put a shitload of thought into what I wear most of the time?”

He peeked under the table. “You wore those shorts Tuesday, didn’t you?”

I nodded emphatically, brows raised. “NOW you’re getting it.”

Shrugging, he swallowed another bit of chicken. “No, I’m not. Because you weren’t a total slob in HAWAII.” I kicked him under the table. “OW. Bitch. I meant that whenever we went out you looked beautiful…”

Leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, I took a deep breath, then spoke, softly at first, my voice rising as I made my point. “That’s why I’m ASKING. So I can make a valiant attempt at looking DECENT. And since it’s so LAST MINUTE, can you just maybe please, oh, I don’t know, TELL ME WHAT THE DRESS CODE IS ALREADY?”

Luke was smirking, looking back and forth between us as if he was watching a rousing tennis match. “Suit and tie, Maude. With plenty of leeway for artistic expression. My mother’s friends are…interesting.”

“Thank you, Luke. I’m sure I brought something with me that’ll work.”

Simon pushed himself up off the cushioned bench seat and reached out his hand to me. “Come on.” I remained motionless, looking up at him as if he was an alien creature about to attack. His head tipped back, eyes rolling. “We are going up to your flat. I will peer into your closet. I will determine if any of it ‘works’.”

I shot Luke a ‘what the fuck’ look, his half smile and shrug clearly indicating that my life would be simpler if I just went with it. I stood, reluctantly, gazing longingly at the remains of my lunch.

“Fine. But I just thought of the perfect dress…”

He crossed his arms. “That brown galaxy print?” I nodded, my turn to gape. Simon shook his head. “Yeah, no.”

“Why not? And what the hell, Simon? This is starting to piss me off…”

Both of his hands found my shoulders and settled there. “You already WORE that one. Maude? You do realize that this is a widely publicized event? And that somehow, someone…” He whipped his head around to the other staff table. “SOMEONE mentioned online that one Mr. Hiddleston would be in attendance.”

My head tilted to the side. Simon sighed. “Maude. This is, like, your LONDON DEBUT as a COUPLE. There will be press. There will be paps. There will be fans.”

“OOOHHHHHH. So you’re going all PR on my ass is what’s happening here.” I grinned. “Well, I’m glad someone’s paying attention. Tom’s woefully inadequate Social Media Director didn’t even notice it circulating on them there interwebs.”

Luke chuckled. “She’s not woefully inadequate.”

I sighed. “I can’t chastise you because you’re my boss. But I’m certain you sense my displeasure.”

We all laughed, and Luke stood. “I’m sure that after our conversation yesterday afternoon your mind is focused on other things.”

“Do you mean the quadrupled workload I managed to dump into my own lap because I had an idea? No. I’m not obsessing over that at all. Wait. You said focused. I’m not focusing on that at all.”

Simon took my hand and pointed at Luke. “Sorry, boss man. I’m kidnapping her for the rest of the afternoon.”

My head shook vehemently. “No you are not. I have SO many phone calls to make and hopefully interviews to arrange and why I am I suddenly not capable of dressing myself?”

“Maude, honey, you’re in a strange city. Our customs are unfamiliar to you. Let’s skip the closet part and just GO SHOPPING.” His brows rose as he finished his sentence, face leaning in towards mine and I realized he probably had an ulterior motive.

“Fine, Simon. FINE. Shopping.” I turned to Luke. “Is this really okay with you?”

He laughed. “I have to live with the man. A-okay.”

As we walked up the stairs Simon whispered in my ear. “Sorry, love. I saw an opportunity and went for it. Glad you finally caught on there at the end.”

I snorted. “I have no idea what the fuck I caught on to, but you SHOULD be glad because I was ready to kick your ass for insulting my fashion sense. Do I like to bum around when I can? Absofuckingloutely. When the occasion demands do I clean up well? Also absofuckingloutely.”

He shushed me as we reached the door to the main level. I grabbed my bag from my office, pulling my phone out as we walked passed a confused Lyssa. Simon went all Monty Python and yelled ‘You been shopping? No, I been shopping!’ as we headed through the door.

As I rang Tom’s phone he rolled his eyes. “God, do you have to tell him EVERYTHING?”

I smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up.” Tom, of course, picked up just as the words came out of my mouth. “Shit. Hi. That was for Simon, not you. So. Hey. How are you?”

His throaty chuckle at my awkwardness made me blush. Stupid schoolgirl Maude strikes again. “Hi to you too. What’s up?”

“You know, I’m not really sure but it would appear that Simon is dragging me out shopping so I can find a dress for tomorrow night. At least that’s what he told Luke…”

Simon grabbed the phone away from my ear via my wrist, walking me away from the office door, stopping near the stairs closest to Tom’s and my flat and speaking as it remained in my hand. “Thomas. I believe have found the perfect dress for my maid of honor and I am taking her to try it on. DO NOT, under any circumstances, tell Luke. I want every little detail to be in place before he sees ANY of what I’m planning.”

I frowned. “So…I’m NOT getting a dress for tomorrow night?”

“Yes, yes, we’re going to find a dress for you. And some coffee because you are like…DUH.”

Wriggling away from him I pressed the phone back to my ear. “So there you have it. We are now participants in a wedding conspiracy. Apparently. I don’t suppose you want to come with us?”

I could picture his head shaking back and forth slowly as he spoke. “No, no…the two of you go have some fun. I’ll just stay…here…enjoying the peace…and the quiet…”

“How rude. So, shall I send you some pics…”

“Dressing room pics? God yes. Please.” A sharp inhale. “I don’t suppose you have five minutes to spare before you leave? Maybe Simon needs to put more gel in his hair or something?”

Simon shouted ‘I heard that you bloody bastard’ as I bit into my bottom lip. “I meant pictures of the prospective dresses for tomorrow. Just so you know.” The air in the lobby seemed stiflingly hot. “Fuck, is the air conditioning not working in here or something?”

Tom snorted. “Funny, I was wondering the same thing. One particular part of me is decidedly warmer than the rest, though…”

“Okay. On that note, we should get going. Because…”

He uttered a delicate groan. “Oh my, it got all HARD when I touched it…”

“Nuh-uh. Going now. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Simon made gagging noises and pretended to vomit on the carpet as I put my phone away, and I hoped beyond hope he’d ACTUALLY vomit all over his two-tone striped grey John Varvatos Mykanos Venetian loafers. Paired with white to-the-knee shorts and a grey polo that matched the darker stripe of the shoes perfectly, he looked as if he’d just stepped off his yacht and was in search of the nearest appropriately upscale men’s club. As I looked down at my own clothes, I came to terms with the fact that even if he’d used it as a ruse to sneak around behind Luke’s back, the man had a point about my attire. Just like Veronica had in New York. Shaking my head, I muttered something along the lines of needing to find some less fashion-forward friends who wouldn’t be so focused on my clothing choices and thus I’d be allowed to live a normal life wherein wearing the same shorts twice in week wasn’t a scandal.

“MAUDE, I heard that!”

“Good. Have you ever, you know, thought of dressing DOWN?”

He gasped. “And break rule number sixty four under section eight of the Exceedingly Handsome Homosexual Male’s Handbook? NEVER.”

My eyes narrowed as I suppressed a huge grin. “Well played, Mr. Ahlberg. Well played.”

He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently, his own baby-soft and warm with an underlying strength that somehow surprised me. “Come on, gimpy. You can make it to the parking garage, can’t you?”

“Yes, asshat. Let’s motor.”

We walked down the street hand in hand, our arms swing as he sang a little song about having me all to himself for an entire afternoon. I spotted Tom’s Jaguar, and totally lost my shit when Simon’s key fob disarmed a Fiat 500 L two cars down from it, its paint an eye-assaulting robin’s egg blue.

“Simon. My god. That’s…fuck…it’s so…YOU it’s not even funny.”

He opened the passenger door for me, one hand on his hip. “So why are you laughing?”

Which of course made me laugh even harder, and he finally had to come get me and practically stuff me in the vehicle, rolling his eyes the entire time.

We sat until I assured him I wasn’t going to pee my pants, then he put the Fiat in gear and exited the garage. Once on the road, he turned on the stereo and Alice in Chains began blaring…Grind, one of my favorites.

“Holy shit, Alice in Chains! Color me impressed, Simon.”

“Yes, my musical tastes expand beyond Rick Astley and Gloria Gaynor.”

I chuckled. “What’s the handbook say about THAT?”

“God. Why don’t you shut up and sing with me?”

It was shocking how well our voices harmonized, and as the song ended with both said in unison ‘oh my god, duet’ and discussed what might be appropriate for Emma’s HeForShe talent show until Simon drove past a huge building bearing the name ‘Vogue House’, then parked one street down.

I felt my body go cold and twisted around to face him. “Um, Simon? That Vogue bit…that’s not, like, VOGUE vogue, is it?”

A fiendish grin spread across his face. “If you mean Conde Nast publications Vogue magazine, then yes. Big giant fucking YES. But we’re actually going to see someone at Glamour, an old friend from college. Elaine Casemuir. We’re really just casual acquaintances at this point, but she used to come in to the Dorchester and I’d make sure she always had a great table, so this is payback. This dress…it’s just…perfect. I managed to score the Gherkin for the ceremony and reception…there may have been some blackmail involved, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Here, look.”

He handed me his phone, and my reaction as I scrolled the photos went from oh, nice to fuck me that is the coolest place EVER. According to their website, weddings and receptions were held on the top two floors of the most incredible steel and glass, phallic building I’d ever laid eyes on. I hazarded a guess that the Gherkin was a pickle reference, which was probably what most non-horny 24/7 people saw when they looked at. 360 degree panoramic views of the London cityscape, totally modern interior…glorious.

“Simon. Blackmail. WORTH IT. Not gonna ask, because…probably better not to know. And…”

“Oh please. You SO want to know. The guy who books events hangs around with us in clubs on occasion. He’s also sleeping with one of the waiters there who’s barely out of high school. His wife would NOT be amused if she knew about either of those things.”

“SIMON.”

“What?”

“You are so…so…WICKED. I’m impressed.” I patted his shoulder. “Luke is a very lucky man.”

He sniffled. “No, I’m the one who’s lucky. I want to make this so special, because it means so, so much to both of us…damn you, making me cry. Now my skin’s going to be all blotchy when we see Elaine and she’ll be all oh, Simon, your skin is horrid, darling and I’ll have to slap her. She’s a writer, by the way, and she also does a ton of photoshoot arranging. Which means access to designer lines. I saw the dress a week and a half ago and had her track it down that day, it’s a Valentino from the 2015 Spring/Summer collection…matches my color scheme of black and white and silver PERFECTLY…”

I raised a brow as I removed my hand from his shoulder. “Um, you ARE aware that I’m a double-D cup who barely fits in a size twelve, yes?”

Pinching my nose, he giggled before speaking. “I am indeed. It’s from the Ready-to-Wear line. And it’s a twelve. As for your boobs fitting…that’s why god made duct tape.”

“Oh, fuck that…I’m still recovering from body glue trauma…”

“AH AH AH, NO. Come on. Let’s go in.” He got out and came around to open my door, extending a hand to help me up and out.

I stood and closed the door behind me. “Yeah, yeah.  Wait…you only asked me to be your maid of honor last Friday…”

He stared at the ground, toeing one foot across the pavement, then glanced up at me sheepishly. “Correct. I would have been heartbroken if you’d said no.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed his cheek. “Aw. Simon.”

“Mainly because the dress was a fucking small fortune.”

“Whatever. Let’s go before I kill you.”

****************************************

Elaine’s office was at the rear of the building, within the main Glamour office itself. She squealed when she saw Simon, throwing herself at him, her stick-thin arms wrapping around him and pulling his head to her chest. Clad in a red micro-mini and white button down shirt, her straight black hair was impossibly shiny and just brushed her shoulders, the white patent leather heels she wore causing her to tower over Simon by at least three inches. Her gaze turned to me and though her face remained happy-happy I swore I could smell her disappointment as she took in my state of dress. When she spoke, I was stunned to hear an American accent.

“Hello there, Maude. Nice to meet you. I’m Elaine Casemuir” She thrust her hand out, and I shook it, hesitant to grab too tightly lest I break a bone on her.

“Nice to meet you as well, Elaine.”

Simon clapped excitedly. “Dress, Elaine. SHOW HER THE DRESS.”

She rolled her eyes and released my hand. “Simon, you have no chill. Follow me.”

We walked out of the office and down the rest of the hallway to a light blue metal door. She unlocked it, entered the room and indicated that we should join her inside. It was vast, racks upon racks of clothing and all sorts of accessories strewn about. She teetered on her heels three racks down, turned left, grunted several times, then shouted ‘victory’. When she rounded the corner and held up what she’d found, I immediately turned to Simon, grabbed his bicep and spoke using my terribly inappropriate for this particular setting outdoor voice.

“I. FUCKING. LOVE. IT.”

It was floor length, a filmy light grey, very transparent with appliquéd silver stars of varying size, a combination of some resembling starfish and others the traditional five point star formation covering both the lightly pleated, flowing skirt and form-fitting bodice. And my lord, that bodice…the sleeves were short and just the teensiest bit puffy with a little ruffle ring at the bottoms, and the neck was…a V. A V that extended to just an inch above the two-inch wide waistband, and unlike the skirt, there was no underlayment whatsoever and no way to wear a bra so it was totally HELLO NIPPLES.

He grinned widely. “I knew you’d love it. You have no shame.”

I pointed my index finger in his face. “Mmm hmm. Let’s remember this is for your WEDDING. What are YOU wearing? Assless chaps?”

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, Maude. My ass is spectacular and deserves accolades. But our mothers will be there, so…no.”

“Your mother will be there? I’m…shit, I’m shocked, actually.”

He sighed. “We can’t all be lucky enough to have them check out on us early, honey.” He paused, taking stock of what he’d just said, then frowning. “Damn. Too soon?”

My head shook as I bit back a roar of laughter, suddenly conscious of Elaine’s presence. She cleared her throat and pointed left, handing off the dress to Simon.

“Changing area is that way, and my assistant Diandra will help pin you up once you’re in it if it needs altering. If it does, just leave it and I’ll call when it’s ready. If not, take it with. I’ve got a conference call in ten, so I probably won’t see you. Lovely meeting you, Maude. Simon, you better invite me to this shindig or I’m going to feature you in the fashion don’ts column online.”

His hand flew to his chest in mock horror. Or at least I thought it was mock. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She smirked. “Try me.”

Eyes rolling, he draped the dress over his right arm and put his left hand on his hip, pouting. “Fine, you’ll get an invite. But bring someone interesting. You know, not your USUAL date type.”

“Simon, baby…it’s New Years Eve. I’m flying solo and finding someone at the reception to lock lips with at the stroke of midnight. Gay wedding, lots of straight friends, I’m bi…statistically, I can’t lose.”

She waved goodbye and tottered back toward her office, and Simon and I made our way down to the changing area. Though all the way at the rear of the left side of the room, it was wide open to the rest of the space. There were built in wooden benches littered with shoes and gloves and scarves, and the entire back wall was mirrored. We were greeted by a gorgeous woman with dark brown, luminous skin, huge hazel eyes and a smile that rivaled Tom’s mega-watt one. She was wearing a chevron print tank dress in varying shades of chartreuse, shoes that matched the darkest chevrons, and her hair was piled neatly on top of her head and wound with a silk light green scarf. She greeted us first, her Caribbean accent melodic, making even the simplest of words seem important and joyful.

“Hello you two…make yourselves at home, and if you need anything, I’ll be playing in the stacks. Such beautiful clothes…fashion paradise, right here and now!” She laughed, then began searching and sorting. I shimmied out of my shorts and yanked my T-shirt up over my head without fanfare, catching Simon side-eyeing me in the mirror.

“Problem, Simon?”

He snickered. “Oh no, no problem. Just admiring your speed and technique. You could use a little more finesse, though. I had to take points off for that.”

I reached around my back to unhook my bra. “Well, if you don’t want a good, long look at my tits you should probably turn around. Or close your eyes. Something.”

He turned around, then looked down as he passed me the dress when I was ready to attempt to wriggle into it. “You know, you could have left the bra ON. I was joking about the no shame bit.”

“No, I couldn’t have. I’m not going to be able to wear one with it later, so I need to know how it fits without. I see silver star shaped pasties in my future, though. Or maybe nude ones would be better…forgot about the parent factor.”

“Roland’s going to be in the wedding party, too. He’s Luke’s best man. I think he’d probably like the star pasties better, but I suppose I need to exercise some parental moral responsibility at some point, so nude is probably the right choice. Of course I thought of none of this when I saw the dress initially. I was captivated by the shiny.”

Laughing as I lifted the gathered fabric over my head, I had to pause to stop myself from turning around to talk to him. “You? Captivated by shiny? Nope, not possible.” I worked my hand through the armholes and dropped the dress into place. Or tried to. It got stuck on my boobs. “And did you say Roland is Luke’s best man? That is…the sweetest thing ever.”

Simon’s voice was thick with emotion when he replied, as it usually was whenever he mentioned anything Luke and love related. “It is. Totally Luke’s idea, too. I wanted him to be my best man, but Luke thought it would make him feel more…accepted, I guess, if it was the other way around. Worked, too. He was over the moon. They get along so well…it’s just…”

I swiveled my head around when I heard him sniffing. “Simon, don’t you dare cry because then I’ll cry and THE DRESS, dude, THE DRESS.” Carefully, every so carefully, I pulled and slid and tugged until the waist was where it belonged, reached behind me to zip it up, then tucked the girls into place before I looked in the mirror. Though a bit snug in the chest, it was essentially a perfect fit. I didn’t even think it would need hemming if I wore a two inch heel. A nice, chunky heel. Preferably boots with heels. I stared at my reflection, feeling like a princess from some sort of fractured fairytale for I don’t know how long, finally interrupted by the click of a phone camera. Looking up, I saw Simon behind me, taking shot after shot.

“SIMON.” I spun around to face him, any modesty, which had been purely for his benefit because I really DID have no shame, cast completely aside since he’d already seen my nipples, even if it was only technically a reflection of them. “The fuck are you doing?”

He grinned. “Just sending some pictures to your boyfriend. No biggie. You’ll thank me later.”

“You know Simon, I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS ALREADY …” My phone dinged, and I bent over to rummage through my shorts pockets to find it. Text from Tom. Of course.

WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T

Another arrived right after, before I had time to reply.

Okay. I counted backwards from ten and some of the blood that was elsewhere returned to my brain. You look so, SO beautiful. My lord. Just…a vision of loveliness. All that, plus intelligence, humor, everything…my Maude. I am a lucky, lucky man.  – T

Thomas, you’re making me blush. And Simon is SO going to bust my balls for it. :P –M

Fucking hell I just zoomed and…nipples…we’re now back to WOMAN, YOU NEED TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW. – T

They will be covered on the night of the wedding, I assure you. :P – M

Well that’s disappointing. :P So, when ARE you coming home? LOL –T

Still have to get dress for tomorrow. Probably two hours, maybe? I need to get this one off because for SOME reason I’m, like, all hot and starting to SWEAT. –M

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go recite the Serenity Prayer a thousand times now. – T

Actually, though, I thought I’d go to the market and get what we need for the weekend. Mum and Emma can’t make dinner tomorrow, so they’ll just meet us here and then we’ll all head to the gallery, then come back after to talk and such. Anything in particular you want or need while I’m out? – T

Ice cream. Chips and dip. Onion dip, preferably. And is there somewhere you can stop and pick me up an ankle support? I think it’s time to start leaving the boot off as much as I can tolerate…putting weight on the ankle helps it heal faster. Or so they say. Thanks. – M

Will do. Love you. – T

Love you too. I’ll try to stop Simon from sending more pics so you don’t get a stiffy in public. :P –M

Don’t need pics for that, love. All I have to do is think of you and…whoomp, there it is. :P –T

Now that fucking song is going to be stuck in my head. Thanks for that. –M

J You’re welcome. See you soon. –T

Simon was tapping his foot, patience wearing thin. “Christ. Remind me not to do THAT again. So. Get that off. We need to get to Anna and Browns before they close.”

I stripped and put my clothes back on while Simon requested a garment bag from Diandra, and she insisted on zipping it up herself once the dress was in place to ensure nothing snagged. When we reached the car, he carefully laid the bag across the backseat before coming around to open my door. I commented on his backwards priorities, and he told me to shut my pretty mouth and with that, it was off to Anna, which Simon said was in the opposite direction but closed earlier so that was where we need to go first.

Located nearly right across from Regent’s Park, Anna was a two story boutique featuring unique designer clothing…their words, not mine. Simon refused help from a stylist, opting instead to let me browse around like a cow grazing in an open field. Most of the stock was entirely not my taste, but I did manage to find a funky grey tie-dyed pattern long-sleeve T-shirt style dress, and Simon brought me a white sweater dress with black horizontal stripes. There was no way I was ever wearing it in public, but I agreed to try it on. Both wound up being meh at best, so we wrote them off, cut our losses and drove to Browns.

The Browns Flagship store was vast, taking up five repurposed interconnecting townhouses, offering all styles and types of designer fashions as well as accessories. Simon had to drag me away from the first shoe display we came across and into the racks…and there were so many racks. SO. MANY. After narrowing it down to three dresses, we traversed to the fitting room, where Simon waited outside for me after the counter girl cleared her throat when he attempted to follow me inside.

First I tried on a Givenchey short sleeve wrap-style dress, black satin, and as soon as I saw how the bunched material made my boobs look lopsided as all get out, off it came. Next was a Christopher Kane sleeveless bandage dress, totally funky, the dress medium grey, horizontal piping of the same color, with a black and white zipper running up the entire length of its front. The hem reached to four or five inches above my knee, and it was…tight. But in a good way, though I questioned if it made my ass look huge. Simon’s reaction shot down that theory when I walked out of the fitting room.

“That’s the one. That’s it. Turn. Your tushie looks fantastic. Woo! Now you just need shoes…”

“Hold on, cowboy. There’s one more to try on and it’s my favorite.”

He sighed. “But this one is perfect.”

I flipped him off and went back into my cubicle, hung the bandage dress back on its hanger, then tried on the Balenciaga black leather and silk dress that had screamed BUY ME from the second I saw it. The structured bodice was spaghetti-strap halter style, leather, with a sweetheart neckline and a silver zipper that ran from the top to the waist of the dress. The skirt was silk, airy, and lightly pleated, creating a gentle wave effect at the hemline. It was a bitch to get into, and I yet again had to remove my bra, but once I zipped it and adjusted the décolletage was unbelievably impressive. The skirt brushed the very top of my shins, just below my knee, and it felt like…ME. Though after San Diego I thought I’d never consider wearing them again, I knew it would look amazing with my Diva Darcies. I marched out to meet Simon, though it was really only half marching/half something awkward and strange because of the boot, and he gasped.

“Holy fuckamoley, you look like…like…I don’t know. Goth biker chick? Bad ass motherfucker? Dominatrix? All of that? I still think the bandage dress is better for tomorrow, but you NEED to buy this one too. It screams ‘dance all night long with Simon at Studio 338’. When you CAN dance again, we are SO going.” He frowned. “When’s that heinous ankle contraption coming off, anyway? It’s not adding anything to either dress, if you know what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am AWARE. And I have it covered, I think. It’s much better than it was, surprisingly so since it’s only been a week. Way I figure, if I can find a nice sturdy pair of boots to wear and combine it with the ankle support Tom’s picking up for me, maybe, just MAYBE I can get away without it tomorrow night. But…buy both? This one’s seventeen hundred bucks, the other is eleven hundred. How do I justify spending that on…two dresses? That’s insane.”

He tilted his head and pointed at me. “Um, honey, your man is famous. Wait until it’s red carpet time.”

Raising a brow, I shifted my hips back and forth, regaling in the feel of the silk against my legs. “Simon. Bullshit. Have you forgotten what I’ve done for a living? I’m not a total newb. Those are usually LOANERS.”

“Fine. I was just trying to make you feel justified. SO unappreciative, Maude.”

I snorted, then returned to the fitting room to change back into my street clothes. Simon was my dress donkey for this mission, snarking on the occasional pair of shoes as I perused the available selection.

“Yuck. Open toe, yet not open toe.” He held up a pair of peek-a-boo sandals. “MAKE A CHOICE, PEOPLE.”

All the boots were ordinary, leather, fold over cuffs, zippers…nothing caught my eye. Around the corner was another display, and I finally saw a pair that got me all ‘grabby hands shut up and take my money’. They were black, moderately shiny, semi-slouchy with eleven black metal round rivet-like buttons up the outer sides, zippers on the inside for easy on and off. The brand was Miz Mooz, the style Bloom. The clerk located my size within the space of five minutes, and when I tried the left one on I was pleased to see that they came all the way up to my knees. Simon nodded his approval, I took of the ped I’d been given, put my sandal back on and three thousand dollars later we were out the door and headed home. Simon insisted on stopping for coffee at Kaffeine, and though it was against my better judgement I ordered an espresso to put an end to his incessant whining about how I was so much less fun that he’d thought. When he chided me for putting sugar in it, I responded by adding more. It hit me just as we pulled into his spot in the parking garage, and by the time we got to our floor he was quite contented to pass off all the bags to Tom and run for his own flat as he yelled ‘good luck with her, honey’.

Tom placed the dresses on the back of the couch and the boot box on the floor as I followed him like a puppy, trying to skip but failing miserably. He turned to me, arms crossed.

“What did he mean by that?”

I speed shrugged. “Well, could be he’s fed up with shopping because I don’t really like what he likes, though the maid of honor dress, that’s, wow, but, like he picked out this stripey thing and I felt like Sailor Moon when I put it on but wait, she wears a pinafore or something so maybe it’s Twiggy, the model, yeah, it was really late sixties and though wow I’m SO not Twiggy at all but you know what I mean OR it could have something to do with…the espresso. Probably the espresso. Espresso.”

He smirked as he uncrossed his arms and closed the distance between us. “What on earth possessed him to let you drink espresso?”

Speed shrugging again, I reached out and began fiddling with the waistband of his jeans, untucking his white T-shirt from them. “I don’t KNOW. I told him already like three times that coffee and I are like NO, NOT COMPATIBLE, yet he was all ESPRESSO, you have to have some because if you don’t, so BORING and then he made fun of me for putting sugar in it but fucking A it was bitter and WHY do people drink it like that it’s NASTY…” I’d unbuttoned his jeans and had begun to unzip them when his hands covered mine. I looked up at him. “Wow, how did THAT happen? Seriously, I have no idea it’s just you’re there and that white T-shirt and do you want to fuck me because I really need you to fuck me, like, right now because all day long I’ve been thinking about you touching yourself and…”

His lips met mine, and I responded aggressively, biting down on his lip, then searching for his tongue and sucking on it vigorously, pulling away to stare at him. “Thomas. I love your mouth. The way you taste. Your lips, your tongue, what they do to me…” I dove back in, and his own response was first a gasp, then a moan, followed by his lip sucking trick that made me come instantly every single time, this one no exception.

“Wow, oh my god, Tom, I so wasn’t ready for that yet but I guess I WAS ready, ha, right? Will you do it again? Do it again.”

Three of my orgasms later, he was shaking with his own pent up desire, looking over his shoulder at the couch, then over mine into the kitchen. He turned me around, propelling me past the dining table with his hands on my shoulders while growling in my ear.

“I’m going to fuck you on the counter. Is that all right? Fucking you on the counter?”

I tilted my head to the left. “Fucking me on the counter. Yes. Yes please. I would like you to fuck me on the counter. SO totally all right. Totally.”

As soon as we rounded the corner he yanked my shorts and underwear down, and I kicked them to the side as he lifted me up and plopped me on the cold stone, my back to the living room, one hand on my jaw to keep me focused on his face, my eyes locked on his.

“Now. I have to run upstairs for just one very brief moment. You’ll stay right here and wait for me, won’t you?”

Nodding six times, I began swinging my legs back and forth as he bolted from the kitchen. “I’m still right here, Tom. But my poor, poor pussy…she’s very lonely, soaking wet, all excited but there’s no one to play with her…”

There was a loud crash from upstairs, followed by a litany of fucks and shits, then his rapid footfalls as he raced down the stairs, appearing in front of me with the ankle brace I’d requested and a chair from the dining room. He sat in the chair and began unbuckling the walking boot, slipping it off carefully as he met my gaze.

“Sorry, love. Your pussy is a meal that demands to be savored, and I can’t very well have that boot digging into my shoulders while I enjoy my feast, can I?”

“Well I was under the impression that you’d be fucking me, like really, really HARD and right NOW but…” I reached down and grabbed his head with both hands, pushing it towards my crotch. He pulled away, smirking.

“Ah ah ah, we’ve got to put the brace on first.” He pulled it over my foot, and as my ankle rolled sideways I felt a stab of fire within the joint that made me suck in a quick breath. “Sorry, love. Almost there.”

Both my hands gripped the edge of the countertop. “It’s fine. Totally fine. Do it. Just do it. Worth the pain. Worth it. Make it worth it.”

He tugged it into place, pulled the chair in closer, situated himself precisely, then placed my feet on his shoulders. His head was as the perfect height, face still visible to me yet strategically placed for…going down. As his hands pulled my ass closer to the edge and spread me open, his long, pink tongue unfurling, I realized that from my own angle, I’d be able to see…everything. He began at my taint, running his tongue up the middle, it dipping into my entrance just enough to make me push down on his shoulders with my feet and thrust my hips forward, then abandoning that particular ship in order to circle my clit, which he took between his teeth, then sucked into his mouth, staring at me the entire time.

“Tom. Tom. TOM. Mygodmygodmygod. Suck harder. Come on. Harder.” He ignored me at first, but I kept repeating it louder and louder until he complied, and I could tell by his eyes that he was extremely entertained by my insistence. I was not entertained when he stopped abruptly, though before I could protest I watched him stiffen his tongue and ease it inside me and suddenly, I forgot about everything else as my brain tried to process the visual of it moving in and out of me in conjunction with the way it made me FEEL. The moment his thumb touched my clit I began humping his face, him rubbing and thrusting furiously at the same time, and as the index finger of his other hand slid inside my ass I came, loudly chanting for him to fuck my ass harder and get that tongue DEEPER. It seemed I closed my eyes only for a second when I felt my legs moving upward, feet dangling over something until the backs of my knees hit solidity, hands on my shoulder blades and arms against my ribcage.

I opened them to find his eyes inches from mine, wild, pupils blown wide, my juices coating his countenance and dripping down his chin, his lips glossy with it. He grinned, the salaciousness of it making me shiver, and settled the head of his cock at my entrance.

“Now, Maude. NOW I’m going to fuck you. Really, really hard.”

His hips thrust forward as he sheathed himself fully, then began bucking frenziedly. I hung like a rag doll in his grasp, still limp from orgasm, allowing his pounding to move me until he froze, asking me to hold myself up for a moment as he first removed his shirt, then my own, as well as my bra. My legs still over his shoulders, he leaned forward, bending me almost completely in half in order to press his chest to mine, arms behind me and holding me up once again. His thrusting resumed and grew ever desperate, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel myself nearing the top of another peak, the tension in my belly becoming too powerful to ignore, and I clamped down on him.

His eyes closed for a second, then opened as he fought to keep himself from coming. “Is your pussy still lonely, Maude?”

I shook my head, my hands reaching up to touch his face, his cheekbones under my fingertips, then his jaw, and his still moist lips. “No. Nope. Not. Happy. Full. She’s very, very full…but there’s still a little bit of room in there if you have, you know, a little something ELSE for her.” I released, then squeezed again, and again. His balls slapped against me noisily as he resumed his onslaught, grunting and groaning and gasping.

“Oh, I have some…some…something…for…ohgodohgod…fuck me, I’m coming, I’m COMING and COMING…”

I came as well as his warmth coated my shuddering walls, and he was so lost in pleasure that he let go of me, and I found myself looking at an upside-down dining table as my head and neck sprawled backward over the countertop. I could hear his usual post-orgasm noises, tiny gasps and chirps and moans, and as the blood rushed to my head I thought perhaps I should mention my precarious position but he took notice before I was able to form the words.

“Oh, fuck, Maude, my god, I’m SO sorry are you all right?” He put one arm around my upper shoulders, bracing me as he pulled out and eased my legs off his shoulders, then peered behind me to see if I’d hurt myself on the edge of the counter. “Christ, what a tit I am…are you okay?” He felt around with his fingers, and when I didn’t flinch he pulled me up so I was sitting, dribbling cum all over the orange surface beneath me.

“I. Am. Fine. Fine. And I think…I think the espresso might be wearing off. I’m actually a little…tired.” I snickered. “Could just be the blood draining back into my body, though.”

His head hung down, shaking back and forth, then lifted to pepper my face with kisses. “I’m so, so sorry about that. I just…I came so hard I couldn’t…I couldn’t see, really.” It was his turn to snicker. “Thanks for that. Maude Gallagher, supplier of orgasms so powerful that she jeopardizes her own personal safety in the process.”

I kissed him, tasting myself on his lips. “I blame the espresso. And Simon.” He laughed, and I paused, reviewing my vocalizations. “I was loud, wasn’t I?” He nodded. “I hope they heard me. That’ll teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

Tom chuckled. “Love, I’m afraid the neighbors two houses down may have heard you. And anyone walking by on the street. And people in their cars with the windows up…”

“Yeah. Well. They should probably, you know, get used to it.”

He initiated the kiss this time, his tongue thrusting in to massage mine. “They’d better. Because I love making you scream. Maybe more than Shakespeare, even.”

“Thomas. Be serious.”

He grinned. “I AM being serious. And I’ve decided that I do, in fact, love it more than Shakespeare. Without a doubt.”

I sat, motionless and wordless, for a few moments. “How am I supposed to respond to that kind of compliment?”

He licked me, tongue starting at my clavicle, moving up my neck, across my jaw and up to my temple. “Let me make you scream again?”

My head tilted as I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder. “You know what? That totally works for me.”

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

in relation to my last reblog about quest for camelot:

I suddenly remembered my first semester of college, taking my freshman seminar. I ended up taking Arthurian Legends, which was all about the stories of King Arthur and how they’d been adapted and changed over centuries and what the symbolism in it means and all that. Studied everything from History of the Kings of Britain to Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Now, I was one of about 3 people who actually enjoyed being in this class (the other two consequently becoming some of my best friends). Everyone else was basically there because their first choices had gotten filled up, and this was about 12th on their list. So you know, normal kind of class dynamic for a nerd. You got the non-bookish girls who have no idea what’s going on, one or two dudes who are willing to put in the work, but they’re clearly more science than they are humanities, and your typical jock dude-bros.

Now, our favorite jock dude bros we code-named Lancelot and Gawain. (I think he was Gawain anyway. Most of the time we called him Hercules, or Jesus-feet. That is another story entirely.) Yes, I had a crush on Lancelot and that’s why we called him Lancelot. Yes, he was the typical asshole with the face of a Hollister model. 

But the story isn’t about Lancelot. The story is about Hercules.

Now, had he not been such a weird dude bro, Hercules probably would have been a pretty cool dude. He wore a Captain America shirt the first day of orientation, which I was psyched about, but we ended up never really talking. And when I say weird jock, I mean weird jock. You know the one that makes like next level abstract jokes that are somehow funny but operate on like, their own level of logic. Like, Eddy on Ed, Edd and Eddy. 

And this is gonna be a pretty shitty story, because for the love of God I cannot remember why this happened. But if I had to guess, we were talking about adaptations in class. Merlin, Sword in the Stone, Camelot, all that jazz. And someone brings up Quest for Camelot, which happened to be one of my 3 favorite movies as a kid. I had Kaylee pajamas, and a set of Camelot playing cards I used to play slap jack with my Nanna.

Now, far be it from me to be above singing in class. So I open my mouth, ready to sing a couple bars of whatever song I was about to remember, when from behind me I hear - “Look at the sky! Tell me what do you see? Just close your eyes and describe it to me.”

And it’s fucking Hercules singing from my favorite song of my favorite movie before I could get out a single word. And the class just moves right along like nothing happened. Meanwhile I’m sitting in my chair like “UM NO EXCUSE ME LET’S GO BACK TO THAT??? Do you wanna sing a few more bars??? I’ll come in as Kaylee??? Duet??????? Please???????”

Anyway, that day changed me as a person. Don’t underestimate your dude-bro classmates, stereotypes and all that jazz. And watch Quest for Camelot.

[jflashandclash]

Blood of a Mayan

 Twenty-Seven: Ajax

Learning Nothing in Life is Free… Except Free Vouchers

 There is no good way to apologize for death threats. Sure, you could send someone flowers and a note that said I’m sorry I threatened to kill you. Dinners on me, but that didn’t feel sincere. Pax could tell that’s exactly what Axel was thinking each time he glanced at Kally. Well, except without the dinner on me part, since that would be too much like a date and would be weird for all parties.

Once Axel gained full control of himself, he looked like he needed a two year vacation to Disneyworld. His eyes looked solemn and exhausted. His face was pale and sweaty. When he stood up, his legs wobbled.

Despite his danger status being at level newborn, Kally gave him a wide berth when she went to heal Leo Valdez. Pax figured it might be awhile before the two could partake in group hugs.

“What was your sister talking about?” Kally asked while kneeling beside the son of Hephaestus. She wouldn’t make eye contact with either of them, but took one of Leo’s hands into her lap. As she sang to heal his wrists, her voice quivered.

“I don’t know, but it sounded pretty end-of-the-worldy,” Pax said. He tried to think of something else to say to her that might explain away some of their actions or maybe something cheery like, “Good thing you have nightmares about Python every night so you don’t need to worry about Axel and I showing up.” That didn’t really feel appropriate.

Red Alert: The Silver Tongued Snake has run out of words.

Axel’s eyes drifted until they fixated on Pax. Had this not been Axel, a being that was—as far as Pax was concerned—a gift from the gods of Awesome and Wow, Pax would have said Axel looked scared and confused.

“We need to get all of you back to Camp Half-Blood,” he Axel. He staggered over to the work bench with the brightly colored beach towel. He grabbed it and walked to Backbiter. The blade still lay on the ground, glistening sinisterly in the moonlight and torchlight.

Both Kally and Pax flinched when Axel wrapped up the blade.

“You’re not seriously going to keep that sword are you? I mean, you go all ‘Here’s Johnny!’ when you touch the metal,” Pax said.

Axel frowned.

That was the worst Pax had ever seen Axel struggle with the Leonis Caput. Considering Axel had even been wearing a silver onesie and still looked terrifying, that meant this was pretty serious. That was the real monstrosity there: adult onesies.

“Help me get everyone back into the van,” Axel said.

 By “help me get everyone back into the van,” Axel had really meant, “Watch me pass out in the back and do all the work for me.” After Axel collapsed halfway into the van and Pax dragged him the rest of the way inside. Pax took Hunnie out of his pocket and gently placed her on Axel’s face. Within moments, Baller hopped into the back and rushed to investigate the beach towel at Axel’s side. Experimentally, Baller bit at the material.

Pax hoped that the sword wouldn’t call some inner demon out of Baller. He really didn’t want to fight a ten foot long weasel wielding a sword and demanding beef jerky.

The next half hour was a little awkward. While Kally fixed up Leo, Pax raided the shack for leftover stew and to-go boxes. Pax even paid for the stew and wished he could write up a little citation notice for Leo about violating California Code SB-1221 from Officer Doofus. Leo wouldn’t remember who that was, but that might make it even better. Unfortunately, he figured Kally wouldn’t be in the mood to transcribe for him.

Pax swiped a few of those vouchers his mom had mentioned off the counter and walked outside to meet Kally.

She’d finished fixing up Leo and managed to drag him onto the work table beside Calypso. While Pax was inside pillaging, she must have gathered her messenger bag. Pax frowned when she saw her hand defensively on her Argonaut statue.

“I stole each of us free vouchers for Reese’s Sundays,” Pax informed her, holding up the slips of paper. “Located at Moma’s Sweets only a ten minute drive without donkey power.”

“Free vouchers are meant to be taken,” Kally said.

“Oh, well, I legally acquired them,” he said with a devilish grin. That somehow sounded more sinister and Pax would have normally been proud of it.

She didn’t crack a smile. Those green eyes were soul crushing. She tried to stand up tall and look authoritative, though Pax could see she was still shaken. “When we get back to Camp Half-Blood, you’re telling Chiron everything.”

That sounded about as smart as skydiving with a trash bag. Pax opened his mouth to protest.

Kally continued, gulping, “If you don’t, I—I will.”

That was like skydiving with one of those complimentary, airplane throw-up bags, prefilled for grossness. “Uh, eternal torment. Orkus—” Pax reminded her. His heart thumped in his ears. The little stunt with the River Styx might be back firing.

“I don’t care. What happened to Axel back there wasn’t good for him and he’s not fit to… do whatever with your dad. Obviously you really want to stop your dad, but—but maybe we should leave it to the real heroes. Maybe, if we tell Chiron, Jason Grace or Percy Jackson can do it.”

The real heroes.

Ow, my tiny bit of pride. Getting hit in the pride and the righteousness all in one day? Pax was waiting for someone to finish him off, to tell him he wasn’t cuter than a baby panda, and send him to tears. Though by nature of how pathetic and adorable he would look while crying, he might be able to disprove their claim.

A part of him screamed that Jason and Percy weren’t any better than he or Axel. He, Axel, and Alabaster had been training to and probably could have taken them out, but that tidbit of information might not help defend his case.

The rest of him realized she was right. Relief flooded over him when he thought about someone else—some real heroes—arresting their dad. Axel had always said it was a family matter, but Pax didn’t care. If Piper, or Jason, or Annabeth were on the line against the Pax family, it would mean Axel was safe, hiding with him. They wouldn’t need the stupid Golden Net or Backbiter.

“We could hold a game show to find out which hero gets the quest and a complimentary shirt—” As he spoke, he could see the rims around her eyes getting red. Yea, he couldn’t handle it if she started crying, because he would definitely start to cry too and then Ares would show up and beat them both up for being wimps and take their lunch money, or at least rob Leo’s shop since that’s where all of Pax’s lunch money had gone.

“Sorry,” he cut himself off. No jokes. No jokes, he chanted in his head to keep focused. He puffed up his cheeks and popped them. He wanted to make everything right. This might have been the best way. “I’ll tell Chiron everything. I… I swear on the—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand and took a step closer to him, eyes wide. “I—I don’t want anyone to have a River Styx curse. And I want to know that you’re going to do it because you’re going to do it, not because you’re afraid of eternal pain or whatever.”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. He realized he’d messed up a good thing with Kally, but he didn’t realize how good a thing it could have been until that response. She really was a fantastic person. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Axel didn’t deserve good people. “Can I quote you on a motivational poster?” he asked.

Something about the way he looked at her must have cued Kally in to the type of adoration he was feeling. She blushed, then scowled. “Shut up, I’m still mad at you.”

“Cyclopes got fangs,” he teased. Upon seeing the way she gripped her Argonaut statue, he held his hands up. “Sorry—I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad.” Don’t joke. Don’t make a joke. Keep it together man!

She sighed and motioned towards the van. “This is why I didn’t agree to date you.”

Pax glanced around at the general, torched vicinity. “Uh, because you knew I’d assist in an amazing party then bring about the reforging of a talking sword that belonged to the Grinch Who Stole Olympus? Er, tried to?” He walked alongside her, towards their friends. Pax almost reflexively grabbed her hands, but realized that would probably incite a good lesson in karma, taught with fists.

“Because I can’t trust you,” she said. Kally didn’t make eye contact, but Pax could tell it wasn’t just because she was upset. Her gaze was distant. “The forge ambushed in the lion’s maw. Not to flame or plea will force withdraw,” she quoted.

Pax winced. Couldn’t Rachel have told Kally, “That Axel dude is going to attack Leo. Attacking back or begging him to stop won’t do anything, so prepare a good pep talk.”

Kally frowned and continued. “I think Joey’s quest is one of the dominos Rachel was talking about. Things are about to get serious.”

 When they got out to the van, Euna was awake and raiding the to-go boxes. As she munched and they approached, she gave them an absent wave. She didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned that everyone was fast asleep around her.

If Pax wasn’t absolutely sure she would kick the snot out of him for it later, he’d prop a box up with a stick, put a cheeseburger under there, and see if Euna would get boxed. But, knowing Flower Girl’s power, she’d probably bring the box and stick to life and they would go Groot on him. Recycling at its most violent.

Several of the satyrs and nymphs were yawning and sitting up. Calex was up and stretching as well.

Pax wondered if everyone had happy dreams of rainbows, sunshine, and rodents. Morpheus Dust was supposed to grant happy dreams from what he remembered. From the way Calex looked relaxed and not sad over his mom and brother, he guessed Calex had a nice dream about cleaning Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang’s house for them, then fetching coffee for Percy and Annabeth afterwards.

“Hey Calex, Euna, can you help us get everyone in the van?” Kally asked. “We need to get to Chiron as fast as possible.”

Kally might as well have sprinted up to Calex, socked him in the stomach, and shouted, “I grew a backbone Scrum Lord! And your football team sucks!”

He gave her a perplexed glance, looked back and forth between Pax and Kally, then glared at Pax. “What happened?” he slowly asked. “This perv upset you?”

Kally frowned.

Pax figured now was a fantastic time to tell the truth. “My pop is ascending tomorrow morning. No time to get a signature from Leo. I already wrote him a note.” Just not the whole truth. That would come later. He really hoped no one remembered he was illiterate, since his note was a metaphorical one in the form of coins.

“Ascending?” Euna repeated. She set her to-go box down. Pax could envision her movie trailer now: When Euna sets food aside: Stuff. Gets. SERIOUS.

Kally nodded. She joined Calex in his glare at Pax. “When we get to Chiron, Pax will explain everything—” He gave her his best charming grin of I’m a sleazebag and I’ve accepted that as a friendly term. “—but the sooner we get there, the better. Do you think we have enough time to drive back and get Percy or Annabeth out here? Or, uh, should we Iris Message?” Kally seemed to realize she was being a proper domineering heroine and tapered off to return to sidekick status.

At hearing the plan, Pax wanted to hug Kally. If it was mandated by Camp Half-Blood, they could trap Axel at Camp Half-Blood to prevent him from interfering and force him to play games, like volleyball and sneak-past-Argus. No one had beaten that game yet, but he was going to prove to the Stoll brothers that it could be done.

“We’re not going?” Euna asked. She sounded incredibly relieved.

Calex looked surprised. “Won’t your bother be—where’s Axel?”

Again, Calex always sounded so suspicious of Pax. Although the reaction proved some intelligence on Calex’s part, Pax had to feign an indignant huff—an excellent mimic of Joey’s—to pretend Calex was still ridiculous.

“Unconscious,” Pax assured. Knowing that should be enough explanation, he cheerfully stepped towards the van.

He could still hear the others as Kally and Calex walked over to Merry’s sleeping bag. “Just let me know if this dodgy prick bothers you and he’ll be in love with a Reese’s Stick right quick.” The Son of Eros tapped the pencil pouch sticking out of his jean’s pocket.

“I’d never be able to eat it!” Pax cried, terrified of the thought.

From the grin Calex gave him, that was the full intention.

“You monster,” Pax grumbled.

Kally blushed and broke eye contact with Calex. “Thank you Calex, but I’ve been able to take care of myself.”

Judging from the dull pain in his stomach from where Kally’s elbow had a romantic rendezvous with his gut, he had to agree. From both times Pax had upset her to violence… had it really been two times? Should Pax have an intervention with Kally about her friendship choices? He never would, as he’d have to recommend Kally to stay away from him, but the sentiment was there.

He expected her to be glaring at him warily, but she was staring at the van. He winced. Ajax Pax wasn’t the Pax she was afraid of.

“That offer never expires,” Calex assured her. He knelt down beside Merry, who was curled up on her side. “Will she go mental if I wake her?” He glanced to where Euna had woken up Joey. Joey didn’t seem nearly as pow! and bam! as her sister. Pax imagined that Joey only got like that when she realized they didn’t have any showers or mirrors.

Kally shook her head and covered up a laugh with her hand. It was good to see her smile, especially at the potential misery of Calex. “No, she just complains a lot in the morning.”

“Mmm, sweetie Kal, you don’t know this pain,” Merry whined from her sleeping bag. She stretched, rolled over, and stretched on the other side, reminding Pax of a slow motion weasel. “Give me five minutes of stretching and seven Tylenol. Then I’ll be ready to face the pain in my back. And that massage that Calex owes me for dragging him away from that model mania.” She peered up at him slyly from her lazy sprawl.

“How about I carry you to the van?” Calex offered instead.

“Oh honey, you won’t—” Merry yelped when Calex picked her up, bridal style. As though she feared he’d get a bad case of bodacious butterfingers, Merry clung to him. When he didn’t drop her, but continued towards the van with little more than a quick neck crack, she said, “You can carry me? But I weigh like, three Paxes!”

“Hey!” Pax resented that. “I am a tiny ball of muscle!”

Merry ignored him. Her voice carried over Calex’s shoulder as they went to join the Song sisters in the van. “Calex, we should be asexual life partners. You’re a useful sweet teddy.”

From inside, Pax could hear Joey say, “Asexual? Wouldn’t your dad have to disown you for that?”

As their Scooby Team assembled, Pax bowed slightly to Kally. “Cyclopes,” he said.

She looked at the ground and walked to the passenger door.

Pax puffed up his cheeks, popped them, and walked to the driver’s side. For Christmas, he’d have to buy Kally a coupon book full of Free Punch Pax Day and Fill in the Blank for What Stupid Thing You Want Pax to Say to ___ Hero that Can Kick His Sorry Butt.

  Pax decided—if they got pulled over for speeding, he was going to hand Calex over as a sacrifice to the American judicial system.

Axel was still passed out in the back with the Phobetor sleeping bag carefully tucked over his head. His Mist mask always fell away when he slept, so he and Pax had a careful system of assuring he was properly cocooned.[1] Calex freaked out as soon as he went near Axel. Pax wanted to assure that yes—Axel would emerge a beautiful butterfly, but he suspected that wasn’t Calex’s problem.

“What’s in the towel?” Calex demanded. “That’s it, isn’t it? One of the things screaming malice back here?”

The towel containing Backbiter was tucked tightly beside the fluffy sleeping bundle of Axel, completely unseen to the average eye.

“Calex, you suck,” Pax grumbled as he sat in the driver’s seat. He was frustrated to find the seatbelt still broken from the dart-jamming incident earlier. “First you understand Axel and I when we’re trying to have a familial conversation, then you can tell Kally and I had a spat, and now you get feelings off our evil sword. You don’t have X-ray vision too, do you? Because I’ll be quite disappointed if you ruin the surprise of which boxers I wear on special occasions.”

They had a brief argument over what to do with the sword, not once mentioning the importance of his boxers. At first, Pax was disgusted to agree with Calex about leaving it behind, but Kally pointed out that Chiron would know how to get rid of the blade properly. Joey and Euna were confused, though Euna busied herself assuring everyone was settled on the couches so they could drive. Merry remained quiet, listening, and didn’t interject until they decided to bring the sword to Camp Half-Blood.

“So, Pax,” she said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I assume you’re going to explain why all of us adults needed a nap time at one of my parties when we talk to Chiron? No one ever yawns at one of my parties.” Her brown eyes flashed.

Maybe they should plan to have a dunking booth. Everyone would get a turn for each thing he’d screwed up so… he’d probably be better off with having Percy drown him. “Yep!” Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “Come one! Come all! The Pax secrets divulged! Except my night cream routine. Joey might steal that.”

He glanced in the mirror at her. Joey rolled her eyes at him, butshe  was too deep into a to-go box for a real response.

Pax entered the coordinates off his ice cream voucher into the GPS, but didn’t engage Luke’s system. He didn’t want the donkey to tug him. Pax wanted to tear down the highway on his own to get his mind off the conversation he’d have when Axel woke up. “Axel, this is an intervention. We took your sword away and gave you an ice pop.”

Only slightly better than the convo with Chiron. Pax wanted to make sure Kally didn’t have any secrets that needed keeping. But… would Chiron accept the argument that they weren’t going to do any more evil seeming things and that it must be the start of their redemption arc?

Pax corralled the conversation towards Joey’s cheerful Winter Break plans: Greek Hell. That’s not what it actually was, but Pax liked to make it sound as horrible as possible to get everyone’s mind on a safer topic.

Ideas were pumping through the back about Joey’s quest from Hera, like how to get to Hades and how to get help from Persephone. Pax tried to contribute. He suggested they tell the Ares Cabin that the Athena Cabin said they could dig a bigger hole using their brains than their brawn, and vice versa for the other cabin, and then sit back and wait.

Kally stayed quiet. She would stare out the window at the shadows of trees and the distant, polluted glow of the town of Berkeley Hills. Then she’d jump and glance back to where Axel and the sword laid dormant. Axel never moved; he only ever slept like this when he had two nighters or when Pax darted him. Pax wanted to tease, “naww, look at him and his widdle sword.” He wanted to say a lot of things, to ramble until Kally forgot what happened and felt better, but he was getting this strange inkling that maayyyybe that wasn’t the best way to solve this.

They were leaving the park’s forest when the sign for Moma’s Sweets caught his headlights. Pax couldn’t actually read the writing, but he recognized the double scoop logo from the vouchers. Pax pulled off the side of the road into the far side of the parking lot, away from the other occupants and closer to the trees—in case Leo Valdez magically got his memory back, woke up, and was searching their van out on the road.

There was a small, single room shop just off what Kally had called out as Grizzly Peak Boulevard, which—Pax was surprised—still had its lights on. The shop was painted red, with yellow shutters, very hipster friendly. Pax knew they were near a college town and wondered if he was about to run into exactly the kind of child-adults that Michael Kahale was worried would test out fireworks during flame season.

“We’re stopping for ice cream?” Joey asked skeptically from the back. “Isn’t your dad like, ascending tomorrow? What happened to hurrying to Chiron?”

“Ice cream is clearly more important,” Pax said. He put the emergency brake down when he parked, as if Luke couldn’t tear right through that. The driver’s seat belt was in ribbons from Axel cutting at it—totally worth pranking Leo—but they’d need to get that fixed. Although Pax tended to enjoy a good bout with danger, one with the windshield was something he’d rather save for a few hundred years.

“Besides,” he continued as he hopped out of the van. “I’ve always wanted to know if I could balance or juggle seven sundaes on my own. I’ll be back.”

Before anyone could offer to come with, he jammed his hands into his pockets and stalked towards the shop. In reality, he didn’t know what kind of exchange the vouchers demanded, and he was sure he was going to end up exhausting his mortal money supply on guilt desserts for the group. And maybe he could ask the cashier how you apologized to your friends for drugging all of them and lying for months. Pleasant evening chatter.

There were only two other cars on the other side of the parking lot: a white ice cream truck and a pickup truck that looked like an extra from Mad Max. Pax found it strange that not many people would want ice cream at midnight in November, but he figured others didn’t have as good of taste.

Pax was fumbling with the vouchers while he shoved the door opened and took a step inside. He almost ran into a guest. He was about to bow grandly and apologize to the sir or lady or other when he heard the familiar click of someone cocking the hammer on a revolver.

“Hello Ajax,” a male voice cooed.

If Pax had ingested a pound of cockroaches and they all made a dash up his esophagus at the same time, he imagined this was about how it would feel. He was going to need a lot more than some sundaes to make up for this mistake. Though he couldn’t figure out what before something metal cracked across his jaw, knocking him backwards.

 Thanks for reading! :D

[1] So, I definitely cocoon when I sleep. (Mel will verify this and has conducted several studies on the process.) Is this normal? Do you guys do this? (Also, Mel—upon reading this footnote—denied that she conducted studies. She said she happened to watch my sleeping process because we roomed together for a bit XD)

[standardstate-blog]

After 15 years, I still think Java has not evolved for the better. In fact I hate it now.

Yup! I said it. I really hate Java now. I mean, really.

Maybe I'm too old and completely lost the plot, maybe I am simply not relevant anymore as a developer, maybe I just "don't get it" or maybe I am a dumbass. Whatever it is, I have many issues with it now and I need to get some of that off my chest to at least have the feeling I am not crazy, or at least not so much.

Annotations.

A couple of years ago (actually more like 15), annotations were introduced and at the beginning, I though they were a great idea. I still do. Now I hate them, and that's not the language's fault. The problem is that many frameworks and tools make way too much use of them. The original idea in part was to remove a lot of boilerplate code and allow the devs to focus on what actually needed to get done. But nowadays, in many frameworks, THAT'S ALL YOU SEE!! Yep, you simply open up a class where the main function should be and all you see is 37 different annotations that invisibly define what this application does. There is one line of code in the main method, and the rest is taken on by magic by all the different annotations. Some of those scan packages for other classes that also have annotations, and so on. So instead of making the code simpler, it almost completely hides the basic structure of how the app is wired and unless you know exactly what all these annotations imply, you're pretty much stuck spending a lot of time figuring it out. None of that is more intuitive or simpler. Annotations are like a hammer, you can use it to build a house or punch yourself in the dick. The current frameworks are punching devs in the dick with annotations. Ouch ...

Masquerading as a functional language.

Face it Java, you are not the belle of the ball anymore. You are an old, verbose, bloated, object oriented ancestral language. That's it. No amount of lipstick will make that pig any more attractive. Own it.

20 years ago, object oriented programming was THE way to go as far as programming went. Everything was transitioning from older languages to the newer more maintainable (apparently, which is BS, but that's for another blog post) OOP options. At that time it made perfect sense. Internet was booming and more and more applications became web applications. We started banking online, we started using email in the browser and companies were letting go of more traditional desktop apps in favor of more modern solutions. Java and .NET were right in the center of that revolution. And it made perfect sense. Object oriented langages were so very well adapted to work with relational databases. Mapping your domain classes to the relational model was somewhat simple and intuitive. Not without its challenges, but very very adequate.

And that was absolutely fine. I coded more applications with Struts (remember the good ol' days ?) and Hibernate than I care to remember. And I had a blast, it was a great challenge and you could really leverage the power of object oriented programming. You could (when applicable) leverage many design patterns and make really elegant, testable and maintainable code. Ok, you had 1200 xml configuration files that had 5000 lines on average. That's what it was and it was an OK tradeoff, you could work with that. But that was before Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin and many other web applications you probably never heard of that take in a lot of user provided data. That was before you could have millions of users hitting your app and services, before Big Data, before NoSQL's explosion, the commercial use of machine learning and AI, and the emergence of the 3 big cloud providers (AWS, GCP, Azure).

Where am I going with this ? Well it's relatively simple. The market, the devs, the communities and tools started broadening their horizons and using different tools to meet the new needs. Spark was coded with Scala, Docker and Kubernetes are coded with Go and many machine learning tools and libraries are coded with Python, to only name that one. What these languages have in common is the functional component which Java does not have. And that's OK in my book. But in trying to stay relevant I guess, they added many functional aspects to the language that simply don't have their place in my opinion. It really feels like they ran out of ideas and simply want to jump on that functional hype train so they can still think it's really popular.

When I was introduced to Java, they took great pride in saying that it was a pure or exclusively object oriented language. That's what I was expecting it to remain. And I am not one of the purists that would lose their shit over the fact that it had primitives like ints, doubles, etc ...

The SDK is not enough to even get started.

This one really grinds my gears. You can't even get started coding a minimally decent application without 37 tools. Simply having the SDK installed on your workstation barely gets you out of the gate. What you need aside from that is :

A build tool

Yep, in 2019, you need to install either (from what I know, there might be more) Gradle, Maven or Ant (if you enjoy pain) if you want to build your project. Yes, you can compile with javac provided with the SDK, but that's pretty much it. You have to find some way to automate the rest of the building process, hence the use of a 3rd party tool.

A unit test framework

Yep, that as well in 2019 still slips through Java's fingers. I don't get it. Why ? Unit testing is built it in to several languages, and that has been the case for many years now. Check out this list to see what languages have built-in support for unit testing. You will notice that Go and Rust are present, along with Python.

On this one I need to be honest though, if I hadn't coded in Go for 3 years before returning to Java, I probably never would have had an issue with how it's unit tested. But then again, it's refreshing to go look elsewhere to see what other ideas people are having to realize that what you are currently using isn't the bee's knees as much as you thought. It is so much simpler to just start coding and creating your tests without having to import this and that and the other thing. All is already set up and ready. No need to modify class paths or ignore files or folders, no configuration whatsoever. I had that before, and not any more and I miss it so much.

Some kind of JSON / XML parser

You would figure that someone would have had the idea to add built-in parsing for JSON and XML by now. There are very few moments when you won't at least load some configuration in one of those 2 formats. Simplifying that would actually bring a lot of value to the developers and would save quite a lot of time.

Bloating caused by being bloated, verbose and verbose about being bloated ...

That I can say infuriates me the most. Why all this code and all those dependencies ? Why all that inexplicable bloating ?

I did a quick test with Spring Boot, which is supposed to be the standard for magnificent, quick and easily maintainable services. Like magic they said .. Well, not so much. To even get 1 endpoint that did a hello world kinda thing I needed 11 files and a little under 400 lines of code and configuration .. Almost feels like a React app o_O . And still using xml files to configure 27 million things, in 2020, is not part of the solution by any means.

And I haven't built it yet, which will probably fail and take 10 minutes .. be right back ..

Ok, so the build did not fail, but the resulting war file was a staggering 20 Megabytes. Again, for 1 endpoint that answers "Hello World". Is it just me ? Am I being a real prick ? Am I the asshole ? What bit did I not understand that makes me not think this is normal ? Plus that war file does not run independently, it needs to run in some container or server thing to be of any use to anybody. Which leads me up to my next point ...

Create actual executables already !!

One of the most amazing parts of Go is that it builds an executable that has all the dependencies included. Plain and simple. So if you are building a CLI application, simply run the executable. Same for a a REST service, simply build it with your desired options and there you have it, an executable that will run your service. No Tomcat, no Jersey thing, no additional tool required. Just run it. That not only simplifies the development process, but also the conainterizing of whatever it is you are building. With the same Go example, you can use "scratch" as a base for your container and simply copy the built binary and it will run fine, no other dependencies. This makes for very lightweight containers that build very fast.

Nobody gives a crap about the 'build once run anywhere' thing. At least I don't.

That argument is also a dead one to me. I never leveraged that in any way shape or form, ever. I never went to a colleague and said : "Thank god we can run this jar anywhere, we would have been fucked otherwise.". I just don't see why they went through all that trouble with the runtimes and the this and that.

I coded for several years with a language that had to be built for a specific platform, and it never caused any headaches. We either built with the provided switches for the target platform, or even better, on the exact Docker container in which it is intended to run. Plus, .NET only runs on Windows and it is very well adopted by a large community of developers that do wonderful things.

If you're into AI or machine learning, you most likely aren't using Java.

That's a big thing nowadays, adding AI and machine learning to whatever service you are putting out there. And if you want to leverage any of the most popular platforms or libraries, you'll have to make use of some functional language, usually Python or R. That's just how it is. Other languages than Java are far better suited for that type of computing. So even if you want to keep a Java only stack in your organization, you'll get some limitations on the type of tools you can actually integrate.

[toddbirchard-architect]

Building an API using AWS

Building an API part 1

Alright, now it's time to do something truly badass. This is what separates the men from the boys. If you managed to catch the tutorial on setting up RDS on AWS , you're already a set ahead. We're going to make our way through this slowly, which is probably a good idea even if you're done this before. There are so many pitfalls and nuances in AWS's architecture that I'm not even sure I fully understand what's happening, even when everything works. Quick Overview Here are the services we'll be using to hook this baby up: RDS: Amazon's cloud-hosted relational databases. These databases come preconfigured with an endpoint, which can be made accessible to other AWS services or even to external manipulation. Lambda: "Serverless" code snippets which can be invoked without setting up a webserver. Lambda functions are intended to serve simple specific functions (such as serving as the logic for an endpoint, for instance). Lambda functions play well with other AWS services: we'll be using this as the glue between our API and interacting with the Database. API Gateway: Amazon's visual editor for creating an API. API Gateway will allow you to architect the structure and logic of your API without having to worry about setting up routes, or other extra work. IAM: Amazon's headache of a user & permissions manager. IAM is needed to specify exactly with AWS services have access to other services, which users are permitted to interact with your API, etc. Gameplan So here's the deal. Our RDS database will be where all the data we provide and receive will live. Lambda functions will be the snippets of code actually interacting with information from the database; all of our queries will be done through Lambda. API Gateway will control the "design" of the API, as in the structure of endpoints, their respective methods, and how all these should interact with Lambda. It sounds simple enough, but the devil is in the details. And trust me, there are a lot of details. Setting the Correct Roles Normally I'd say we should jump in to the fun stuff and deal with the details when we get to them. I won't let you steer down that road with AWS... let's avoid smashing our heads on keyboards where possible and kick things off slow. If you were to attempt to create a Lambda function off the bat, the first question it will ask is to select a role . Roles are one of the types of permission packages (?) we mentioned earlier. Roles limit exactly whcih services your Lambda function can interact with off the bat. Start with the wrong role, and you won't be able to do much of anything Head over the IAM console to set up an appropriate role: Let's pause for a moment to take this all in. You'll see we have users, groups, roles, policies and a whole bunch of other garbage. Policies can be attached to roles. Policies can also be attached to users, and also attached to groups. Users can be in groups. Wait, so what if a user has a bunch of policies, but then joins a group with a bunch of policies? What even is a policy anyway? These are the real questions. The short answer is none of it makes sense, it's really just extra job security for those who make it work. Click on "Roles" in the sidebar. Create a role. Select "Lambda" for now and click next. Ok cool. The role we're creating is basically just going to be a collection of permissions we can attached directly to the role. Go ahead and attach these: AmazonVPCFullAccess AmazonAPIGatewayInvokeFullAccess AmazonRDSFullAccess AWSLambdaFullAccess CloudWatchLogsFullAccess Save the role, and remember what you name it. You'll need it. Getting Started with Lambda Go back to the Lambda console It's game time. We're going to create a function from scratch (sadly, I haven't found any of the blueprints to be very useful just yet). Under runtime, you'll need to pick which language we'll be messing with. I'm doing Python 3 because I don't mess with semicolons, ya dig. That said most people seem to stick with Node, which is probably faster at runtime. Up to you. Aha, see the "Role" dropdown? This is what I warned you about. Select the role you just created earlier from existing roles. The Editor Welcome to the Lambda visual editor. That tree you're seeing is a representation of the integration this function will handle. The current function is the box top-middle, the trigger is on the left, and the list of potential AWS services we can touch is on the right; these were automatically populated by that role I forced you to create. You're welcome. NOTE: The entire interface below this section depends on which service you've clicked in the tree. It's not the most intuitive at first. I have my Lambda function selected, so that's the interface I can interact with below. Lambda Interface Stuff Real quick, we need to go over what each field here does. The dropdown currently set to "edit code inline" can be expanded, which gives you the option to upload a zip file of source code. THIS WILL DELETE ALL PREEXISTING WORK. They don't tell you that, hah. Ha haaah. I recommend doing everthing offline to be uploaded later - this needs to be done with python packages anyway. Handler specifies which function should be called upon initialization. "lambda_function" is referring to the function, so "handler" here specifies that the function handler within lambda_function.py is what will get called upon execution. VPC Settings Scroll down until you hit this pretty little gem: We need to specify the VPC this function will interact with. If you created an RDS already, go ahead select the VPC you created. Add a bunch of subnets (whichever ones). Finally, select a security group . Remember that the permissions of this group determine whether or not your VPC is allowed to speak to this function. If you're struggling with this, check out the AWS MySQL post again. I'm not going to link it twice in one post, sorry. I have self respect you know. Chill for Now There's a lot to take in when playing around in AWS. The gibberish terminology and horrible documentation doesn't help this at all, so if any of this is frustrating just know it's supposed to be. Amazon owns you, and they hate you. Kind of like God. I'd suggest messing around the interface, and maybe even check out API Gateway a bit to get a feel for how that stuff looks. They set you up with a cute demo to make you think it's going to be easy, so maybe you'll enjoy that. Next time, we're going to crank out some Lambdas.

- Todd Birchard Read post