#when considering a college do some digging online about the culture

[ruelpsen]

having a somewhat shitty evening which means it's time to think about my fave burping for me so I don't lose my gd mind

#only a few more weeks in this godforsaken place and i'll never have to deal with these assholes again 🙏 #i'm so tired of this place man #thinking about my fave has gotten me through... maybe a concerning amount of frustrating things this year #my baseline for how often i think of him is already pretty high but he's on my mind almost constantly here #bc i am that desperately in need of something happy to help me take my mind off of stressful shit #if there's any genuine advice for me to give on this blog it's this: #when considering a college do some digging online about the culture #ESPECIALLY if you're a minority #and i mean dig deep too #if a school has money they may try their damndest to hide all the problems they have through whatever means necessary #people told me i'd fit in here which is true academically #but socially and culturally this place is full of the most toxic people and mindsets jfc #i could go on about this place and how much it sucks for hours #but anyway... my l*ndo burping 🤤🤤🤤 #thinking about drinking soda with him and him not letting me touch myself or burp 🥴🥴🥴 #sighhhhhhhhhhhh #not sfw #londarling

[rohirric-hunter]

I don't suppose you've already done the research on what Kinging entails when your country is largely illiterate and can share it with me can you. Because my ass desperately wants something other than Paperwork for the house of eorl to be doing all the time but I haven't even started looking that shit up yet.

I don't know about that in general, but I do know about Anglo-saxons, which is the culture that Tolkien drew the most inspiration from for the Rohirrim. (Bear in mind this information is sort of old, as I lost all my books on the matter shortly after graduating college and have only intermittently pursued it since, but it should give you some starting points at least.)

Tolkien drew a lot of inspiration from Beowulf, as well as other ancient Anglo-saxon documents, but Beowulf is probably the most accessible to the modern reader, and certainly the most complete story we have from that culture. If you're interested there's a copy you can read for free online here. This is, however, rather an old translation and kind of dense so you might consider picking up a more recent one from the library (or a retelling instead of a translation). Another good resource for the culture in general is Time Team, a British TV show about an archeological team that do digs in Great Britain. There are a ton of different time periods they cover, but the ones of interest to this discussion would actually be some of the oldest ones, Iron Age and then basically anything pre-Roman occupation. There are a lot of full episodes available on YouTube. (Do bear in mind that this show has been running for multiple decades, and some information in the older episodes is out of date.)

The Anglo-saxon king had three basic duties. The first, and the one that figures most prominently in stories like Beowulf, was throwing huge fucking parties every night. Maybe not every night, but part of their job was to entertain their subjects and reward them for their loyalty -- and this seems to have often taken the form of huge fucking parties, as well as the giving of gifts.

The second was to manage their household -- in early Britain the king's household was for a long time really just another household. They had fields and herds that were theirs and from which they drew most of their own food and supplies, and which were cared for and maintained by members of the king's household (or by slaves, but that's obviously not relevant to LotR fanfiction in particular). 'King' seems to be a sort of glorified term that Tolkien used to describe what the modern reader would think of more as a chieftain of sorts -- the person who calls the shots and has a bigger house, but still living a fairly similar life to the rest of their people, with similar problems to manage.

(Indeed, the Rohirrim are probably closer to Iron Age Briton cultures than the traditional 12th century medieval culture most fantasy borrows from in most respects.)

And the third was to maintain a group of warriors, so that if their people were ever in danger, they could take care of it. There was also a certain amount of cultural glory ascribed to victory on the battlefield, which definitely led to some unnecessary warfare, though we have so little actual history from that period that I can't give any real details on that.

Although I don't really know much about it, I would add a fourth duty onto that: to resolve disputes among their people, whether by hearing them directly and passing judgement, appointing someone else to do that if necessary, or by making and enforcing laws to minimize these disputes. (And the legal system wouldn't necessarily be more rudimentary than in a literate society -- the king might assign members of his household or hire people to memorize all of the laws. Longform poems like Beowulf were also memorized which is how they were passed down until they came to someone who wrote them down. It seems that people in illiterate cultures have an amazing capacity for memory, most likely taking advantage of some tricks that those of us in literate societies have forgotten. Ironically.) This would also encompass the punishment of criminals -- unfortunately I know basically nothing about actual Anglo-saxon law and what crimes might have invited what sort of punishments.

Another thing that comes up in Beowulf but also in writings as late as the twelfth century is the concept of the king as the giver of gifts (which, in my opinion, ties into the first and the third duties). The king bought the loyalty of their people, especially their warriors, by giving them gifts. Most notably these were often gifts of treasure, valuable practical items, food and drink, (sometimes slaves, but again not relevant in this context), or jewelry. Indeed, in Beowulf the king is often referred to as "the ring-giver," since rings were a popular gift for this purpose, being both extremely portable and extremely valuable. Obviously Tolkien borrowed the concept of people having received rings as gifts owing loyalty to the one who gave them for other parts of his legendarium. With that in mind you may or may not want to incorporate that detail into your interpretation of Rohirric culture (though personally I love the idea of what Sauron did being a corruption of a perfectly respectable exchange). But there should certainly be gifts. Probably Big Fucking Parties.

I can't say much more without getting into my personal interpretation of things, but there are hints in the text about certain responsibilities the king. Before Gandalf talked some sense back into him, Theoden wasn't being a very good king. Although there was a standing army, Wormtongue was urging him to send them off on wild goose chases and he was listening, so honestly there may as well not have been. He rewarded Eomer's loyalty with imprisonment, he was letting Wormtongue handle anyone who came into the hall looking for him (and therefore not resolving disputes fairly), and he wasn't offering gifts of any sort to anyone. But as soon as Gandalf talked him around, he immediately turned around and started being a good king. He offered hospitality and food to his guests (and then weapons and armor later), he defended his people at Helm's Deep and then went out to confront Saruman and take care of the threat for good, and he resolved the dispute between Wormtongue and Everybody Else in a reasonably fair manner. Although we don't really see a lot of the royal household and therefore don't have a clear idea of how it was being maintained, he also started at least trying to do right by his niece and nephew as well.

This turned out a lot longer than I expected. Hopefully it gives you some ideas, and at least a few ideas of where to look next!

#now i want to read beowulf again

[girltomboy]

Watched & read

I kept putting off making a post about this, but a few weeks ago my bf and I watched The Banshees of Inisherin (we got stuck in a "what should we watch?" cycle and decided to pick this one because it sounded fun). It was incredible, probably one of the best movies I watched this year, and it deserved every award and praise it got. It starts off as a regular, pretty sad but not particularly unremarkable story of a friendship breakup, apparently one-sided and out of nowhere. We know such a situation in real life, it's sad and seemingly irrational, but it's nothing wild. But then the movie spirals into this brutal, absurdist madness, a ridiculous and crude battle of egos and petty but deadly mistakes. It's a well-written and absolutely gorgeous black comedy that doesn't shy away from digging into the muddiest side of human nature. My bf and I talked about it for days afterwards, and even told our friends about it (since it hits a little too close to home for some of them 🤡).

The next movie I'm making this post for/about is It Lives Inside. My friend and I saw the trailer for this movie at the cinema not long ago, and it looked pretty interesting so we added it to our watchlist. Since we couldn't watch it at the cinema (our favorite seats kept getting taken & we couldn't make online reservations for it, for some reason) we found it online this weekend and watched it. It follows the story of an Indian teenage girl in America who faces tension from her mother at home, for rejecting her Indian culture. She also has a dispute with her tormented childhood bestie, and ends up unleashing a malevolent spirit that takes her friend away. I didn't really get most of this movie tbh, it either had an abysmally small budget because the narrative relied a lot on vibes (not even the good horror kind, just Nothing), or it was very very badly written (the latter is definitely true regardless of its budget). The acting was terrible too, but in fairness the actors probably did not have much to work with. It didn't have any quality or memorable jumpscares, zero atmosphere, you can literally tell which sequences were made just for the trailer. At times it's edited just like a parody horror. There's very little context for why things happen the way they do, the ending just leaves you very confused, it ends just because the runtime (or budget) expires, not because the movie naturally and organically arrives to a conclusion. Anyway, it was entertaining enough, but I'm so glad we didn't find tickets for it at the theatre and didn't have to pay to see it, because it would've been even more infuriating to have paid money for this trash.

The last thing on my post is The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse. It took me 2 months to finish this book, but considering the fact that this year I finally got back into reading consistently after the unintentional hiatus I took during the pandemic, when I didn't read anything for about 3 years and I lost any and all interest and enjoyment I ever derived out of reading... I think I'm doing very well in that regard. This book was on my reading list for one of my favorite classes in college, but obviously I didn't have the time to read it, and when my coworker recommended it to me (only for me to later find out that she didn't actually read it... she was just going off of vibes - Pisces things) I decided there's no time like the present. The book is a biography of an intellectual master who retreats to a region established for the intellectual elite to study the glass bead game - an elaborate puzzle-like game that combines various elements like mathematics, linguistics, music, etc. I was a bit gagged when I found out that this game - completely fictional, sure - was never going to be described or explained in the book. It's giving camp but mysterious, which I loved. Mr. Knecht has a bit of a homosexual aura based on his many tumultuous and intense friendships that consume him and on his dignified, serene presence that every man he comes in contact with admires. I forgot to add that this elite establishment called Castalia is exclusively open to men, because of course it is, and women are seen as malicious and manipulative temptresses always ready to betray and distract men from reaching enlightenment, while men from the outside world who allow women in their lives are seen as dirty, instinct-ruled monkeys (as are people in the outside world, in general, perceived by the Castalians). They separate themselves from the outside world and live in what seems like medieval conditions, in an attempt to transcend materialism and focus exclusively on intellectual and spiritual endeavors, like the glass bead game, of which Knecht becomes a master. Well, fast forward a couple hundreds of pages and Mr. Knecht realizes that, through all this superior isolation, Castalia attempts very hard to separate itself from history and the outside world, which FUNDS the very existence of Castalia to begin with, and he deems this as hypocritical, shallow, and dangerous, and asks to leave. After some quarrels with the president he leaves Castalia and joins society, he realizes that the most fulfilling and rewarding position for him is that of a teacher to pupils, but he doesn't go to teach at a regular school; instead he arranges to mentor the teenage son of an old friend of his, at a remote cabin in the mountains. Enthralled by the teenergy and vitality of the young boy, he follows him into a cold lake at sunrise, where he goes into hypothermic shock and sinks dead. Plummeting into that lake feeling inspired by the impulsivity of a teenage boy was probably the second most respectable and brave thing Knecht ever did, the first being to leave Castalia.

Overall this novel was a paradoxical and philosophical futuristic lens on the past that I mostly enjoyed. I get a bit overwhelmed when I try to think of what to read next. This week I remembered this really funny and enjoyable book I thrifted a few years ago, but left it at my parents' old apartment, and of course they threw it out along with the rest of my stuff. And I don't even know where I could find it again.

#the banshees of inisherin #it lives inside #the glass bead game #film talk #i should've picked talk to me instead of it lives inside for saturday night #but we were both so excited to watch this one like we really trusted this movie to be good #plus my friend already watched talk to me so i have to watch it by myself instead of making her watch it with me... cause we already have #a mile long list of things to watch

[agrawalpgcollege-blog]

The Smart Student's Guide to Picking the Right BSC College in Jaipur

You've got your academic future in your hands, and that includes the moment you decide to pursue a Bachelor’s Degree in Jaipur. But with so many great options out there, how do you make the right choice?

The answer is not easy, but we can make it a whole lot simpler. To choose the best college for you, use this comprehensive guide to consider several aspects of prospective institutions—from their accreditations and curriculum to location, faculty, environment and cost. Weigh each factor carefully against your specific criteria for success so that you can settle on the BSC College that fits you best.

So without further ado, let’s dive into what separates a great college from an excellent one...

Evaluating the Course Curriculum

When deciding which BSC college in Jaipur is right for you, the first and likely the most important factor to consider is the college's course curriculum. It's important that you look closely at the courses that you will be required to take and make sure they're in line with your interests and career goals.

It also pays to take a close look at the specific topics that are covered within each course. For example, if you're interested in learning about advanced computer programming, you should make sure that the course curriculum includes comprehensive coverage of this topic. Furthermore, be sure to read up on any extracurricular activities available at the college—such as seminars and workshops—that can help you to build your skills further.

Finally, consider what internship opportunities are offered by each college's career services office. While internships are not required, they offer invaluable exposure to some of the top employers in Jaipur and can often provide useful connections that may come in handy after graduation.

Comparing College Facilities

Making an informed decision can be difficult, so you need to compare college facilities to decide which one best suits your needs. Firstly, you should look at the courses that the colleges offer. Every college will likely have its own niche, such as offering a broad range of industry-related courses or focusing on more traditional academic subjects. Consider what type of field you would like to go into and find a college in Jaipur that provides relevant courses for it.

It's also important to consider the extracurricular activities that each college offers. Most colleges will be able to provide these, but it's important to know what type of activities are available, such as sports teams and societies, as this can help you find the right cultural fit for your studies.

Finally, think about the location of the college and what kind of student lifestyle it provides. Some colleges may offer better facilities in terms of accommodation and leisure activities than others. Do some research into places nearby and make sure they align with your expectations so that your overall college experience is enjoyable.

Researching College Reputation

Researching a college's reputation is one of the most important steps in choosing the right BSC colleges in Jaipur. Knowing what other students have to say about their experience at the school will give you insight into the quality of education being offered.

Online reviews

It's always a good idea to start by taking a look at online reviews, such as those on Google Maps and other review platforms. Take note of what people are saying and how they rate their experience with the college.

Ask around

Once you've read some online reviews, it's time to do some more digging and ask people around you, such as friends, family, and colleagues who've attended or know someone who has attended the college. Hearing first-hand accounts of their experiences can be incredibly helpful in determining whether or not this is the right college for you.

College websites and social media pages

Once you've narrowed down your choices, it's time to dig into each school’s website and social media pages. This will give you a good idea of what programming they have on offer, initiatives they’ve undertaken to improve their academics, and any other relevant information that can help inform your decision. Pay attention to their core values, mission statements, faculty bios and student success stories—all of these are great indicators of how well a college is doing.

Exploring Financial Aid Options

If you're a smart student, then you know that financial aid is an important part of your college decision-making process. When it comes to BSC colleges in Jaipur, there are a range of options available to you. Here's what to keep in mind:

Scholarships

Many BSC colleges in Jaipur offer scholarships to students of merit. These can cover anything from tuition costs to living expenses, so make sure to explore all the options available to you.

Loan Programs

Some BSC colleges in Jaipur offer loan programs for students who may not be eligible for traditional student loans. Look into the terms and conditions these programs have and make sure that you understand what repayment options are available and the interest rates charged.

Part-time Jobs

Some BSC colleges in Jaipur may have part-time jobs available that can help supplement your income while studying. Research job opportunities on-campus or near-by, as well as online job portals, like Upwork or Fiverr, that offer freelance gig opportunities.

Do your research when it comes to financial aid options for BSC colleges in Jaipur—it'll ensure you get the best deal possible for your studies!

Connecting With Alumni & Faculty

If you're trying to decide which BSC college in Jaipur is right for you, connecting with alumni and faculty at the college can be one of the most helpful tools. Talking to alumni who have been through a program will give you great insights into things like the curriculum and the environment of the college.

Alumni can also provide perspective on what they liked and disliked about their experiences, and help answer any questions you may have about courses, extracurricular activities, and more. And speaking with faculty members can be an invaluable way to get an even deeper understanding of the school's academic offerings, such as research opportunities or specializations within a given program.

Here are some tips for connecting with alumni & faculty:

Look up contact information online or contact current students in your program at that school—they may know alumni who would be willing to talk

Schedule informational interviews in person or over Skype/phone with people who have attended the school

Ask questions about their experience—you'll want to determine if they had a positive experience at that BSC college

Reach out via email or social media to faculty members who teach classes in your desired field of study

See if there's an online forum where students, alumni, and faculty discuss topics related to your area of interest

Follow relevant hashtags on Twitter to get a feel for the conversations about your chosen college

Taking a Campus Tour

If you're still on the fence about your college choice, it's a good idea to take a campus tour. Visiting college campuses can be a great way to get a first-hand look at what the school has to offer and decide if it's the right fit for you.

During your campus tour, there are some important things you should pay attention to:

Facilities

Take some time to explore the school’s facilities and see which ones will be most beneficial for you. Are there enough laboratories, libraries and other resources available? Are they well-maintained and up-to-date? Are there additional facilities like sports fields or student organizations that are important for you?

Curriculum

Have a chat with the faculty members and ask questions related to the courses offered in the college and their approach to teaching. It's also important to know how they plan on providing students with industry exposure and other resources that could help in your career growth.

Infrastructure

Take some time to explore the infrastructure of the college. Are there enough classrooms, study spaces, cafeteria, etc. How up-to-date is their technology? Do they have internet access throughout the campus? These are all important considerations when picking a BSC college in Jaipur.

Finally, don't forget to ask current students as well as alumni about their experience at the college; this can give you an idea of what it would be like for you if you enroll at this particular school.

Conclusion

Ultimately, it’s up to you to find the right college for your academic and professional aspirations and to make sure you make the most of your college experience. Research your options carefully, determine which one is the best fit for you, and seek out resources to help you on your journey. You’ll be better prepared to make the most of your college experience, no matter which college you choose in the end. With the number of college choices available in Jaipur for BSC courses, it's important to make sure you have all the information you need to make an informed decision. Evaluate your options and research the schools thoroughly, speak to experts, and read reviews from people who have studied at the college. This can help you narrow down your choices and make the best possible decision for your future.

#bsc #bsc colleges in jaipur #bsc degree

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

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

Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night.  “Noooo.  UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises.  Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep.  Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.  

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend.  She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business.  Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.  

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them.  Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed.  She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office.  God.  She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office.  She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree.  Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.  

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably.  She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish.  It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant.  She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar.  She could apply herself just fine.  She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower.  She had made a good choice buying this shower head.  Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again.  Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him.  ‘Calm down, Rayla.’  She couldn’t meet Corvus horny.  Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast.  She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough?  There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat.  Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release.  She didn’t have time for this.  The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working.  Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.  

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing.  The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place.  Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers.  She grabbed her purse and went out the door.  When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?  

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce.  Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to.  She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone.  “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her.  “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients.  Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case.  No.  Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money.  Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter.  “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently.  The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse.  It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.  I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot.  We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see.  When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded.  “While you work for old money.  Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know.  His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’  His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food.  “Thank you.  I’m telling you, join our office.  You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents.  I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both.  You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time.  Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus.  “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair.  Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha.  My hair’s fine, thanks.  You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you.  I don’t really have any other friends in the city.”  She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art.  He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!”  Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course.  They do a lot of food stuff.  I found this café because of one of their videos.  Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember?  Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them.  Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times.  Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh.  Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year.  I grew up here.  You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe.  His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh.  So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure.  Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed.  I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house.  He said he has an art studio there.  At least, that’s what he implied.  I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?”  Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast.  “Oh?  Something you want to share with the class?  A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet.  She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him.  “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.”  Rayla paused.  “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago.  She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers.  Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely.  He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online.  His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah.  They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though.  People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair.  I’ll text you the details.  I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.”  Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office.  Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

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

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling.  All night, he had dreamed of Rayla.  Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum.  Make me feel good.’  He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone.  His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon.  Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower.  He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out.  He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia.  They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.  

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series.  Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary.  Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention.  He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed?  It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers.  Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate.  She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head.  Those eyes haunted his every though.  ‘She’s a freaking fae.  That must be it.’  Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing.  He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town.  She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system.  He had just met her and she was distracting him already.  Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system.  Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her.  ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum.  She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’  

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind.  Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest.  Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?  

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face.  “Callum, focus.”

“Right.  So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.  

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #replay #moonbase fanfics

[evqnbuckley]

Chapter 2: A Price

7.2k words..........Okay this is taking on a life of it’s own but I promise, I promise there is a resolution. There is a happy ending. I’m just a sucker for pain and angst.... the rest is on ao3 @princesscas​

Two weeks go by in a daze. Sam has searched almost every book on the left side of the library. Eileen keeps the brothers hydrated and fed. Sam tells her not to worry about that, but she does. She bakes cookies occasionally, and brings home pie to cheer Dean up. He nods and half-heartedly grins in appreciation. Miracle cuddles Dean at night and licks his hand until he falls asleep. His presence is warm and comforting. Sam and Eileen both see Dean withdraw more and more everyday. They worry.

Dean is scanning through the online archives, with Miracle on the floor next to him fast asleep. He clicks on the topic NECROMANCY RITUALS. He knows it is a long shot but everything else is coming up dry. He scrolls down swiftly reading the pages, when something piques his interest. Upon first glance, most believe necromancy to be the darkest magick. Through further research it has been discovered that it’s only the first layer of what one can accomplish when tapping into that amount of power, darkness. Many rituals have culminated over time and within different cultures. However, one thing remains the same with Necromancy. A life for a life. Dean slowly sits up, removing his feet from the table. He swallows, and glances around the room. Eileen and Sam are giggling quietly. She shoves his arm in response to Sam’s remark. Dean pulls the laptop closer to him, and continues to read. Necromancy takes upon a life of its own. If one does not correctly perform the ritual, consequences may ensue. Those desperate to bring back a loved one should heed warning. Never perform the ritual on the second full moon during the harvest. Magick is unpredictable, but especially during the harvest the complications of Necromancy increase tremendously. Also, if you are to perform the ritual alone, it is to be exact. One mishap could lead to immediate death.  The ingredients vary slightly from ritual to ritual. It is appropriate to be diligent and perform with the correct offerings. Dean clicks the arrow for the next page, and it shows an error message. His brow creases  in confusion. He clicks the refresh button and the message appears again. He clicks four more times. The message remains on the page. Dean grows frustrated. He slams the laptop shut and stands.

“I’m going out.”

Sam and Eileen turn toward the noise, confused and shocked. “What? Why?” Sam questions.

Dean sighs, pulling on his jacket. “We’re getting nowhere. I feel claustrophobic and cooped up in this damn place. I haven’t left in two weeks. I need to stretch my legs. Get some air. I promise I’ll be back before curfew, Mom,” he adds, rolling his eyes.

“Dean-” Sam starts.

“I won’t do anything stupid, Sam.” He walks up the staircase and the bunker door slams.

Dean drives and drives and drives. He has no destination, but right now the road is welcoming. He runs his hand across the Impala’s steering wheel, slick, smooth and familiar. He almost forgets the feeling of driving his Baby. The trees and asphalt blur in his vision. The only thing Dean focuses on are the yellow lines on the road, but even those begin to blur as well. Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and azure eyes stare back at him. Fuck. 

He slows the car and pulls over. It's quiet. The Impala's headlights shine ahead, revealing an empty road. A bit of fog hangs loose above the ground. Dean sighs. He needs to get out of his head. There are too many thoughts and he feels like he wants to scream. Dean picks up his cell phone and pulls up Castiel's contact. His finger idles over the call button. Click. The line rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. There's a pause before the recorded voicemail answers. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." Dean closes his eyes at the sound of Castiel’s voice. He only speaks for two seconds but Dean hears every syllable. His brow creases and he clenches his jaw to bury the pain. Dean hangs up. He calls again. 

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail." A tear falls down Dean's cheek. He needs to hear Castiel's real voice. He needs to see him again. Touch him. But he's gone. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, Dean notices a few tear stains on his shirt. 

Once again, he calls Castiel. Even though it's pointless. Even though he looks like a widower who can't let go. He calls Cas. The voicemail picks up again and Dean listens but he decides to not hang up. Not yet. The dial beeps, waiting for a voicemail to be recorded and Dean is still. He breathes in, motioning to speak, but stops. He hangs up. Anger rises in his chest. Why can't I leave a damn voicemail? He's angry at Castiel for leaving him. He's angry at Jack for leaving him. But most of all, he's angry at himself. At how he's failed to bring Castiel back. At how his best friend died and he didn't even say goodbye. At how he's known for a while his feelings about Castiel but never has the guts to admit it. 

Each thought churns his stomach more and more. The anger boils higher within him until he slams his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly. He cries out and covers his face with both hands, dropping the phone in his lap. Dean breathes in and picks the phone back up, hits redial and listens to the voicemail. I'm going to leave a fucking message. 

The dial beeps. Dean hesitates again but says quietly, "Hey it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice. The way you left- it's got me pretty messed up, man. I have to admit I never thought an angel was capable of emotions. You once told me I'm different. Well so are you. So I suppose my assumptions just make me an ass, huh?" He chuckles. "I'm sorry, Cas. I need you to know that. I need you to know th-that," he trails off. "Me too, Cas. I just need you to hear me, man." Dean pauses and rubs his brow with his index finger. "This is so stupid." He hangs up, and with a clench of his jaw, he pulls back onto the road.

On his aimless drive, Dean passes through a four way dirt road intersection. His memory of the deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam pops up. He considers trying to do the same for Castiel, but who knows if deals like that have much power in the Empty. 

Dean weighs the option before slamming on the brakes and makes a dangerous U-turn. He parks to the side and buries a small metal box with his picture along with other trinkets inside. Dean barely slides a layer of gravel over the box when he feels a presence.

“What have we here?” The demon peers around to face Dean. “A Winchester. Well, I feel honored.” The demon is possessing some young twenty year old kid, most likely a college student. He was probably Sam’s age when I pulled him from law school, Dean thinks. The demon straightens his dark suit jacket as Dean eyes him carefully. “So, are we just going to have a staring contest or do you have an offer to make?”

“I want to talk to Rowena," he demands. 

The demon stops, tilting his head. “She doesn’t take house calls.”

“We go way back. It’s important. Take me to her.” He states plainly.

“Uh, no.”

Dean stares down the demon. His green eyes flashing a dark olive with anger. His jaw clenches and he tightens his fists. Dean lunges forward, gripping at the demon’s collar and slams him against the Impala. He leans in, almost nose to nose as the demon smirks.

“Careful now, Dean I like it rough," the demon taunts. 

“Shut the fuck up. Why won’t Rowena answer my calls? Why won’t she see me?” His questions increase in volume with intensity. “Huh?”

The demon remains unprovoked. Dean pulls out the demon knife, threatening him. Eyeing the blade, the demon answers. “Alright, alright. I don’t know this for certain. I have just heard rumors, okay. Demons talking. But apparently Rowena was visited by the new God.”

Dean releases the demon, slowly in bewilderment. “What?” He says more to himself.

“Yea. They had this long ass meeting. Some demons are saying they came to an ‘understanding.’” The demon emphasizes with air quotes. He smooths out his jacket again and eyes Dean.

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between the demon’s, searching for a hint of deceit. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I only know what I heard.” The demon walks away from Dean and turns back, facing him. “Listen, if you don’t want to make a deal I am just wasting my time. There are other losers out there desperate and willing to sell me their soul. It's kinda my job, so…" Dean is silent, staring at a large rock in the gravel. It’s much larger than the others, out of place really. 

The demon dramatically turns, as if he needs to walk away when he can just teleport. “Wait,” whispers Dean.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said wait,” he raises his voice, normal volume. Dean sighs before continuing. He knows he told Sam he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he has to know. “There is one thing I need to know. If I am to make any kind of deal right now, I need to know something first.”

“Yes?” The demon drags on the ‘s’ like a snake.

“Do you have access to the Empty? Can you make deals that involve it?”

The demon saunters toward Dean with a smirk. “Hm, maybe.” Dean’s face lightens up.

“Take me. Take me instead. Please man, I have tried everything. If you can trade me and Castiel-”

“Oh yes, Castiel. Castiel, the angel who defied Heaven and lost everything. The angel so love-sick with humanity he couldn't be a good soldier anymore. The angel so broken he wasn’t truly an angel anymore,” interrupts the demon. He smirks at Dean, digging into his emotions and adds, “Thanks to you.” Dean squints his eyes. He’s right. 

“Take me,” Dean steps forward.

The demon chuckles at the sight before him. A Winchester so distraught he’s almost on his knees begging for a kiss. “Truthfully, I can give you what you want. Death. Another eternity in Hell. I’ll even give you 6 months instead of 10 since you look so damn miserable. But it won’t save your precious angel. He’s stuck there.”

Dean’s expression falters. He gasps as the new sliver of hope rips his heart out, shattering it. The demon, chuckling, closes in on Dean, whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and moist against Dean's neck. He shivers in disgust. “You must have known I was lying. But why don’t you say we kiss and make up?”

With that, Dean slams the demon knife into his stomach and twists the handle. The demon yelps in surprise and then falls to the ground. The night air ruffles the neck of Dean’s jacket. Even with the long sleeves, he still grows goose bumps on his arms. An owl sounds from across the street, in a tall bare oak tree. Dean feels like he’s in a warped moment of time. The midnight sky, the sound of the owl, silence from the road, and a dead body before him. He continues to stare down at the body for quite some time. His head becomes numb, but in the sense he doesn’t feel real. He hates this feeling. It’s how he felt when Chuck told Sam and Dean they have no free will. He writes their stories. None of it is real. But now Chuck is gone, so this is real. 

Dean gets rid of the dead body, gathers the small metal box, and drives again. He drives for an hour until he comes across a small bar that resembles The Roadhouse. Dean softly smiles. The Impala driver door groans as Dean closes it. Music to my ears. Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and the caller reads, “Sam.” He doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s concern or speech about self-destruction, so he declines the call. A notification for a voicemail pops up. Of course. Dean swings the door to the bar open and takes a seat in the middle. The stool is a bit worn down and the plastic is ripped, but the atmosphere is familiar and he appreciates the song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival filling the room. 

“What can I get for ya?” A petite, dark headed woman with bright, blue eyes asks from behind the bar. She actually resembles Pamela Barnes in some aspects. That makes Dean smile earnestly. 

“Double shot of whiskey, your strongest.”

“Coming right up,” she taps the counter and winks at Dean. He knows she is just flirting for a nice tip, but the gesture seems nice. After a few moments, the bartender comes around with a short glass full of dark, honey like colored liquid and slides it in front of Dean.

“Our strongest whiskey.”

“Thanks,” he lifts his glass up in appreciation and then takes a drink. The liquid burns as it flows down. He sucks a breath between his teeth and releases it slowly. “Damn.”

A few girls, confidently and bravely, approach Dean periodically throughout the night. Each one, he easily lets down. His younger self would be kicking him right now. In fact, twenty-seven year old Dean would jump at any chance to have sex with all of these women. Now, though, everything is different. The last girl, she has a few too many, becomes a bit too touchy with Dean. He has to continuously remove her hands, but when he glances away in embarrassment, she moves in to kiss him. He doesn’t reciprocate, and the woman pulls back, spilling with apologies. Dean assures her it’s fine and “we’ve all been there.” She nods in acceptance and shuffles away. No more women approach him after that.

Dean downs the remainder of his whiskey and orders another glass. “Damn, you’re pretty popular tonight with the ladies. Though, I can’t say I don’t blame them,” the bartender says.

Dean huffs in embarrassment. “Uh yea, right.”

She slides his second glass of whiskey across the counter and eyes him. He has dark circles under his eyes, a pretty thick five o’clock shadow, and he's staring at his left hand. “So, why are you here by yourself? Where’s your lucky lady?” She inquires.

Dean looks up, confused. “Huh?” She smiles at him, knowingly.

“You’ve been rejecting all these women all night. You’ve gotta be tied down to someone. There ain’t no other explanation.”

“Oh, uh, no lucky lady.”

“Lucky lad?” She implies.

Dean’s eyes widen and his expression falters. “No, no. No, it’s just me.” He sighs. The sound of Castiel’s voice saying, “I love you” replays in Dean’s head. “Why?”

“I just like to get to know my patrons while they visit me. In case they become regulars,” she says as she pours a light beer from the tap for another man at the bar.

“Hm,” he replies. I did have someone in my life, but I was the lucky one. The song overhead changes from “Renegade” by Styx to “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Around the edges of the room, couples slow dance to the song. 

“I love this song,” the dark-haired bartender says as she pours four shots of vodka.

Dean smirks. There was a time when he would never admit to liking this song, but not anymore. “I love this song too,” he agrees. 

Dean’s phone vibrates against his leg. The music drowns out his ring tone. The caller ID reads “Sam” again. He declines the call. A part of him feels bad, dodging Sam like this but he wants to be alone right now. This whiskey is warm and numbing but his mind is clear. The fuzziness has not consumed him yet. He needs something stronger. He can continue drinking whiskey, but he needs at least a full bottle. 

“Hey, sweetheart do you have anything stronger?”

The bartender leans across the counter, and points to her name tag. “My name is Riley, not sweetheart. And that is our strongest whiskey. We can try a different liquor? I have vodka.” She offers, holding up the bottle.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. Doesn’t work.” He mutters to himself. Dean runs his fingers up and down the glass, mindlessly.

Riley eyes him. “You’re not a cop, are you?" She asks, carefully. Dean looks at her questioning the sudden inquiry and shakes his head. 

"Why?"

"No offense or anything, you are cute, but you look like shit. I see a lot of people, everyday, and I’m pretty good at reading people - comes with the job. I can tell you’re hurting. I won’t begin to guess who hurt you or what, but,” she trails off. “To be honest, it looks like you've been to Hell and back. I am just asking because you look like you could use a pick me up." She leans forward, speaking softly, "I can get you something stronger than whiskey. Not me personally, but I know a guy.”

“What do you mean you know a guy? Like drugs?”

She shushes him. “Yes, like drugs. Jesus, you don’t have to announce it. Cops come in here all the time.” Dean swallows the last of his whiskey.

“Hm. I don’t do drugs. Weed doesn’t count.” He pulls out his wallet and lays down a fifty dollar bill. Replacing the leather, he turns to Riley and salutes. “Thanks for the whiskey.”

“Hold on." She reaches for a napkin and pulls out a pen. On it, she writes an address and holds it out to Dean. “This is the last location I know of where the dealer hides out. It’s kind of shady looking. Strange people visit and some disappear. I know someone who kind of got wrapped up in all this and she,” Riley trails off. “Anyway, I just prefer not to involve the police anymore. They don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

This whole situation seems off. He watches her, puzzled. Dean takes the napkin and reads the address. He recognizes the street but he’s never been around that area personally. “What did you mean by the police don’t believe in this stuff? Cops bust drug deals all the time.”

“It’s hard to explain. Just see for yourself, if you’re interested,” she trails off.

#i'm really excited for this yall #my writing #destiel #fix it fic

[marcmaccoy]

”LA DIVERSIÓN EN IDIOMAS”

The title above is translated as, “The fun in languages”, something that I never really felt and had at the beginning. Ever since the quarantine started, I really did not plan to do anything nor to improve myself in any of my hobbies at all. Maybe it’s because I expected that all these crisis will be over in a week or two, which obviously and sadly, did not happen. Before, I just like to play my musical instruments, paint, and I got into Korean Dramas as well because of my friends. Sometimes, I bond with my pets and do cooking experiments too. All of these are done in order for me to avoid boredom. However, as time goes by, those things became a bit dull to me and I felt the need to discover something new.

Let me share a bit of my journey first.

As I watch Korean Dramas, I got this tendency to copy what they say and it became a habit of mine whenever I want to express something. So instead of saying, “Salamat” or “Thank you”, I often say, “감사”(gam-sa) which is an informal way of saying “Thank you” in Korean. Also, “안녕”(an-nyeong) which means “Hi”, “네”(ne) which means “Yes”, “아니”(ah-ni) which means “No” and many more. At that time, I didn’t know how to read their alphabet yet but because of my curiosity, I’ve thought of studying it. Surprisingly, I learned “한글”(han-geul) or the Korean Alphabet in just a day! Nine total hours to be exact. I was dumbfounded by how I was able to understand that in just a short manner of time. This inspired me to continue moving forward until I decided to finally learn the Korean language.

In the middle of my journey learning the said language, I began to encounter a lot of interesting facts about it. Such as it wasn’t the writing system of Korea before and how it only existed at about 578 years ago during King Sejong’s reign. It is said that “한글”(han-geul) was created in order for people with little to no education could learn how to read and write. Because before, many Koreans are illiterate due to their very complex Chinese-based writing system called Hanja (漢字) which is difficult to understand. Meaning to say, it was created by the King for the purpose of literacy. Also, the shapes of the letters in 한글 was based on the surroundings and how you say it. These are among the facts that I knew while I became deeply interested in Korea’s traditions, history, and cultures. I was so excited to be fluent that time. I even made flashcards to enhance my vocabularies, watched a lot of tutorials on YouTube, surfed many websites on the Internet, and proceeds to watch Korean series. Little did I know, I was going to unexpectedly give up studying this language. Why? Well, when I got into its grammar, I was surprised by how complicated it is. I also saw videos on YouTube about Filipino learners of the Korean Language that aren’t still fluent after years of studying. So I got a bit down and frankly, I lost my motivation.

Even so, my language learning journey did not stop there. I still want to learn a foreign language that interests me other than the ones I already know which is Filipino, my native mother-tongue and English, my second language. I tried Japanese because of Animes but it was a bit complicated too. They have three kinds of writing systems and the grammar is similar to Korean. French because I have a French uncle and a Filipino cousin and aunt which speaks fluent French but when I knew how it sounded and how the words were pronounced, I already lost hope. French pronunciation is too complicated for me. I also dig up about German because my main to-go-to country in the future is Switzerland and of course, I would want to communicate with people there. However, German is laborious too! The words, the combinations of letters, and the grammar is too confusing. Until I finally encountered the language that’s spoken by the first colonizer of my motherland and it is no other than Spanish.

I started by memorizing basic phrases such as, “Gracias”, “De nada”, “Hola”, and a lot more. I was, once again, amazed by how easy this language is spoken. It is because Spanish is a phonetic language. Meaning, the words are pronounced exactly the way they are spelled. Also since Spain colonized my country for about 333 years, we adopted a lot of words from them which are now considered as loan words. It is estimated that about 4,000+ Tagalog and 6,000 Visayan words came from Spain. Some of the examples include baso(vaso), lamesa(la mesa), tinidor(tenidor), kutsara(cuchara), bumbilya(bombilla), and banyo(baño). As well as the number system, the names of the months, days, expressions, greetings, and many more. For this reason, I was determined to continue learning it because unlike in the other languages, there is no need for me to struggle in memorizing new vocabularies.

I did the same things I did to Korean and just added some new tactics. While my school is on a term break after the first semester, I enrolled at a Spanish Beginner course online where we are taught by a Filipino teacher who is fluent in 5 languages: English, Tagalog, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. My cousin from France, who’s also fluent in Spanish, gave me books like Spanish dictionaries and grammar textbooks for writing and reading purposes. I was also able to use my Netflix binge-watching skills and started to watch a lot of Spanish series for listening purposes. And on YouTube, I began to discover facts about Spain. Their rich culture, history, and traditions, and how their language was influenced by Arabic as well. Additionally, Spanish is the 2nd most spoken language in the world, surpassing the English language, having over 460 million native speakers located in Spain and in Latin American countries. It is also the 3rd most used language on the internet. That’s a lot of people to talk to!

Furthermore, did you know that being multilingual gives your brain several remarkable advantages? Some of it can be seen such as higher density of the grey matter that contains most your brain’s neurons and synapses. It also helps our brain engage in more activities in certain regions where that language is spoken. And although not yet definitively proven, learning many languages decreases the rate of having dementia by 5 years! In addition, more businesses nowadays are seeking applicants who can navigate the modern global economy. It can be seen that in the 21st Century, knowing a second language is not only beneficial, but necessary for success in life. The continual globalization of the world’s economy is bringing diverse cultures and communities into more frequent contact with each other.

Looking back in time, I was nothing like this way before the quarantine started. Learning languages was never really included in my interests. But now, it is! In fact, I am even determined to shift my college course to something related to languages and pursue a master’s degree about linguistics. Indeed, it changed my life. It changed how I see things from a monolingual perspective and it opened a new horizon for me. Gladly, I was even able to have Spanish speaking friends! I have this one friend from Peru who speaks fluent Spanish and I happily encountered Spanish native people here in Facebook who are trying to learn a different language as well.

Overall, my experience was a blast! There are times that I became tired and almost lose my motivation because of how slow my progress is. But even so, I will not give up. I am not fluent yet and I still have a lot to know but I will keep on practicing until I become one. I believe that in the near future, it will open new opportunities that will be helpful for me too. Moreover, It has always been my dream to travel and I truly think that language learning will be an aid to that. Hoping that I’ll be able to talk to that nearing 500 million people soon!

Before I end my blog, I just want to share this quote from Charlemagne, also known as Karl and Charles the Great, a medieval emperor who ruled much of Western Europe during 768-814, “To have another language is to possess a second soul.”

Bueno. Eso es todo. Gracias por su tiempo leyendo mi blog. Espero que encuentres algo interesante. Además, a aquellos que están aprendiendo otro idioma, nunca perder la esperanza! Pronto seremos fluidos.

Truly, there is fun in languages.

#languages #languagelearning #spanish #korean #french #german #learninglanguages #studying #culture #idiomas #linguistics #fun #writing #reading #listening #speaking #journey

[kynaswhereabouts]

First public street library launched in Naga City

Written by: Kyna De Castro

In this digital age where everything you need to know can be found with the help of technology, public street libraries are a rare setup especially in the Philippines. Although there are some that can be found in different parts of Manila, these are hardly noticed and only recognized by those who have keen interests for knowledge and books.

Naga City took a long journey to become a central business hub in Camarines Sur. While this shows progress, it is no surprise that this city also has a room in improving its cultural and art scene through the emergence of public street libraries which molds the city’s appreciation not just for literature but also to push the advocacy in giving significance to free access to knowledge and education.  

Just last month, the Public Good Library opened its first branch at Princeton Street, Concepcion Pequena, Naga City. It is owned and managed by Mr. Ernest Asence. Two more branches located in Jacob and Queborac Street, Naga City were also opened later following the opening of the first branch.  A wide array of book collections in different genres came from donors all over our country and was given to Public Good Library while at the same time found a new home.

The Public Good Library was first established in 2017. However, it was not accessible during that time and they need to add up the volume of available books in order to encourage people to visit. When they opened an online contact through a Facebook page, more book donations from his students, siblings, relatives and fellow colleagues from City Hall came and made it possible to finally launch it. This year, it finally opened its doors to bookworms seeking a place of refuge where they can freely read and get lost in their own world.

WHY OPEN A PUBLIC STREET LIBRARY?

“I didn’t really thought of it. It just happened. We do not spend much time anymore thinking about the things happening to us,” said Mr. Asence when we asked him why he decided to open a public street library. “I have been asked that same question many times since the opening of the first branch by visitors and media. I have only one answer. It is the same answer for everyone.” He added.

“My original plan is to sell books. But I also realized that the market for books are quite few these days and considering the situation that we also have Book Sale. The presence of technology and internet also made the information easier to access,” he also shared. Moreover, he stressed that everything started with his personal book collections he hoarded since college. He also got the idea of opening a library when he visited a 2-storey house thrift shop with used items and mostly books in Los Banos.

PRINCETON STREET BRANCH

The branch at Princeton Street is the first Public Good Library that was opened to public. It is composed of Mr. Asence’s personal book collections and also some of the donations he was able to acquire recently. This space is actually his house turned into a working space and library. Also having the keen interest for plants and herbs, this place was turned into a fusion of his two passions: books and plants.  

JACOB STREET BRANCH

This branch is an apartment owned by one of Mr. Asence’s students who made the space open as a library. It is the second branch to open. Most of the books available here are young adult and best-selling novels which are also donated by his students. The ambiance here is very homey. It is a good place to read your favorites.

QUEBORAC STREET BRANCH (WITTY CAULDRON CAFÉ)

The Witty Cauldron Café is a simple Harry Potter-themed café which brings every Potterhead’s dream come true. It brings you closer enough to the magical world and becomes your safe haven to fangirl/fanboy without being judged by muggles. Here, you will feel that you are home.

The Public Good Library had allotted space for some of the book donations especially the book collections of music instructor and composer Digs Villabroza. It is also a conducive place for reading while eating and enjoying the Hogwarts ambiance. You can definitely unleash your inner Hermoine Granger now.

Being located at Queborac, it is strategic location and very accessible especially to students because it is near universities like Ateneo de Naga University and University of Sta. Isabel.

WHAT MAKES IT DIFFERENT FROM OTHERS?

The Public Good Library is a haven for all bookworms and literature enthusiasts where they can freely read any book available. It lives up to its name “Public Good” because most books are donations and the collections available are beneficial to students as well for researchers. Each branch has student volunteers who manages the libraries to ensure that the books are well taken care of. It is free space for reading/studying and you will never feel guilty for being there for so long because it is serving its purpose. 

#publicgoodlibrary #publicgood #library #nagacity #camarinessur #camsur #bicol #philippines #books #novels

[msowinski01-blog]

Why Do We Value Education?

Education. We hear the term quite frequently, but have you ever stopped to think about what all education really entails? Parents talk about the importance of their children getting a “good education” and the school system encourages its students to go on to continue to pursue their education at a university...but why? If we really dig deep we can find the various ways that education can be defined and why we put so much value on it as a society. 

Students through their caps in the air at graduation as a completion of one of their forms of education (Vasily Koloda, Unsplash.com)

There is a concept constructed by Deborah Brandt, a renowned author and former professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, that really encapsulates the whole idea of the word “education”. Brandt has focused the majority of her career studying literacy learning and the forces that shape one’s access to learning. With this research, Brandt created the idea of a literacy sponsor. In her scholarly article called “Sponsors of Literacy”, Brandt states that "sponsors... are any agents, local or distant, concrete or abstract, who enable, support, teach, teach, model, as well as recruit, regulate, suppress, or withhold literacy-and gain advantage of it in some way”(Brandt, 72). After looking at a variety of examples, I have concluded that education is the most important literacy sponsor because it fosters positive opportunities and an improved quality of life.

Representation in the Media

With our technology evolving faster than ever, we must consider how representation can be expanded (Charles Deluvio, unsplash.com)

One of the most beneficial aspects of education is that it results in better representation in the media. When people have the ability to be educated about culture, they learn about others’ experiences, identities, and ideas which helps eliminate prejudice and stereotypes and instead facilitates a place for understanding. By eradicating certain prejudices, more opportunities will arise for people who might not have necessarily had them in the past. Education in this sense can occur in the traditional school setting, but it does not necessarily have to. The media has often neglected to focus on minority groups, and when they do they often only portray negative stereotypes. This experience was demonstrated in the story Grassroots Literacies: Lesbian and Gay Activism and the Internet in Turkey by Sercan Gorkmli. Gorkmli writes about the experiences of his friend Unal- a young gay man growing up in Turkey. Unal’s parents had negative views about his sexuality because they were uninformed about homosexuality due to the lack of representation of the LGBTQ+ community in the media at that time. Gorkmli describes how “Unal emphasized the influence of mass media, specifically television, on his parents’ misconceptions about homosexuality: To put it simply, they had never seen it before….There were only two examples...Bülent Ersoy [a male-to-female transsexual] and Zeki Müren [a queer male singer]” (Gorkmli, 2).   As we have seen in the United States , representation of the LGBTQ+ community has drastically increased as education in schools, in communities, and online has increased over the past 50 years. In turn, the greater representation across media platforms can act as a form of education for others generating a positive cycle. This kind of effect can really help change the way that groups of people are treated and viewed in a positive way. 

Learning Styles

Students learning from the traditional lecture style of teaching (Shubham Sharan, unsplash.com)

Just as education can help us understand each other, education can help us understand ourselves. Education is a process of self discovery, including determining one’s learning style.Understanding how you learn can drastically improve your quality of life. Amy Vidali, a current writing professor at the University of California, Santa-Cruz, explained in a video titled Being a Barrier: Thoughts on literacy and access the way that she observes different learning styles in her classroom and the way that her teaching style has changed as a result of this. Vidali explains how everyone learns differently and that many people don’t know the way that they learn best. She tells the story of a young man and his journey of discovering his learning style. “[H]e was a junior or a senior in college, probably 19 or 20, and had never been exposed to the fact that he was an auditory learner. He was excited that he had this information and could use it for the rest of his life, but I always thought about what kind of literacy opportunities did he miss and what kind of assumptions did he make about himself based on the fact that it took him until college until to realize and be able to learn how it was that he learned” (Vidali, 1). This anecdote struck me because it shows how we can perceive ourselves just because we haven’t discovered what works best for us yet. Understanding how you learn can aid you across all disciplines of life and help you make the most out of the opportunities that come your way. An understanding of ourselves increases our quality of life because we can be more efficient and confident in the ways we learn and process information. We can then go on to help others with what we have learned.

Helping Others with Education 

Malcolm X, famous activist during the civil rights movement who self educated himself (Truman Moore, nydailynews.com)

Becoming educated on a subject can provide you the opportunity to help others with what you have learned and promote change in our world. I mentioned earlier how education comes in many forms and this next narrative is a prime example of that.  In The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Malcolm X, Malcolm X tells the story of his self education in prison he received by reading all the material he could get his hands on.  His self education while he was imprisoned allowed him to become deeply informed on African American history and that inspired him to make change in the world. Once he was released from prison he became a prominent figure in the civil rights movement. Using his acquired knowledge, he worked to improve his quality of life and the quality of life of millions of black Americans. This story teaches us two very important lessons; the first is that we need to be supportive of all forms of education and not try to suppress any kind of it. Secondly, this story shows the exponential positive effect that an education can provide. Malcolm X took his knowledge and spread it with the world therefore encapsulating the cycle of learning.

Are There Limits to Education?

Certain kinds of education can be a financial burden on an individual and/or their family (Josh Appel, unsplash.com)

There can be limiting factors to education however. A college degree comes at a cost that is unimaginable to many people. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, the average cost for a 4-year undergraduate degree during the 2016-2017 year $26,593 per year. This can be an extreme financial barrier that can be the end of the road for many people’s formal education. Nevertheless, it is important to remember that school is not the only form of education. Education can be learning other skills that are not taught in school. There are also forms of self-education like Malcolm X experienced in his life. Cost should not be a barrier in education in one’s life, you just need to seek out the opportunities that fit your situation best. 

What Do We Do now?

We’ve explored how education functions as a necessary literacy sponsor, but what are the next steps? Education is often a personal matter so I want you to apply what you’ve learned in the ways that make the most sense to your life. However, I will suggest a few things. First, take ownership of your education and seek out ways to continue your learning; you never know what doors might open. Additionally, have respect for those who had a different path of education than yours. Finally, be an advocate for the education of others; help them pursue their dreams. An education may just be the thing that helps one find their place of belonging and help their social mobility. You never know so you may as well try.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

e-Missary

It’s the 27th here, so I’m posting my Steter Secret Santa fic. 

Happy holidays to my giftee @hotpinklizard and I hope you enjoy! 

And thank you to @stetersecretsanta for putting this whole thing together! 

Peter Hale has a tension headache building behind his eyes, a nephew who has picked the wrong time to have a crisis of conscience, and a bound and gagged college freshman in the trunk of his car as he speeds north along Highway 101. This is not how he intended his weekend to go, but Peter is nothing if not adaptable.

“I’m calling Mom,” Derek says, stony-faced.

“Come now, nephew.” Peter flashes him a smile. “No need to be hasty.”

There’s a barrage of dull thumps from the trunk of the car.

“I’m calling Mom,” Derek repeats.

Peter sighs as Derek digs around in his pockets.

“Where’s my phone?” Derek growls, his eyes flashing.

“Did you leave it on the top of the car when we stopped for gas?” Peter asks. “People do that all the time.”

“Why would I…” Derek trails off, words replaced with a more menacing growl this time as he realizes exactly what happened to his phone, and exactly who is to blame.   

In Peter’s defense, Derek should be more careful with his personal belongings and not leave them where they can be so easily pick-pocketed. Like in his pockets. That’s just asking for trouble. Perhaps Peter setting his phone on the roof of the car at the last gas station will teach him to be more responsible in the future.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Peter promises.

He will, too. Peter is always as good as his word—although, crucially, never any better—and none of this is Derek’s fault. Peter blames Alan Deaton for this entire mess, actually. Peter has never trusted Deaton. Never. Deaton is too difficult to read, and Peter has never believed that the emissary’s goals align exactly with those of the Hale Pack.

Former emissary’s.

Peter leans down to turn the volume up on the radio, hoping to drown out both Derek’s growling and the incessant thumping from the trunk. They’ll both tire themselves out sooner or later, right?

The rousing strains of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries fill the car. It seems like appropriate musical accompaniment for the shitstorm Peter is currently well and truly headed into.

No, this is definitely not how he intended on spending his weekend.

None of this is his fault, for the record. Peter would like that very clearly stated. It’s all Alan Deaton’s fault. And it started three weeks ago back in Beacon Hills.

***

 “Excuse me?” Peter asks in the sudden silence. “You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?”

His sister Talia leans back in her chair and gives him a look. The look. The one she’s been giving him since the day he was born. The Peter-I-can’t-believe-you-please-act-like-a-civilized-creature-for-once-in-your-life-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy look. It’s what Talia does. And Peter ignores it, because that’s what he does.

“I assure you I’m not joking,” Alan Deaton says in that insufferably calm manner of his that makes Peter want to tear his throat out. “I’m going to move to Minnesota and start up an organic dairy farm.”

“Okay, that’s bullshit,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes. “For starters, nobody would choose to move to Minnesota. And secondly, you don’t get to retire, Alan, you’re our emissary!”

Peter doesn’t like Deaton, but that doesn’t mean the smarmy asshole just gets to walk away. Deaton is their emissary. It’s a sacred trust. There were blood oaths involved. Retirement is not a fucking option.

“Peter’s right, Alan,” Talia says, sounding way too calm for the situation.

Of course Peter’s right. Peter is always right. Really, the sooner people realize this fact as one of the immutable truths of the universe, the better off everyone will be and the more smoothly everything will run.

Deaton looks as serenely unruffled as always. He inclines his head a fraction. “I assure you, Talia, that the welfare of the Hale Pack remains my highest priority.”

Peter folds his arms over his chest. He can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

Outside, he hears the patter of little paws in the corridor. Peter prowls closer to the closed library door and growls lowly, just to remind any small eavesdroppers that now might be a good idea to be elsewhere, and is rewarded by the sound of the pups skedaddling away again. Sometimes being the alpha’s left hand means drowning her enemies in their own blood, and sometimes it means stopping small excitable children from barging into meetings. It’s a mixed bag.

When he turns back to Talia and Deaton, it’s just in time to see Deaton slide what looks to be a business card across Talia’s desk.

Talia picks it up and inspects it. “What’s this?”

“That,” Alan Deaton says, “is the name of a spark who can act as your emissary until you find a permanent replacement.”

“Alan,” Talia says. “He has a website.”

“Stiles offers an online service,” Deaton says calmly.

“Online,” Talia repeats, arching an unimpressed eyebrow.

Peter stalks forward and holds his hand out for the card.

Stiles the Spark, it reads in unnecessary cursive, e-Missary online services.

What. The. Fuck?

Peter has always been interested in magic. Unnaturally so, actually, since most werewolves have an aversion to it. That aversion is more cultural than biological. For creatures that surround themselves with magic, werewolves shy away from practicing it. It’s why human emissaries are so necessary for packs: to place wards, to enhance the strength of the pack bonds and the alpha, to use their magic to protect, to defend and—if necessary—to attack. Magic is elemental. It’s tied intrinsically to the pack, to the land, and to the heartbeat of the magic user.

There’s no fucking app for it, basically.

Peter wants nothing more than to tear the business card up into shreds, and shove the pieces up Alan Deaton’s ass.

Deaton just smiles slightly. “Stiles is more than capable of maintaining the wards and monitoring the telluric currents online, I promise you.”

“We’re talking about magic, Alan,” Talia says. “Not tech support.”

“What’s the difference, really?” Deaton asks, a slight smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

Talia blinks at him, like she’s actually thinking about it.

Shit.

She’s actually going to fall for his enigmatic bullshit. 

“Talia,” Peter says, voice low in warning.

Talia takes back the business card, and looks at it thoughtfully.

“Talia,” Peter repeats.

His sister meets his gaze and shrugs. “It can’t do any harm to look into it, Peter.”

Fuck Alan Deaton, fuck Minnesota, and fuck Peter’s life. Because of course it won’t be Talia looking into it, will it? No, it will not. This is absolutely going to be a job for her left hand. And, like wrangling the toddlers away from secret meetings with the emissary, it’s going to be one of the shitty jobs.

Peter can just tell.

 ***

 Talia, against Peter’s advice, makes contact with the emissary. Or, rather, the e-Missary. Jesus. Peter detests him for that butchering of the English language alone.   

“His name really is Stiles,” Talia tells Peter the next morning over breakfast. “He’s a freshman at Stanford. He’s been practicing magic since he was fourteen.”

“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement if he’s still practically in diapers,” Peter points out.

“He comes with a recommendation from Satomi.”

Okay, so that’s a surprise. Satomi Ito is the alpha of a pack in a neighboring territory, and she’s no pushover.

“I don’t like it,” Peter says. “I don’t care if Deaton says he can work his magic remotely. That’s not the point. The point is, an emissary is supposed to have a bond with a pack. How the hell are we supposed to know if we can even trust this Stiles if we can’t scent him, or hear his heartbeat?”

And that’s the crux of the matter. Werewolves rely on scent, and on body language, and on a thousand different tells in the way a person presents themselves. And none of those things work via email. This spark could be laughing at them while he plans to dismantle every one of the magic protections Alan Deaton has set up around the Hale territory, and they wouldn’t even know it.

It’s dangerous.

Peter lowers his voice. “How do we know he isn’t working for some other pack at the same time he’s worming his way past our defenses?”

Werewolf packs aren’t what they once were, but that’s not to say there are no longer any fangs hidden behind polite smiles, or claws in a handshake. And the Hale territory is very attractive. A faithless emissary could easily sell them out to the highest bidder. And while that may not be a likely scenario, it’s still Peter’s job to consider it. He wouldn’t be his alpha’s left hand if he trusted too easily. The requirements for the job of left hand are a keen intelligence wrapped around a suspicious nature, an aptitude for intrigue that would make Machiavelli proud, and a strong stomach when it comes to bloodshed.

Peter is over qualified.

He was born over qualified.

Talia reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. “The contact specifies that he’s to work with only one pack at a time.”

Peter waits.  

Talia digs her fingers in to the muscle of his shoulder. “Look into it for me, won’t you, Peter?”  

Peter nods, his eyes flashing.

Stiles the Spark had better be exactly as trustworthy as he promises, or he’s going to be in for a world of regret.

 ***

 For all of her initial caution, Talia spends an hour on the phone with Satomi Ito, and then signs the contract with Stiles the Spark on a Monday afternoon.

“Satomi vouches for him,” she says, as though that settles the matter. “And I’ve spoken to him. I think we can trust him.”

“Are you serious?” Peter is aghast.

“It’s fine, Peter,” Talia says. “I’ve made my decision. Let it go.”

It doesn’t settle the matter at all. Not for Peter.

“Besides,” Talia says, “the website thing is very modern.”

She says it as though Peter should be amused, or at least grudgingly impressed.

Peter is neither.

On Tuesday morning, the air shimmers in the Preserve as the wards pulse and surge. There’s a burst of ozone in the air, the smell of a sky before the storm, and then it passes.

On Tuesday evening Alan Deaton inspects the new wards, declares them good, and packs his car and heads for Minnesota.

Peter hopes that the first time he tries to milk an organic dairy cow, it steps on his head and crushes his skull.

 ***

 Derek is never going to be a left hand. The boy is… well, Peter loves him dearly, but he’s a marshmallow. Even the leather jacket and the brooding eyebrows can’t hide that for long. Peter has always been amused at how differently they present. Derek tries to look like a bad boy even though that mask is as flimsy as rice paper. Peter, on the other hand, comes across as charming and friendly. By the time people see Peter’s fangs, it’s way too late.

Derek is not Peter’s first choice for a sidekick, or a minion, or whatever the term is whenever the left hand needs a little backup. Hopefully the term is not co-defendant. Peter’s first choice for business like this would be Cora, but she’s away at college so it’s Derek who accompanies him on his trip to the Bay Area to find out what they can about Stiles the Spark.

They don’t even have his full name, but they do know where he lives. Not that it was easy information to find. Peter had to call in a huge favor to get the address. But all the VPNs and proxies and whatever the hell else the spark used to hide his location—Peter is not especially tech savvy—were no match at all for Peter’s contact in the NSA. Really, it’s a travesty how the government spies on its own citizens, but it’s so useful.

Stiles the Spark lives in a small studio apartment in Charleston Meadow. The building is old but reasonably well maintained. It’s nothing special at all, although Peter has no doubt the rent is exorbitant. Welcome to the Bay Area.

Peter and Derek park a little way up the street, and then they wait.

Peter flicks through the contract the spark signed with Talia. The one where he agrees to work exclusively with the Hale Pack for the duration of the contract. It’s a six week contract, with an option for an extension if both parties agree. In those six weeks, Stiles the Spark will take care of defensive warding, do whatever general protective spell-work is required of him by Talia, and respond to any formal communications made by other packs. All the very basic duties of an emissary, but Peter deeply distrusts handing those duties over to a stranger, however highly recommended he comes.

He glares at Stiles the Spark’s illegible crawl of a signature on the contract, and feels his upper lip curl up in a snarl.

“You’re sure this guy is plotting to backstab us somehow, aren’t you?” Derek asks.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Peter says. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives.”

“Not everyone,” Peter agrees. “But it only takes one.”

Derek presses his mouth together a little tightly, and if he’s not thinking of Kate Argent right now then he damn well should be. If it hadn’t been for Peter following Derek to one of his assignations with his secret girlfriend, Kate Argent might have killed them all. So no, Peter will never apologize for being suspicious-minded.

“Does Mom know we’re here?” Derek asks after a moment.

“She asked me to look into things,” Peter says, neglecting to mention that she later rescinded that order.  

Derek’s brows pull together. “But does she know we’re here?”

Peter does him a favor and doesn’t answer that directly. Derek is a mama’s boy. He hates disappointing Talia. Given that she’s the alpha, it’s no character flaw at all but Derek doesn’t even give himself any wriggle room. It would be unthinkable to him to act without his alpha’s explicit permission. He wasn’t always like this, but with Derek it’s once bitten, twice shy. Just another legacy of Kate Argent.

“It’s fine, Derek,” Peter says, his mouth curling up in what he intends to be a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I promise.”

Derek doesn’t look convinced.

Once Peter has got this spark thing sorted out, he’s going get Derek very, very drunk on wolfsbane-infused whiskey, take him to a club, and encourage him to make some reckless decisions with some pretty people. The boy really needs to loosen up. Most importantly, he needs to learn that it’s entirely possible to get laid without having to fear for his life, and that the act of putting his dick inside someone has no correlation at all with whether or not they’re plotting to kill him and his entire pack. Really, the chances of that happening more than once are infinitesimal, right?

It’s past noon when a young man appears from the front of the apartment complex in an explosion of plaid and flailing limbs. He looks like a typical college kid: bags under his eyes, a backpack flung over his shoulder, mussed up hair, and clothes that have never seen an iron. Peter watches his progress from the front steps to the sidewalk with an amused sort of disinterest—the kid is clearly not a spark. He is too young, too clumsy, and he gives off the same commanding aura of power and control as a kitten chasing a ping pong ball across a newly waxed floor—but Peter watches him because there’s nothing else to watch. Which is why he’s paying attention when the kid trips over his own feet, and the contents of his backpack go flying.

Paper and pens and other detritus scatter all over the sidewalk.

A gleaming silver laptop… does not.

It just hangs in the air, a foot or so above the ground, with the kid’s hand outstretched toward it. For a moment nothing moves, and then the kid hurries forward and plucks the laptop out of the air. He shoves it into his backpack with a guilty expression on his face, and then gets down on his hands and knees to collect everything else. Moments later he’s back on his feet, jogging toward the battered old blue Jeep parked further down the street.

“Did that…” Derek murmurs, and shakes his head. “Did that just happen?”

Peter feels a thrill run through him. It’s not very often that he’s surprised.

“Well,” he says, craning his neck to watch as the Jeep roars off down the street. “I think we’ve found our spark.”

 ***

 Stiles the Spark lives in apartment 4F. It’s the work of minutes for Peter to pick the lock. He feels a buzz of something like static in the air as the door swings open, and then all the air is abruptly sucked out of the room, the edges of Peter’s vision darken, and Peter gets a whiff of a scent that makes his fangs drop and his claws extend just as the door slams shut in his face again.

Well then.

It looks like they just tripped the spark’s alarm system.

Good.

Because if what Peter just smelled inside the spark’s apartment is indeed the case, then this information gathering mission just turned into something very different indeed.

And Peter will take the spark apart very, very slowly with his claws until he tells them who he’s really working for.

  ***

 Derek isn’t Peter’s first choice for a sidekick, but he does make excellent bait. He’s fiddling with the lock on the door of apartment 4F when the Stiles the Spark returns, while Peter, thanks to the judicious application of a teensy bit of magic and the handy placement of an incredibly ugly ficus in the hallway of the apartment building, doesn’t even register as a blip on the spark’s radar. Of course, the spark is way more fixated on the guy trying to break into his apartment.

Peter was counting on that.

The boy is magnificent, really.

He strides down the hallway toward Derek, and he’s no flailing, clumsy student now. He’s a whirlwind, a dervish, a force of nature.

“Who sent you?” he demands, voice as low as a predator’s as he stalks closer to Derek. “What do you want?”

He could call up storms with that voice, Peter thinks. Call up storms and rain down fire. All the electricity in the air seems to gather around him as he moves. It crackles, and the air shifts and shimmers around him.

He’s incredible.

A part of Peter almost wants to see how this will play out—he imagines something with thunderbolts—but Derek is looking increasingly terrified, like a fluffy little bunny cornered by something with fangs, and Talia will never forgive Peter if her baby doesn’t come home in one unblemished piece.

“What are you doing here?” the boy demands, closing the distance between him and Derek. “Who the hell are you?”

Peter almost reluctantly steps out from the shelter provided by the ficus. “He would be the distraction, sweetheart.”

The boy spins back to face him, and his mouth drops open just as Peter blows a handful of iron filings right in his face.

The boy is magnificent, but he has fuck all situational awareness.

His eyes roll back in his head and he goes down like a sack of rocks.

“And you must be Stiles,” Peter says with a smirk.

 ***

 Thump thump thump from the trunk.

Well, apparently someone is still very unhappy about his travel arrangements. 

They’re still about two hours from Beacon Hills, which means they’re an hour and a half from Peter’s cabin. He calls it his cabin in the hope that it sounds quaint and charming, but Laura insists it makes him sound like the Unabomber, and Cora calls it “Uncle Peter’s little den of torture.” Peter prefers to think of it as his little den of intensive practical applied information gathering, but that just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as easily. It’s less of a cabin and more of a bunker, to be honest, and it is filled with everything Peter needs to get Stiles the Spark to talk.

He grips the steering wheel tightly, fighting the urge to let his claws descend and ruin his new hand-sewn nappa leather steering wheel cover. He’s a werewolf, not a Philistine.

Thump thump thump.

Derek gives him the side eye. He’s still pissed about his phone, probably, and also probably about the fact that he’s become an accomplice in an abduction. And probably that whole using-him-as-bait thing back at the apartment building. Still, the boy could stand to lighten up a little. Nobody died.

Yet.

Peter turns the stereo up.

Thump thump thump.

Stiles is cuffed in iron shackles—wrists and ankles—in the trunk of the car. He is blindfolded and gagged. He is wrapped up like a burrito in a blanket made out of steel wool, which can’t be very comfortable, but contains enough iron to keep a moderate dampner on that magic of his.

And preventing him from using his magic is one thing, but maybe Peter should have slipped him a roofie too. Still, every mile brings them closer and closer to the cabin, and it’s not like the spark is going anywhere in the meantime. And how much damage can he really do, locked securely in the trunk?

Thump thump thump CRACK.

Fuck.

“What the hell?” Derek asks, twisting in his seat as though he’ll actually be able to see what’s going on in the trunk.

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes.

He can only deal with one annoying fucking irritant at a time, and right now that irritant is Stiles.

It takes longer than Peter would like to reach the nearest exit on the highway, and longer than that to get the car to somewhere secluded enough to actually pull over and sort this little bastard out. When he parks behind the shelter of a copse of trees, he and Derek get out and inspect the damage. The tail light is hanging by the wires from the back of the car.

Peter really, really hopes that nobody saw the kid kick it out and then called the police with his license plate number.

He opens the trunk.

Stiles is a mess. He’s still half-wrapped up in the blanket, but he’s struggled enough that he’s opened up patches of abrasions all over his arms and his face. His skin is covered in sweat and smears of blood. His gag is still in, but his blindfold is askew. One eye, golden-bright and piercing as an owl’s in the late afternoon sun, stares up at Peter narrowly.

Peter smiles at him, and extends a clawed hand toward his face.

Stiles doesn’t even flinch.

“Damage my car again,” Peter says, keeping his voice low as a prayer, “and you’ll regret it. What’s that saying?” He drags a claw gently over the boy’s sharp cheekbone, not quite hard enough to draw blood. “An eye for an eye?”

Stiles holds his gaze, and there’s murder in it.

Peter slams the trunk shut again.

There’s no noise at all from the trunk for the rest of the drive.

 ***

 It’s getting late by the time they reach the cabin. It’s almost winter, and the evenings are beginning to draw in earlier. There’s a chill in the air, but nothing a werewolf can’t handle. Peter and Derek haul Stiles out of the trunk of the car, and both get the benefit of that baleful one-eyed stare as they manhandle him toward the cabin. Stiles smells like electricity, and touching him, even bundled up as he is in his abrasive steel wool blanket, makes Peter’s skin prickle. Stiles is breathing heavily, and sweat has slicked his hair to his temples. His heart is thumping as fast as a rabbit’s.

Peter disarms the alarm system and unlocks the cabin door. He steps inside and turns on the lights. They’re halogen. Bright and unforgiving.

Stiles sucks in a breath as he sees what’s waiting for him.

The cabin is… well, it’s a clearly been build for one purpose, and not a nice one. It looks like the sort of place specifically designed to torture and dismember people with the minimum of fuss, and then possibly use their skin to make gloves out of. Not that Peter has ever done that. But if he wanted to, here would be the place. It’s more Hannibal Lector than Buffalo Bill. It’s clean, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ominous.

The main room is windowless. It has two very large stainless steel counters that run lengthways down the room. Underneath the counters are drawers and cabinets. There is a large gleaming sink on the far wall between them. The resemblance to a morgue isn’t entirely accidental. The room also has a polished cement floor that slopes gently toward a drain in the corner. So much easier for cleanup.

There’s a sturdy chair in the middle of the floor.

Peter and Derek manhandle Stiles onto the chair, and then Peter opens one of the many cabinets and pulls out a length of iron chain. Heavy as hell. Peter uncuffs Stiles’s ankles, and then wraps the chain around Stiles’s left ankle, winding it up his leg as far as his knee and pushing the blanket out of the way as he goes, and then winds the remainder around his right leg in a similar fashion. He secures it with a padlock.

Iron, of course.

Only then does he pull the blanket away from Stiles. Only then does he pull off the skewed blindfold, and tug the gag out of Stiles’s mouth.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Stiles says, voice rasping. “Cosy.”

Peter smirks, and glances at Derek, who is lurking uneasily by the door. Then he fixes his attention on Stiles again. “Isn’t it?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes like he really thinks he’s in any position to be demanding answers. He’s certainly got balls. If Peter couldn’t hear the rapid thump of his heart or smell the way that adrenaline sours the edges of his scent, he’d almost think Stiles was unafraid.

But Stiles is way too clever to be truly unafraid.

His sharp gaze is taking everything in: Peter, Derek, the cabin. Peter can also see him trying to flex his legs to test the give in the chains. There is none. His cuffed hands are resting in his lap, and his long fingers are mapping the lock, as though he’ll find a weakness there. He won’t.

Peter only smirks, and flashes his eyes at Stiles.

“Werewolf,” Stiles murmurs. “Werewolves don’t use magic.”

“Well, I’m no spark but I know a trick or two.”

“As you clearly demonstrated at my apartment,” Stiles says. His voice is level, but Peter can tell he’s plotting sixteen different methods of murder behind those lovely eyes of his. “Iron filings and a binding curse, right?”

“Simple but effective,” Peter says.  

“Huh.” Stiles seems strangely unimpressed for someone who hit the floor like a brick. “So, where’s your alpha?”

“I’m afraid it’s me that you’ll be dealing with, and not my alpha.”

Stiles leans forward in his chair. “No can do, V-neck. I’m an emissary. I only deal with your alpha.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Peter lies, keeping his tone honey-sweet. “Were you under the impression we’d be following protocol here today? The abduction didn’t clue you in at all?”

“Fair point.” He voice rasps and he clears his throat. For a moment he regards Peter narrowly, and then he turns to look at Derek. He widens his eyes. His bottom lip trembles slightly. And no. No, that will not do. Because Derek is exactly the sort of person who will fall for that vulnerable Bambi bullshit, and it’s taken Stiles the work of moment to pick him out as the weak link. Smart boy.

Peter moves a few paces to the right and blocks Stiles’s view of Derek. “Well then, let’s get down to business. Who are you working for, Stiles?”

Stiles holds his gaze. “That’s something I’m happy to discuss with your alpha.”

“Stubborn,” Peter says approvingly. “Funny thing about stubbornness. I’ve discovered it’s inversely proportionate to the number of fingernails a person still has.”

A corner of Stiles’s mouth twitches. “That is funny.” He wrinkles his nose. “I should probably tell you that I don’t do well with threats.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm.” Stiles rolls his shoulders and blinks up at Peter. “I have ADD. All this back-and-forth posturing bullshit that you werewolves enjoy so much? I mean, I appreciate that you’re trying to create like a sense of impending doom here and stuff, but I have the attention span of a hummingbird on speed, so, honestly, while you’re building up to your big scary moment, I’m sorting through the six thousand tabs I’ve got open in my brain instead. You should probably just save yourself the effort and cut to the chase.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Stiles?”

The cuffs on Stiles’s wrists clink together as he shrugs. “I already told you, V-neck. I only talk to your alpha.”

Peter steps back for a moment, and regards the spark curiously. He’s an interesting one. A strange little puzzle indeed. He smells a little of fear, but there’s something else there as well. There’s a brightness in his eyes that Peter distrusts. What a shame that Stiles is so keen to skip the friendly little chat and get right to the torture: Peter is sure he’d make a bright conversationalist. If they’d met in different circumstances, Peter might not be able to resist the challenge in those eyes. Or resist the temptation to end the evening with Stiles’s long legs thrown over his shoulders as Peter fucked him hard enough that the boy saw several previously undreamt of dimensions when he came. And Peter could absolutely do that with his dick. It’s phenomenal.

What a shame that it’s never going to happen and that Stiles has already dug his own grave. Figuratively, at least. Peter will get Derek onto the actual digging later. But the moment Peter opened Stiles’s apartment door and smelled the unmistakable scent of another werewolf permeating the place he’d known that Stiles had lied to Talia, and that he had to die.

Stiles’s eyes widen when Peter opens one of the cabinets and begins to lay out a series of shiny implements: knives, pliers, thumbscrews. Clink clink clink against the countertop.

Stiles’s throat clicks as he swallows.

Derek growls, low and worried.

Peter selects the pliers first. He steps toward Stiles, and speaks softly. “We don’t have to do this, Stiles.”

Stiles bites his lower lip. “We don’t?”

“You could just tell me who you’re working for, and we can stop before we even start.”

“Right.” The word comes out on a breath, and for a moment Peter thinks that he’s going to fold. Then he meets Peter’s gaze again, and holds it. Fragile and courageous at the same time. Peter almost regrets what has to be done when Stiles shivers. “I… I can’t.”

His heartbeat is steady. He’s not lying.

What a shame.

Peter takes Stiles’s hands in his, and wrenches his arms out straight. The cuffs clink and rattle as he positions the pliers. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

“I…” Stiles’s expression shifts suddenly. Sharpens. Hardens. “I’m not going to let that happen, asshole.”

There’s a sudden burst of blinding white light, and Peter is thrown clear across the room and into the wall. The wall cracks, and so does his skull.

His last thought before he blacks out is that that spell with the iron filings wasn’t worth the money he paid for it. 

 ***

 Peter comes to in slow degrees, and finds that it’s his turn to be tied to the chair. With rope woven with wolfsbane, no less. Really, that might be his own fault for keeping it in the cabin. He blinks around the room and sees Derek standing in the corner, his arms folded over his chest and a frown on his face. There’s a circle of ash fencing him in. There’s one around Peter’s chair as well.

And Stiles the Spark is going through the cabinets, making interested humming noises whenever he finds something that catches his attention. “Is this Nordic blue monkshood?” A low whistle of approval. “Nice.” He rattles around for a moment longer. “Holy shit. You have the Petit Albert. I only have a PDF of this.”

Peter growls.

Stiles straightens up, cradling the grimoire gently. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. “Wow. After my alpha rips your throats out, I’m definitely stealing this.”

No, today is not going to plan at all.

“Who’s your alpha?” he asks. Might as well know, right? Might as well know exactly which pack is planning to attack his, even if he no longer has the power to stop them. “Who are you working for?”

Stiles sets the grimoire down on the counter and picked up a knife. He turns it over and over in his hand, the blade glinting in the light.

“Oh, V-neck,” he says. “You and Eyebrows here are in a world of trouble now.” His smile grows, teeth gleaming. “I’m the emissary for one of the most powerful packs in the country.”

Peter regards him steadily, while he runs through a list of potential suspects in his mind. Deucalion? Satomi? Which one of them has betrayed Talia? He’s going to figure out a way to come back and haunt whoever the fuck it is.

Stiles leans towards him. “You just picked a fight with the Hale Pack, asshole.”

What?

Peter’s brain short circuits.

What?

From over in the corner, Derek says, “What the fuck?”

Peter couldn’t have said it better himself.

 ***

 “Oh, my god.” When she sweeps into the cabin, Talia is not happy. “What the hell have you done, Peter? I told you to leave it alone!”

Peter tugs at the rope, ignoring the burn. “Don’t listen to a word he says, Talia! He’s lying! He stinks of another pack!”

“What?” Stiles flails, a flurry of limbs and plaid and indignation. “Fuck you! But also, okay, yes, my best bro in the entire world is a werewolf, but my emissary work is totally separate from that, and I fully disclosed it to Alpha Hale!”

 Talia looks at Peter like she really, really wishes she’d been born an only child, and then takes a moment to fuss over the abrasions on Stiles’s face and arms courtesy of the steel wool blanket. “Oh, my god. You’re bleeding.”

And meanwhile Peter is still tied up in wolfbane-infused ropes, but apparently that’s no big thing.  

Stiles wrinkles his nose and flushes under Talia’s attention, and looks for the world like a little kid. Peter half expects Talia to whip out a handkerchief, spit on it, and clean his face like a total mom. When fuck knows if anyone should be applying saliva to that face then it should be--

No.

It is not healthy to be sexually attracted to smartass little fuck weasels who manage to get the upper hand on Peter. But it’s so rare that anyone does. And Stiles has beautiful eyes. And lips that would looks amazing wrapped around Peter’s dick.

Peter totally wants to have hate sex with him.

Stiles smirks under Talia’s ministrations, and glances over at Peter like he knows exactly what he’s thinking.

Peter hates him.

Peter wants to hate him all night long, and in various positions.

“I’m fine, Alpha Hale,” Stiles says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “Totally okay. I was never in any real danger.”

And there’s the rub, right? The little asshole could have broken free at any moment. It was nothing but a game to him.

Except…

No, that’s not fair. He’d been doing exactly the same thing as Peter, hadn’t he? Trying to figure out who was attacking the Hale pack. Which, Peter hates to admit, is a level of loyalty he hadn’t expected from someone getting paid by the week. Suddenly that recommendation from Satomi doesn’t seem so strange.

 “I mean, this is like an extreme level of exfoliation,” Stiles says, touching his abraded cheek carefully, “but it’ll be fine. I’ll tell people I face-planted on the beach or something. They’ll swallow it.” He flashes a disarming grin. “I have a history of being gravity’s bitch.”

Talia looks completely charmed.

“Excuse me,” Peter says, “but this rope actually burns.”

Talia gives him a look that says he totally deserves it, but then looks questioningly to Stiles instead. Stiles grins, and shrugs, and waves his hand, and Peter watches as the rings of mountain ash surrounding him and Derek curl away and tidy themselves into little piles, and the rope around him loosens and falls off.

Stiles winks at him, and wiggles his fingers.

Peter isn’t sure if Stiles is laughing at him, or threatening him.

It might actually be both.

  ***

 Stiles spends the night at the Hales’ house, eating pizza and laughing loudly, and making Talia promise that she won’t tell his dad he’s in town because he’ll never forgive Stiles for not dropping by.

“Holy fuck,” Derek whispers, his head in his hands. “We kidnapped the sheriff’s son.”

 “Let it go, Derek,” Peter says, tossing back a few fingers of whiskey. “That was hours ago.”

Stiles laughs, and grabs for the bottle. “You two are my favorite kidnappers ever.”

Peter hates him a little less than he did back at the cabin.

But only a little.

In the morning, Stiles checks the wards he installed remotely in the Preserve. Peter accompanies him.

“So, you’re the left hand,” Stiles says, stopping to pick up a twig and snap it.

“That’s right.”

Stiles cocks an eyebrow. “I presume you’re usually a lot better at it.”

“I am, actually.”

“Good.” Stiles’s smile fades and something dark flares in his eyes. “Because I really like your pack, Peter, and I really like your sister and I’m going to be the best emissary money can buy you guys, but fuck diplomacy. It only gets you so far. Sometimes the only way to protect your pack is to strike first, and strike hard.”

Peter feels a rush of warmth, and pleasure. “That’s always been my philosophy.”

“Then I think we’ll work very well together,” Stiles says.

“Until your contact expires.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Guess you’d better use that left hand Machiavellian brain of yours to give your sister some reason to extend my contract.” His eyes dance. “Or give me some reason to stay.”

Peter steps forward and closes the space between them. “Oh, yes. And what might you suggest?”

Stiles’s breath smells like the maple syrup he drowned his pancakes in at breakfast. He turns his head so that his mouth almost brushes against Peter’s jaw line, and Peter feels a flare of heat rush through him. “Well, how about you take me home and fuck me so hard I can’t leave the bed, for starters, and we’ll see how it goes from there?”

 ***

 After six weeks, Talia extends Stiles’s contract.

After six months, Stiles joins the Hale pack officially and closes down his e-Missary service.

Peter takes great pleasure in tearing up one of those obnoxious little business cards.

“Peter!” Stiles complains, yawning and stretching awake. The sunlight filtering through the curtains paints his pale mole-dotted skin golden, and the hickey on his throat a vivid shade of eggplant purple. “Stop going through my stuff.”

Peter climbs onto the bed and straddles him. He showers him in the confetti of the destroyed business card. “These are a crime against the English language, Stiles.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“It’s why you love me,” Peter says.

“Yeah. Fuck you, but it totally is.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Now didn’t you promise me that grimoire if I blew you this morning?”

Peter growls, and lets his fangs drop. “Ready whenever you are, sweetheart.”

When it comes to blowjobs, to making out, and to rapid exchanges of snark that inevitably lead to fucking in odd places—they’ve been banned from Whole Foods—it’s not a lie at all. But generally? Peter has never been ready for Stiles, not even a little bit.

There aren’t many people who can keep Peter Hale on his toes, and of course it took a smartass little spark with a dirty mind and a capacity for plotting revenge that easily matches Peter’s own to do it.

And of course Peter loves every minute of it.

He might be a borderline sociopath with an ego larger than the GDP of China, but hey, doesn’t he deserve nice things too?

Conventional morality says absolutely not, but fuck it.

Peter leans down and kisses his Stiles.

He’ll take them anyway.

You can also read this on AO3. 

#steter #steter secret santa 2k17

[spiritroots]

Hello! I’m a southern African-American witch and I’ve recently been draw to hoodoo/root work. But I’m also a Wiccan, am i still about to practice hoodoo in my religion? Some people say yes, others say no. I’d be really be grateful from an answer from someone whose opinions and facts I value. Thank you for your time :)

Hi :D Sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long!! Sometimes it just takes a while for me to get to them, and I end up answering diff questions as they come in at diff rates. I have a lot of complex feelings about Wicca, so I think I needed to really have the time to sit down and write this carefully.

I answered a question not long ago that really goes into depth about practicing hoodoo alongside religion(s) and other magic practice(s)! I recommend checking this out for a whole full explanation of those topics.

Below is a longer answer about my thoughts on Wicca specifically and the many challenges you may face trying to practice it alongside hoodoo.

[ Ask me anything ] [ About ] [ Buy me a coffee ] [ Spirit Roots Shop ]

Wicca & Cultural Appropriation

I feel torn very torn on this subject because I have a close friend @luciferianbuddhism who’s an initiated Alexandrian Wiccan, and I admire her so much. She’s extremely mindful of cultural appropriation, and she’s also a Buddhist so she also speaks out against the appropriation of Buddhism. I’ve also seen other Wiccans from time to time online who are also mindful of cultural appropriation and work hard not to cross any boundaries with that.

That being said, Wicca itself in all its forms whether Neo-Wicca or traditional initiatory branches can be extremely culturally appropriative depending on how they are practiced. I don’t wanna get into a debate about whether it’s okay that karma is now a part of Wicca as its own term because I feel conflicted about that, but it’s perfectly reasonable in my opinion to point out that the way in which that term was adopted into Wicca was at least initially an act of cultural appropriation. This is just one example of what seems to be the case with numerous other aspects of Wicca as well.

Then there’s also Gerald Gardner, the founder of Wicca, and his big influences like Crowley. It is well known that Gardner lied about many things including his background, and there are accounts that he was sexually inappropriate with some of his coven members (x). Crowley is infamous for his racism, homophobia, anti-semitism, and more (x). I actually don’t use the term “magick” in part because of him. These two figures had a huge impact on Wicca 

For all these reasons, there’s a lot of potentially problematic aspects to Wicca and definitely problematic aspects to its history and development. I’m not saying it’s bad to be Wiccan or that you can’t be Wiccan and work on issues with cultural appropriation. I hope that there are more Wiccans who understand these issues like my friend Leanne and who hopefully are a helpful influence in the Wiccan community in general! Maybe that can be you too, anon.

Challenges for a Potential Wiccan Rootworker

I’m letting you know my perspective on this because I’ve seen a lot of other black rootworkers, black witches, and POC in general who are uncomfortable with or downright dislike Wicca for all these reasons. I’ve seen many examples of white Wiccans appropriating hoodoo, and this has definitely contributed to the bad impression as well. You may find yourself being unwelcome in some circles of our community for being Wiccan or having a lot of assumptions made about you for it even though you’re black. I know that sounds shitty, but truthfully there are a lot of legitimate reasons people feel this way about it.

I hope that as you study hoodoo, you take time to understand how different it is as an Afrocentric magic tradition than Wicca as a Eurocentric religion and also to remember why a lot of people in the community are uncomfortable with Wicca. That doesn’t mean you need to stop practicing. If the faith is very important to you, I’m sure you will find a way to get people to see that you (hopefully) aren’t appropriating cultures via Wicca and that you have found a respectful way to practice Wicca and hoodoo together. I believe it is possible, just not easy.

Why I Left Wicca

Technically, I’ve been a solitary Neo-Wiccan for most of my life. Ever since I watched Charmed at 13-years-old, I considered myself Wiccan and really loved what I knew of the faith, mostly gleaned from a Silver Ravenwolf Book of Shadows. I told my parents, they freaked out at the time, and I was in the woods about it ever after until college. During the time I was closeted, I didn’t dig much deeper and try to learn more about Wicca in a way that would’ve opened my eyes to the many problems and issues I’ve already mentioned. 

Then in the fall of 2016, my senior year of college, some big life-changing events led me to Buddhism. When I converted to Buddhism, I tried to be both Wiccan and Buddhist for a short while at first because Wicca had taught me so much. Back then, I didn’t know much about cultural appropriation. The more I unlearned from Wicca and began to really follow the path of Buddhism, the more I eventually moved away from the religion of Wicca altogether and began to develop a completely new perspective on it. 

Hoodoo unlike Buddhism is not a religion, so it’s not the same situation for you at all. But personally, for myself, I know that there was a lot I didn’t understand or know about Wicca back when I did identify as a Wiccan that I know now having been exposed to new communities, cultures, and religions. Knowing what I know now, I can never think about Wicca the same way anymore.

I just wanted to share my story with you in case there’s a chance you may have had a similar journey and still have more to learn about Wicca as a whole. If this isn’t the case for you, I encourage you to pursue your own path and do what’s right so long as you can avoid cultural appropriation!

#ask #wicca #wiccan #neowiccan #initiation #buddhism #appropriation #rootwork #hoodoo #conjure #crowley #gardner

[eslinsider]

Reviews on ESLinsider’s courses

ESLinsider is the site that I started working on 10+ years ago. My name is Ian and I am that colorful blue guy that you see above.

This is a collection of reviews that I have put together from various sites on ESLinsider’s online TEFL courses. I’ll point out the positive reviews and address some of the negative ones that were mostly written by trolls.

Most of the reviews on ESLinsider can be found here.

Gintare said:

At first I was sceptical about taking this course mainly because you have to dig quite deep to find it. However, once again by finding and taking this course I realized that not all good things are easy to find and not all very well advertised stuff is necessarily of good value.

Having said that I am really happy that I have chosen to take this course. Content in this course is well structured, includes loads of practical material as well as practical tasks that let you to comprehend and memorize learned content even better. No boring stuff. Moreover, Ian was always very attentive and helpful with any questions I would have. Thank you very much for not wasting my time, but teaching useful skills!

My thoughts…

True, you do have to dig deep to find it. I don’t advertise, use 3rd party review sites (more on that later) or do affiliate marketing like most courses do.

George’s answer from Quora.

ESLinsider is a legitimate company. I took the course in 2016 and learned a great deal from it despite already having been in Korea for six years at that point. The information is concise and practical with many videos of Ian actually in classrooms demonstrating the material he is presenting.

Not only is there a wealth of teaching material available in the course, he provides you with information on classroom management (something basically non-existent in most TEFL courses) and tips on how to avoid bad jobs (again, non-existent in other courses).

Ian is also constantly updating the course in order to improve the material. As a side note, I have personally met Ian and can vouch for his character. With this course you are learning from someone who has been there and done that which is far more than I can say for any other course I’ve seen. I would highly recommend ESLinsider’s courses to anyone considering teaching in Asia.

George also left a review on ESLinsider here.

3–4 years ago I did initially name my courses with “hours” like 60 and 120 hours. But didn’t like that because I felt that is a little lie in the online tefl course industry that I didn’t want to perpetuate any more.

You can’t really call them “hours” if there are not scheduled class times so I’ve changed the names from, for example, the 120 hour to “advanced” course but again some other courses used this so I wanted to be more original and changed it again to TEKA (short for teaching English to kids in Asia).

120 hour — advanced — TEKA

And since then that course has been updated.

Here are some comments from Quora.

Some of these were left originally as “answers” but Quora removed them because I guess they were new accounts and new accounts aren’t allowed to answer??? Strange policy. Anyways I told them and they came back and left them in a comment under my answer.

Karolina said:

I had to add my comment again, it has been deleted.

But as I said before, Ian’s course is100% legit. I bought it last year and still use it, Ian has always been extremely helpful and insightful, sharing his vast knowledge and experience. I haven’t tried aby other TEFL courses, so I can’t really compare, but I can say that Ian’s course is really useful, not just theory, not like read, pass some test and forget. I actually learned a lot, since I had to also submit lesson plans etc.

For sure it’s not a scam, I have no idea why would anybody think like this. You pay for the course and you get great content, reviews and help from very responsive creator. What’s more, Ian keeps updating his course, so once you make purchase you keep getting some extras later.

Couldn’t recommend more, it’s sad that somebody has an imaginary problem with it. Keep the vibes positive, people.

Kelli said:

I added paragraphs to this one for readability.

This is a completely legit course and worth every penny I paid when I completed the course in 2019. It actually makes me sad to see the reviews on here that are not from people who actually took the course.

This course was well planned by someone who actually teaches and knows what is needed to be successful. The course not only how provided how to teach English to students in a thorough and concise manner but also what to expect traveling to another country and interacting with other cultures. I found this part fascinating and exciting. He also spent a section on getting a job and how to avoid trouble.

The owner of the course provided lengthy and detailed feedback to all of the lesson plans I created. His video examples are real examples, not just paragraphs of reading and underlining nouns and verbs.

Classroom management was also covered. I spent much time deciding on a course and I don’t regret it one bit that I stumbled onto this one. I do have a college degree in Education but still found a wealth of games and ideas in the course. I truly believe I learned things about English I didn’t even know, I am a born English speaking American! Its easy to take forgranted how easy we learn our own native language.

Living in America and teaching American children English is much easier than in another country. English is everywhere and children can learn being exposed to the language in our culture. Teaching English to students in their own country requires preperation and skill to be an excellent teacher. I feel wholeheartedly that ESLinsider gave me the knowledge and skills to do exactly what his course says it will prepare me to do. I also know that I can reach out to Ian and he will continue to help me if I needed it.

This is a legitimate course, not unreasonable in cost nor fraudulant. It was not just busy work to make money and provide a certificate. I highly recommend to anyone looking to teach English as a second language.

Comment on ESLinsider on Reddit

This one was added here.

Getting a job is the easy part, but doing your job is the hard part and that’s why I think you need a visual course that makes learning easier.

Some criticism

Here’s an email I received once.

She said:

I understand the level of difficulty between the courses. However, in the 20 hour course, when answering the questions, the answer could be easily seen in the text that was meant to be studied. I would suggest more of a challenge where studying the context is mandatory to correctly answering the question. Not just searching for the match to the question.

That is my personal opinion. Other then that, the material was well put. Thank you. Sarah G.

My thoughts…

That course she took is old (3 years+) and doesn’t exist any more. And I think there is zero value in making something more difficult for the sake of it. In the case of text I try to minimize it (since people don’t read) and make it easy to find the answer so you don’t end up searching outside the course like people do here.

Here are a few other emails I’ve received.

Thanks Ian, got it. Course was spot on. Just the website (enrollment, payment & processing) could do with being more user-friendly. Smiles Steph S.

My thoughts…

Yeah, maybe that’s true.

I try to make it as efficient as possible, but there is only so much I can do with the software. First step is to create an account and then pay with Paypal and enroll.

Here’s another comment.

I have to say, the Grammar section was my favorite. There was a lot to take away from it. While I wish the technical vocabulary has more in depth definitions/explanations, being able to work out the differences between “present tense simple” and “present tense continuous,” (etc) was completely satisfying and felt quite rewarding.

Jeremy M.

There is a small section in the course on grammar which I’ve thought of completely removing. I think studying grammar for TEFL is useless. It’s the kind of thing that goes in one ear and out the other for me and it’s commonplace with many courses.

If you do a search for “ESLinsider” and reviews...

You might find some attacks written by trolls (people that don’t reveal their true identity) and I figured out who one of these troubled trolls is.

One guy owns a review site with so-called “Trusted” reviews (which are fake), a fake “Teacher’s choice award” that he uses those to promote his course tefl online pro.

You can learn more about that here or...

Learn to identify fake TEFL reviews.

A review of ESLinsider on Youtube

People say the how-to videos used in the courses on ESLinsider are super “practical”.

ESLinsider reviews

#eslinsider reviews

[krochakpredental]

Scholarship for pre-dental college students

If you’re checking about the Scholarship for pre-dental college students, as you intend to enter in domain of dental sciences, however you understand that you need some help in paying your college fees and in bearing other expenses and you’re thus checking for Scholarship for pre-dental college students related keywords, then you will find that the search will give you endless links for some of the best and high rated websites having information about it.

 During your research for Scholarship for pre-dental college students related keywords, you will find that, Thanks to the pandemic, many of us know how it feels like to have our classes online rather than on-campus. Not surprisingly enough, some of us are digging it and are considering pursuing the degree virtually rather than in person. If you’re having trouble deciding which may be the ideal option for you, look at these factors. This will help you decide what option you should go for being an undergrad.

Social Interaction

On-campus classes call for interacting with a lot of people. Whether it’s friends, peers, teachers, you have the chance to communicate with them face to face. Building relationships, ensuring smooth coordination, engaging in group projects, seeking assistance from seniors, all of that is possible through classes on-campus.

While classes online sure do affect the ability to connect to one another face-to-face, it provides greater opportunities to be culturally dynamic and aware while connecting with people worldwide. Not to mention that since everyone relies on social media, there is no problem getting back from someone while you reach out to them online.

Schedule

Most universities or colleges tend to follow a fixed format when they go for a schedule on campus. This includes classes, break-time, and any extra activities that follow through in between. By visiting the campus for your class, you will eventually be consistent in the routine they subliminally are pushing through. You would know when the appropriate time is to connect with peers and teachers and ask for assistance during their free time. You have a better chance of managing your routine more wisely, especially if you wish to have a dedicated set time rather than hustling through your busy schedule.

Classes online call for a lot more flexibility than on campus. You can plan out when you should be engaged in class and when to account for those important assignment and project deadlines. This is ideal for students who are engaged in a part-time job or have a busy routine and prefer listening to lectures as they’re on the go. Not to mention it eliminates the travel time and you can use it for something more productive.

Don’t worry about resources. You are exposed to options of a digital library, online research, and reaching out to friends and family members when you study online.

Convenience

On-campus classes require you to abide by the schedule set by the university, and the good thing is you have a set period every day that is designated for your studies. If you have trouble managing everything at once, taking some time off while you’re on campus is a great way to address this issue. You also have the leverage to get your questions answered then and there if you have any problems or speak to someone who could assist you further on campus.

Classes online are great in terms of convenience. Not only are you free from worrying about travel time and getting to class on time, but you have the opportunity to attend your class from anywhere in the world. You do not have to compromise on your education or your leisure time. Are you going on a family vacation? No problem. Take your laptop with you and take your classes accordingly. Get in touch with teachers via email or the preferred LMS to get your queries answered; though it may take longer than being on-campus, it gets the job done.

Both online and on-campus classes have their pros and cons. You need to assess the kind of person you are and the situation you are in to choose which may be ideal for your undergrad degree.

Its thus worth to spend some time on checking for

Scholarship for pre-dental college students

related keywords, so that you may get the right information.

#Scholarship for pre-dental college students

[howtoansweraquestionin444]

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About me

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[iamnotadamnedmonkey]

NPCs for Demon/80s teen movie game

Father Jonathon McRiley is head of the Catholic church, a kind and friendly man, who preaches love and tolerance. The Church itself is an ancient stone building, rumored to have been there since before the town began.

Pastor William Lowell is his opposite in the Baptist church, full of fire and brimstone, eager to condemn anyone who doesn’t follow his creed. His church is VERY new, all bright and shining, lots of glass and spires. People say a white robe and hat hang in his closet, fi you know what I mean.

Jannifer Tweed is in charge of the UU church, and general does not give a fuck. Rumor says she engages in nude dancing in the woods when the moon is full. The UU meets at a building that used to be a k-mart back in the day.

Lower School, Middle School, and High School. You guys generally don’t care about the lower two. The High school is run with the iron fist of Hauer Kalin, the new Principal. He’s a real hard ass, by the book, his way or the high way type of guy. His secretary is the well-loved Bill Cove, a sweet old man who has been involved in the school system for many years. A lot of people are upset by how rudely Hauer treats Bill, but Bill waves it off with a laugh. Some kids say the two are lovers, but kids say that about everyone.

Olga Waterhorse is the art teacher, as well as the best known lesbian in town. Kids say she is romantically involved with Jane Quirl, the rather pretty new gym teacher, but no one has caught them doing anything more than talking. Jane does seem to have drawn the attention of all the male teachers as well, with all of the single ones trying to date her. She’s turned them all down, saying she doesn’t date co-workers, which may have led people to claim she’s a lesbian.

The Science teacher David Longhorn has recently returned to work after a bad accident, and seems to be a changed man. He’s adopted a super atheist viewpoint of science, and has had several complaints filed against him by religious parents who dislike his constant dismissal of creationism et al.

People say the choir teacher Max Delhorn is the last of the hardcore hippies. He was at Woodstock, Man, and he’d be more than willing to sit down and tell you all about it. He’s also the best source for weed for kids, as long as you got the money. He’s real old school, and only charges 10 dollars for a dime bag.

Coach Jake Tailor is a god damn demon. He is the only person in the school even harder than the Principal. He’s clearly a sadist, from how hard he drives the team. But the school wins championships, so no one has the balls to report him… or if they do, they are ignored. The gossips say that he is the reason the last principal was fired. Except he wasn’t fired, he just packed up and moved one day, and didn’t tell anyone. So they fired him.

The Rachels are five Seniors, all named Rachel, of course. They are the queen bees of the school, laying down rules for dress, dating, and the like, at least, if you want to be popular. They’ve driven at least five kids to suicide through bullying, that people are aware of.

The Geek Squad- 12 unpopular nerds who have banded together out of love of popular culture. 10 boys, 2 girls, they LARP in the woods, wear capes to school, and basically insist people bully them.

David Whales should have graduated two years ago, but he dropped out instead. He’s still found near the high school, looking for vulnerable teens that he can take advantage of, and pimp out. He has a house on the bad side of town, where you can always go if you’re looking to pay for sex.

Brand Hex, an up and coming technology giant, has moved into town. It only took them three months to raise a ten story building JUST on the other side of the town limit, so they could ignore the building limits. They have a dedicated fleet of self-driving cars they have let out into the town to work as a free taxi service. No one is really sure what business they are in, but they sure have a lot of money.

An archeology team from the state college has come in to excavate a site in the nearby mountains. Apparently, they’ve found an ancient worship site. The researchers are really tight lipped about it.

The local tabloid rag has been publishing photos of a ‘Fossilized Angel’ that they say is in the mountains as well, but are refusing to tell people where they found it. Most people think someone snuck onto the dig and took a picture of weird statue. It sure looks like am elongated skeleton with wings. The paper also claims big foot has  been spotted in the woods, and is responsible for recent cattle mutilations.

John D Mills Maximum Security Penitentiary: A prison for only the worst of the worst offenders.  No one inside is the type of person who even pretends they were innocent. The new Warden, John Smith, is apparently a political appointee, sent in to clean up some civil rights violations. Or possibly make whole new ones.

It’s a small police force, barely a dozen men, sheriff included. They tend to be very lax. As long as what you’re doing isn’t harming anyone else, you can slip under the radar. The Sheriff Keith Yulidfer has even been known to sit down and share a drink with teenagers caught underage drinking, as long as they’re chill about  it.

Mayor Denise Malapo has been Mayor of the town for as long as any one can remember. No one bothers to run against her any more.

The Old Man of the Mountain: A statue in the middle of town, of an old man seeming to crawl out of a black of stone, have of his body still interred. It’s supposed to be modeled on the local guardian spirit, and, if you really need help, sometimes offers advice.

The Hobbit Hole is the local Nerd store. It’s owned by Creepy Carl, a nerd of extreme obnoxiousness. If his general misogyny wasn’t bad enough, he has this habit of making little wire dolls of people who come in the store.

‘Things Acquired’ was burnt down three months ago, but no one has bothered to clean up the burnt out wreckage. It was only open a week before the ‘mysterious fire.’ It had set itself up as a shop for ‘anything you might want, at a price.’ Although rumor says most of the town was there the night it burned, no one has been arrested or charged with any crimes. Adults who have been asked about it generally mutter the words ‘too cliché’ before changing the subject. The owner, one Dedric Eville, is missing, presumed dead.

Several younger children have gone missing, supposedly after arranging to meet someone online. The police have done several public safety campaigns about stranger danger. Most everywhere you go in town, you can find missing posters.

A local biker gang, The Low Flyers has their hangout as a bar on main street. They tend to be away during the week, but always show up on weekends. They have an agreement with the police that they can be as loud as they want, as long as they handle all fights internally.

One of the best known people in town is Old Mother Dismas. She’s an ancient woman, in her nineties if not over a hundred, but she’s always out on the front porch of her house, offering lemonade and fresh baked cookies to anyone who so much as glances her way. She often seems too good to be true, but no one has any dirt on her. The best rumor about her is a junkie looking for a fix once tried to steal her TV. She walked in on him in her bath robe, and just looked disappointed at him until he put the tv back, and then painted her house to make it up to her. She has a REALLY big dog named Honey.

Lucy Zalinski runs and owns the local diner, called, imaginatively, Lucys Diner. Eight months pregnant, and still working. Most people stop in to eat there at least once a week, the food is to die for.

The local graveyard is much bigger than accounted for by the rather limited population of the town. Sometimes, in the right light, the grave seem to go on for miles.

The Boundary City Library is considered to be the biggest in the state. Sometime in the sixties a government project expanded the library downwards, to use as a secondary backup for the Library of Congress, but that project fizzled out. No one is supposed to go down in the Stacks, but every kid played hide and seek in there at some point. Rumors of ghosts are generally just that.

The nearest hospital is a good hour away by car. But that’s okay, because no one ever really gets hurt that bad in this lovely town. Why, the worst that generally happens is a broken arm, and those are set by Kindly Dr. Jonas White, one of the few doctors left in the world who still makes house calls.

The Home Farms stretch over the hills. A good place to pick up some extra money in the fall, picking apples and reaping corn.  George Home turns a blind eye to parties thrown in any of the old Home Barns he no longer uses, and the occasional kegger out in the fields.

All the other type of places you’d expect are there too, but those are the ones that stand out.