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THESE ARE THE FINAL LDWS DRABBLES!

For the finale, we asked our competitors to write exactly 400 words in which they had to use the phrase “we aim to please”.

The did an excellent job so come read and vote and help us decide THE ONE DRABBLE WRITER TO RULE THEM ALL...

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Choose three that you like the most.

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NOTE: If you are a competitor, you CANNOT vote for your own fic. But please, do vote. :)

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Title: Live to Serve Author: sorion Warnings: alludes to the current political climate in the US (and to a lesser degree the UK) Summary: Bond completes objectives. How he completes them is up to him.

Bond barely batted an eye when his solitary corner of the bar he'd chosen was invaded by another patron with his own drink.

"Felix," he greeted him.

"James. What a surprise."

Bond's smirk widened. "Tell the truth. You knew I was in the States the moment I set foot on the ground."

Felix's lip twitched sardonically. "When you got on the plane to come here."

Bond chuckled.

"I've learned that it pays to keep track of your movements." He tilted his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Just in case."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't do the same thing with you."

They grinned at each other wordlessly and returned to their drinks.

"So," Felix interrupted their companionable silence. "What brings you here?"

"Is that American for, 'What havoc can I expect you to wreak on my home turf'?"

Felix pretended to consider that. "Sounds about right."

Bond's amused eyes wandered to the muted news on the television in the corner of the bar and darkened. "Not as much havoc as I'd like to wreak."

Felix followed his line of sight. "Tell me about it," he agreed. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and added in a chatty tone, "What's your people's stance on overthrowing foreign governments, these days?"

Bond, fortunately, wasn't swallowing at that moment, or he would have choked on it. It still took all his not inconsiderable self-restraint to not laugh out loud. "Overthrowing governments of allies is sadly frowned upon." He pondered that for a second. "Yours?"

"Same." He leaned closer. "Any orders to such an effect, regardless?" he asked carefully.

Bond shook his head. "More's the pity. I live to serve, and I serve by completing objectives." He squinted at Felix. "How I complete them is my prerogative, however."

Felix nodded slowly, indicating that he was operating similarly.

"What I'd like to do," Bond continued, his lethal eyes on the news, "would be like trying to put out a fire with nitro-glycerine, so I was thinking something more subtle."

"Mhm..." Felix hummed, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Subtle is not quite your thing."

Bond's shark-like smile was all teeth. "I know a guy..."

"Smart, dark-haired, gorgeous, can kill from his bed in his pyjamas?" Felix guessed.

They shared a look like two bloodhounds catching a scent.

Felix held out his hand.

Bond took it.

"We live to serve. We aim to please."

Title: An Assist Author: Anyawen Warnings: Summary: Bond learns that he's been equipped with an unlooked-for advantage.

Bond paused, studying the bullet he was loading into his spare clip. There were scratches on the base of the casing. That was decidedly odd. Q would never send out ammunition with any sort of flaw that could impair its use, or worse, damage the gun — or the agent using it. He ran a finger over the base but couldn't detect the scratches. Turning it in his hands he looked again. Definitely there. And, he checked, also on all the other bullets in the clip. The chance of a bad bullet from Q-branch was staggeringly small, but not zero. The chance of an entire bad batch escaping notice, however, could be measured in negative numbers. If Q sent these bullets out into the field, then these marks were meant to be there. There must be a reason for them. There was something niggling at him. He’d seen this pattern of scratches before. He glanced over at his Walther. Picking it up he peered at it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. Ah. There it was. On the back of the trigger was a faint glimmer of markings. ... .||. .|.. .| |.|. . .|. . ... | ..| |.. . || ..| ... It took him a minute to recognize that the lines were dashes among a smattering of dots. After that realization the letters came easily. "placere studemus" Translating the Latin took slightly longer. A moment later he tapped his ear and heard the faint ambient sounds of Q-branch through the earwig. "Do you require assistance, 007?" Q asked. "Interesting numbers in your annual report." "Focus on the mission, Bond. We can discuss— " "Decreased stray bullet injuries on ops over the last year, but no noticeable increase in range scores," Bond continued, speaking over Q. "True." "We're hitting our targets more often without actually being better shots." "An impressive feat." "Very. I've not seen magic like it since my gran passed." "I- What?" "She was a hedge witch." "Oh. Are you ..." "No," Bond replied as he finished loading the clip. "Can't sense or cast magic. Recognized the marks as spellwork, though. Nice work. You're some sort of technomage?" "Something like that." "And the spell?" "Merely an assist." "An effective one." "Thank you." "Just one thing, Q." "Yes?" "Is that phrase really the best anchor you could come up with?" "Well. You can't deny it's apropos. After all, 'we aim to please.'”

Title: Marketing Research Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: sex? Summary: Bond discovers what Q Branch has been working on lately

“Well, well, Quinn.”

As Bond dropped the gunmetal grey box next to his laptop, Q felt a cold shudder spill down his spine. There were still a few secrets he’d managed to keep from his lover, though apparently he now had one less. “You should never have been able to access that part of the lab.”

“Mmm, so I was informed. Top Secret. I had to be quite persuasive. An interesting project though, Quinn.”

Q fought down a surge of jealousy at the thought of what that persuasion might have been. “You know that’s not my real name, it’s just a joke amongst the techs.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Dammit, James, you were snooping! This prototype was meant to be a birthday surprise.”

“It’s certainly surprising.” Bond’s finger traced the embossed lettering lovingly. “And not at all an exploding pen, which I was rather expecting. However did you get this past the projects committee?”

Q sighed. “Given the proclivities of double-ohs, it was an easy sell as a test product. A quite unexpected way to deliver drugs or implant trackers, should the need arise.”

“The box is a bit of a giveaway, though, don’t you think? The logo is literally a Q with a tree branch entwined.”

“That’s not the final packaging! They were just having a bit of a joke!”

Bond raised an eyebrow as he opened the box, stroking a finger delicately over the contents. Q felt a twitch of reluctant arousal as he watched those so very precise fingertips linger on certain details.

“So delightfully unexpected, Q,” James purred as he picked up the creamy vellum card inside. “‘Quinn’tessential Ecstasies,” he read aloud. “Is all of Q Branch so prone to puns and in-jokes?” He smirked and dropped the card back into the box. “But don’t you think ‘We Aim To Please’ is a bit on the nose for a gun-shaped dildo?” James chuckled, picking it up and fondling it in a way that made Q’s trousers just a little more snug.

Q glared. “As if subtlety is your strong suit.”

James laughed wickedly. “I’m quite impressed with the trigger-activated vibrations. Whatever made you think of this?”

“It seemed natural, since an exploding pen is out of the question in the bedroom, and you do have a rather unhealthy attachment to your Walther.”

“It needs testing. And since you present such a tempting target, Q…”

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: On an undercover mission, Bond considers the merits of murdering customers.

“Is the hazelnut syrup sugar-free?”

Bond bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Only the cinnamon and vanilla syrups are sugar-free.”

It wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but this had been going on for five minutes. Or maybe three. It felt like five hours.

First, it had been “what’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?” Which… fair enough. He’d had to quickly remember his crash course in coffee-making to bullshit an explanation without saying “the flat white is cheaper but costs more.”

Then, it was “why does the oat milk have a surcharge but the soy milk doesn’t?” prompting a lesson in the economics of non-dairy milk alternatives all the while considering drowning his customer in said soy milk.

So: not the stupidest question in the world, but quite possibly the stupidest customer.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

Seriously?

“Was that with soy milk?”

“Oh no, just regular milk’s fine.”

How was this his life?!

“Syrup?”

“No, thanks.”

He could feel his molars grinding with the force of his fake smile. Five minutes! For nothing!

“And what name is it?”

“Karen.”

Of course it was.

He had been stuck in this god-forsaken job for three weeks, and was seriously weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ causing an explosion. Things like that happened, right? He could probably get away with it

“No, you can’t kill her.”

Bond stifled a groan. Bad enough that he was stuck undercover as a bloody barista in Canada, without having Q in his ear all day judging his latte art and thwarting his murder plans. It turned out the Quartermaster was the bloody customer service police.

“I would never,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The last thing he needed was for his temporary “colleagues” to overhear him talking to thin air.

“Of course not. Just like you’d never feed your gun to a komodo dragon.”

“You know damned well that was an accident,” he whispered, sprinkling cocoa powder through a bloody maple leaf stencil. “How much longer, Q?”

Q just hummed apologetically.

Straightening his shoulders and pasting another ‘friendly’ smile on his face, Bond handed over the drink.

“Well, at least you’re generous with the cocoa.”

“Fuck you, Karen.”

“We aim to please. Enjoy your drink.”

Bond wondered whether he could talk Q into blowing the place up after all.

Title: Distraction Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: paranoia can be a healthy attitude around some people

As a rule, Q always was rather suspicious of quiet - whether that was a side effect of working in espionage or just his nature, he wasn't particularly sure but he knew better than wasting too much brainpower on such considerations. Besides, a healthy dose of paranoia always paid off if the feeling was carefully kept on a leash. Hand going to grab his taser, Q entered the bedroom and his eyes immediately zeroed in on his lovers "What are you doing?" "Who - us?" James inquired with a shiteating grin, dramatically pointing at his own chest "Man of little faith" Q gestured at Raoul, lounging against the bed post "At least he has the decency to not try to fool me" he pointed out as he relaxed in increments, tension gradually leaving his body as he made his way to the bed to sit at its foot "So?" "What makes you think we are up to anything?" The younger man batted James' hand away from his calf "You always are up to something when you're quiet: it's not like either of you" Raoul's chuckle was satiny and dark - if Q hadn't found it ridiculous to compare a sound to food, his mind would have probably come up with some kind of stupid similitude involving a rich, dark chocolate cake "We aim to please, mi querido" "That awfully sounds like an admission of guilt" "Maybe" Raoul leaned over, finger tapping the point of the other's nose just to see the way it would scrunch up at the bothersome gesture "But who says I feel guilty about any of it?" Taking advantage of Q's distraction, their lover clearly too busy - and failing at - glaring Raoul into properly confessing, James wrapped his hand around his ankle and tugged firmly, a delighted chuckle escaping his lips at the little shriek Q let out "Let's talk about it later" he murmured, bending down to brush their lips together "There's funnier things to do" "Just tell me the place isn't gonna get swarmed by whatever international agency might be thirsting for our heads" Raoul palmed his cheek, gently turning his head to meet his eyes "I promise" Q sighed, eyes rolling even as he reached for the nape of the other's neck while he sneaked a foot between James' legs "Fine, but don't you think you can postpone this conversation for much longer" "Wouldn't dream of it"

Title: Souvenirs Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: mild BDSM themes Summary: Bond likes giving Q souvenirs of his travels.

Q examined the box squatting in the center of his desk, a cardboard enigma with a security clearance tag. The shipping label indicated it had originated from Elko, Nevada. Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The only agent recently conducting operations in the US was Bond. The joint operation between the CIA and MI6 focused on an information dealer selling military secrets from both Britain and the US. Bond had been pleased to be working with his old friend Felix Leiter. Q had been entertained by Bond and Leiter as the pair entered what Felix had described as a legal brothel.

Bond: “Only in America.” Bond's voice held a hint of astonishment. “All that neon makes my eyes water.”

Leiter: “Ah yes, one stop shopping for a certain type of client.”

Bond: “Felix. They have a gift shop. The souvenirs must be epic.”

Successful, Bond had returned and this had appeared. Q looked at the box reproachfully. Bond and his souvenirs. Being romantically involved with the man had only increased his penchant for gifting Q with odd objects. He carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps, prodding carefully at the packing peanuts. The first item was a six pack of seasonings and sauces intended for American style barbecue. Unusually practical. He resolved to investigate how to use them as he placed the jars on the shelf behind him and dug further. His fingers encountered a narrow object that flexed a bit as he removed it. He flushed with embarrassment although he was alone in the office as he withdrew a riding crop in a rather nice leather finish with the initials MHHP stamped on the handle in gold. He gave it an experimental swing, neatly sending a packing peanut flying. Digging produced a final item. He shook out the tee shirt, and read the logo that explained it all. 'Madame Helga's House of Pain, Barbecue Joint, and Rifle Range' was displayed across the front. The back had an image of an androgynous figure with a bullseye painted on it's pert derrière and the legend, 'We aim to please'. His phone pinged and he checked the text. Bond had sent a video which proved to be a short loop of the neon display at Madame Helga's featuring an animated dominatrix landing a crop in the center of the bullseye. The text accompaniment said, 'Care to provide a target, darling?'

Title: Timing is Everything Author: Iambid (Flantastic) Warnings: None Summary: James needs a new hobby.

YOU'RE EARLY AGAIN, said the Grim Reaper, with a hint of surprise.

“I am?” James asked, sounding a lot calmer than he currently felt.

He looked around himself. He’d been in Saudi Arabia, on the trail of an assassin, when everything had gone to hell. He’d been captured, beaten, tortured and then dumped in the middle of nowhere, somewhere south of Ash Shalfa. The last thing that he remembered was lying broken and bloody in the burning desert, baking under the merciless sun.

Now it appeared he was in a wood-panelled office, not unlike the one that M used.

Except M’s had never had a skeleton dressed in a black robe sitting at its desk. Well. As far as James knew.

YOU KEEP DOING THIS, Death said, shuffling through the thick paper file in front of him. Her. It. Whatever.

“I do?” James asked, still not entirely sure he knew what was going on.

MMMMM. AGED TEN, FELL HEAD-FIRST OUT OF A TREE. AGED TWENTY-ONE. GOT INTO A FIGHT ON THE HMS ALBION, PUSHED OFF THE FLIGHT-DECK INTO THE ADRIATIC SEA. AGED FORTY-TWO, SHOT OFF A NINETY-EIGHT METRE BRIDGE BY A… Death paused, bringing the page closer to their face. They seemed to squint, which wasn’t bad going for a skull … IT SAYS A ‘FRIEND’.

“That would be Moneypenny.” James explained.

THERE ARE COUNTLESS INCIDENTS LIKE THIS. NEED I GO ON?

“I shouldn’t think so.” James admitted.

COME WITH ME, Death commanded. They rose, and floated towards the door. James obediently followed them. The door opened and on the other side, they found themselves in a hospital room. The occupants didn’t seem to notice.

YOU SEEM TO THINK THAT RESURRECTION IS A HOBBY. IT ISN’T. DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I SIMPLY CAN’T TAKE WHAT ISN’T MINE YET.

James stepped forward and saw that he was the man in the bed and the man in the chair next to him, the man pressing tearful kisses to the back of his bandaged hand, was Q.

YOU BELONG TO HIM. HE’S WAITING FOR YOU TO LOVE HIM. YOU’LL BE MINE ONCE YOU’VE GIVEN HIM A LONG HAPPY LIFE.

James jerked awake, his body suddenly screaming out with a hundred injuries. He gasped but Q was there, soothing him, calming him. He squeezed his hand and Q smiled.

“You saved me.” He croaked.

“Smart blood. Latest tech. We aim to please.” Q replied.

Title: The Problem With Retirement Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: retirement or reunion

The diner was full of quiet little noises this late at night. Silverware clinking, a pen scratching across a booklet of crossword puzzles, tired sighs of the late-night drivers, and in the corner a booth full of a tired family. Where had it all gone wrong?

The snap of chewing gum and their waitress’s voice drew him out of his musings. “Welcome to the Georgia Peach, we aim to please. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

A long-suffering sigh blew out of the wide mouth that had been until then, pinched tight in annoyance. “Just coffee for him.”

The waitress was a behemoth of a working professional, much like Bond, and simply offered Q a wide smile, showing just a hint of gold at the edges. “And for his lordship?”

Bond answered for him. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“Okay, one coffee and hot tea for His Lordship.” She winked at Q and spun on her heel.

Q’s folded his hands under his chin and studied Bond for the minutes it took for their waitress to bring back a carafe of coffee, a mug of hot water on a saucer, and a pathetic excuse for a teabag.

Bond sipped at his coffee as he watched the disgust crawl across Q’s perfect, bony little face. He missed that face.

“Enough. Why am I here and why are you bleeding?”

“Am I bleeding?” Bond reached under his jacket, his fingers came away wet and red. “Huh, thought it was ketchup.”

“You’re supposed to be in the middle of Jamaica. Retired.”

“You could say that. I need your help. Madeline needs your help”

Q stared long and hard at Bond. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Running off with her, abandoning m...MI6 taking the car-” He broke off his tirade when Bond reached forward and laid his hand on his, blood smearing along the pale skin.

Q’s eyes focused on the blood.

“I never said WE retired together. She’s been a good neighbor, a good friend. That’s all. She still had her secrets. They found her. Whoever THEY are and she needs your help.” Bond curled his fingers under and gripped Q’s hand tightly.

Q made a weak attempt to look away. His eyes stuttered back when Bond’s finger brushed across his wrist and gave an answer Q was not expecting.

“Oh, how I missed you, Q.”

Title: Improvisation Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: Turn-about is… unpleasant.

He nurses a scotch and watches the mark, Jason Abernathy, at a table in the corner. Businessman. Mid-40s. On his third round, a group of beautiful people laughing at his jokes. He’s ignoring the dance floor, despite the urging of the blonde at his table. And he’s noticed Bond watching, but hasn’t approached him. Another agent is on her way as back-up. Perhaps she’ll be more to his taste. Bond turns the card over in his fingers “Discreet Escorts: We aim to please!” It’s not subtle, but it has a certain charm. If it were just a high-end escort business, he wouldn’t be here. But if it’s a quasi-legal front for a human trafficking ring... “007?” R asks. Bond raises his drink to his lips. “Hmmm?” “Change of plans.” Bond surveys the room, waiting for clarification. It comes in the form of Q wearing skinny jeans and a tight purple shirt. Q smiles flirtatiously and moves around Bond so his back is to the mark. “New intel. 003 won’t be to his taste either. We had to improvise.” “Improvise?” “Reject me,” Q whispers. “Loudly.” Bond glances at the mark and sees his gaze fixed on Q’s arse. “You’re not what I want,” Bond shouts, pushing Q away. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. “Is there a problem?” Jason asks, sliding in beside Q. Q levels a dazzling smile at him. “No problem. My new employer sent me to a potential client, and I’m not what he wants.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Who’s your employer?” Q hands him a card just like Bond’s. “Oh, I am. Shall we see how well you take our motto to heart?” Jason leads Q to the dance floor. Bond is forced to watch them “dance” for ten minutes, until it’s really just grinding and snogging. They pass him again on the way to the loo, and Bond feels something heavy drop into his pocket. Jason’s phone. Bond moves to the door. “I have it.” “And the drive?” R asks. “Inserting now.” Within minutes, the data has been retrieved and Q’s bug is installed. Bond wanders back in the bar, dismayed to see Q is still missing. “He’s fine,” R assures. Bond doesn’t like it. He heads down the hall to the loo, placing the phone on the seat the mark vacated as he passes. The door is locked. “Stand down, 007.” He orders another drink and waits.

#10

Title: Echoes Author: Shush_MummyWriting Warnings: None. Summary: Five + One. Bond hearing echoes.

Bond was surprised at how relaxing it was at Q’s parents’ house. It was filled with homely touches, photos of Q and his brothers through the years, plants and knick-knacks on the shelves. There was even a hand stitched frame in the downstairs bathroom that declared “In this house, we aim to please. In this room, you aim too, please!”. It felt like a home.

It was the second fitting for Bond’s latest suit. The tailor was a genius, the way he managed to conceal the gun holster. “Anything else, Mr. Bond?” he asked. “Perhaps a touch longer in the sleeve.” Bond replied. “Of course sir, we aim to please after all.” Bond smiled.

Bond was actually using his office, studying for his upcoming mission. Eve sauntered in, perched on the edge of his desk and asked, “How much do you love me?” dangling an envelope between two manicured fingers. “It depends on what that is.” said Bond, taking it. “Travel documents where I, your best friend, have managed to secure first-class tickets for your Brazil flights.” “Thank you!” said Bond, who detested long hours in cattle class. As Eve strolled out of the office, she tossed over her shoulder “We aim to please!”.

As Bond entered the R&D department, he was met with the sight of Alec, waving a brochure in the direction of Q, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Seriously Q, just have a look at these specifications. It would be an asset. And it looks awesome! Did you see the clever headline for it?” Q grabbed the brochure, exclaiming “That headline alone is reason enough NOT to buy it. What kind of company would market a rifle sight with the motto “We Aim to Please!” Seriously! Now away with you, I have work to do.” and gestured Bond forward.

Q went over each piece of equipment, saving the best for last. “This is simple, press the top three times quickly, jam it into the keyhole and step back.” Bond took it with a look of wonder “Q, you’ve made me an exploding pen!” Q’s blush was adorable as he muttered “We aim to please.”

Bond settled his breathing, sighting on his target. It should have been an impossible shot - the distance, the weather, etc but between his skill and Q's equipment, another minor government official/major crime lord met his fate. "We aim to please." Bond muttered.

#11

Title: Flirting With the Wild Cat Author: scarytheory Warnings: angst Summary: Moneypenny has a secret.

We aim to please.

There are new documents on her desk, and she's feeling sick to her stomach.

Oh yes. We do.

They met when she was still a field agent.

“Miss Moneypenny.”

“Miss Galore.”

It would have been a standard honeypot mission if they didn't hate each other instantly. But there was something they needed, so they flirted, got drunk and angrily fucked on the balcony. In the end, Eve got the information and Pussy Galore didn't.

It should have ended there. But sometimes Mallory needed to contact Galore again, and Eve was the best agent for it – even after she became a secretary.

Eve honestly didn't mind; she loved a challenge, and Galore gave her just that. It was always a rush of emotions, it was hatred with a twist, a complicated game – who was better, smarter, wittier. The constant battle for dominance. Which was also a basis for incredible sex.

They started spending more time together, and suddenly they were laughing and talking about their lives. They didn't even need a mission for that – whatever that was. It didn't feel like they were enemies anymore.

Eve should have known better.

She never should have trusted her.

“You betrayed me.”

“And you are surprised, Moneypenny? This is what I do, what we do – me, you, all your agents and all my people. We aim to please, Eve. We were trained for it, we were trained to be horrible people. However, it’s our bosses we’re meant to please first and foremost. We're fucked up and you know it. There is no way you could disobey an order from M and I have my duties as well.”

“I would never use you.”

Except she already had. But that was before the laughter, before... everything.

“Honestly, did you believe that there was some miraculous happy ending for us? We are the same and yet different; a heroine and a villain. You should be glad it’s ending only in heartbreak and not with death.” She always loved big words and big speeches.

“I hate you, Galore.”

“Oh, but you don't, darling. That's the problem.”

And now Eve's sitting at her desk and staring at the documents. 007 got a new job. Eliminate a target who is no longer useful to them.

Yet, there is still time to warn her.

We aim to please. Until we don't.

#12

Title: A Pizza Pie Author: Ksan ( @starrboned-art ) Warnings: None Summary: Bond and Q are having a quiet afternoon together.

"James, that is not - stop that!" Q grabbed James' wrist before he could pour the sauce on the pizza dough.

"Q, that's how I’ve always made pizza." James gave his wrist an experimental wiggle, but the boffin was holding tight, eyes daring him to move.

"You need to oil the edges first," Q insisted, waving the brush and splashing oily drops everywhere.

James conceded, if only to not get his dark blue shirt stained.

"As you say, chef." James smirked, setting the hot pan aside. Q gave the dough a quick brush, nodding at James. "Now you can pour the sauce."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop it," Q said with a huff, but James spotted a quirk to his lips as he turned to the counter. A few plates laid ready with sliced vegetables and meats, all waiting to be added to the pizza.

"Just make sure that the champignons won't touch my side of the pizza." James scowled at the innocent white mushrooms.

Q gave him a smirk. "You are very particular about your food."

"I have a very particular taste," James countered with a suggestive smile. Q laughed, turning to put the pizza into the oven. James managed to steal a few sliced cherry tomatoes from Q's pile before he got caught.

"Go get the wine," Q said, "I'll get the glasses."

"So bossy today," James smirked, ruffling Q's curls. He escaped into the sunlit living room before Q could swat at him with a towel.

It was late noon on a Saturday, and for once none of them had any world-dooming emergencies to solve. The cats were basking in the late sun, the curtains swayed slightly as the evening breeze blew through the open windows.

James opened a red shiraz with a pop. With the wine ready on the table, he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet rustle Q made in the kitchen.

"Double-o agent, falling asleep?" Q's hand snuck around his waist, chin peeking over his shoulder.

"Before dinner?! You know agents, Q - we aim to please," James turned, kissing Q's smile. He had tomato sauce on his cheek, which James licked (to Q's astonished laughter).

"Pleasing will have to wait for later," Q purred, shoving the wine glasses at James. "What should we toast to?"

James swirled his wine, a habit born out of years of fine dining.

"To more sunny afternoons together."

#13

Title: game Author: azure7539 Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Hide and seek as usual, but it's interesting all the same. Just another day at work.

Nausea roils like a particularly stormy sea in the midst of a hurricane, and all he can hear is the whistling of his own breathing as his throat wheezes around air before it rattles into his ribcage and never truly fills up those burning lungs.

He’s been running for so long, he can no longer feel the screaming in his feet.

The throng of people felt like a good idea at first, a thick crowd celebrating some local holiday, but now every face seems suspicious, every pair of eyes lingering on just a tad too long. The enemies can be anywhere, can be anyone.

Vertigo dips his world as he crashes into a phone booth, thinking, assuming, he’s managed to put decent distance between him and his chasers, spare change clinking as the coins spill from his shaking hands.

Fuck. Fuck, what’s the number again…

Eight, five, three, two—

The line rings. Once. Twice.

“Hello,” a posh voice he’s never heard before picks up, nonchalant and indifferent. “Identification, please.”

“S-SPCTR-6304,” he nearly trips on his own tongue saying the words.

“One moment.” Soft typing filters through, the calmness perforating through the mad chaos in his mind. But adrenaline licks at his heels—he’s finally standing still long enough to feel the way how wracking tremors are seizing up his overtaxed muscles—and he wants to scream and vibrate out of his skin.

His instincts are shouting at him to start running again, to keep at it until he finds a trustworthy point of contact, something more than just another voice on the other side of a line.

But that’s the thing. This ‘voice on the other side of a line’ is one of his last remaining trustworthy points of contact. The rest are just… gone.

Someone shrieks from over where the people have gathered at the end of the alley, and he’s one hair’s breadth away from slamming back into the wall.

His heart is beating too fast.

“Ah, Mr Roswell. Good to hear from you again,” the person says, pleasantly. A pause. “Did you enjoy your final game?”

“What—”

“At MI6, we aim to please, after all,” the voice drops into a low baritone. Dangerous.

Like the monsters of his nightmares culminating into one singular point of existence.

The last thing he sees before life drains from him are twin pools of glacier. As blue and unreachable as the sky above.

___

You wonderful LDWS writers, you! Thank you so much for writing us these!

And thank you, readers, for reading and voting! THANK YOU!

#ldws #james bond #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #writing challenge

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adorkablephil · 6 years

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Fic: The Happiest Place on Earth

Title: The Happiest Place on Earth Summary: Phil Lester hates his job playing Prince Charming at Disneyland, until another British boy shows up and unexpectedly charms him instead Word Count: 4.6k Rating: Mature Tags: Disneyland, Flirting, Strangers to Lovers, Semi-Public Sex, Hand Jobs Author’s Note: This fic was inspired by the @phanfichallenge’s Disney Challenge. Thanks a million to @ivy625fanfic and @jorzuela for their general wonderfulness, assistance, and encouragement! Also on AO3

The Happiest Place on Earth

Phil pulled off his white NASA t-shirt and black skinny jeans (with the stylish rips that had of course made the jeans ironically more expensive) and began to don the costume that he had rapidly come to despise. He was a fan of colorful clothing, but even he recognized the cheesiness of the bright red polyester pants, and the ridiculously thick white polyester coat always made him sweat like a pig in the Californian summer heat.

God, he missed England! He missed the rain, and the green grass, and the snow in the wintertime. Here, the only greenery was carefully manicured topiary. But he couldn’t control where his father found work, and so he’d relocated with the rest of his family to this godforsaken suburban desert called Anaheim.

Sure, he could have stayed in England on his own, but when not only his mum and dad but also Martyn had all planned the move here together, he hadn’t wanted to be left behind without the three people he was closest to in the entire world. They’d always been a tight-knit family, and he would have missed them terribly.

But he was beginning to think that moving back to England on his own might be the only answer, as working this wretched job at Disneyland had come to seem like a fate worse than death. But he hadn’t been able to find any other work with his degree in English Language and Linguistics. The other Californians he’d met outside of work had joked that his university education had prepared him very well for a career articulately asking, “Would you like fries with that?” Ha bloody ha.

Playing Prince Charming every day might drive him insane, but at least it paid better than McDonald’s. Marginally.

Phil donned the military-style coat with its ridiculously fiddly golden closures and high, scratchy collar, and adjusted the fringed epaulettes on his shoulders, then also the snug belt at his waist. Last, always last, he tugged on the pristine white gloves he was required to wear at all times. Yes, he had to wear not only a thick coat but also gloves in the 33ºC heat. This job sometimes felt death-defying, as if earning his meager wages might actually result in him expiring from heat stroke at any moment.

With his naturally sunny disposition, he had thought that playing a Disney character to amuse children all day would come naturally and even make him happy. But it hadn’t turned out quite as he expected, and his sunny disposition was growing cloudier and cloudier under the bright California sun as he toiled endlessly in this costume so ridiculously unsuited to the local weather.

He slathered his face with sunscreen, since no other skin on his body would be exposed to the sun, before he combed and shellacked his hair into the required unmovable quiff, and then practiced a bright smile as he gazed into the dressing room mirror.

Well, thus started another shift at the happiest fucking place on earth.

***

As he escorted Julie (a.k.a. Cinderella) down Main Street, they maintained their constant smiles and stopped to chat with any park guests who showed an interest. They also, of course, posed for about a thousand photos per hour.

“Oh, you’re even faking a British accent!” a woman in plaid shorts and a striped tank top cooed at him after taking several photos of him with her children as they pelted him with questions about what it was like to be a prince and were he and Cinderella married and where did they live and did they have any kids and a million other questions Phil had to answer a hundred times every day, always making sure to stay in character.

That was the most important part of his job, as the management had stressed over and over during his hiring process and continued to stress nearly every day. He must always stay in character, must always be Prince Charming. Even when one of the overly entitled children kicked him in the shin, he had to laugh it off and tousle the boy’s hair with a faked fondness that potentially put him in danger of getting his hand bitten.

Luckily, the annoying costume gloves would have protected him from whatever rabies the brat might be carrying.

“Your accent doesn’t sound quite right, but it’s good enough to fool the kids, and that’s what matters at Disneyland, right?” The woman grinned at him, showing red lipstick smeared across her front teeth. She made no attempt to control the four children apparently in her care as they ran about and climbed on anything they could get near.

Phil smiled at her, trying not to grind his teeth audibly, and said, “Children certainly are a blessing and a joy, yours especially. It’s been so wonderful to talk with all of you,” and then he took Julie by the gloved hand to guide her away.

“One more picture!” the woman yelled after them, so he and Julie turned, and she looped her arm gracefully through his as they’d been forced to practice a thousand times, and they posed with those bright fake smiles as the tourist snapped a few more photos with her phone before they were released to stroll again down the boulevard full of families sweating in their summer clothing, sure that none of them ever spared a thought for the costumed park employees in their much less comfortable attire.

He thanked his lucky stars that at least he didn’t have to wear one of the non-human costumes, like the fellow who played Mickey Mouse. That guy was always a disgusting, sweat-drenched mess at the end of his shift, but at least he didn’t have to actually talk to the park guests like Phil and Julie did.

It must be much easier to stay in character when you didn’t have to smile or talk.

Suddenly, out of the constant babble around him, Phil noticed an English accent, then another. A family stood nearby, and they were clearly from one of the southern counties. Berkshire, maybe? The voice he had first noticed seemed to belong to an utterly beautiful boy near Phil’s own age, and he couldn’t help but stare a moment until Julie patted his arm to remind him to keep playing his character role.

Always stay in character. Always be Prince Charming. He smiled brightly at the beautiful boy, who raised an eyebrow.

And then suddenly the boy walked away from what Phil could only assume was his family and approached Phil and Julie. “This guy’s a philanderer, you know,” he told Julie, jerking his thumb at Phil. “He’s got loads of other girls on the side. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel … and who knows how many other hapless women who subscribe to the ridiculous gender roles that require them to passively wait to be rescued by a man instead of proactively getting themselves out of their own stupid predicaments.”

Great. A heckler. They didn’t appear often, but when they did … joy. This one was surprisingly—and intriguingly—articulate, but still … a heckler. Phil forced the smile to stay on his face, nodded politely to the beautiful pain in his ass, and began to lead Julie away. The heckler grinned at him, showing deep dimples that only made him more lovely, and Phil contained a groan of dismay at the bolt of intense desire that shot through him.

“He’s also the villain of the story,” Beautiful Heckler continued loudly as they started to turn away. “Anyone who’s watched the Shrek movies knows that.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Phil bestowed upon the little asshole his most gracious smile, “my princess and I must continue to visit with our many guests.”

The heckler’s brown eyes went wide as he heard Phil’s voice. “You’re English!” he exclaimed in obvious shock. Phil only nodded, his hands embarrassingly sweaty in those terrible gloves, and tried to extricate himself and Julie from this potentially out-of-character conversation.

“Indeed, I am. It’s been lovely to meet you, but we should continue on our way. Please do enjoy your stay in our magical kingdom.” Julie’s hand tightened on his arm, signaling him to speed up their escape. It wasn’t his job to stand talking to a twentyish twink with gorgeous dimples when there were hundreds of small children and lipstick-smeared mothers waiting to meet their favorite Disney characters come to life.

But Heckler Boy put his hand on Phil’s other arm and asked, “Where are you from? And why are you working at Disneyland, of all places?” He was shaking his head in disbelief, shiny brown curls bouncing slightly.

“I’m from a kingdom far away,” Phil replied in character, ignoring Julie’s increasingly tight squeeze on his arm. “But I journeyed far to find my true love.” He turned to smile at Julie, and she smiled at him with her mouth but glared at him with her eyes.

Phil gave in and nodded his best aloof Prince Charming nod at the beautiful heckler, who was now staring at him in apparent fascination, making Phil want to do nothing but stay there and stare at him in return. But he wasn’t Phil right now, and he couldn’t flirt with anyone but Julie, and he couldn’t be visibly gay—though, honestly, what Prince Charming didn’t seem at least a little gay? So he just patted the boy’s hand on his coat sleeve, wishing that there wasn’t a layer of polyester glove preventing their skin from touching, even just for that brief moment, and then he and Julie continued on with their stroll, only to be stopped almost immediately by a family with two small children who wanted to pose for photos.

Smiling for the tourist’s camera, Phil dared a quick glance in the direction where he’d left the beautiful British boy and saw him still watching Phil, which made him blush a bit. Blushing in this costume was extremely unpleasant, as it only made him even warmer than he already was, but he couldn’t help it when such an attractive guy was watching him like that.

After the family had taken their photos, Phil took Julie by the hand again, tucked her arm through his, and escorted her further into the park.

He didn’t look back toward the boy again.

***

Phil groaned with pleasure as he pulled off the hated gloves at the end of his shift, divesting himself of the rest of the horrible costume as quickly as possible. The entire thing was soaked with sweat. It was lucky the park supplied him with a clean costume each day, because he could never have kept up with the laundry himself.

In another stroke of luck, the “backstage” area had showers, so Phil cleaned up with a thorough soap and shampoo, running the water cool enough to give himself goosebumps, but glad of the temperature change after an entire day of roasting in the sun and polyester.

Donning his own clothes again and giving his black hair a quick combing, he snuck out through the backstage entrance instead of the employee exit he was supposed to use. Character-role employees were forbidden to re-enter the park in their street clothes, lest a guest recognize them, spoiling the oh-so-important illusion. Phil couldn’t have said what inspired him to break the rules today when he never had before, but if he’d been forced to guess, he probably could have intuited that it had something to do with a certain heckler with irresistible dimples.

In a park filled with thousands of people, he was extremely unlikely to even see the guy again, let alone have a conversation with him … but only 10 minutes or so after he left the employee area, he saw him. Phil wondered if maybe the guy wouldn’t recognize him now that he was out of costume, but when their eyes met, the boy immediately grinned and said something to his family before turning and walking toward Phil.

He looked Phil up and down, and his first words to him were, “I like the ripped jeans a lot more than the prince outfit. You look hot in a very different way.”

Phil had no idea what to say to that. He’d sort of secretly hoped to see the guy again, but he’d had absolutely no expectation of the guy actually hitting on him.

“Um,” Phil stammered, “I’m not … I’m not really supposed to talk to guests … when I’m out of costume.” He was blushing again, and he cursed his fair skin for giving him away.

The guy leaned close and said quietly, “What if we go somewhere where people won’t see us?” He smirked.

Phil looked around, then walked toward one of the buildings that housed supplies, then ducked behind it so that he and the boy—who had eagerly followed him—were hidden between the wall and the nearby foliage. With the sun going down and the park beginning to get a little dark, there was very little chance anyone would see them here. But he could still see the beautiful boy in the dimming light.

“I’m Dan,” his beautiful heckler said, and then he leaned in to kiss Phil, just like that.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Phil, pulling away slightly. “I mean … what are you…”

Dan raised his eyebrow again, just as he had when their eyes first met hours ago and he asked smugly, “You don’t want to?” And Phil found himself numbly shaking his head.

“No,” Phil rasped out, his voice exhausted after a day of greeting strangers, then laughed a little. “I mean yes.” And then he smiled his first real, honest smile of the day, and Dan kissed him again, this time with a much more enthusiastic response from Phil.

Phil didn’t even know how long they’d been kissing when he felt Dan’s hands slide underneath the back of his t-shirt, stroking the bare skin of his spine. Phil gasped, and his head fell back slightly at the incredible unexpected pleasure.

“I can get away tonight if you want to … you know … meet up and … do something. Together,” Dan suggested awkwardly, kissing the notch at the base of Phil’s throat and then flicking his tongue out against the sensitive skin there to make Phil moan.

Phil lowered his head to look into Dan’s eyes. “I don’t even know who you are,” Phil protested. “Why are you in California? How long are you here? Are you a student, or do you have a job, or…”

Dan asked wryly, “You don’t really care about any of that, do you? Really?”

But Phil shook his head, then nodded, confused. “No. Yes. I do. I don’t just … do this.”

Dan raised that damned eyebrow again. “You don’t? Because, you know, you could. You could pull almost anybody you wanted. You’re fucking gorgeous, you know. Even better out of that ridiculous costume.” He ran his hands through Phil’s damp, freshly showered hair. “And I like your hair better like this. It looked like plastic before, but it’s actually really soft.” Then he stroked his hands through Phil’s hair to the back of his head and reeled him in for another kiss. He pulled away slightly and whispered, “My family’s here on holiday.” Then he kissed Phil again before breathing against his lips, “I’m on my gap year.” Another kiss, longer this time, his tongue stroking against Phil’s in a maddening caress before he slowly pulled away to kiss the side of Phil’s neck and murmur against it, “And we’re in town for another week. During which time I really really hope I’ll see a lot more of you.” He pulled away to look Phil up and down before blatantly licking his lips. “And I do mean that in every sense.”

Phil leaned back against the wall of the outbuilding, breathing heavily. “Jesus. Do you do this on every vacation? Everywhere you go? Just find some stranger and pull him into a corner and suggest…” He shook his head slightly, not sure how to finish that sentence. Because what exactly was Dan suggesting? Quite a bit, if Phil wasn’t mistaken.

Dan sighed and leaned away slightly. “Do we really have to have this conversation? Because … no. No, I’ve actually never just dragged someone off into the bushes like this before, but I feel like … I don’t know. Both of us being from England, and meeting here, and the way you looked at me, and the shivers I got…”

Phil interrupted him. “You got shivers?”

“Didn’t you?” Dan asked, and for the first time he sounded a little uncertain.

“Yeah,” Phil admitted with a slow grin, finally feeling a little more confident. “But I thought it was just me.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Dan replied. “It was like … an electric shock. Like fate or something, meeting you here. I feel like I’ve known you forever, almost from the first moment our eyes met. I can’t explain it.” He breathed out a sort of frustrated sigh. “Are you really going to make me say all this sappy stuff, or can we just kiss some more, and maybe make plans to meet up later?” He swallowed, then looked at Dan with those warm brown eyes, and they looked happy, which made Phil happy, too. “Because I’d really like to meet up later,” Dan whispered, like it was a secret, then leaned forward to kiss Phil again.

They kissed for a long while, Dan pressing up against Phil, pressing him up against the wall so that Phil could feel that Dan was just as hard as he was. “Won’t your family be looking for you?” Phil gasped, reluctantly pulling his lips away from Dan’s.

“I told them I’d meet them at the front gate after the fireworks,” Dan purred. “There will be fireworks, won’t there?” And he slid his hand down to stroke the front of Phil’s jeans, making Phil groan.

“Yes,” Phil gasped, and he didn’t know if he was answering Dan’s question or responding to Dan’s wayward hand. He reached down to press Dan’s hand against his cock through his jeans … and noticed that Dan’s fingers were shaking. Perhaps the boy wasn’t as confident as he seemed? Maybe they should put this all off. Dan had suggested meeting up later, which would give him time to decide if he really wanted this.

Phil spun their bodies around so that Dan was against the wall, with Phil the one leaning forward to press them together. He ground against Dan once, then once again, and Dan’s body arched against him with obvious pleasure. “There’ll be fireworks if you want them. I promise. But not here,” Phil said firmly. Then he frowned. “I mean, there will be fireworks here. There are fireworks here every night during the summer. But not these kinds of fireworks.” And he ground his hips against Dan’s again, and Dan was the one gasping now. Phil wrapped a hand around each of Dan’s wrists, then pinned them against the wall on either side of his head. He thrust against Dan again and they both groaned. “Because for these kinds of fireworks, I’d rather have you naked.” He waited to see how Dan would react.

Dan opened his eyes to look at Phil, and the pupils of his brown eyes were hugely dilated, though Phil wasn’t sure if it was in response to him or to the growing darkness. Dan’s body leaned limp against the wall, as if he’d collapsed, as if he’d completely submitted to Phil. He’d started out as the aggressor, but now he just gazed at Phil in willing, helpless abandon. Phil leaned in to kiss him again, licking his tongue into Dan’s mouth until the beautiful boy was groaning again, his body tight as a bow, pressing as close to Phil as he could get. Both his hands grasped at Phil’s back as if he were absolutely desperate. “Please?” he begged, pressing himself as tightly against Phil as possible.

“Oh, fuck it,” Phil ground out, and he let go of Dan’s wrists so he could reach down to unzip Dan’s jeans, slipping his hand inside to feel him hot and hard through his underwear with its rather obvious damp spot. Dan had been leaking pre-come while they were making out. The evidence only made Phil harder. “I can get you naked next time.”

Dan’s hand reached between them, fumbling to get Phil’s jeans open with eager hands.

“I’ve never done this before,” Phil laughed as they rubbed at each other there in the hidden corner where anyone could happen upon them.

“With a guy, or outside, or at work?” Dan asked, breathing heavily. He squeezed Phil’s cock briefly through the denim and Phil closed his eyes with pleasure.

“Oh, I’ve definitely done it with a guy,” Phil chuckled, “but never outside, and definitely not at work. But somebody tempted me too much for me to resist.” He leaned in to press their mouths together again and felt the eagerness in Dan’s returning kiss. He slipped his hand into Dan’s underwear and Dan cried out at the first touch of skin on skin. Phil quickly placed his other hand over Dan’s mouth, whispering, “Shhh. We don’t want anyone hearing us and coming back here to see what’s going on.” Dan nodded, and Phil took his hand away from the boy’s mouth. As he pulled his hand away, Dan licked his palm with a saucy grin.

He grasped Dan’s cock and pushed his underwear out of the way with his other hand. Meanwhile, Dan was still struggling to get Phil’s jeans open. Suddenly, Phil wondered if Dan had ever done this before. “How about you?” he asked, then stroked Dan’s cock lightly, not wanting this to be over too quickly. “Have you done this before?”

“Of course,” Dan replied, finally getting Phil’s jeans open and slipping a hand in to rub him through his underwear. Phil’s hips bucked toward the touch, but he’d heard the obvious nervous lie in Dan’s words, and this all of a sudden got even hotter. Not only was he exchanging hand jobs with a stranger at work, but it was the boy’s first time with another guy.

“I don’t believe you,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips. “I think I’m the first guy you’ve been with, even though you’re…” his words cut off in a moan as Dan’s hand slipped into his underwear and grasped him in a tight grip. “Even though you’re doing fantastic.” Phil bit his own lip in pleasure, then leaned forward to nibble at Dan’s arching neck, giving it a flick of his tongue in apology and wondering if he would leave a mark. He liked the idea of Dan returning to his family with Phil’s mark on him, even if it might not be the best idea. He decided to try to be more careful.

Dan was panting now, thrusting into Phil’s hand as he squeezed and stroked Phil’s cock with an obviously inexpert touch, unaccustomed to this angle. “Okay,” Dan admitted on a moan. “Yeah, I haven’t done this with a guy before.” He leaned forward for another passionate kiss before adding, “But you just … the way you looked at me … and then in those ripped jeans … like I said … shivers.” And Phil felt Dan’s body shiver again, just at the memory. But a moment later he realized it had been a different kind of shudder as Dan’s cock pulsed and he began to come. Ironically, the first boom of fireworks above them happened at nearly the same time, and Phil saw Dan’s ecstatic face illuminated by blue lights falling above them.

“Faster,” Phil urged as Dan’s hand slowed during his own release. Obligingly, Dan sped up his strokes and soon Phil too was coming, his orgasm spurred by the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment, combined with awareness that Dan had never done this before and Phil was his first.

As their breathing slowed, fireworks continued to explode above them, occasionally illuminating their faces with a variety of different colors as they stared at each other. Phil hadn’t hoped for anything more than maybe a glimpse of the dimpled heckler, and he now guessed that Dan had probably hoped for nothing more than perhaps a quick make-out session. They both gazed at each other in wonder, chests still heaving.

“I saw fireworks. How about you?” Dan laughed breathlessly, his smart mouth finally making a reappearance. He was grinning, and his dimples were shadows in the light of the sparkles falling high above their heads.

“Definitely fireworks,” Phil replied and kissed that smart mouth. “And shivers.”

“And shivers,” Dan agreed on a quiet breath.

They lingered, kissing more softly now, their bodies leaning together as if they were holding each other up. Phil noticed Dan holding his hand away from his body and laughed. “My shirt is white. Nobody will notice before I get it home and wash it.” Dan didn’t seem to understand what Phil meant until Phil grabbed his hand and wiped the come off both of their hands onto his NASA t-shirt.

Dan laughed softly. “God, I hope we didn’t get my jeans. What’ll my parents think?” Phil guessed that he was probably blushing, though the hues of the fireworks hid any natural color of Dan’s skin.

“Probably nothing even nearly as good as the truth,” Phil joked.

He stroked his hand down Dan’s body again, making the boy twitch, but Phil merely slipped his hand into Dan’s jeans pocket to pry out the boy’s phone and type in his number. “Call me. Then we’ll see about more of those fireworks.” He grinned at Dan. “Like I said … they’re every night during the summer.” He kissed Dan softly again as he slid the phone back into Dan’s pocket.

Dan gazed at him with eyes deep and filled with stars. “What name should I look for in my phone?”

Phil frowned, confused. “What?”

“Did you just put your name as Prince Charming, or do your friends call you something a little less pretentious?”

Phil laughed and said, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I never told you my name. It’s Phil. My name is Phil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Phil,” Dan said formally, and then broke into giggles.

Phil pulled away and giggled along with him, seeing his own giddy happiness reflected in Dan’s face as the firework show’s grand finale exploded in multiple colors at once above them. “I have to … um…” Dan stammered shyly. “I have to go meet my family at the front gate.”

“I know,” Phil replied, then kissed him one more time, just a brush of their lips.

“But I’ll call you,” Dan hurried to add. “Phil.” And he smiled again.

“I know,” Phil repeated with a grin, and then gave him one last kiss. Dan turned to walk away, but looked back once before he disappeared into the crowd. Phil smiled and raised a hand, then chuckled to himself when he realized it was the one that was still slightly coated in drying bodily fluids.

When he was sure Dan was gone, Phil turned to walk back toward the employee lot where he’d parked his car. He walked loose-limbed, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his ripped jeans … and for the first time today, Disneyland really did feel like the happiest place on earth.

Author’s End Note: I’m just going to ignore the logistical difficulties of mutual simultaneous hand jobs when one participant is right handed and the other is left handed. Pretend I never even pointed out the potential awkwardness.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan smut #smutty phan #au phanfiction #au phanfic #phanfiction au #phanfic au #phanfichallenge #myphanfic

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moczothe1st · 6 years

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Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 30: Man, oh Man, oh Manfroy

Part 29

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War. Last week, we fought off like six armies all at once, and it was miserable, but on the plus side Hilda died. I think every game would be better if Hilda died. This week, we finish taking her castle and… *sigh* And we regret it, probably. This week, we start off mid-turn, so after moving most of my southern front up north toward the action, I end my turn and let the remainder of Hilda’s dorks take their shot.

… Why couldn’t they have gone down that easy last week, huh?!

Now, on our turn, the enemy is down to four dark mages with staves, and one dark bishop with a siege tome in the castle. I have Fee cut down one of the former…

And have Larcei and Seliph talk about love, because honestly I’m actually in no big hurry to finish this castle.

Larcei: I’m coming with you on this one!

Seliph: Of course you’re welcome to… but why?

Larcei: It’s odd… I’m actually a little scared…

Seliph: Odd indeed! If there’s one thing you’ve never been known for, it’s fear.

Larcei: It’s… I just…

Seliph: Shhh. I understand. Now come! After all, what could ever inspire courage quite like having you at my side.

(… Damn, Seliph, smooth like silk. You win a little more of my respect, bro.)

Larcei: Seliph…

This conversation gives Seliph +1 to his Strength; it was apparently supposed to be +3, but he was actually only one point away from his (oddly low) cap. Apparently Seliph only has a natural 25 strength cap! That seems weird considering his descent from Sigurd the Humungous.

And… sigh. Guess I should kill the stupid boss.

All right. Nothing left but sleep staves, and they can’t really hurt us. I have Fee and Altena purge them.

And now we have the problem dealt with. A little jumping around before I set off the next story segment; I have Finn zapped home, where he repairs and sells his Brave Lance. I’m going to have Fee buy it after we take Freege. Sorry, Finn, but you’re kind of just not holding up; you lasted longer than I expected you too, but despite being decent on offense you’re just kind of fragile. Oifey will also be benched here, I think, he can stay to defend Freege castle after we take it. Thankfully…

… The game is polite enough to tell us where the next part of the chapter will be coming from. So I do spend a turn or two moving the kids up to this gate and ready to rock. Seliph?

Seliph: But I can’t help but wonder… are the children at Belhalla still unharmed? I pray they are…

Lewyn: Funny you should say that!

(That’s not really the appropriate response to dying children.)

Lewyn: We’ve got a visitor who’s got a bit of news on that front, Seliph.

(“I’ve seen… terrible things. Thank the gods I have no sister, for I fear I would never be able to look her in the eyes again.”)

Felipe: On secret orders from His Majesty, the abducted children were moved here to Freege for safe-keeping.

(Orders so secret that we never actually got to see Arvis give them in that whole scene where he was desperately trying to save all the children at Chalphy and failing, being immediately caught, and then getting cowed into submission by a man infinitely less powerful than himself. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR ARVIS, GAME.)

Felipe: Rest easy, sire. They’re all hiding in the city’s abbey, and they’re all in good health.

Seliph: And all under Hilda’s nose, at that! That you’ve kept every last child safe in Hilda’s own city… color me impressed!

Felipe: Actually, sire… Princess Ishtar deserves your thanks. Without her generous aid given in secret, we could never have done this. No Imperial soldiers dared come even close to the abbey, on pain of the princess’s wrath.

Seliph: Princess Ishtar?! But why… why would she-

Felipe: Few people in this land are as kind and caring as Princess Ishtar.

FEW PEOPLE IN THIS LAND ARE AS KIND AND CARING AS PRINCESS ISHTAR.

YEAH SHE’S A FUCKIN’ TREASURE.

Felipe: All along, the princess has toiled behind the scenes to aid our cause. It was Princess Ishtar herself who ensured that every last child escaped from the bowels of Belhalla.

(“Then… how comes she’s… you know… literally banging the Devil?” “Technically he’s a ghost dragon.”)

Seliph: I see… at any rate, thank the gods for their safety. I’m certain everyone will be glad to know the children are in good hands. You have my deepest thanks, Lord Felipe.

Lewyn: Well, Seliph, that’s one job done. Good to see we’re finally getting results out of this mess.

(Hey, screw you man, I’ve conquered three quarters of the country.)

Seliph: And yet, Julia still eluds us… where could she possibly be?

Lewyn: The only options left now are Belhalla and Velthomer. It’s got to be one of those two.

Seliph: And Belhalla is where Julius awaits…

Lewyn: Yeah. We’ll need to find Julia first if we want to go anywhere near Belhalla. Without Julia’s power on our side, we won’t have a hope in hell against Julius.

(Again, not technically true, but you really should listen to him on this one.)

Seliph: But no matter what’s happened, Julius is still her brother. Will she even want to fight him…

Lewyn: … You’ll have to convince her.

(I mean, you’ve met Julius. It won’t be super hard.)

Ishtar: This will require that I leave your side, even for a while. I beg your forgiveness.

Julius: Feh.

Julius: Why the rush to get out there so suddenly, Ishtar? All the soldiers they could ever throw at us could never so much as scratch me. Why even bother with those maggots?

Ishtar: Yes, I know… but for me, there is no greater pride than being one of Freege’s great mages.

(“Saving all those children? Doesn’t even compare.”)

Ishtar: My parents and brother lie dead, and I cannot stand to leave their murderers to run amok… please. All I ask is a chance for vengeance.

Julius: It sounds as if what you really want is to following your family to death on a rebel’s blade! Are you so desperate to escape me, Ishtar?

Ishtar: No… nothing like that, Lord Julius. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Julius: Hmhmhmhmhm… I know.

Julius: Very well! Fight if you must. I won’t stop you.

Ishtar: Thank you… now, I beg your pardon. Meng! Bleg! Mabel! We sortie at once.

(Oh god, we are really scraping the bottom of the name barrel this time. ‘Meng’? ‘Bleg’?)

Julius: Now, then. I think it’s time we put an end to this sorry show. Deadlords, move out! And order Arion’s unit to attack!

(… wait, what?)

So. You may recall I told you to remember this moment.

It was important for two reasons.

First: This is the moment the war becomes winnable. You see, Manfroy is not… really all that into Loptyr. Oh, he worships him, but it’s not really about loyalty so much as sadism. Manfroy hates the world, and every single human being in it. His overall goal in life is nothing more or less than to make humanity suffer as much as possible. But he’s generally pragmatic about it. He knew the best way to hurt humanity was to revive Loptyr, who possesses incredible powers and views humans as little better than food to eat and pets to abuse. This moment, right here, is the moment that Manfroy, flush with overconfidence in the presence of his god on earth and having enjoyed a long decade and a half tormenting the entire continent, finally makes a mistake. He lets his sadism overpower his common sense for the first time. And in so doing, he gives us a real shot.

Second: Because he’s still Manfroy, he’s a total fuckwad about it.

Remember Ayra? Waaaaaaaaay back in Verdane, remember how we recruited Ayra. How we had to get to a castle to turn her non-hostile to us, only she was between the army and the castle and she was trying to kill us the whole time?

Yeah, that’s happening again. Only it’s Julia, our lil’ atomic vampire gatling gun trying to kill us. Of course she’s just as strong as she was when she was on our side, why would you even ask. Oh, and just for fun…

Here’s the map of what we need to achieve. The blue X is where we are. The red X is where we need to get to save Julia. The ravenous piranha is Ishtar’s army, waiting to pounce upon us and tear us limb from bloody limb. And to her right, marked by the douche, is Julius. You don’t have to fight him, and you in fact definitely should not because getting anywhere near him will also draw the Deadlords out to fight you, but of course has a siege tome now and will cheerfully wreck the shit of anyone who gets anywhere near him, therefore heavily limiting the space we have to move.

And of course, Julia will be trying to kill us the whole time, and we can’t fight back and risk killing her.

And hahaha, yeah, Arion will be showing up soon.

This is not going to be any fun, is what I’m getting at here.

First thing’s first, let’s take a look at our piranha.

Ishtar has taken yet another level in badass; her magic has gone up two points, skill by three, luck by 2, defense by eight, and resistance by one. And this time, she’s got an actual army with her instead of fighting us alone; three Snipers, three Heroes, three Sages, three High Priests with Fortify (of course) staves, and of course…. *snerk*…. Bleg, Meng, and Mabel.

They’re three identical Falcon Knights, both in picture and stats, so I’ll only be showing one of them. Despite the intensely crappy names, they honestly three ridiculously dangerous units. They all have Earth Swords, meaning any hit they land is going to heal them, and they’ll be hitting often what with that maxed-out Speed and solid 23 skill. And to make things worse, they all have the Nihil ability to prevent us from just shooting them down with arrows or relying on Astra to solve our problems.

So! This is going to suck. A lot. But thanks to Ced being awesome, there’s an option I can take to make this a lot more manageable. Lana sells her Silence staff, and he buys it…

And with his 35 fucking magic he can overpower Ishtar’s 32 Resistance to Silence her up to three times, basically removing Mjolnir from the equation for this battle. And Mjolnir is like… half of this battle’s equation.

I literally cannot believe I’ve never tried this before. From here, the army moves forward, Seliph leading the way; he’ll be attacked by quite a lot of people here, but he’s a living iron wall of destruction, and the more of these people I can lure away from the main melee, the better. So. End turn!

(*sigh* Must you, now?)

Arion: Chalphy’s fall to our blades shall be the first step to winning back our fatherland. Now, move in! Show these liberators one final defiance from the drackoknights of Thracia!

A solid enough start! We hurt one Falcon Knight, and didn’t take much damage in return. And now that Ishtar is in range…

Oh, that is delicious. Now, my first goal here is to kill at least one of these three annoyingly fast pega-bitches, but I also have to get Altena (and yes it has to be her, of course it has to be her) down to the castle to intercept Arion. I hate everything forever.

One down! Let’s keep this train rolling and clear out some more jerks.

Two out of three ain’t bad!

Okay, I think that’s about all the damage I’m going to get done this turn. And not bad at all, frankly, so I’m happy. I have Lene dance Altena, and warp her home with Lana.

Ignore the pentagram. It’s a good pentagram. Down at the bottom, Altena equips Gae Bolg and flies to just outside Arion’s range. The rest of his buddies don’t matter at all, but I don’t want her to fight him. There’s a reason for this, of course. It’s unsatisfying, but it makes her happy.

The things I do for my kids, I swear.

End turn.

… Huh. They don’t attack her? Or maybe they can’t damage her. I honestly am not sure.

*sniff*

I remember the last time I played this map.

I died five times on this battle alone.

And now it’s going better than the fight against the fucking Beige Knights.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

Altena: How could you be so craven?! How dare you place your vanity and pride over what truly matters!

(You tell him, honey!)

Arion: What do you want from me, then?

(God, don’t ask her that. This LP is not rated Adults Only.)

Altena: Take a good, hard look at Prince Seliph! Ask yourself, this: why is he still fighting? For whom is he out here day after day, setting his own suffering to the side?

Arion: So Seliph fights for justice, and I somehow do not? Is that what you’re trying to say?

(…. YES!)

Altena: Very well, Arion… if you won’t see reason, so be it. Come on. Kill me. End this. My… my life is in your hands. I die with no regrets.

Arion: A-Altena… very well. You can rest easy now. I get it. I was wrong… my mercenary days are at an end, and my final task is with Seliph. Wait… no. With you. I now fight for you, Altena.

Altena: Arion…

Yeah, it would have been neat if you’d done this a few maps ago, jackass, but Arion is on our side now. Or, well, sorta. He doesn’t join the army, but his unit becomes neutral and are programmed to stay close to Altena and be hostile to any Belhalla units that get near them. I know we all sort of wanted to kill him, but he still has Gungnir and I really just didn’t want to risk a screwup when things are going so well. I mean, I’m not even gonna use him. At this point, letting him get near the enemy would likely result in him rushing Julius and dying, which sorta defeats the point. Let’s just end this; time to wipe out the remains of Ishtar’s unit.

And now, a special treat. Since Ishtar can’t fight, we get to see a conversation that even I have never actually seen.

(…. ‘Nothing but kind’.)

(Just sayin’.)

Ishtar: … I may be in the wrong. But I can’t turn back now. Forgive me, Tinni… please….

And thus passes Princess Ishtar of Freege. She died as she lived: getting nuked by her cousins. And without her leadership stars…

All right. Now, the rest of the army is going to stay right where they fucking are. Julia cannot be trusted to not kill herself, or more troublesome to not kill me. The only people going forward are Seliph and Ares, who are going to go north across the forest, out of Julius’s range, and try to lure Julia into following them. Their resistance is tremendous, and they’re both on horses. Ideally she’ll try to kill them, fail, and be following them and unable to catch up until I can free her. This will take a few turns of nothing but movement because I will not be going anywhere near Julius.

Trust me.

She seeeeeeeeeees uuuuuuuuuuussssss…

Okay. There’s two things that could happen here. She’s either going to go east and cut us off, in which case we’ll be dodging vampire lasers the rest of the map, or she’s going to go north through the forest and we basically win the game. Let’s see!

…. Bitch. Okay, straight west you guys! Hide on the healing church, you beautiful bastards. God, haven’t used one of those in awhile, with those fifty healers in the army lining up to zap everyone with staves.

Dammit, Loptyrians, I am trying to flee in terror from a small woman.

Okay. We can do this. Ares heals up, and all we have to do is clear out those priests and kill Manfroy. Go get ‘em, boys!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Are you fucking kidding me.

Of all the.

That.

You.

HOW.

What the!

NO.

………………

Well. You know all those times when I was questioning my good fortune? The moments where I was like ‘oh, man, I don’t trust how generous the game is being, bet it’s gonna screw me later!’ Well, that just happened.

*sigh*

End turn. If I survive this, I will be genuinely stunned.

Oh hey it’s as though the Hel tome is really easy to dodge and you should have dodged it all along. But here we go…

(How do you know that’s Manfroy? You’ve never met him…)

Manfroy: So I did. And so long as I live, my puppet she shall remain! Hehehehehe! She’s every bit as helpless before my magic as her mother was…

Seliph: I should have known. If not for you, Mother… Gah! All of this misery… all these agonizing years… It was all your doing from the outset!

Manfroy: Heh… of course. Everything I’ve done has led to this moment: the revival of my lord Loptyr. And at last, it is so! Loptyr’s advent in the form of Prince Julius is complete, and darkness shall soon engulf the world. You cannot prevent it. Nobody can…

Seliph: Manfroy, you… Father’s grief… Mother’s despair… if not for you and your foul ambitions, none of this would have ever happened… Damn you, Manfroy! I cannot allow you to win! I will not! You’ll NEVER know mercy for your crimes!

Yeah, not the dramatic win I was hoping for after that great speech. But I guess I saw that coming. Reset! I start off a little differently; Seliph and Ares park themselves on trees. With the 20% dodge bonus, they should have no chance of being hit by Hel, and very little of being hit by Julia. We need to clear out these Dark Mages before we go for Manfroy.

Better! This repeats for all of them; one actually dies because they’re forced to attack at close-range thanks to being blocked off by their own buddies, which is great.

Yeah, yeah.

He only does one damage. Seliph could have survived him with no problem in any other situation. I hate this game sometimes. On our turn, I have Ares and Seliph each clear out a mage…

Then immediately go hide in the woods again. I am playing this as cautious as humanly possible, honestly. Better to spend three turns killing mages than let the reset counter jump up above the number of updates.

The enemy misses again on their turn, because they literally can’t not miss. Two more deaths…

All right! That’s that for dark mages. On the next turn, Ares is going to park his butt on the healing church forever, and Seliph goes to fight Manfroy.

You stay out of this.

Now then. It’s time. It’s time to face Manfroy himself. In direct combat. The enemy behind it all! The dark schemer who has given over our kingdom to the dark god. And he…

Is a loser. I mean, he’s not the worst enemy in the game. He’s okay. But he’s definitely no match for Arvis, or Ishtar, or… anyone with a holy weapon, really. Which fits, really; his danger is his skill and intellect, not his power. But considering he’s basically the final boss, it’s a little sad, still.

Seliph. Teach him some manners, bro.

And with two shots, he’s down to six HP. End turn.

I miss the days when I was the one with the Julia Beams.

*sniff*

God. That is just cathartic to do. Now. With Manfroy off to Hell, where I’m assuming he will meet Hilda and strike up a whirlwind love affair, Seliph can take the castle.

Lewyn: That’s right, isn’t it Felipe?

Felipe: My liege concealed the key within his most treasured memento…. The circlet once worn by Empress Deirdre.

(HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!)

Felipe: If we can find that circlet, sir, the Book of Naga is yours.

Lewyn: Deirdre’s circlet…

And that’s that! Ares runs toward the castle, with intent to lure Julia toward us. Of course she’s still hostile, why are you even asking? She has to talk to Seliph to get back to our side. Tee-hee, Fire Emblem hates you.

God, you are just like your mother. Seliph, go fix this please.

Seliph: It was Manfroy’s dark arts. He brainwashed you into his service.

Julia: Manfroy… that’s right, he caught me…

Seliph: Thank goodness you’re safe.

Julia: Lord Seliph, I…

Seliph: It’s fine, Julia. I know. Lewyn told me everything. I’m sorry… I failed to protect you.

Julia: No… it’s fine. Don’t worry, Seliph. I finally know why I’ve survived for all these years. I know my fate… I’m fated to fight. I’ll never run away again!

Seliph: You’re right… This is the will of fate, tragic as it is. None can afford to cower or flee now. Until the bitter end, we must march on.

And with that, Julia rejoins the team. She’s just as strong as ever, barring one fact; she’s picked up Deirdre’s circlet, adding Renewal and Miracle to her list of abilities, which is a heck of an upgrade.

But not as good as the one she gets from reaching Velthomer.

Lewyn: It worked… it really worked! And there it is, the Book of Naga! It’s yours for the taking, Julia!

Julia: … Oh! How strange… it feels so warm. It’s almost as if I’ve known this book all my life…

And now, the game is over. See, here’s the thing… Julius is just as dangerous as before, if not slightly moreso. His stats are slightly lower than his first appearance where you are very clearly not meant to fight him, but he still has Loptyr’s game-breaking effect, and his ability list is now Wrath, Pursuit, Nihil, and Accost. So he can double most of our army, null critical hits and combat abilities, and gets a huge critical boost when his health drops below half. And of course, he’s on a castle and gets the defense bonus and health regeneration that gives. Basically, he’s borderline invincible. The only real option if you lose Julia is to have Seliph fight him, and poor Seliph can only do about 15 damage per turn (if he hits) some of which will then be healed. While getting blasted in the face repeatedly, so you’ll need to get someone in to heal him between rounds, and they’ll very probably die to having Meteors dropped on their head unless you’re very lucky. And then there’s the Deadlords, who are just a pain.

But if you do have Julia…

Yeah.

YEEEEEEEEEAH.

Naga is the best weapon in the game. +20 each to Skill, Speed, Defense, and Resistance, instantly turns Julia into a hyper-fast, hyper-accurate, hyper-durable killing machine. And as a light magic tome, it has no disadvantage to any kind of weapon. And, of course, it negates Loptyr’s half-damage effect. Your reward for the most annoying recruitment in the game is the weapon that ends the game. Big time.

So.

It’s time to lay back and let Big J play us out, I think. I have her do the Arena, just for old times sake. Nothing even touches her.

Julia: Seven wins, gained two levels. +2 HP, +1 Speed.

About as good as can be expected at this point, honestly. And it…. Doesn’t really matter, you know? She heads to Belhalla, and Julius has no chance to hit her with Meteor, so he doesn’t even try. The Twelve Deadlords rush up to meet her, of course…

They’re going to regret this. The Deadlords are named for the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and each one has a different class and some very good weapons and abilities. They’re a dangerous group! Usually.

One down, eleven to go. End turn.

And then there were nine.

Sorry, seven.

Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

Fun fact, ‘Lepus’ means ‘Rabbit’. And ‘Dead’.

Well I’ll be! Someone landed a hit! Too bad Julia did too. Four to go.

I’m so bad at counting! It’s actually three. Congrats to Equus the Bishop on surviving a round with The Julinator. But with that, none of the remaining Deadlords will actually take a shot at Julia anymore, so I’m just going to ignore them. It’s time for a family reunion.

(He isn’t wrong.)

Yes, that was a single round of combat. Julius procced his Accost skill and made the fight last an extra round. This… was not helpful to him.

Julius vanishes, the spirit of the dragon arising from the castle as the entire map shakes…

But it’s just bluster. Naga’s power has destroyed Loptyr’s vessel, and with its bloodline finally ended the dragon’s grip on this world is gone. Loptyr returns to whatever void it came from, and with the power that animated them gone, the few surviving Deadlords vanish.

I’m going to cut out here, but no sense waiting a week, huh? So see you tomorrow for the epilogue, kids. I think we earned it.

Final Reset Total: 30. Y... yay.

Epilogue

#Let's Play #let's play fire emblem IV #let's play fire emblem #Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War #fire emblem #fire emblem 4 #my writing #lp #long post

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talabib · 3 years

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Investing Like A Rich Person And Become Rich Yourself.

Which sounds better: being financially comfortable or being rich? Deep down, most people want to be filthy rich – but they also tend to feel that the future is already decided for them, and that they’ll never actually be rich.

But how rich you are or aren’t is up to you: if you make the decision to be rich, and adopt the mind-set of the rich, there’s no reason at all why you can’t achieve that goal.

First, however, there are a few things you’ll need to learn, as there are no “get-rich-quick” schemes that actually work. In practice, becoming rich means investing in financial education and literacy until analyzing financial statements becomes second nature. It also means learning how to create and grow a business, and then using the experience and money you’ve accumulated to make more and better investments.

The first step, though, is to get in the right frame of mind, and go from saying, “I’ll never be rich,” to “I’m going to be rich, and this is how!”

The richest 10 percent have 90 percent of the money because they invest in a way that the poor and middle classes do not.

Maybe you've heard of the 80-20 rule, which states that 80 percent of our success comes from 20 percent of our efforts? Well, that might be true for overall success – but for money, the rule is 90-10, because when it comes down to it, 10 percent of people have 90 percent of the money.

The rule applies in many walks of life. Think about Hollywood stars, and then think how many actors are waiting tables between gigs. Yep, 10 percent of actors earn 90 percent of the money. The same goes for athletes, musicians and, of course, investors. A Wall Street Journal article confirmed this, noting that 10 percent of the population own 90 percent of all the shares in the United States.

Why is it that rich people can accumulate so much wealth? Well, one reason is that some investments are simply off-limits if you’re poor.

Back when I was a young man with little cash, i asked my rich friends if I could get involved in their business deals. But, despite the friendship, the answer was always no – not because they didn't want to help out, but because it would have been illegal.

In the United States, the US Securities and Exchange Commission restricts certain investments to accredited investors – that is, people with a net worth of $1 million, or a consistent annual income of $200,000. Anyone who is worth, or makes, less than that simply isn't allowed to get involved.

Now, there are good reasons for preventing people without much money in the bank from making potentially risky investments. But these rules also prevent poorer people from making the best investments – the investments of the rich.

So how can you break into that top 10 percent? next, we'll find out what it takes to think like a rich person.

The first step toward being rich is to adopt the mind-set of the rich.

“Get an education, work hard, save money. Then you’ll be fine.” Sound familiar? This sentence sums up the standard middle-class approach to financial security and, more likely than not, you were probably told something similar by your parents.

But here’s the thing: this advice will never make you rich. Rather, it will keep you in the 90 percent that only has 10 percent of the money.

So how do the rich approach financial gain? They certainly don’t toil away at one job until retirement; instead, they purchase businesses and make investments.

Why is that? Well, for starters, because employees inevitably have less money to invest; that’s just the way the US tax system is set up.

For example, let’s say you want to save $1,000 from your salary. Well, first you have to pay tax, so in order to save that $1,000, you’ll have to earn, say, $1,300. Inflation will reduce your savings’ value every year, and you’ll pay tax on the interest you earn. Doesn’t sound like a recipe for wealth, does it?

Business owners, on the other hand, have more money to invest because it comes out of their pre-tax earnings. Unlike the employee who has to save out of taxed income, a business owner first buys assets and then pays taxes.

As such, an employee has less money to invest in assets that can generate wealth. It doesn’t sound fair, but it’s the way the system works – it’s hard for an employee to become rich because she gives so much money to the government first.

And there’s another reason why business ownership and investment are better paths to riches: investors often face less risk than employees.

Lots of people rely on employment, savings and pensions for their financial security. But the old notion of a stable job for life just doesn’t apply in today’s job market. Employees get fired all the time. What happens to a company’s share price when it lets lots of employees go? Very often, it goes up! So being on the investor’s side of the table is usually less risky than being on the employee’s.

Financial literacy can unlock riches.

Can you explain the difference between assets and liabilities? Or calculate a company’s price-to-equity and debt-to-equity ratios?

Many people shy away from investing because the terminology sounds like a foreign language. If you want to get into that 10 percent, however, it’s time to invest in your financial education.

First off, it’s important to understand the difference between assets and liabilities. Rich people never confuse the two, but others mix them up all the time. And that’s one of the reasons rich people tend to make better financial decisions.

Let’s take a common example. You’ve probably heard a homeowner say something like, “My home is a great asset.” Sounds sensible enough, right? But, usually, it’s downright wrong. Something is only an asset when it generates positive cash flow – that is, when it brings in money.

Say your house is worth $200,000, with a $150,000 mortgage. Where does the cash flow? Not in, but out, through your mortgage, fees, insurance and so on. Sure, maybe one day you’ll sell it for a tidy profit – but you have no guarantees, so it’s actually a liability.

Understanding assets and liabilities is a great first step. But to successfully make the investments of the rich – to develop real estate or buy into a business – you need to have a deep understanding of financial terminology.

Let’s say you want to buy shares in a growing tech business, and you want to understand whether it’s a good deal. How can you figure it out? Well, the share price tells you little, so to really understand value, you’ll need to calculate and analyze measures like debt-to-equity ratio, return on equity, cash-on-cash return and financial leverage.

All in all, if you don’t even know that your mortgaged house is a liability, not an asset, it’s no surprise that you might think the investments of the rich are too risky. Anything seems risky if you can’t understand it.So spend time developing your financial education – it may be the best investment you ever make.

There are different kinds of investors, requiring different skill sets and attitudes.

When we think of investors, we often imagine besuited Wall Street bankers, or bustling men shouting on a trading floor. But the word “investor” can be applied to a range of people, from bond traders to business founders.

The taxonomy of investors begins with accredited and qualified investors. These two are outsiders.

We’ve already met the accredited investor: someone with a high salary or established wealth who meets the legal requirements for the widest possible choice of investments.

Qualified investors are just as wealthy as accredited investors, but they’re also financially educated. They’re equipped to analyze a business’s financials, or the reasons behind market movements.

But both are always on the outside. Sure, they may buy shares and prosper that way, but they have little control over their assets.

In contrast, an inside investor creates assets instead of buying them. The inside investor builds her own business, be it a real estate agency, a tech start-up or something else entirely. That business can become a valuable asset, and she can use it to generate income, or eventually sell it.

To truly be the top dog – a sophisticated investor – the inside investor has to use the experience of building her own business to learn how to analyze other companies from the outside.

The sophisticated investor knows how to make tax and the law work to her advantage. But first, let’s look at how you can become an insider and start accessing the investment opportunities of the rich. It’s time to get down to business.

If you aren’t yet rich, become an inside investor; starting a business is an achievable route to wealth.

Many people think, “I could never start my own business.” But just 120 years ago, 85 percent of Americans were independent farmers or small shopkeepers. In other words, the vast majority of Americans were businesspeople – and you can be one, too.

Anyone can start a business and become rich. If you want to become an accredited or qualified investor, you already need to be wealthy. But starting a business only requires a bit of creativity.

Look at how Jeff did it. As a child, he created his first business from nothing. He saw that a local store was discarding old comic books and persuaded them to let him take the discards. He then opened a profitable comic library, charging school friends a 10-cent membership fee. From nothing but a good idea, he built an asset.

One reason many people hold back is time and money. You’ve got to pay the bills, so you don’t want to give up your job, right? How the heck are you going to find the time to start a business?

But it’s entirely possible to start a business part-time, and some of the world’s finest business leaders did just that.

Michael Dell started Dell Computers by working part-time in his university dorm room, and eventually got so rich that he decided to drop out. Jeff Bezos started Amazon part-time, working out of a garage, and today his company is worth over $500 billion. Imagine if he hadn’t had the courage to start things up in his spare time.

Once you have a business, you have options. You can reinvest the cash it generates into other assets; you can grow the business and sell it; or you can take it public. All three can be routes to riches you’ll never experience as an employee.

All of us have the potential to start a business, but maybe we don’t know how. Let’s take a look at the key principles for making a business work.

Master mission, leadership and team and you can build a great business.

Did you know that Bill Gates didn’t invent the software that made him the world’s richest man? He merely bought it from a group of programmers. He built a great business, not a great product – and that was the key to his success.c Building a business is a matter of mastering three things.

First, a business needs a spiritual mission to guide it. Henry Ford embodied this. His mission wasn’t to make money, though that’s exactly what he did, and in vast quantities. Ford’s mission was to bring the car to the masses and “democratize the automobile.” He pursued this mission relentlessly and the riches followed.

Finding a guiding spiritual mission, one that aligns with your financial goals, will help keep you on the right track.

Second, every leader needs a team. Maybe you’re an accountant, an insurer or a lawyer. But you are unlikely to be all three, and all are important if you want a successful business. A common factor among rich business leaders is the knowledge that money spent on their team is an investment – one that will almost certainly make them richer.

Third, every team needs a leader. Anyone who served in the military, knows that troops won’t follow a poor leader. Leadership is a skill unto itself. It’s not simply about being the best; rather, it’s about bringing out the best in other people.

How can you acquire leadership skills? One great way is to volunteer. In many groups, no one wants the responsibility of leading. So, whether at work, at a religious institution or in your community, speak up and volunteer to lead – it’s a great way to get feedback and learn where you can improve.

Every successful entrepreneur can communicate and sell.

Raising capital, advertising, negotiating, motivating your team and making sales – what do all these aspects of business life have in common?

All are crucial for success, and all require top-notch communication skills. So how can you become a better communicator?

Well, investing time in a sales-training program is a proven approach. Good places to look are network-marketing organizations, as they often have great programs. Joining and sticking with one for at least five years can work wonders. Shy people, scared of failure, come out the other end with the two key skills of a salesperson: the ability to communicate the value of a product with ease, and fearlessness in the face of rejection.

Master these two qualities and you will likely be a powerful communicator. This trait will shine through, not just when you’re selling your product or service, but when you have to deal with an investor, negotiate better terms or rouse your team.

If you’re serious about being a top communicator, don’t just think about your words; your physical appearance is just as, if not more, important.

Studies of public speakers show that 55 percent of their impact comes from body language, 35 percent from how they speak and just 10 percent from their words.

If you think about the business leaders you know, they probably all look the part, right? And this can go a long way indeed.

A banker once said that his bank had just brought in a new president because of his appearance. The new appointee simply looked and spoke like the president of a bank should. The board would run the bank, but the president’s outward appearance would generate new customers.

Learning to communicate and look the part will pay off in lots of ways. Just like improving your financial literacy, it’s an investment worth making.

Once you’ve mastered business, you can become a sophisticated investor.

So you’ve started a business, and it’s going well. Now it’s time to use the income and the experience you’ve accumulated and take things to the next level. It’s time to become a sophisticated investor.

As a sophisticated investor, you’ll take more control over management, corporate structure, investment decision making and taxes. The result? Maximized returns.

Let’s look at a restaurant owned by Bill and Jane, two hard-working Americans. They operate as a sole proprietorship, which means that they have one income source. They pay normal, personal income tax and they are liable if anything goes wrong – like a sick customer filing a lawsuit. All their eggs are in one basket.

No disrespect to Bill and Jane, but the sophisticated investor knows better. He would have two corporations: Bill would own the restaurant itself and Jane would own the building it’s in. This way, risk is spread.

If a customer falls sick and sues the restaurant, the real estate is legally separate and protected. Meanwhile, under this corporate structure, expenses like health insurance and legal fees are allocated as business expenses and paid pre-tax. Tax itself is paid at lower, corporate rates – less risk, less tax, more financial return.

Whatever you want to invest in, as a sophisticated investor, you know how to make your money work for you.

An average person’s plan for retirement might consist of squirreling away $15,000 a year in a 401k plan and hoping for an 8-percent return.

The sophisticated investor is more likely to invest in real estate, some stocks and shares and a business venture. With the experience brought by building a business, and by investing in his financial literacy and education, he can make the investment decisions of the rich: spotting the best opportunities, understanding what’s really risky and what isn’t.

The average approach sees you work for your money. The second approach sees your money work for you. Don’t be average.

If you want to be rich, you must think and act like a rich investor does. That means focusing on building a business and investing in assets, not focusing on employment and savings. In doing so, you can build and control an investment portfolio that generates income and grows your wealth.

Action plan: Decide whether you want to be secure, comfortable or rich.

Take some time to truly reflect on what your priority is: to be secure, to be comfortable or to be rich. One is not better than the other, but they represent very different choices and outcomes. Talk to your partner or family, and sketch out pros and cons. Being certain in your decision to prioritize becoming rich will give you the mind-set you need. You’ll find yourself shifting from saying “I can’t afford that” to “How can I afford that?”

#Investing Like A Rich Person And Become Rich Yourself.

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astormofships · 7 years

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Pick Your Darling: Annette

“Darling heart, I loved you from the start, but you'll never know what a fool I've been. Darling heart, I loved you from the start, but that's no excuse for the state I'm in..”

Ship name

Winter Melody. The Wolf and the Siren. The Warrior and the Maid come again, jested Theon. No names blended, it wouldn't be satisfactory. They are much better left alone xD

Meeting

White Harbour was probably the most prosperous and welcoming city in the North. And luckily, you lived there. All your life, to be exact. The people were fond of sweet Annette; if a visitor dropped by, they might hear tales of a golden haired woman healing the mind with music. They praised your harmonious voice too. Others were curious about your Lannister look, golden hair and green eyes. But it wasn't that bad, considering your noble blood and illogicality of hiding a possible relative when Lord Tywin could have married you to spread his power in Westeros. No, you were not related to the lions in any way. Words reached Catelyn Stark's ears which prompted an invitation to Winterfell. Accepting, you arrived a full moon later. She personally welcomed you and introduced her family during a humble yet tasty meal prepared in your honour. Afterwards, a visit of the castle followed. Sansa and Robb were your guides although the former did most of the task seeing that the latter was required somewhere else.

First impressions, the way it used to be before it became romantic

Words flowed easily. Politeness did not put a strain on the discussion, nor added pressure to the cordial atmosphere. Surprisingly, humor made an appearance. He was not just a lord's son, and you were not just a pleasing face. A friendship surely took root, based on positivity, respect and trust. You stayed a few months, then returned home. And repeat. When you weren't in the city, letters were the best option. While Arya, Rickon and the rest of the Starks preferred to see you in person, Sansa had taken to send ravens. But the one who possessed the most faithful quill feather was Robb. The content of the letters spoke of news of self, families and respective cities. Ranting on parchment or giving opinions was not a rarity. Talking about the plot of stories and characters you wrote happened. You played games, too, like long distance riddles. Signatures were usually “R”, “A” or “Winter” and “Melody”. That way people may not recognize who wrote if they stumbled upon it intentionally or accidentally. If a Littlefinger had access to them, he would figure it out almost immediately. The initials and names, along with the known friendship, were effortless to link back together and guess who the authors were. Annette and Robb were not known to focus on cleverness or worry about intelligence. By no means simpletons, being associated with bravery or fairness were more flattering and accurate goals. But anyway, being together was better, naturally. You knew what to say when he was feeling down, he would be there to offer help even though you were sometimes too stubborn to consider accepting. That unhealthy habit had met its enemy; the young man was determined to be there no matter what, whether support was in the form of physical assistance, a shoulder to cry on or making you laugh. Not particularly knowledgeable in the art of music, he liked hearing you play instruments and sing, or both at the same time. He sang with you when feeling overly bold and merry. Dancing lessons were a thing, to not lose the practice acquired years ago. Yeah, right. Mostly because it was enjoyable too. Knowing how important writing was, he made sure to get parchments, quills and bottles of ink before your current resources were entirely used. In return, you allowed him to read some of your work. Because why not? His hear soared the first time it occurred, honoured by the actual proof of trust you were showing. During competitions including swords, mêlées, archery or any brutish entertainment, you were apprehensive but always rooted for him. When he wanted to get away from his duties or find solace, he joined you in the library. It was a soothing place, nobody spoke there. Just you two, actually. Little rebels. About nothing and everything, or books. The one resting on the table you were sitting at, or other tales. It led to passionate debates, philosophical ones or sharing dreams, who were your favourites heroes and heroines, what lands you would love to see, real or not.

Who took the first step

No meeting organized, fate let it happen when the stars were aligned. Or if you were less poetic, feelings spoke on their own and did the job. It's crazy how both could smile and look at the other without saying anything, content. One day, you were dancing. Eyes met, even wanted to close. Overwhelmed to the point of forcing yourself to break contact or else no more distance would exist between your bodies, you excused yourself. He asked if you were okay. Nodding with a smile to reassure him, he saw through the protective mask and gently took ahold of your hands, caressing one with his thumb to sooth your growing nerves and keep you in place. He verbally acknowledged what was going on between the two of you. Professed his feelings. It made you smile, feeling like everything was perfect at this specific moment. Then laughter openly escaped your mouth. Sighing peacefully, arms lightly resting on his shoulders as it went to circle around his neck, you told him you had fallen too. And with those words, you kissed him with firm tenderness. He responded eagerly.

Who approves, who disapproves

His siblings were pleased. Your entourage were beyond themselves: Annette and the heir of Winterfell? The Sevens had blessed the family. Theon was satisfied if his best friend was happy, there were worse women in the land. You were a catch.

Well, all the ladies who dreamed of a handsome and wealthy husband and a few men who wanted to seduce you clearly weren't enchanted by the news but what could they do.

Ned and Cat were surprised that their eldest son would settle for you. You were respected and loved by many, including them. But they imagined Robb betrothed to a lady of a higher house. Reed, Karstark, Mormont... your name did not figure on the list. They did not protest vehemently, though. Nobles seldom married for love and if their son had this chance, they would not ruin it for him.

The best friend and the one you get along with the least

Sansa. You both lived in your head and trusting one another, it allowed to gush and share fantasies you wouldn't dare with anyone else. She was the one who got to read your stories and give constructive criticism or compliments. Gaining a new sister was a tempting prospect to her. Being the old one, she had always wanted a big sister to look up to. You were not a disappointing choice.

Robb often asked for her opinion concerning gifts when he was doubting his own.

“What should I offer Annette? Her name day is approaching and she deserves something special. “

“Well, maybe you should favour a sentimental present instead of material.”

“Should I just.. write a poem?”

Let's just say he was relieved Theon and Jon were not here to listen to the conversation, those pricks certainly would tease the crap out of him. He would simply pity them, ignorants to the joy of love.

In this universe, Theon was fascinated by the way you seem to wish to see the good in everyone, even a scoundrel like him.

Cersei was convinced you were a tart.

Joffrey and The Hound were a little disgusted by the constant goodness.

If somebody else fancies one of you

Who doesn't sigh dreamily at the thought of Robb Stark? Men wanted to be him and women longed to be in his arms.

Your pretty eyes and alluring voice charmed more than one, especially a young lad back home who you didn't view as more than a friend.

The best and the worst

The common dream of happiness and having children with the love of your life.

His co-existing reliability and playfulness.

Your heart of gold.

The locks he loves to caress and play with, the eyes he never gets tired of staring into.

How embraces feel like home.

THE RED WEDDING.

Hogwarts Houses

Chivalry, Bravery, Boldness. Loyalty, Honesty and Justice. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Robb could fit in both. But he eventually became a rebel and the King in the North. So Gryffindor it is. Dedicated, friendly and unafraid of toil, yours remain Hufflepuff.

Seven Deadly Sins and Virtues

Wrath, both of you. Usually calm and friendly, the young wolf had a temper when provoked. He became the leader of a rebellion, did he not? In the name of his father, murdered by the crown. Revenge in mind and justice in his sword, Robb Stark was ready to destroy those unappeasable enemies who were also ready to fight to the death. Forget positivity for a minute and let's imagine someone crossed the line by engaging in evildoing and betrayal. These were two things you could not tolerate, nor forgive. Especially not from a loved one. You might try to give them a second chance, but nothing would be as it used to be. Messing with you was not recommended.

Dutiful, content to live a peaceful life and chivalrous, his virtue would be Diligence.

Kindness is yours again, for obvious reasons.

Who is the sun, who is the moon

The Direwolf represents House Stark, we know that. But he is not the moon just because of that. People watch Robb because he is a son of Winterfell and easy on the eye, let's be honest. The moon can be seen during the day, if you try very hard to see it. Truly? Correct or not, we know it's there. When they look at you, it's because you attract attention when you enter the room. If the place was already illuminated, you'd still bring another source of light with your mere presence. You radiated like the sun, with those good intentions and bubbly aura.

Endgame or not

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.... no. You thought Ned Stark's death was the end of your romance but when you tried again, a name was the answer. Frey. Or was it Westerling? When Robb prepared himself to go to war against the crown, you wanted to go as well. Refusing categorically, your stubbornness was your strongest ally in this fight. Yes, there was shouting involved. Without condescension, he pleaded with you not to follow because of your chronic pain and how your place was not on an army's camp. They moved a lot and had to be swift in case of surprise attack. He was worried you would get in harm's way although he knew trusted soldiers would keep you safe. Besides, what if they couldn't? What if the enemies took you hostage or worse? What if he died? What if the war was lost? Telling you to go home was the best choice. Even if White Harbour were allies of the North, the Lannisters couldn't dismiss them in the end; business with the Manderlys was useful: Fish, thick clothing, its notable seaport visited by Westerosi and Essosi people... you had the chance to have a decent future, in spite of Robb's presence in your life. You were angry, to say the least. But he was the love of your life, was he not? You wanted to follow your heart, and it was him. You wanted to stand by his side as he lived the worst years of his life, fighting for a good cause: his family. He accepted, touched by the loyalty but still worried nevertheless. It all crashed down when he told you of his alliance with Walder Frey, how he had to marry one of his daughter. And that was it. Your relationship was over. Pride wouldn't let it pass. Deep down, there was hope for another solution to come up at the last minute but no. Bad news did: Robb suddenly got married to a lady of the west named Jeyne Westerling. Not only were you heartbroken and betrayed, but so were the Freys. That is, betrayed. It's not like they personally cared for the Young Wolf. It was over, truly, when it had the potential of lasting forever. Sorrow, rage, what feeling dominated you the most? You wondered. When a tragic payback called The Red Wedding took place, news began to spread the next morrow. You were speechless at first, literally and figuratively. Catelyn, Grey Wind, Ro'-him. They did not deserve such fate, never. All you could do was mourn, and move on. Thank the Seven for your entourage, what would you have done without them and their support? Quite frankly, you didn't know.

Who I truly ship you with regardless of the requests’ details

Robb is my favourite match even if you end up with Jaime, which won't last either. This lion man has another woman in mind and heart. And it isn't his twin, nor you.

#Pick Your Darling Ships #I AM INVESTED IN THIS SHIP AS YOU PROBABLY NOTICED xD #And I'll try to write less because yeah #Otherwise it'll be tiresome

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booksbroadwaybbc · 6 years

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Theory: It's our Deserving Issues that are holding us back. via /r/selfimprovement

Theory: It's our Deserving Issues that are holding us back.

I believe this will serve you - something occurred to me over these last couple days that has caused a massive shift in how I approach my own self-growth, self-improvement. Now I don't intend to burden you with my own life story, but it's just enough to say that I've been in this area of research - self-help/self-growth for a while. And wheres I've experienced tons of breakthroughs and success, there's still been this cap on how successful I've been able to become.

I believe I've found the big elusive shift that's been preventing me (and others) from moving past this cap. And it's this:

We have Deserving Issues

We, the ones who are proactively acting on our own self-growth, have deserving issues.

We want success, but don't feel that we've yet earned it. We want love, but we can't even love ourselves because we don't feel that we deserve love. Worse - if we were to start feeling successful NOW, or loving ourselves NOW, there's fear that there would be no change.

The thinking goes, if I love myself as I am, then how do I know that I will change? I am putting all this effort in so that I can become the person I wish to become, and my life can reflect the life that I want to have.

And then we plunge into work and effort, toiling, sweating, & bleeding in order to materialize our dreams.

We watch movies and hear stories about people who do the same - work themselves into the bone until they get the big prize. These characters overcome their laziness and stay motivated for long enough in order to advance into their own evolution.

We create our lives so that it becomes this war between instant and delayed gratification. We do our best to get habits in place, and then watch helplessly as we fall back to square one, right back to the beginning, as our primal instincts once again take over.

Is this your story? It's everyone's story here.

The insight that I wish to share here, again, I believe will be key in getting past all the struggle. But please also be forewarned that people usually reject this when they hear it. I'd like to challenge you NOT to reject this right away. You can still reject it, but at least do your best to hear me out first.

Okay.

Earning and Deserving Represent the Old Way

Straight up - you don't earn or deserve love. Period. There's never been a moment when you were not loved. Period. Don't fight this. You were loved when your mom was carrying you, you were loved when you were born, and you are loved now. If nothing else, I love you. I promise.

Now, you might say 'Yes brenthuras, but how can you love me? You don't know who I am, you don't know what I've done, you don't know my thoughts, my intentions, my shames, my guilts. If you knew the whole story, you wouldn't love me.'

So here we emphasize - Love doesn't require reasons. Love flows freely in all directions everywhere. That's just the nature of love. In it's purity, it's unconditional, this is the true meaning of Unconditional Love. There's not a single condition that it requires or heeds.

Your only option is whether or not to allow this truth to be so. You are free to insist that you're unlovable. You're free to cite reasons why. And when you hold your reasons why you don't deserve to be loved, you can create a reality for yourself THAT SEEMS TO BE DEVOID of love, but isn't actually so.

Now - incredibly - this also applies to other concepts such as success and abundance.

Success and abundance are held at bay by your deserving issues. Abundance flows wherever its allowed to flow. You can imagine it like a heavy rain that falls over a jungle. The rain falls everywhere. Resources flow to wherever they're accepted and absorbed.

Here, somebody might say, but what about droughts, famines, recessions, and epidemics? Yes, but realize that these are the exception, not the rule. There are forest fires, but before the fire there was a forest, and the forest will regrow after. There was a plague in England, but there was wellness before, and wellness flows again after.

The New Way: Success and Abundance are not Earned but Allowed

Success is a state that you either dwell in, or refuse to dwell in. It's a state - like any other - that deepens the more you dwell in it. The more you dwell in it, the more your life begins to reflect it. Would you consider yourself to be a success now? Perhaps not. You have your reasons. But you're also creative enough to find reasons why you are successful.

Either way, the success that you are seeking will not appear to you or anyone who considers themselves to be a failure. It just doesn't work that way. Your life is always a reflection of how you consider your life. Always.

Cultivate Flow

The big clue for entering, dwelling in, and growing in success is to cultivate 'Flow'.

Flow is a naturally-occurring state of creative engagement. It's when you're engaged with life as it appears in front of you right now. The question becomes: "What do I wish to create right now?" "What do I wish to do right now?" "What is something that I've been wanting to get around to?" "How can I find a way to enjoy this otherwise unpleasant task?" "How can I make this job enjoyable?" "How can I turn this into a game?"

Any aspect of your life that you approach with THIS energy will transform and start working WITH you and not against you. Flow is key. If you stay in flow, you are staying in creativity. You are merging WITH life, not reacting against it. This puts you in a much better position to receive what you've been asking for all this time.

I wish every happiness for you. I'm around for questions.

Submitted September 20, 2018 at 05:56PM by brenthuras via reddit https://ift.tt/2xKtid5

#IFTTT #reddit

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allbecauseofhim · 7 years

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own less; minimalism and the bible pt. 1

i’m going through this... time. i’ve felt this way for a long time now. if i’m being honest, i get really heated about it and it might come through as i write. towards the end, i’ll be sharing my personal journey through owning less. i pray that You, Dad, take ahold of this post and shine through it and it is not just merely my opinion.

so i’m going to make a bold statement: we undermine Jesus’ words. we make His words say what we want them to say, stick them in a perfect little box, and put a pretty little bow on top. i wonder what would happen if when we actually opened our Bible and asked the Holy Spirit to help us understand, and then read His words and took His words literally, what would happen. what if we actually lived a live where we took Jesus’s commands seriously?

a very popular story: luke 18:18-23. in my Bible, it’s titled Jesus Counsels the Rich Young Ruler. i’ll sum it up: a ruler asked Jesus, “Good Teacher, what can i do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said, (i’m paraphrasing) “You follow all the commandmants in the Law of Moses (that was required of Jews) but you lack something... sell all that you have and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; come, follow me.” but the man was very rich and he loved his earthly, material possessions and he got really sad. very boldy, Jesus said, “sell everything. give to the poor. then you will have tresure in heaven. come follow me.” aren’t we like the rich young ruler? we don’t want to give up our things. we don’t really want to give the poor our pairs of shoes even when we have 10 pairs because certains ones go with certain outfits, and oh wait, we have abundance of clothes and outfits that we might one day wear so we can’t actually give them away. we don’t really want to follow Jesus. we just want to dress really nice and go to church on Sundays, attract a nice godly spouse, occasionally read our Bibles, occasionally pray when our heart is broke or someone is mean to us, occasionally pray for that high paying job that we will one day hate because God didn’t tell us to go after it, but we’ll get the job and the spouse and we’ll live in a really nice house and give $100 to the poor every once in a while and feel really good. what a life ya know as i read about the rich young ruler, i cross referenced other verses where Jesus talks about possessions: *do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. (matthew 6:19-20) theres that command again... do not store up possessions but treasures in heaven hmmm. *luke 12:33 says, “sell your possessions and give to the poor. provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys”

now, is this to say that we all must be dirt cheap because we give all of our money and house and car away to the poor? no. not at all. we are able to give because we have, right? there is nothing wrong with things or money... just making it an idol, wrongful love of it, and storing it up here on earth for self- righteousness. “then he said to them, “watch out! be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (luke 12:15)

in Timothy it says not to be so arrogant and put our hope in wealth because it is uncertain. but to put your hope in God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. wow. God gives and our hope should be in Him and seeking Him. we value money and possessions over everything, because we listen to the world’s voice that we must have more and look a certain way and have this big of a house to define success. we don’t value God. our heart is not with God. its with the world. we’re chasing the american dream that’s not really a dream!!! think about that.

we miss the splendor of a true abundant life... we miss the splendor of God because of stuff

stuff is weighing us down. we miss it all sometimes- true life. beauty and laughter and legit the SPLENDOR OF GOD because we idolize things. we idolize our phones or the people with all the stuff in our phones. and it kills me. i often want to take all of the bull crap things we think will make us happy and dump it in the ocean (but the ocean is too pretty for that i know i know). we know things don’t fulfill us. we know money doesn’t buy happiness. so why are we still stuck in it? why do we constantly let it decieve us? we get old and we haven’t experienced anything and barely grown in our relationship with God and we can’t just travel because we have this massive house full of things that hold us back. why do we do that?

i think more than anything my heart longs for what we lost: pure, simple life with God. lets take it back to a better time... in Paradise. in Genesis, God created Adam and Eve and they lived in the Garden of Eden with Him. He talked to them. communed with them. watched them grow. they got to dance and laugh with God and eat all the fruit they wanted. they got to run around naked and not worry about clothes... dude, WHAT A TIME!!! and then, of course, we know what happened. they chose against God and were kicked out to toil and work for food and such on earth. i’m sure immediately they realized the mistake they made. it wasn’t the end, God knew, and He had a plan from the beginning, but still... deep down i- and alot of us- long to be that free as they were in the Garden with God... not held captive by earthly materialism and possessions. our souls want to be in Paradise, and to just be with God.

and yet, we still buy the stuff we don’t need and want the stuff we can’t afford and work at job we hate to get the stuff we can’t afford and don’t need

and FOR WHAT???(told y’all i get heated)

for it all to be left on earth when we die? for us to never get to experience the abundance of life with Jesus? to let the stuff just sit there collecting dust after we realize it doesn’t fulfill us?

Jesus was a fan of minimalsim. He was an advocate for owning less because He knew true abundance came in owning less and putting you heart in God and not things. we want the extra money for the extra shoes... but what kind of shift would happen when we saved our money and used it to buy a need for someone else that can’t afford it? how would our lives looked if we stopped owning so much and really decided to chase after God and the dreams He has put in our hearts? and owning less isn’t having bare walls and bare rooms and backpacking the world (unless that is what you’re being led to... that’s freaking awesome) it looks different for everyone. owning less, and minimalism in general is owning the things that you really need and bring you actual joy. its owning less so you can give more which i promise, is one of the greatest joys (i’m going to write part 2 of this on giving so whoop whoop)

this is the part where i talk about myself and my journey through this lalala... here we go!!!

i’m guily of all the things above. i’ve wanted to own more and chase after the American dream and go after the money even though that’s not what God leads me to do. i’ll share and update gradually where i am on my personal journey that God is taking me on of giving more, owning less, wanting less, seeking God more, etc. why am i so passionate about it? when i first read the scriptures, my heart was convicted and i wanted to take them literally. sometimes sermons are preached on the “sell everything” verse and they say, “oh Jesus is just talking about get rid of everything internally that’s effecting your life negatively. it has nothing to do with your actual material possessions.” and the church breathes a sigh of relief and they go, “good, i didn’t actually want to have to start owning less stuff.” and that’s sad to me. Jesus has alot to say about selling everything and money and having your heart in material possessions and i deeply encourage you to seek them out yourself and let the Spirit convict you and speak to you personally. i realized very quickly things didn’t make me happy and i didn’t just want more possessions in my life time. i didn’t want a big house. i didn’t want lots of nice shoes. i wanted God. i wanted an abundant life. God put a desire for travel and experience and people and spreading the Good News in my heart. so that’s what i want to chase. i pray that’s what i put my money and energy to, for the long run, for the Kingdom. i long for the eternal life Jesus talks about. and i know He wants to take us all on an adventure if we let Him.

for the past three months, i’ve refused to buy myself clothes and shoes, and i’ll continue to this for a while... who knows how long. i’ve given it to the Lord. the desire to buy myself anything i don’t really need is fleeting and also freeing. simply because i have clothes and things. multiple shirts and dresses and jeans and shorts and shoes. and it’s absolutely ridiculous to me to own so much of just clothing when my money could be going to something more worthwhile or something i can actually experience. i’ve given bags full away of clothes that i just never wore/ didn’t need and i’ll continue doing so gradually as the Lord leads. however, if anyone knows me, they know, i own a lot of books. one of my greatest joys in the entire world is reading. i have a love for charachters and words and conversations and getting to see another person’s point of view. i can’t even begin to explain it. i love reading really great books and then giving them to people i meet so they can enjoy them too because whats the point of a book if it’s not being read? it is such a PLEASURE of mine to share good books with people, something i have a great desire for. i get alot of books from the library and lately, i’m making it a habit that if i really want a book, i buy it cheaply used. (amazon has used books for sometimes 99 cents holla). so this owning less thing isn’t saying we just can’t spend money on things we enjoy or love, but i have to ask myself, “am i storing possessions because my heart is attached to them? do i really enjoy this item that i am keeping? could i walk away from it if God asked me to?” with books, i am not storing them up for any purpose. i’ve just accumulated lots of books over the years and i simply enjoy them. i would give all of them away in a heart beat and leave them behind if the Lord told me to move to Central America tomorrow. it’s all about where your heart is at. sometimes when i want a book, the Lord pushes “no” because my money is needed elsewhere.

i’m also currently dying my hair pink and it’s a long process because i have dark brown hair so it’s taking multiple sessions to bleach my hair. i’ve been saving up money for it because pink hair is something i’ve always wanted to have and experience and hey, i’m young and 19... its either now or never so i’m doing it and i’m okay with it. i’m even believing God can use it for His glory and bring some unusual people in my midst to talk to. ya know know.

again, with all of this, i pray that you are praying and being led in all things.

so i ask, where is your heart? is it with the world and in possessions or with God? are you chasing the american dream or God’s plans for your life?

-book recommendation on minimalism: the more of less: finding the life you want under everything you own by joshua becker

-documentary on minimalism: minimalsim: a documentary on important things *its on Netflix!!!

-youtube recommendation on minimalism and the bible: “minimalism and the bible” youtuber: samantha lindsey

#jesus minimalism bible

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