I graduated from uni in October and tomorrow (February) I start my first real job. ‘Wow, that’s a big gap!’ you might think, and, well, it kind of is but - I wasn’t searching for a job the whole time. In fact, the actual job searching (from sending out the first application to accepting an offer) took only 2 weeks. But let’s start with some basics:
(Please note: What I’m describing is true for Germany, where I live and did the whole application process. It might well be different in your country, although I’m pretty sure it applies to more countries than only Germany.)
Examples of things I am selling! These are straight from the catalog, and I’m going to sit down and create mini collections, different from the PartyLite collections, for various pagan and witchy interests.
I look through the Autumn book and all I see is “oh, Persephone devotees would love this!” Lots of woodland motifs, including a set of tea light holders that are little cups with a squirrel, a fox, and a rabbit. So many owls, leaves, and branches in a variety of each.
The warmers just bring the wax to melting point, which is very low. This means the wax will not burn you if spilled. A friend’s very small child managed to pull one over and other than scaring her, she was unharmed. The dishes are removable for cleaning and the base has an on/off switch so you can leave it plugged in.
If you’re interested in joining me in a video chat to explore more of these products, please let me know! My ask box is open.
The Dangers of Mixing Mulled Wine and Shirley Temple Movies
Sterek | T | ~1700 words of self-indulgent Christmas fluff | [AO3]
The problem, you see… the problem
was both Stiles and Lydia were geniuses. Lydia a little more than Stiles, sure,
he had no problem admitting that, but the point
was that they’d both had so many AP credits coming into college that they’d
placed out of pretty much all the boring large-scale required lecture
courses… which also happened to be the ones that tended to have the in-class
final exams. Instead, they’d both ended up with a bunch of final papers that
had to be turned in by email. They’d been on Skype while Stiles was finishing up a bibliography and complaining about the APA style guide at great
length, when he’d hit save, flipped over to the excessively color-coded
spreadsheet he’d made to manage his need to switch between subjects every 30
minutes or so, and realized all the boxes were filled in.
“I… finished everything. I’m done.”
He looked up at the video window to find Lydia nodding at him like it was
expected. “No,” he insisted, gesturing hard enough to fling the pen he’d been
chewing on across the room, “you don’t understand! I’m done early. I’m never done early.”
“I know,” she said, still
infuriatingly calm. “You shared your spreadsheet with me. And now…” He heard
her hit a few keys on her own laptop. “…I’m done, too.”
He narrowed his eyes at the screen.
“Did you cast some sort of productivity spell on me?” There was no way this was
She sniffed and tossed her hair
over her shoulder. “Please. I’m a banshee, not a witch.”
“Let’s just go home.”
Which was how they found themselves
back in Beacon Hills several days ahead of any of their other friends. Lydia
had called Stiles over to her house that afternoon for the very important
purpose of helping her find the perfect mulled wine recipe.
Being geniuses, that didn’t take
very long. Now they were tipsy and sinking ever deeper into the overstuffed
cushions of the rec room couch while watching Lydia’s favorite childhood
Christmas movie, the Shirley Temple version of The Little Princess. At first they’d been distracted by analyzing
all the weird classist and colonialist implications of the time period, but now
they were fuzzy and sleepy and getting a little weepy over the rich neighbor
guy sneaking in and decorating the girl’s cold servant garret room in the
middle of the night so she’d wake up to Christmas.
“Someone should do that for Derek,”
Stiles mumbled, face half buried in a pillow.
((A/N: Next chapter! This one is a bit chaotic. It’s also sort of long. The next is scheduled for tomorrow morning. It’s gonna be a doozy, if tonight’s doesn’t wreck you. And a huge thank you to @sketchbookthingz for the amazing Aesthetic!
Well… almost the time to greet her. Aphrodite, as Sam explained, was not a woman willing to meet with just anyone. You were a mortal and she only interfered with mortals when it was to her benefit. Love, romance, and sex. There was so much more to such a goddess and now you were grateful for your mother’s own goddess. The goddess she knew deep down you’d never worship yourself but she had still prayed in your name.
The idea struck you, taking Bucky’s hand warmly, “Go to her, Bucky. I have to return to Earth and make sure my family is OK, and perhaps speaking with my mother will shed light. She is a follower of Aphrodite, after all.” You smiled weakly, concerned about Bucky’s willingness to ‘let’ you go. While he wasn’t in charge and certainly did not control you, he’d be worried. Earth had suffered an attack at the hands of the gods, and potentially Zeus himself. It was impossible for anyone to convince you to stay hidden.
I had a sudden thought last night and this is the result: an Allurance Stardust AU because Allura WOULD be a clueless non-earth being who tells Lance across all different AU’s that his ears are hideous.
So here’s an outline for a fic I’ll never write. (Also I had to skip some plot points in Stardust because this was getting way Too Long.)
Lance is just your average guy living in your average town. He works in his father’s shop, grew up with no mother, and has a huge crush on this pretty but superficial girl named Nyma in his neighborhood.
One evening, while Lance and Nyma are stargazing, Lance confesses his crush on her and wants to know if she’d ever consider him the same way. She tells him how she really likes Rolo, this really rich dude in their neighborhood. Lance is bummed and asks what he could do to make Nyma choose him instead.
Then, a shooting star flies across the sky. Nyma points to it and says, “Bring me back that fallen star; that’ll prove your love for me.”
So of course, Lance follows it and tries to track it down. However, as he gets closer, he realizes it’s beyond The Wall, a mysterious border in their town that for unknown reasons, they’re not allowed to cross.
Unsure what to do, Lance goes home and consults his dad. Turns out, his dad snuck across The Wall several years ago but was only there for a short time. It’s a land full of magic and he reveals to Lance that he met Lance’s mother there.
Intrigued by the idea that his mom was a magical being of some sort, Lance has further motivation to cross The Wall.
His dad digs up a candle from hiding and tells Lance that if you light it and think of a place (or person), it’ll take you straight there. There are only two uses per candle.
Lance holds the candle in his hands and thinks of his mother as his dad strikes a match and lights it.
(this got REALLY long so read more under the cut:)
46.8% for the poll vote. Trophy husband alec? im just tired of Magnus always being the one waiting at home for Alec to return
It was 6pm, and Magnus was running late. He was supposed to be hosting a party tonight. Well. He and Alec were supposed to be hosting. It was Luke’s birthday, so Clary had suggested they do something nice both for him and the entire group in general. They were all suffering. They’d lost so many fighting Valentine… they all needed this. It was no small party - likely to be just as busy as Max’s Rune Ceremony, if more rowdy. Downworlders weren’t nearly as rigid as Shadowhunters.
But Magnus was currently doing a terrible job of hosting, because he wasn’t there.
He’d had appointments scheduled until 4, and the plan had been to get back to his apartment and take care of the arrangements. He’d spent the morning brewing a particularly complicated potion, so all he needed to do was finish up his consultations, drop the order off and get home. But his consult had overrun by at least half an hour, and then when he went to drop off the potion there had been an emergency which demanded his attention. And then there had been another emergency.
Magnus had barely even had time to breathe, and he certainly hadn’t had time to text Alec.
Terrible lighting but entirely too excited that we all got to take home an IUD demo (this one is Kyleena which is new!) and uterus disk to practice IUD insertion (after the IUD insertion workshop we hosted!) Above technique is mine alone and not 100% accurate, do not try this at home, consult your doctor, etc. But this is vaguely what an IUD insertion looks like :)
Does HBO John Adams miniseries have any historical inaccuracies?
There was a incorrect, wrong-headed depiction of Samuel Adams as a dangerous and corrupt mob-master, complete with a fictitious schism between Sam and his more moral cousin John.
John Adams is depicted as still suspicious of his cousin Samuel and Samuel’s allies, worrying they are plotting to take over the government for their own ends. In reality, John in these years was a consistent political ally of Samuel.
When Adams joins the delegates to the first Continental Congress in 1774, the delegates listed are actually those sent to the second Congress the following year.
Adams is shown riding into the immediate aftermath of the bloody fighting at Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775; this is false- by his own account, he only rode out some days later to the militia encampment at Cambridge.
News of Bunker Hill, sent by Abigail allows John to rally the Congress and achieve the establishment of a continental army, with George Washington as its commander. In reality, Adams was central in urging the creation of a continental army, but Congress voted to do so on June 14, appointing Washington its commander on the 15th- two days before Bunker Hill even happened.
The militia, withdrawing from Bunker Hill, passed directly by Abigail Adams’s door and she sees the mutilated body of Joseph Warren drawn by in a cart. But, Bunker Hill was on the opposite side of Boston Harbor, and the Adams home was entirely off the militia’s line of march.
General Henry Knox rides by Abigail’s door with the cannon captured from Fort Ticonderoga when in fact, his route took him nowhere near her.
The committee to prepare a declaration of independence is shown being created as a casual afterthought: in fact, this committee was established by a proper vote of Congress.
Dickinson did oppose John Adams, but the New York delegation- shown as violently hostile to Adams and his opinions- actually supported independence, though they still lacked authorization to vote for it.
The initial vote was not 9-4, but 9-2 with two abstentions (New York and Delaware).
Abigail and her children did not undergo the smallpox innoculation in isolation, but with relatives in Boston. The virus was not taken from the gory pustules of the dying but from those less severely afflicted, in hopes that inoculation would produce as mild a reaction as possible.
The hostility of South Carolina’s Edward Rutledge is exaggerated.
Adams did not fire the first shot in the engagement between a ship pursuing his in the Atlantic crossing. The officer shown dying was actually wounded later, when a cannon exploded while saluting a French vessel, and the stricken officer only died a week after that.
Adams’s lack of French: while this was true at first, he quickly became proficient.
He did not go to straight to Holland in search of loans: he instead returned briefly to Massachusetts.
October 1779, after John completed his service with the Massachusetts constitutional convention, he was sent back to France by Congress, appointed to negotiate peace-terms with Britain should opportunity arise. He took his son John Quincy with him, as he had in 1778 and he also took Charles.
In 1784, it was not just Abigail Adams who joined her husband in Europe, but also their daughter Nabby abandoned.
In reality, she first rejoined him in London. Only later did they take a house in France and go there together, along with Nabby and John Quincy.
Nabby’s presence in England is omitted (John Quincy had now returned to America), as is her courtship in London with Adams’s aide, Colonel William Smith, whom she in fact married there in 1786.
The “Citizen Genêt” affair is exaggerated, made both a factor in the 1792 election (Genêt actually arrived in the Spring of 1793).
The ratification of the Jay treaty was distorted not only of fact. In the series, the Senate is deadlocked 15 to 15 on ratification. Vice President Adams is thus forced to step in and cast the tie-breaking vote, saving the treaty for the Washington administration. But according to the Constitution, then and now, treaties must be ratified by two-thirds of the Senate. There was not and could not be a tie. The Jay Treaty passed with exactly the required two-thirds, 20-10. Adams had no vote.
Adams, for example, is shown after his inauguration, suggesting that Jefferson serve as a special emissary to France. In reality, Adams made this proposal months earlier, before his inauguration.
Adams is shown as being caught off guard by the Alien and Sedition Acts. Congress sends to him the bills for signature; he seems anguished, reluctant to approve such harsh employment of government power. Finally, urged on by Abigail, he signs them. While it is true that Adams did not specifically urge the Alien and Sedition Acts on Congress, he was aware of them while they were under discussion.
In the series, Adams angrily rejects Smith’s requests for posts in the new national army, declaring openly that he has lost all confidence in Smith due to the latter’s financial speculations. Despite reservations about his son-in-law’s character, Adams did recommend Smith for the new army’s general staff: it was the Senate that rejected the appointment because of Smith’s questionable private affairs. Despite the embarrassment this had already caused him, Adams then pressed to get Smith a colonel’s commission, which the Senate reluctantly approved.
The last episode depicts the death of Nabby Adams from breast cancer. An on-screen caption marks the start of Nabby’s ordeal as “1803.” In fact, the cancer was diagnosed in 1810; her mastectomy followed in 1811.
It also emphasizes Benjamin Rush’s personal examination of Nabby in Quincy, and his personal performance of her mastectomy. In reality, the tumor was diagnosed before Nabby returned to her parents’ home, Rush consulted on the case only by letter, and the surgery was performed by local Boston doctors.
What the series shows is Abigail Adams dies in 1818; John’s friend Benjamin Rush urges that he write to Jefferson about his loss, hoping the two elder statesmen can provide each other with comfort in their final years; Adams does so; Jefferson’s first reply is dated to 1819; the correspondence flowers, friendship is renewed. This entire sequence is very untrue. Rush was indeed was instrumental in renewing contact between Adams and Jefferson, but he was definitely not available to counsel Adams after Abigail’s death in 1818: Rush had died five years earlier. Rush had, in reality, worked carefully to bring the two former presidents back into harmony, but his efforts had culminated in 1812- it was then that the Adams-Jefferson correspondence actually resumed, and Abigail herself was personally involved in the exchange for its first six years.
John Adams never went to see John Trumbull’s painting. “Do not let our posterity be deluded with fictions under the guise of poetical or graphical license.” This scene itself is actually partly fictionalized: the quote comes from a letter written several years earlier, when Adams first heard of Trumbull’s project.
Summary: There are not enough words to describe how much Bambam loves his lucky shirt. It was the shirt he wore when you first met and he never lets it even touch the ground but after a mix up on laundry day, you accidentally wash it wrong and the colors end up staining it. Bambam claims he can never get mad at you, but that theory may have to be tested.
“I want an answer, dammit!” Nick yells, his voice echoing in the small space of his bedroom. He can’t believe they’re arguing over this. It’s absurd. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. And yet it’s been digging underneath his skin for weeks now, no matter how many times he tries to write it off. “How come you won’t knit things for me?”
Nick doesn’t think of himself as a very needy kind of person. Set him up in a room with a six-pack and ESPN and he’ll be good for hours. He’s not the clingy kind of boyfriend who needs the constant attention of the girl he’s dating to make him feel good about himself. But there’s something about this that really hits home for some reason.
Jess takes gift giving crazy seriously, and he’s seen the intensity she puts into her projects. So yeah, he’d like the confirmation that she likes him enough to think he’s worthy of something that she put all that work into. It’d be a real ego boost to know that she spent all those hours thinking about him as she made every one of those stitches. He’d like to have something that he could point out to strangers and say, “Hey, my girlfriend made this. Isn’t she amazing?”
“I just don’t have the time!” Jess insists, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.
“That’s bullshit.” Nick frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “Everyone else you know has something you made for them.”
She scoffs. “That’s not true-”
It is. Schmidt has a scarf with some funky texture in the stitches, Winston has a pair of mittens with kittens on them, and Cece’s entire winter wardrobe is made out of things Jess has given her over the years. To prove Nick’s point even further, Ferguson chooses that exact moment to sneak into the room, still wearing the wool vest that Jess had finished this morning and then wrangled him into.
“See! Even the damn cat has something!”
Jess cringes and looks back to Nick apologetically. “Okay, fine. I haven’t made something for you.” She shrugs dismissively. “What’s the big deal?”
Nick’s frown deepens. “Fine, Jess. I get it.”
“That apparently I’m not worth your time. It’s fine.”
“No!” she says in surprise. “No, Nick, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it?” he asks, a bitter edge to his voice. “Am I not good enough? Do you think I’d just ruin it?”
“Just tell me, Jessica.”
“I don’t want us to break up!” she yells.
Wait, what? Nick’s brow furrows and he stares at her in confusion.
“Look, it’s a thing, okay. An old knitting wive’s tale. The curse of the love sweater.”
Nick laughs, “The what?”
Jess flushes, embarrassed. “Shut up. It’s real.”
“You think that if you knit something for me that I’ll break up with you? Because of a knitting curse?” He laughs again.
“I didn’t think it was real either!” Jess says insistently. “But then in college I made a sweater for my boyfriend. And what happened one week later?”
“It shrunk in the wash?” Nick teases.
“He dumped me for his lab partner!”
Nick laughs and Jess frowns. He can’t believe he was so freaked out about this. If only he’d known it was this simple. Of course he’s not going to break up with Jess because of something she made him. Even the idea of it is absurd.
“Look,” Jess says quietly and stares up at the ceiling. “I like you, Nick. I really like you. And I just- I know it sounds silly, but I don’t want to risk it.”
“Jess,” he says gently, and pulls her into his arms. “I really like you, too. You don’t have to make me anything if you don’t want to. And I promise that I’ll only make fun of you a little for believing in a weird knitting superstition.”
She jabs him in the side in retaliation and Nick huffs a short laugh.
Two days later there’s a gray hat sitting on his desk, made out of a thick yarn that’s soft to the touch. It fits his head perfectly, and he wears it all day, even when Schmidt complains about how it’s November and barely even cold yet.
“There’s no excuse to be wearing cold weather gear while indoors, Nicholas!” he says in disgust. Nick just shrugs him off and plops down on the couch.
Nick catches Jess looking at him out the corner of his eye, a gleam of something like pride in her eyes. She bites down on her lip and sneaks back to her room, reappearing a moment later with her knitting bag. Jess settles beside him on the couch and curls up into the crook of his arm. He queues up the next episode of Homeland as she works on a dark green scarf, holding it up to his neck every few minutes to check her progress.
He gets the scarf after a week, and Nick wears it everywhere he goes. He eventually gets pizza sauce on it and he frantically scrubs at the greasy stain with a napkin. When he gets home he consults Schmidt, who scolds him for being so careless, but helps him get it out anyways. It’s nice, and he likes the way that wearing it reminds him of Jess throughout the day. An elderly woman at the farmer’s market compliments him on it one afternoon, and he beams when he tells her that his girlfriend made it for him.
They exchange “I love you”s and Nick’s sure that this is the happiest he’s ever been. That Jess is it for him. But he doesn’t think about what that means too much, because the future is still this terrifying abyss that he can only speculate about abstractly and unrealistically so that way it doesn’t overwhelm him. He focuses on the day-to-day, because that’s what really matters.
Jess’ sister comes to town, and she’s pretty much a mess. Nick and Jess move into the same bedroom, which feels a little fast to him. But Jess seems so excited and determined to make it work that he decides not to push his luck.
As they’re moving her stuff into his room he comes across a maroon bundle hidden away in the back of her closet. “What’s this?”
“Oh, I was trying to hide that,” Jess says disappointedly.
Nick holds it up. It’s a sweater. A handmade sweater that’s his size with this fancy pattern on the arms and front.
“I was going to save it for our one year anniversary,” she explains. “But I guess the surprise is ruined.”
He looks up at her in awe. “I love it.”
“Really? You don’t have to say it if you don’t. It’s fine. I’ll frog it and use the yarn for some other project or-”
This story is dedicated to @bgbcps who has been requesting something like this for a long while. Thank you so much, and I really hope you enjoy this fluffy little mshenko kidfifc!
I must also thank @estalfaed who has been just a stand-up dude about encouraging me to post the stories I have written… I think I wrote this story back in… June? April? And have been feeling really bad about posting even what little I have written. Thanks for encouraging me.
“Shaun!” Kaidan called down the hallway, leaning out of the
door to the master bedroom. “It’s too late, babs, you’re going to be fine!”
The sink had been running in the hallway bathroom for almost
20 minutes while Kaidan bustled around the house on his comms.
“I had no idea he was so worried,” Shepard said from the
bed. It was a bad morning for his back, and it had taken him a good five
minutes to get his left shoe on. He was taking a breather before attempting the
“I wish he cared about his teeth this much the rest of the year,” Kaidan huffed,
sweetening the pronouncement with a hint of a smile.
Shepard stared down at his other shoe, and part of him knew
he was regarding it with about the same level of excitement with which his son
usually eyed-up his tooth brush. Except, of course, today was dentist day. And
the only thing worse than brushing your teeth for three minutes every single
morning and night was being told by the dentist that you weren’t doing it
“He’s got your attention to detail,” Shepard said the words
to Kaidan’s back, to his crossed arms, tried to make the words gentle enough
where Kaidan would catch them as he rounded his corner, pacing the room.
Getting off this morning so they could take Shaun to the dentist’s office had
been hell on his work schedule, and Kaidan’s assistant had been on the comms
all morning—that is, when Sparatus wasn’t trying to go over his assistant’s
head for something. “He always wants to be perfect for inspection.”
“He’s scared to death of doctors, that’s what he is,” Kaidan
snorted. Shepard blinked. Kaidan turned on his heel, eyes dark, like he had
just come out of some sort of trance. “Shepard, I didn’t mean—“
“It’s okay,” Shepard held up a hand. But he set his palm on
the mattress next to him, and Kaidan took the gentle invitation to join him on
the bed. Of course Shaun would be afraid of doctors, considering the childhood
he’d had. His Dad holding him on his lap in the waiting room while Papa went in
for a check-up. Watching the way Shepard blanched every time Dr. Chakwas came
over for an in-home consultation.
Morgan begrudgingly invited Kaia to sit at her table, plastering a big fake smile, while Kaia forced herself to smile, she could tell Morgan hadn’t changed much since University which irked her because for the sake of Teddy’s job she was now going to have to make nice with her.
“ So Kaia tell me what you do now?” Morgan said eyeing her up and down with her fake smile still plastered on her face.
Kaia didn’t know what to say… she thought on this for a moment, should she say she is unemployed, stay at home mum, PR consultant? She didn’t know.
“ I was a PR consultant but now I'm a stay at home mum” she replied cooly.
Morgan snorted… which annoyed Kaia but she kept smiling. Morgan continued asking her questions about her life and making snide comments, eventually when she’d had enough of fake smiling Kaia stood up and excused herself, she needed to give herself a time out.