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olko71 · 1 year ago

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New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/11/energy-price-cap-set-to-rise-in-january

Energy price cap set to rise in January

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By Kevin Peachey

Cost of living correspondent

Household energy prices are set to rise in January, with confirmation due within hours when regulator Ofgem will announce a new price cap.

Analysts suggest the typical household bill is likely to rise by 5% from its current level, to about £1,931 a year, although it could fall again in March.

The first three months of the year are critical for bills, as we use more energy during the darker, colder days.

Ofgem will make the announcement at 07:00 GMT.

The regulator’s price cap affects 29 million households in England, Wales and Scotland. Rules are different in Northern Ireland. Ofgem sets the maximum amount that suppliers can charge for each unit of gas and electricity but not the total bill. If you use more, you will pay more.

Specifically, the price of gas is currently 6.89p per kilowatt hour (kWh), and electricity is 27.35p per kWh.

A typical household energy bill fell by £240 a year in October to £1,834 a year but, of that, £89 was not an actual drop in the price you pay, but actually the result of a new estimate of the typical amount of gas and electricity used by households. Had the calculation not been amended, the fall would have been £151 a year.

What is the energy cap and what’s happening to bills?

Typical annual household consumption is now estimated to be 2,700 kWh a year for electricity, and 11,500 kWh a year for gas.

Last winter, bill rises would have been higher had it not been for the government’s Energy Price Guarantee limiting the typical bill to £2,500. Each household also received £400 of support over six months, but this year the government has not announced any equivalent scheme.

That withdrawal of support and a rise in prices mean bills during the winter alone could be higher than they were last winter for millions of households.

For customers like Roy Bridgewood, that could add extra pressure on to the financial difficulties he is already struggling to cope with.

Mr Bridgewood, from Manchester, is about £1,400 in debt on his gas and electricity bills.

“The last payment I made on the gas was about £800. It was every penny I had left in my savings,” he said.

He has been out of work for a year and has two teenage children at home.

“I’m struggling to get work, struggling to pay bills and struggling to live. You feel vulnerable,” he said.

What are cost-of-living payments and who gets them?

Experts say he is sensibly trying to pay what he can, and is being open with his supplier.

Emily Seymour, from the consumer group Which?, said suppliers were obliged to help and offer payment plans.

“As we head into colder weather, many households will understandably be worried to hear that energy prices will likely increase from January,” she said.

“We’d recommend that everyone without a smart meter takes a meter reading on or close to 31 December to make sure they don’t overpay for any energy used before the new price cap takes effect. Submitting meter readings on a regular basis is a good idea, and makes sure you are billed correctly.”

The vast majority of people pay by direct debit, with payments smoothed out over the year.

Households on prepayment meters will be most affected by prices during the winter, as customers tend to pay to top up just before they use the gas and electricity.

Those who pay every three months by cash and cheque pay more than those who use other methods of payment.

Standing charges

Part of Ofgem’s announcement includes a cap on standing charges – a fixed daily charge covering the costs of connecting to a supply.

There has been anger about increasing fees and customers’ inability to reduce what they pay. Ofgem recently launched a review of these charges and asked for views from the public.

Charges vary depending on where customers live, but the amount of energy that they use is irrelevant for this part of a household bill.

In most areas, the charge has doubled over the last two years. A typical household pays 53p a day for electricity and 30p a day for gas.

What can I do if I can’t afford my energy bill?

Check your direct debit: Your monthly payment is based on your estimated energy use for the year. Your supplier can reduce your bill if your actual use is less than the estimation.

Pay what you can: If you can’t meet your direct debit or quarterly payments, ask your supplier for an “able to pay plan” based on what you can afford.

Claim what you are entitled to: Check you are claiming all the benefits you can. The independent MoneyHelper website has a useful guide.

More on this story

What is the energy cap and what’s happening to bills?

56 minutes ago

What can I do if I can’t pay my energy bill?

9 November

What are cost-of-living payments and who gets them?

14 November

New mothers faced energy meter force-fittings

2 November

Electricity price cut for thousands of households

1 November

Energy standing charges review after anger at rises

6 days ago

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foxwitzc · 2 years ago

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I don’t recall any time in my childhood years when my mother, Chinyere, paid any major bill. Not rent. Not school fees. Not hospital bills. Nothing substantial. She wasn’t featured prominently on the outward financial appearances of our family’s wellbeing. But she held down the moral, emotional, psychological and spiritual forte. We depended solely upon the meager salaries of my dad, who was a traffic warden till he retired. Asides the brief time my mom was a teacher, she was basically a house wife, and ran a basic shop for a time. But my sweet mom held the family together in ways that are hard to explain in words. I tear up whenever I remember how my mom would stay up worrying about everything; my dad, us, and how we’d survive in a cold world where all the odds are stacked up against poor kids.

My mom was the moral compass of my entire extended family. She was the salt of the earth. A sweet selfless soul who took everyone as her friends and brothers. She never really had money for much. But she gave everything in lightheartedness and good cheer. She was so intelligent and had recommendations for enjoyable books for everyone. In fact, it was my mom that first sparked my interest in literature, and introduced me to the first books of Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka, etc. And that’s the most outstanding thing I remember my mom for. Apart from her being my mom, and inspiring me to become a professor. (I’m yet to be, though)!

But, what still breaks my heart in good ways is how my dad, till today, still attributes every success he has had in his life to my Mother. He’d talk about how she gave him 5 amazing sons, and helped him to raise them. My dad would detail how my Mother helped him to build his bungalow in the village. And I’d sit there and wonder; how?! She never had any money. In fact, the only money I ever got from my mom, I “took” it from her purse! Repeatedly.

It was from my dad’s mouth that I heard that most of the food we ate all our lives, it was my mom that provided! She’d save every penny she got from her basic trade and add to whatever my dad gave her for upkeep, and somehow we never really starved! And, six years after her demise, her husband still says; every blessing I’ve had in my life, it’s her, and I’ve married my wife in this life, and I don’t want another.

This is my truest Proof that love doesn’t cost a thing but a good, kind Heart. And when I hear men say what women have to do or prove In order to be lovable, it just makes me laugh. There are no long lists for love. There are no supersized standards to what Is real. Just meet a reflection of your soul in love, and just let it happen. That’s all it takes to be happy in love.

This is what I took from my parents, and their marriage. And what I hope to replicate in mine. Always.

They struggled, I witnessed all that. And I participated in it, as their first son. They fought sometimes, I saw a few tears, I shared more than a few with them. But from the evolution of my consciousness till the last day of my mom’s life, I saw that she was truly loved by her husband. And till date, whenever I listen to my dad talk, I know that it’s possible to love someone wholeheartedly. I know that it’s possible to carry only one heart to the grave!

This stays closest to my heart. No matter what anyone says about love, you don’t need to do too much for it to be true.

You only need to meet a reflection of your soul in love, and just let it happen.

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kirain · 3 years ago

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Your healthcare isn't free you stupid fucking canuck! You pay for it with your taxes! We don't! 🇺🇸

I don't know why so many Americans throw this out there like it's some big secret we aren't aware of. We know it's funded by our taxes. When we say "free", we mean we don't have to worry about walking out of the hospital with a $900,000 bill after giving birth or paying $40 to hold our newborn after a c-section. It's "free" in the sense that anyone and everyone is entitled to good healthcare and can visit the hospital whenever they need to.

That said, I'm not going to pretend I know everything about American taxation, but I do know you pay for your healthcare via insurance. Meaning if someone doesn't have a good plan or make decent money, they're screwed. In Canada, that doesn't happen. For example, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, he needed multiple treatments and surgeries for four long years. Want to know how much those treatments cost him? $0. The only thing any of us had to pay for was the $7 parking fee when we went to visit him at the hospital.

In contrast, I personally know Americans who have, sadly, had to file for bankruptcy because of their cancer treatments. I know an American construction worker who lost three of his fingers on a job, but because his insurance didn't cover the full cost of reattaching all of them, the doctors actually made him choose which one to save. Imagine having to do that. In the end, he chose to save his middle finger and lose his ring and pinky finger. I know an American who got stuck with a $50,000 hospital bill because he had a heart attack. I know Americans who have tried to ration their INSULIN because they were worried about their next payment.

I remember when this made the news, everyone was acting like it was "cute". It's not fucking cute, it's dystopian as hell! A seven-year-old American girl who needed brain surgery raised her own money and relied on donations because her mother's insurance didn't cover the cost. Are you insane? This isn't "cute". This shouldn't be celebrated. She shouldn't have had to worry about this. She is a child who was dying.

I also don't understand why so many Americans seem to think our taxes are astronomical, when in reality you actually pay more taxes than we do. From what I understand, the max tax in America is 37%. For us, the max is 33%. That max also only applies if you make over $200,000 a year. Most people pay between 15-20.5% in taxes. I certainly don't pay 33%. I don't know anybody who does. So you pay taxes plus insurance. Granted you can claim more at the end of the year, but honestly ... so? America spends more on healthcare as a share of the economy (nearly twice as much as the average OECD country) yet it has the lowest life expectancy and highest suicide rates among the eleven nations. You also have the highest chronic disease burden and an obesity rate that is two times higher than the OECD average. Thanks, but I don't mind claiming less on my taxes.

So now the argument is, "Why should I have to pay for someone else's healthcare?!" I hear this one a lot once we reach this point. Putting aside the fact that you can barely pay for your own, it's a benefit for the country as a whole. There's nothing wrong with being individualistic, but no country is truly individualistic. We all rely on each other to keep the country afloat. Not only that, but what's wrong with helping your fellow man? And if you really are that selfish, just remember that free healthcare benefits YOU as well. Like when my dad got cancer, like when my sister almost died from a childhood fever, like when I came out backwards and jaundiced when I was born and had to be incubated for several days. The money pooled from all of our taxes makes sure we're all taken care of.

The other argument I hear at this point is wait times. I admit that for a while I believed this one, but as it turns out American and Canadian wait times are almost exactly the same. The average ER wait time in America is anywhere from 40 minutes to 4 hours. In Canada, it's anywhere from one hour to 6 hours. Not that much of a discrepancy, and I've personally never had to wait anywhere near 6 hours. I think the most I ever waited was four hours when I dislocated my toe. As for the claim that Canadians run to America en masse for specialists? Well, that's quite simply a myth. While there are indeed some Canadians who do that, it's mostly the wealthy who feel justified in skipping the line. We also have those services here, where those who are better off can pay out of pocket for private healthcare.

Now to throw a big monkey wrench into the works, probably the most shocking statistic is that Americans actually flock to Canada for affordable Healthcare. In 2014 (which is the most up-to-date data), roughly 52,000 Canadians went to the US seeking medical care; mostly prescriptions. In contrast, over one million Americans came to Canada. That number doesn't even include how many Americans went to these countries:

Anything you may have heard about Canadian healthcare is just a lie perpetuated by your government because they don't want you to see the benefits of a universal healthcare system. And not even just Canadian healthcare--the same system is used in the UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Switzerland, France, Norway, Denmark, Japan, the Netherlands, Iceland, New Zealand, etc. I'm not saying it's flawless, there are certainly aspects that can be improved, but I'll take it any day over the mess you have going on. 🇨🇦

No. In all honesty, this isn't about what country is "better". I have many American friends that I love and care about, and I would very much like to see them have access to free, sufficient healthcare.

#healthcare #universal health coverage #health #canada #america #mexico #health care

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crypto-mint · 3 years ago

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swispy-review · 3 years ago

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fedeipox · 4 years ago

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) Prologue

So, this story is about time travel. I don’t know why but people expect the worst when they read about time travel and Rdr put together, so I’m here to make you change your mind, or to receive your insults...

Anyway, the story is open to everyone, no particular violence, just some swearing from time to time, no warnings of any kind (the only horror could be my English, and I’m sorry about that)

Story summary: When Emily opened her eyes, for a moment she forgot. She forgot she had made a strange kind of journey, an impossible kind of journey, a journey not in space but in time. She forgot, or her mind had wanted to forget, because of the shock it had been for her. Can you imagine? What would you do in her place? Just think about it: you lose everything you have, everything you are and everything you know. Wouldn't you go crazy? Panic? It takes a great strength of both mind and body not to start crying out in desperation, and this is exactly the type of strength Emily had had that morning, when she opened her eyes and after a moment of oblivion, she realized where she was. Emily was strong, indeed, she just didn't know.

Prologue

She opened her eyes all at once and accordingly her senses awakened. It happened altogether: her skin shivered at the contact with the cold air, the muscles of her neck contracted and ached because of the position she was laying, her ears captured some muffled noises of birds and voices in the distance, the place smelled of coal and rusty steel and the floor under her was freezing.

The only sense which wasn’t working was her sight: all around her was black, but she could feel her eyes were actually open. To be sure of it, she brought her fingers, stiff because of the cold, to her face and touched her eyelids. Yes, her eyes were open, but everything was dark anyway.

Afraid that she might have gone blind, she slowly lifted her back and sat upright, blinking wildly and moving her head from left to right trying to catch something. There was some light, a long thin blue light line at the base between the floor and what had to be some kind of door.

She wasn’t blind! She was just inside some dark cold room. Her room? No, her room had carpet on the floor and it had never been this cold, even in the coldest winter nights, and now it was May, how could the temperature be this low?

She took the two sides of her hoodie and closed the zip on her t-shirt. Then, she stood up and took a couple of steps towards the light line. The wall she leaned her hands on was made of the same freezing steel of the floor, but knocking on it she could feel it was empty. It was definitely a door.

She started searching for the handle and in the meantime she kept asking herself how she might have ended in a place like that. She clearly remembered she was on the train, seated at her place, listening to music and scrolling on Instagram, so how on earth could she be there?

Instagram…

The torch light of her phone!

She started patting her hands on herself, searching every pocket of her jeans and her hoodie, but no trace of it. They must have left it behind when they took her. Because that was the only assumption she could make: somebody kidnapped her. Otherwise, how could it be she didn’t remember how she got there?

Yes, she was already figuring it in her mind: they hit her head with something heavy - even though she didn’t feel any pain on her head - tied her and brought her to that place. How could they have taken her on the train, among all those people in the carriage with her, without anyone noticing? And, why did they took her? Perhaps to ask her parents for her ransom, they thought her family to be rich. But how could they be?

Her father was an employee, her mother hadn’t worked a day in her life and they lived in a little house in the suburbs of Saint Denis. She couldn’t even afford college so she took a gap year to work as waitress and save some money to help her parents with the college fee. Except the gap year had lasted five years and now she had no high education nor high expectations for her future.

But that was a different story.

So no phone, no light. And now what?

She took a step backwards rubbing her hands together to warm them a little. That place was too cold. Maybe they put her inside one of those big refrigerators where they store the meat, just like in the movies.

Ah! She couldn’t believe she was living a movie scene.

Some voices caught her attention. They were male voices. Her kidnappers? She thought it was better if they didn’t know she was awake. But then another sound reached her ears, more distant but also louder. A train whistle. Was she still on the train?

She couldn’t keep silent anymore, she wanted to know what was going on.

“Hey!” she shouted and her voice thundered inside the steel room, returning to her ears twice as powerful.

She frowned in the darkness, regretting immediately her act. Then, the floor under her feet moved with a strong jolt and she lost her balance falling on her side and hitting her head on the hard floor.

She immediately brought a hand on her temple and massaged the hurting spot, hoping she didn’t cracked her head open. She couldn’t stand the sight of blood, even if her mother had always told her it was stupid for a woman to be scared of blood, since she saw it every month, but she couldn’t help it. And by the way, she wasn’t scared of blood, she just preferred to keep it on the inside.

As the train started moving and the floor of the car shacked and bounced on the trails, she crawled and reached the side of the room, laying her back on the wall and bringing her knees to her chest.

If she had to be honest with herself, she wasn’t scared. Well, of course she was a little worried: she didn’t know where she was, where they were taking her, who those people were, but she could do nothing about it, she didn’t have any way out, and be afraid would only make things worse. She needed her head clear and ready to find a solution. Like that movie with that famous actor she liked so much, where he played the part of a psycho with multiple personality who kidnapped three girls and the smartest one was the one who kept calm and tried to find an escape for all of them.

Right, she had to be like that girl, smart and calm.

But being calm wasn’t easy in her situation, not when the frozen air got inside her cotton sweatshirt and reached her neck, making her shiver, and neither when she couldn’t feel her toes inside her sneakers anymore. And being smart was unnecessary at that moment and until the train would have stopped.

When would it have stopped?

...

Every now and then she could feel the carriage under her slowing down with a thin whistle of the brakes or speed up, bending on one side or the other according to the course of the trails.

With every slowdown she hoped to stop. She didn’t care anymore where she was or who her kidnappers were, she wanted to get down that thing and find something to warm herself up.

At first she was so deep in her thoughts and groggy because of the cold that she didn’t heard it, but when the sound started to be closer and closer, she became aware of it and opened her ears to be sure of what she was hearing.

Gunshots?

She never really heard a gun firing in real life, so she couldn’t say if it really was it, but she heard it on TV. How different could it be?

Now the shots were really close, right out the car she was in it seemed, and with them she also perceived some people talking.

“What the hell was Bill doing? He had long enough to set that charge” said one voice. He sounded young.

“Well, I hooked up the wire, but we won’t mention that” answered another male voice. He seemed to her a little bit older.

They were right out the car. She could have yelled for help, but she didn’t. They were shooting, attacking the train she was in, and asking for help didn’t seem right. Who fires a gun generally isn’t the good guy. She learned that watching the news on TV: the bad guys always shoot, the good guys intimate you to put the gun down, but hardly ever shoot.

Some steps above her made her look up: they were walking on the roof of the car. One of the two fired again. She brought her arms up to cover her head.

She didn’t like that situation, she felt in danger, even more than before. Her kidnappers were being attacked, maybe by a worst kind of people, maybe by dangerous criminals, like the mafia. She had heard a lot about the mafia: they were dangerous, ruthless, the worst kind of criminals on earth. Maybe this was a settling of accounts between two gangs.

The two men went away, following the line of carriages, and with them the sound of their firearms.

It didn’t took long before a powerful jolt made her lose her balance so that she had to lean on the floor with her forearms not to hit her head again. The train was stopping, but she wasn’t too happy about it. The criminals were stopping it. The other criminals.

She was finally able to stand up on her half frozen, half fallen asleep legs and stumble towards the line of light at the base of the wall to lean an ear on it and try to listen what was happening outside.

It wasn’t hard to understand the fight was still going on because the people out there were still shooting and yelling. They must have been in a very isolated part of the country, she thought, because it was impossible that the civilians hadn’t called the police when they heard the guns.

A bullet hit the side of the carriage, leaving a little perfectly round shaped hole in the steel a couple of inches away from her head. She gasped loudly and let herself fall back on the floor. It wasn’t a good idea to stand, not until they had stopped shooting.

She didn’t wait long. When silence fell and the only sound was her breathing echoing inside the room, she stood up and leaned again her ear on the door.

“I can see now why the O’Driscolls brought so many boys up here for this” she heard the same young voice of before saying right out of her car.

He was there, right there. Was it wise to reveal her presence? She didn’t care, she was freezing and, criminals or not, she wanted to get out of there. She summoned all her courage and knocked on the steel door.

“Hey!” she added to the knocking.

“Please… please help. Help me get out of here” she begged with a loud tone, but without yelling to avoid the echo of her voice to return too strong in her ears.

Silence fell and she wondered if he had listened to her. Then, she thought that maybe it was better if she sat again on the floor, just in case the man out there was about to shoot her from the outside.

A clang and the sound of two pieces of iron that rub one against the other anticipated the strong light that blinded her. After hours in the complete darkness, that light was unbearable for her.

She closed her eyes and felt as every human being feels when they are forced to keep their eyes shut in a dangerous situation: weak and exposed. She blinked a couple of times and tried to cover the excessive light with one hand as she took some steps backwards.

“Who are you?” asked the young voice.

She didn’t answer, she didn’t want to. Reveal her identity to a stranger and potential criminal would have been a mistake. Her eyes started to get used to the light. Standing against the clear white background there was the shape of a man, dark because of the contrast, so that she couldn’t see his face. However, she could perfectly understand he was pointing a shotgun at her. All her courage abandoned her.

“Please, please don’t” she whimpered kneeling down and holding her hands in a begging gesture.

“Don’t kill me” she added looking at the dirty floor of the car.

“Hey! Come here a moment” she heard the man shouting. He was calling his friends. She couldn’t tell if this was a bad or good thing.

#rdr2 #read dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #lenny summers

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vvitchella · 5 years ago

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Avoiding scams in witchcraft

Not sure if someone has made a post like this or not, but I am seeing more and more obvious scams on my dash daily. As an experienced witch, let me tell you, I've come across my fair share of scams.

Here's how you can identify them:

"I have SECRETS that NO ONE ELSE has!! Also, NO ONE ELSE will teach you these secrets because they are MEAN and SECRETIVE. BUT I'M NOT. I will teach you. For a small fee for the 'risk'." You do not have to pay someone for "secrets" of any nature. Especially not as a beginner or even intermediate witch - you have so much information freely available to you. The most you might pay is the price of a book.

"I'm a psychic and I'm coming out of left field to tell you that you've been cursed, but no worries, I can lift it for you!! For a fee. :)" You would think this is obvious but verify, verify, verify. Also as a rule don't trust the spells of someone you don't know unless you know someone they've helped.

Be CAREFUL about magical services in general. People won't tell you this cause they want to make money, but SO MUCH is easy to fake. Jewelry with a companion in it? Bought that bulk for $1 a pop and scribbled in a .50 journal about it, sell for $35. No magic performed. Copy-pasted tarot, rune, and psychic readings. Sure, I cast that spell, send me $50. The thing is, unless you're talented enough to cast it yourself in the first place, you won't know when someone's conning you.

"This is DEFINITELY allnaturalorganicsupersafe scrub/balm/soap/lotion to apply to your *insert sensitive area* and yes it IS worth $85 I went to the rainforest myself to collect the ingredients." Just use some quick googling and your common sense, here. Certain herbs and essential oils are not meant for certain things. Just because they sell this stuff, doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.

Another good rule - if you're working with a vendor and they make an appeal to your guilt, your grief, your loneliness, etc.? Really good chance they're pressing that button to get you to spend. Some examples: "I see you are lonely let me cast a love spell $5 off for this thing you weren't going to get in the first place." "I can channel the spirit of your dead grandma via ouija. *disappears for three days* I was SHOOK her presence was SO powerful she said she loves you and she's happy, no I didn't ask her any identifying questions... $40 please."

"Ready to ADVANCE your CAREER as a WITCH??? WELL COME ON DOWN to LADY OF THE SILVER CHALICE DRAWN DOWN MOON DRAGON, ESQ.'s temple where I will PERSONALLY sign a $2 certificate saying you're a 3rd degree Ancient Knowing One after 3 sessions of 90 minutes of me ranting about how aliens built Egypt." Do some traditions observe degree systems? Yes. Make sure you're dealing with a reputable source before you fork over $300.

Cults. There are many good posts and online resources about this, but most cults are made to serve the creator in two ways: 1) Power/control. 2) Money. For me, it's not so easy to notice the power and control issues due to past trauma, but money? I sure as hell notice that. If they are pressuring you to make more, spend more, contribute more, and you can barely pay your bills? Get the fuck out of there.

If someone is giving you a service and they're asking for ANY method of payment that is not trackable, be wary. Now, it might be an old family friend and you hand cash over yourself, which is safer. But someone online asking to be paid through giftcards, or someone asking you to mail cash? Oof. Bad energy.

People can not so much "con" you but cost you extra money by playing the middle man for certain transactions. Sometimes it's worth it to have the middle-man; that can mean higher quality products and reliable delivery. But you could save yourself money if you know the item you're buying and go directly to the supplier. Often middle-men jack prices up considerably, sometimes more than they're worth, or even trade in worse quality products than they advertise. Consider your finances, look at who you're buying from, and look at the price tag.

Yes, it sucks to say, but some psychics really ARE just good cold readers (i.e., people who can read things off you with good questions and observing body language). Some may not even know it themselves. Any form of divination may suffer from this. Again, stick with those you trust, or at least consider that when you put down that money, it's a gamble.

"I can definitely make ALL your problems go away!!! except *insert small technicality I know won't make you say no*, with just 8 easy payments of $29.99!!" Big grandiose promises that ALMOST sound too good to be true are easier to let slide because they admitted there's a problem! They must be telling the truth! No, hon. They know exactly what they're doing. They're making big promises to get big money, and when you complain, they point to their terms of service and say "This was entertainment only." That exists there for a REASON, yes, and it does serve to protect legitamite practioners when, say, a tarot reading is slightly off because those readings are meant to guess at the future and that future can be changed. Some vendors abuse the hell out of it, though.

There ARE legitamite vendors and good reasons to spend cash in the community if you want to. But be careful out there.

#Witch #Witchcraft #Wiccan #Pagan #Cons #My posts

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tjadakaa · 4 years ago

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a destination is no replacement for a purpose (snippet)

I started writing tfatws fix-it but it's an uphill slog. Getting into Rhodey’s head was not easy cause it was about 2/3rds grief and coping.

Here have a conversation set in TFATWS episode 1 between Sam and Rhodey.

He wakes up right before his alarm goes off. The silence of the early morning and the warmth of his bed entices him to slip back asleep but he resists and gets up. He’s supposed to be in retirement, technically he is in retirement if not for the occasional consultation, the occasional mission. It was worse during the blip, handling Thanos, the Avengers and everything else. In the bathroom mirror he stares at a face that looks weathered and eyes that could use more sleep. His body twinges in a way he’s gotten used to and his legs—they respond all right, better than they used to thanks to Wakandan intervention. But they’re all reminders, history and memories he sometimes wishes he could forget, if only so it would hurt less.

He drinks coffee and reads the news at a table for four. This week he has some meetings planned, a moderated discussion with some folks from the GRC and… he closes his eyes briefly. A visit to Pepper and Morgan. They had moved away weeks ago from the family house and so it’s not as easy to see them. However Pepper insisted and James appreciates her tender but firm command more than he’ll ever admit. They were family even if some of the glue that had held them together was gone.

His personal phone buzzes and he picks it up. He doesn’t recognize the number but very few people had his personal contact, and so he answers after a pause.

“Hello?”

“Hey… It’s Sam.”

“Sam! Good morning.” He tries not to let the surprise he feels tinge his tone. He’d given Sam his number years ago, encouraged him to call certainly after their meeting at the Smithsonian but he would be lying if he said he expected the other man to reach out. The two of them exchange pleasantries.

“You don’t normally call, something up?” He broaches the topic after Sam says a joke that he knows he shouldn’t laugh at but does anyway.

“Yeah, I was wondering about the Avengers plan you mentioned before. I know it’s been awhile but things are finally settling for me and I think I might need something like that.” Sam doesn’t sound too confident and James wonders what sort of situations Sam might have been running into lately.

“Oh! I don’t handle that anymore but I can have the people who do give you a call and tell you about it more now of course. We probably sent you something with the overview but I wouldn’t be surprised if you never got it. Do you mind telling me more about the situation that’s prompted this? You don’t have to, I'm just curious.”

The ‘plan’ Sam was asking about was mainly his idea from back when the Avengers had been in their early stages and racking up property damage and lawsuits like it was a game to get the highest score. Each official member was fully insured with a benefits package worth millions, this package even extended somewhat to affiliated persons who weren’t officially recognized. Before the blip Sam went from the latter to the former.

Sam clears his throat and James waits patiently to see if he would say more. After managing the Avengers full time these last few years there’s little he hasn’t heard or seen, Nevermind his previous years in the millitary and being Tony’s usual partner in crime.

“My sister has a boat, she can’t afford it anymore and the bank isn’t keen on giving her a loan.” One sentence and a whole story within. He opens his mouth to speak but stops when Sam continues.

“I did the math, calculated her score and the payments. Then I went with her to the bank. They still couldn’t give her the loan. She’s eligible but—” Sam stops talking and James hears the inhale, the anger.

“I’m an Avenger or I used to be. She can pay it. Can the plan help with this?”

“The plan can help.” He confirms when he’s sure Sam was done speaking. He doesn’t say: Even if it couldn’t I would put my own money down.

“I don’t want charity Rhodey, if it doesn’t cover something like this—”

“We’ve paid legal fees for stupider things than this Sam, it’s fine.” He understands Sam’s mentality on ‘charity’ and doesn’t dig any farther. It hurts a little, they’d worked together and fought together but Sam still wouldn’t accept his help on something like this. Better that it came from a resource all the Avengers had than it came from a friend.

“Okay… ok. What do I need to do?” Sam sounds strained but there’s unmistakeable hope in his voice.

“Someone from the team will call you, just tell them how much you need and they’ll get it straightened out.”

“I can pay it back, it’s not that much.” Sam says after a moment and James rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a loan, it's what you’re owed after saving the world a few times. This is the reason it exists.”

“...Not to pay all the property damage?” Sam quips after a pause and James laughs.

“That’s included. You’re one of the cheaper ones don’t worry.” The Hulk, Thor and Wanda’s plans alone were outrageous.

“Wow, how much did Steve run you?”

“Before or after Barnes showed up?” James shakes his head smiling.

“Is Bucky covered by this plan?”

“He’s considered an affiliate but he’s definitely ran up some bills.”

“You know he wrecked my car when we first met, does the plan cover that or…”

“Probably not. You and him weren’t affiliated and Steve was rogue.” The accords didn’t exist anymore, not after 5 years of the blip but when they had— He dreams sometimes of falling, sometimes Sam catches him in time, sometimes Tony, sometimes no one.

“A lot has changed in five years.” Sam says and he concurs. Sam hadn’t been here for those five, James doesn’t envy him.

“Did he tell you what he was planning to do?” He changes the topic, keeping it vague and leaving it squarely up to Sam to answer or deflect. They hadn’t gotten to speak much the last time they met. Before then it was funerals and official gatherings, now it was just a phone call. Not having to see Sam’s face it felt easier to talk.

“No.” There’s no emotion coloring the response.

“Did he ask you?”

“Not really. Just said he was leaving and I should have it.” This time there’s more to go off, more to dissect.

“Do you wish he’d given it to someone else?” There’s an entire conversation, an entire thread the both of them are skirting. Sam and Steve, Tony and Rhodey.

“I wish he stayed.” Still little emotion, the edges of a story.

When James doesn’t say anything for awhile Sam asks, “Did he tell you what he was planning?”

“Yes.” They had their moment in private, he hadn’t been blindsided. Pepper hadn’t either but they had both still fallen apart after. If he were to make a comparison it would be unfair, he had decades with Tony.

They don’t talk for much longer, he reminds Sam not to be a stranger and sends an email to the accounting team to call Sam afterwards.

#james rhodes #sam wilson #tfatws #fix it fic #fatws

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wingedweasel · 3 years ago

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Would you rather...

Sorry for the super long post, but...

So my eyes were i a hostage situation with Twitter earlier, and I noticed a bunch of people posting things like ‘would you rather have $X or $Y?’ where x is an extremely huge amount and Y is a comically smaller amount. One was along the lines of ‘would you rather have one billion dollars all at once or 15 cents every day?’ The point of these is to bring up the idea of passive income and how it’s better to have steady income over large lump sums.

However, when it’s these comically small amounts, it would be better to have the lump sum. There was one that offered one million vs one dollar every day. Ummm, the million...? Every time. I’d choose the lump sum. Sure if it’s something like one million vs 10,000 every month, then okay, yeah, the parsed out payments would be better. I mean, yeah, it would take 10 years to get the same amount, but you would be getting more in the long run. Also, in these hypotheticals, there is no end date, so taking the monthly payment would be better since you could assume that you would keep getting the payments until you die.

But - and this is the thing that got me questioning if I was missing something - why would anyone take the super small amount? If it was $1 a day, rounding all months to have 30 days, then you’d only be getting 360 a year, 3600 in 10 years. Why would anyone want that compared to having the lump sum of 1 million?

What could you even do in that situation anyway? We’ve all seen those commercials “With $1 a day, you could save the life of a child/animal” uh...but I wouldn’t be spending $1 a day. I’d have to pay a large amount, that yes, technically comes out to $1 a day, but I wouldn’t be getting a daily charge of $1. Getting $1 a day wouldn’t help anyone. As I said before, that’s less than 1000 a year. Even if it was somehow able to pass along to your descendants, it would take 2-3 of your descendants’ lifetimes to get to 1 million. And this is all assuming that you never touch any of that money in all of these lifetimes.

I’m sorry, but no. That’s not gonna work for me. Especially if it’s something stupid like 15 cents a day. No, gimme the lump sum and I’d show you that I could make more with that lump sum than any low daily amount.

This piggy backs off my belief of ‘sort yourself out before trying to sort other people out.’ This stems from having to grow up watching the people around me run themselves ragged trying to help others out of financial binds while they didn’t have the funds to do. I’d usually get the shaft because of that, and any financial decisions I had to make - when I was actually able to make them - had to go through this kind of tiered system and rank what I wanted to do over the wants (not needs) of other people. It sucked, still does since I’m still stuck in this system because of the decisions of other people’s past mistakes and temper tantrums. But yeah, that’s why I believe that a person should help themselves before they help others. I get that this comes off as selfish or egocentric, very ‘me first’ Americanism, and on one hand it is, but it doesn’t mean I (and the hypothetical others) don’t give to the poor or help others when they need it. It just means that I don’t think it’s good for you when you are guilted (or tricked depending on how you look at it) into opening a credit card to a tire shop when you don’t even have a license so that your sister can get her car fixed even though she has a very well paid job, but for some reason can’t afford to pay her bills and continues to not learn from her past mistakes by spending all her money as soon as she gets paid, constantly going on trips to Vegas, and seems to be always doing some money spending activity every weekend.

Why are you asking if this was something that happened to me? What ever gave you that idea?

Anyway, getting back on tract of proving the lump sum is better: First, obviously, I’d pay off my debts. For me, I’m fortunate enough that it isn’t a massive amount, still a lot, but not hundreds of thousands. I won’t have to worry about a huge amount that I have to pay every month and not have to decide which bill gets the late fee this time. School loans, credit cards, not so much debits but a few people have gifted me various amounts to help pay my tuition, so I’d want to pay them back. I don’t have to because they were gifts, but I feel guilty that I had to ask them for money.

Next, I would sort out my living situation. I would move to a better neighborhood in which I would buy a house there. I would also take the time to learn to drive and buy a car. I would have to outfit my new home, and while that can take a good chunk of money, second hand stores, Craigslist and the castaways from friends would help with a lot of that. I’d need to outfit almost everything because I would not be living with anyone else except my fur babies. In this fantasy, I’m saying fuck everyone else, I’m moving far far away from my family of leeches and never seeing seeing them again. I might send birthday/holiday cards/gifts to the ones I kinda get on with like my nieces and the one uncle that is actually a decent person, but everyone else can piss right the fuck off. They took advantage of me whenever I had money - more often when I didn’t have money and somehow managed to squeeze everything out of me then - so why should I help them when I have money now? Harsh? Absolutely. Petty? As fuck.

After that, I’d invest. Obviously. If the point of the would you rather was to teach about the benefits of sustained constant income, then investing is the best way to do that. Investing in companies that have a history of doing well. Having a diverse portfolio is something that I’ve heard wealthy people talk about, so if one investment doesn’t pan out, I wouldn’t lose everything. Sounds...sound. I’d also take the time to invest in me. I’d finally be able to afford the hobbies and skills that I couldn’t before. I’d take back up with music and be able to afford lessons. I do better when someone is beside me telling me what I’m doing wrong and showing me how to do it correctly. Ex, I tried learning Japanese outside of a class setting and just couldn’t wrap my head around the basic sentence structure: XはYです. For some reason, my brain couldn’t figure out that x and y were nouns and it basically translates to X is Y. My brain freaked out, and I just couldn’t. However, day 1 of class, the figurative lightbulb went off and went “oh.” and laughed for a solid 10 minuets as soon as I got home. Musical instruments are the same way. I’ve tried to lear guitar and violin several times, but all without an instructor. Can’t do it. Hiring a personal trainer would be helpful as well. Getting someone to kick me in the butt about my fitness would go a long way in helping me reach my goals. Language tutors as well. I’ve maxed out my ability to learn at the community collage I take classes at, even though it’s been over 10 years since I took those classes, but I passed them so they’ve said screw you. While technically I could do all these things for free - there are various websites, YT tutorials, and Duolingo - like I said, I need that live teacher/student interaction for it to click.

Finally, as I said above, help yourself before you help others, so now that I’ve helped myself, I can now start helping others. Not my family. Fuck them. However, there are friends that have helped me so much over the years, and now that there is money that I can actually use - remember those investments? They’d have started to see returns by now - I can now start ‘paying’ them back for all that they did. It may not always be money that they would give, just being a shoulder to cry on meant more than anything at times so they’d deserve something as compensation for putting up with my issues. However, because I would now be in a good place. I could literally afford to go ‘here, here is a little something to show how much you mean to me and as a small step in saying thank you for all that you did.’ I could also now go, ‘I see you are struggling, so here is something that you can use to help get out of the bad situation.’ This was - and still is - something that made me feel so guilty that I couldn’t do when I was younger. I’d see a friend need something - or even just really want, we were kids after all - but I sometimes couldn’t even spare a dollar to help them. Helping others also means gifting to charity. I have always wanted to be able to donate to charities, to give money to panhandlers - I don’t care some of them use the money for drugs or alcohol, the small amount who do do that shouldn’t cause you to not give to those who don’t - remember those commercials from before? Even if some of the charities suck major ass, there are some really good ones that I would love to be a donor. I could afford to be a Patron member for certain YTers, I could donate to small Twitch streamers. Kickstarters and GoFundMes would see my name on the donor list. Animal shelters and children’s hospitals; after school programs and community centers; friends and neighbors. I could do so much.

But it certainly wouldn’t happen if I received $1 a day.

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quicksilversquared · 4 years ago

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Feathers Fall, Wings Rise

Gabriel Agreste had found his wife unconscious after using the Peacock Miraculous before, but something was different this time. She seemed sicker, and even after hours had passed, she didn't even stir.

Obviously, something had to be done. And if that 'something' required using magic, then so be it.

links in the reblog

Gabriel Agreste found his wife's unconscious body on the floor of his office on Tuesday at half-past seven in the evening. She was barely breathing, and one glance around her person gave away the fact that she had used the Peacock again, despite her promise that her previous time was going to be the last, really.

Gabriel exchanged a worried look with Nathalie and hastily bundled his wife into a wheelchair and into the locked-down, secret bedroom in the back of the house without anyone noticing. He removed the broken Miraculous from her once she was moved to the bed, carting it back to the office- perhaps a bit of distance would help speed along her recovery- while Nathalie got Emilie hooked up to the medical machines they had managed to procure after previous collapses. They would monitor Emilie's condition until she had woken up again, and then still while she recovered, just to be safe.

"Sir, I've set up the oxygen mask as well," Nathalie told him when he returned, the Miraculous locked away in the safe until he could think of a better place to hide it, one where Emilie wouldn't find it and use it again. She looked worried. "Emilie seems to be in a deeper sleep than she's ever been before, so I thought it would be better to be safe than sorry. Are you sure that you don't want to call for an ambulance?"

"I'm positive," Mr. Agreste said tersely, because really, what could a hospital do besides pry a lot? Emilie's condition was caused by magic, and unless the staff had a magic expert on staff that they didn't tell the general public about- which Gabriel severely doubted- they wouldn't be able to do much anything besides sit back and wait. "We have top-of-the-line medical equipment here, and it's set up to tell me when anything changes. And you know that Emilie wouldn't be happy about people prying into what's causing her weakness. Even if she's done nothing wrong- well, some people have opinions about magic."

Nathalie pursed her lips, but nodded anyway. "As you wish, sir."

The evening passed, and Gabriel waved off Adrien's inquiries about where his mom was by telling him that she was tired and had gone to bed early. Adrien seemed disappointed but accepted that- after all, it wasn't the first time that it had happened- and Gabriel checked in on Emilie before going to bed.

She hadn't stirred.

Gabriel frowned deeper- Emilie really hadn't been careful enough with the Peacock, that much was obvious- before locking up the bedroom for the night so that no nosy house staff would look in.

This had happened before, of course, but it always put him on edge when it did.

And then the next morning dawned, and Emilie's vital signs had slipped firmly into coma territory.

"Sir, I think we should really call the hospital-" Nathalie started, but Gabriel silenced her with a single hand.

"Look into what medical equipment is required for dealing with a coma. We will ride it out ourselves. She will need nutrients, of course, in place of food, and fluids. I expect to have a full report on my desk by this evening of what we'll need and what's been ordered."

"Of course, sir."

"And as for me, I think I'll try to track down that man who sold Emilie the Peacock," Gabriel decided, scowling at the thought. They hadn't been interested in buying the man's other wares when they had met up with him- or at least they hadn't yet been willing to pay more than half a million euros for what honestly sounded like a fantasy story. Now- well, they had more experience with the one Miraculous that they had bought, and they were willing to shell out for the Miraculous that wasn't broken.

Sure, Emilie would have to acquaint herself with a different power set , but she couldn't continue with the Peacock. Saving her brother-in-law just wasn't worth her getting progressively weaker like this. Maybe she would even make a breakthrough with a different Miraculous and different powers at her fingertips.

By midday, Adrien had to be shooed off with more excuses about his mother resting. A call to his Mandarin tutor ensured that he would be busy for several hours of the afternoon, and then Gabriel continued his search for the Chinese man who had sold Emilie the Peacock. He had some information to go off of- there had been a shop, and they had just shown their interest in more powerful wares- but he still had to remember the shop name and find it online- if it was even listed online, that was.

"You could always call up tour guide companies in the area and see if you could pay one to go to the shop and get the phone number for it," Nathalie suggested as the evening drew to a close and Gabriel had made no progress. "It would be easier, and I'd bet that it wouldn't require a large fee, as long as you pick a company that's located in the area to start with."

Gabriel hummed in thought. "That's a good idea. Outsource the work. I'll do that over dinner- inform Adrien that his mother and I won't be joining him. And since Emilie doesn't look like she'll be up and ready to go out again for a couple days, please come up with a cover story for why she won't be around so he doesn't keep asking."

"Of course, sir."

"How goes the search for equipment needed for a coma?"

"It's been ordered and express-shipped, sir. We should be receiving several large boxes tomorrow morning. I'll arrive early to ensure that I'm here to receive it before any of the other staff can get a look at it."

Gabriel nodded. That was good. Speed was essential if they wanted Emilie to recover faster. They would give her the best care- without taking her to a hospital and dealing with nosy nurses and inquisitive doctors- to get her out of her latest slump, and then they would (hopefully) get another Miraculous so that she wouldn't keep driving herself into the ground.

He should have reached out to buy the other Miraculous sooner, he really should have. Now, there was no guarantee at all that the man would still have it.

They could only hope.

It had been five more days, and Emilie still hadn't woken up. Her coma seemed stable enough for now, but she wasn't waking up.

What was the use in Gabriel having tracked down the shop and spent nearly two million to get the second Miraculous and all of the other Miraculous-related things the man had- the book, some scrolls, a couple half-burned paintings- if Emilie didn't wake up?

They couldn't keep on making excuses for why she wasn't around, either. They could only keep Adrien's curiosity at bay for so long, and Nathalie responding to his texts to Emilie only satisfied him so much. He was looking forward to her return from the relaxing retreat that they had told him she had gone to, and had Emilie actually been coming back from any sort of retreat- well, she would have gone to see her son first thing. For her not to would be weird.

"We're going to have to claim that she's vanished," Nathalie said grimly as she and Gabriel sat locked in the office, going over their options and all of the research that Nathalie had done about comas. "There's no other option, Gabriel, not unless you want to go to a hospital. And I know you said that there were maybe things in the book you ordered that would help her, and that would be hard to do in a hospital without people noticing."

Gabriel sighed, massaging his temples. He hadn't wanted to do this. There would be too much scrutiny of their family, both the police and the press trying to pick out any secrets that the Agreste family was trying to hide. But they had made all of their Miraculous-related orders from a secret account that shouldn't be traceable for this exact reason, and Nathalie always took care to wipe and replace any camera footage or computer trails of events that might be- well, suspicious. As long as they were careful, they should be able to pull off a disappearance without looking too suspicious. It would be hard to explain Emilie's reappearance once she woke up, but- well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

After all, at this point, it was only a matter of time before someone outside of the family noticed Emilie's absence and then their not reporting it first would look more suspicious.

"Tonight, we have to move Emilie downstairs, to her inspiration garden," Gabriel decided. "It'll take a lot of trips, to get her down and then move all of the equipment and a bed. Then tomorrow evening, we'll report her missing. Once the investigation's passed, we should probably improve the set-up there." He let out a long sigh. "I am so glad that we have that now. If we didn't…"

He trailed off. Nathalie nodded.

"For now, all we can do is make sure that there's nothing suspicious out. Even in the safes- you know that the police will want to see them. And bills, accounts that we're signed into online- all of it has to be cleared, and thoroughly." Gabriel glanced around at his office, trying to remember all of the places that Emilie stashed her journals and notebooks. Everything would have to be hidden today, because come tomorrow evening, or maybe the morning of the next day- well, the mansion would no doubt be swarmed with police looking for clues about Emilie Agreste's disappearance.

And Gabriel wasn't going to let them find anything.

At eleven thirty-three, a phone call was made from the Agreste Mansion to the Paris police department reporting a missing person. Twelve minutes and forty-three second later, the first patrol car pulled through the gates of the mansion and two officers and a detective hopped out. Nathalie met them at the gate, ushering them into the house and to the office to meet with Mr. Agreste.

There was no going back now.

Gabriel Agreste let out a long sigh as he settled into his chair. It had been a long day, right on the heels of an equally long week. Emilie hadn't improved at all in the week since the police visited, and- well, Gabriel really couldn't count himself at all surprised, though of course he was disappointed. Dealing with police coming in and out and checking footage for discrepancies and clues had been exhausting, particularly since they had had to keep the police away from both Adrien and his bodyguard to ensure that their stories wouldn't clash with the one that Gabriel and Nathalie had given the police.

Luckily, the police weren't terribly inclined to interrogate a mute man and a twelve-year-old when Gabriel and Nathalie were being so terribly cooperative.

Well. Outwardly cooperative, at least. They hadn't falsified anything more than they strictly had to- the more components there were, the harder it would be to keep their story straight and the easier it would be to overlook any details that could throw their entire story under doubt and closer inspection. As it was, making sure that they kept to the same details and didn't add anything for the entire week- an entire week full of police visits, some surprise and others not- had been hard enough.

And then they had had to deal with Adrien on top of all of that. He had been inconsolable, constantly dogging at Gabriel and Nathalie's footsteps in search of any answers at all. Gabriel had finally snapped at him- after all, how was he supposed to get any work done if Adrien insisted on following him around every moment of the day?- and he had finally stopped, but Gabriel didn't doubt that he would require some attention again at some point. After all, he had always taken after Emilie and her tendency to be overly emotional about things.

He could only hope that the next week would be better. The police had exhausted their investigation of their house- they had been very through about that- and all of the possible questions that they could possible think of. He could return to his work- he had fallen behind with all of the fuss of getting Emilie settled and the investigation and Adrien demanding attention- and at least get somewhat back on track until something more could be done. If he didn't, he might very well have to deal with investors backing out over worries about him not being able to keep up the quality of the company.

Now that Emilie was stable, Gabriel couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance with her at all of the fuss and scrutiny that they had gone through- and would no doubt continue to go through- because she couldn't be careful enough with the Peacock. She would have to be the one to deal with the fallout from her return and figure out the logistics there, because he had already spent too much time dealing with her mistake already.

Of course, for her to deal with things, she had to actually wake up. Gabriel couldn't deny that he was worried about that not happening, though, and his worry far outweighed his annoyance.

He loved Emilie, enough to tolerate her annoying family and her equally annoying insistence on actually inviting them around and helping them out when they got themselves into trouble. Now she had made herself seriously ill with her attempts to help, and he-

-he could very well be facing a future without her.

Huffing out an angry sigh, Gabriel shook the thought off and turned back to his work. He had no time for negative thinking- and blowing things out of proportion was Emilie's thing, not his- and it wouldn't do anyone any good. It would only distract him from his job. With another shake, he pulled up a few sketches and started working. After a few hours had passed- thankfully without interruptions from Adrien wanting to know if anything new had come up- Gabriel was starting to feel good about his progress. He had picked up his projects just where he had left off, with almost no pauses or other confusion about where he had intended for things to go.

And then Nathalie came in, carrying a box under her arm.

"It's the shipment from China, sir," she told him, stepping up next to his desk. "Where do you want it?"

Gabriel resisted the urge to growl and snap to just put it somewhere safe for now, couldn't she see that he was busy? It wouldn't be smart to alienate his only support so soon, not when he didn't know how long it would be before Emilie woke up. So he set his pen down and considered the box Nathalie was holding.

It wasn't what he was expecting. For some reason, he had been imagining a battered box, something that he might find forgotten in the back of a shipping truck, with a lot of stickers all over. This, though, looked completely normal, like it had come from one of Gabriel's own stores.

"I'll look at it later," he decided after a moment. After all, he had gotten the second Miraculous for Emilie to use, and clearly she wasn't going to be using anything when she was in a coma. But there was more that the second Miraculous in the package, and- well, Emilie was injured by Miraculous means, it wasn't far-fetched to think that maybe there was something in the package that might help her. "Tuck it under my desk for now. And keep an eye on the security cameras for the rest of the day, I don't want to risk having someone come in unexpectedly."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to put it down in the garden, then?" Nathalie inquired. "Emilie's garden, I mean."

Gabriel considered that. "Perhaps. As long as I can have enough light to read down there- I'll be working until dark, probably. Or at least until I get to a stopping point."

Nathalie nodded, her face completely impassive. "Of course, sir."

Gabriel turned back to his work as she headed off. He lasted for another hour, wrapping up the things he had been working on so that he wouldn't lose his spot before heading down to Emilie's underground garden. A quick check of the monitoring panel told him that there had been no change in Emilie's condition, so Gabriel turned his attention to the box. Nathalie had set up a table and a lamp so that he wouldn't have to kneel on the ground to open the box- that was much appreciated- and both a scissors and a knife to open the package. In a few deft swipes, the tape had been slit and Gabriel opened the box.

It was packed. There were scrolls and a book and a smaller box, one that was more battered and covered in tape. That presumably contained the non-broken Miraculous, and he would save that for later. Right now…

Gabriel reached into the box and grabbed the folded note on top. It was a receipt and a packing list, with a small scribbled handwritten note on the bottom. It looked like it had been run through a translator at some point, honestly- the grammar was a little stilted and there were some odd word choices- but he scanned it anyway.

And when he did, his heart froze.

Apparently the seller had gotten the Miraculous things from the family of a man who had died young and unexpectedly. He hadn't known until more recently that the man had apparently been using the Peacock, and an autopsy after the death hadn't turned up anything. He had just fallen into a coma one day… and never woke up.

That sounded far too familiar for Gabriel's taste. Suddenly, his blown-out-of-proportion worst-case scenario was all too possible.

Newly reenergized, Gabriel turned to the rest of the box. Surely something in it would offer something to help. The man who died probably didn't have the medical technology that he had for Emilie, and hadn't been able to be helped in time. The equipment would buy him some time to read through everything-

He opened the topmost scroll and promptly swore, his temper spiking as he looked at the unfamiliar characters. He couldn't read that, and it was like no alphabet that he had seen before. That suggested that it was in some sort of code.

Gabriel was a fashion designer, not a code-breaker! He didn't have time-

He stopped himself halfway through that thought. This was Emilie's life in danger. He could make the time. It would be easy enough to hire another couple of designers and one more administrative staff person to pick up the bulk of his workload so that outsiders wouldn't notice any difference. He wasn't going to step back from designing entirely- that just wasn't happening- but he could clear on a solid chunk of his day to work on deciphering the code.

Gabriel let out another huff at the thought of the lost time before continuing to pull scrolls out. They were all in that same code, with only the occasional picture, and he set them aside for the time being in favor of pulling out the book.

It was in code, too. Really, he shouldn't have expected anything different.

At least there were pictures.

Gabriel flipped through the book, scanning over pictures of superheroes and trying to eke out any information he could from them. A flash of purple flipped by, and Gabriel quickly flipped back to see a page with the Butterfly Miraculous, the one that he had ordered. He couldn't read anything, but he could get the gist of the powers from the pictures. And frankly, those powers- well, they were incredibly similar to the Peacock's, from what Gabriel could tell. They might have been more useful for Emilie's goal, really.

But that didn't help him.

Gabriel bookmarked the page and continued on. Close to the end, he spotted another drawing. A much more interesting one.

It looked like- like two Miraculous, combined. And on the opposite page, a man that had power. Serious powers.

There was no way to confirm it, of course. Gabriel couldn't read the text that went along with the picture. But it looked like if he got those two Miraculous in the picture, it would allow him to weld strong enough magic to wake Emilie up and remove her from danger. The only problem, of course, was how to get his hands on those two Miraculous. The old shopkeeper that he had gotten the box of Miraculous things from didn't have any more. Gabriel would have to hunt them down, and he didn't have the slightest idea of where to start. The easiest way would be to lure them out somehow.

….but how?

Almost automatically, Gabriel's eyes slid to the side, to the battered box that housed the non-broken Miraculous, and the start of a plan started to fall into place, puzzle pieces slowly coming together to create a bigger picture.

He had to be safe about it, no matter how much he wanted Emilie up and out of danger right away. Rushing into using magical powers was how Emilie got sick, after all, and if he got ill… well, it wasn't worth thinking about. He was smarter than that.

One way or another, Gabriel was going to get Emilie back. Of that, he was certain.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #villain origin story

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years ago

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Some Sugar

Part 1: just keep breathin’

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, cassandra jones (oc), selena (oc), bucky barnes, sam wilson word count: 3k+ warnings: angst, family issues, money problems summary: you need to just remember to breathe a/n: give me validation please and let me know what you think

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There’s a steady stream of customers all night, nothing like a few nights ago, but it’s definitely better than it’s been for a while. While you want to be happy for Cassandra, your mind keeps going back to your Aunt Magdalena’s threats, most recently a note slipped under your door, that you thankfully found before Esmeralda could.

It’s no wonder why your mom (and dad) kept communications with her to a minimum—which only adds to the mystery of why she went to her of all people for money.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice calls for your attention, it’s strong yet somehow nervous. When you look up to smile at him, you’re greeted by stormy, blue eyes illuminated by the lights behind you on the shelves and mirror. He’s handsome, alarmingly so with brown hair cascading down to the top of his broad shoulders—cheekbones sharp and chin dented right at the end and covered by mild scruff.

Holy fuck … what you wouldn’t give to spend a night with him. It’s been so long since...

Hey! You’re at work, and work means focusing!

You push your warring thoughts aside and manage your best customer service smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Three beers,” he says, eyes falling to the taps behind you, and with a quiet and unsure voice, he orders three Mirages.

You smile reassuringly. “Good choice.” When he eyes you curiously, you explain, “Local brew.” You turn your back to him and grab the glasses for beer as Cassandra squeezes by you to reach the register at the end of the bar to charge a group.

You fill one of the glasses and set it aside while you absentmindedly fill up another, the sound of the soothing trumpets playing through the speakers washing over the bar.

Eleven thousand dollars. How are you going to pay that much money in two months?

“You okay?” Cassandra asks, watching you carefully, eyes drifting to the glass in your hand.

You’re quick to switch to the final glass when you realize you’re about to overfill the second. With a tired smile you say, “I’m fine.”

She frowns, shaking her chocolate curls, but before she can say anything, someone saunters up to the bar and orders a drink. She gives you a look that says—I’m not done with you—and starts making the drink for the customer.

With the final glass filled, you spin on your heels to face the male that ordered the beers and are surprised to find he’s no longer alone—two men are flanking him.

They’re just as tall and wide as the brunette—a contrast of skin between them, the one on his left a beautiful shade of umber—dark and rich. Black hair short and buzzed, and a thin beard making his face seem slimmer than he appears to be, apple of his cheeks high and round when he smiles at something his companions say. Handsome in a simple white tee and black leather jacket.

The other man on his right is white, almost pink and peach with the low lighting of the bar, nothing like the tanned brunette between them. If his friends are handsome, he’s beautiful. Golden hair slicked back with a semi fade on the sides; muscles tightly wrapped and bounded by a blue Henley that you’re certain is a size too small; lashes, long and thick brush against his cheek bones; face clear of scruff and dark shadows; lips pink and pretty—something almost boyish in his smile that makes you crack a smile of your own.

Shit. You’d take any one of them home!

Three pairs of eyes land on you as you set down their beer, and you freeze, locking with blue eyes—bright and alarming, specks of hazel and greens around his iris making his eyes pop in the dark bar. Something flashes within them, and there’s something familiar about them that you can’t quite place.

What is it?

Cassandra makes a noise from beside you, like a hum and a snicker and you realize you might’ve been staring at him for far too long. Shit.

Clearing your throat, you drag your gaze to the brunette between them and smile politely. “Here are the first two, let me just get the last one.” A sleek, black card comes into view after placing down the final glass, and you take it, a little embarrassed. “Open tab or closed?”

“Keep it open,” the blonde says, a familiarity directed at you that has you raising your eyebrows, but you ignore it. “Just in case.”

“Of course.” You don’t really look at him or his friends after accepting the card, scurrying away to swipe his card to make sure it’s good, and input his first order under the last name on his card—Rogers. Storing the card for the meantime, you go back to cleaning the bar.

“You sure you’re okay?” Cassandra tries again.

“Cass,” you warn with a sigh, eyes trailing over to the men that have decided to settle on the bar-stools instead of an empty table—the three too busy engaged in their own conversation to listen in on yours.

“As your boss and friend, I have every right to worry about you,” she says, resting an elbow on the bar and leaning forward. “Your head has been up in the clouds lately. And more than usual. Did something happen to your mom? Is she okay? Is her arm not healing properly?”

“She’s as okay as a chemotherapy patient can be,” you snap harshly, rubbing at the bar fiercely. She blinks at you surprised and doesn’t retort—shame immediately creeps up on you. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean—“

“Hey. Hey. I know,” she affirms gently. “It hasn’t been easy for you, but you know I’m here if you ever want to talk.” She makes a gesture to herself and your eyebrows knit.

The glasses clink as you put them away. “Thanks. She’s getting better, but I’m not ready. Not yet.”

She nods solemnly. “I understand, but I’m here whenever you are. You hear?” she says, pointing a finger at you before taking the empty tray to the back.

You watch her leave with a sigh. You really shouldn’t be taking out your frustrations on others, you mentally scold yourself.

As you continue wiping down glasses, your phone vibrates in your back pocket, slipping it out discreetly, a notification of a new message appears on the lock screen.

Selena⛱☀️: Went over the docs. You free to talk?

Just those simple words are enough to steal your breath away; dread filling your bones. She didn’t add an emoji, you realize; no emoji usually meant trouble.

Your grip tightens around your phone.

Skyscraper: gimme min

Stuffing it back into your pocket, you look around the semi empty bar—the group in the back, the three men at the bar, a couple by the entrance. Biting your lip, you look back at the door Cassandra slipped through, cautiously. Your phone vibrates again, and it’s enough to push you towards it.

Twisting the knob slowly, you poke your head in and find Cassandra near the merch taking inventory, and your coworker, Matt cleaning up the small kitchen by Cassandra’s office.

Rapping on the wood, the two drag their attention to you. “Cass, do you mind if I make a quick call?”

She blinks, a worried frown stretching itself across her ebony skin and her shoulders tense. You shake your head when she raises an eyebrow.

“Personal,” you tell her. “Kind of.”

Her shoulders drop and a small smile replaces her frown. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll man the front while you’re away.”

“Thank you.”

You slip into the small hallway connecting the bar to the two gender-neutral bathrooms for customers. You lean against the locked door leading into Cassandra’s office, never used since you started working here, and stare at the door leading out into the dirty alleyway.

The phone rings against your ear, the faint music from the bar encasing the small hallway too, it’s soothing in a strange way, with its slow beat and sensual saxophone solo.

“Hello?” Selena answers, a loose mix of a Californian and Australian accent seeping into her words. She’s only been living in California for a little over a year and she’s already picked up the accent faster than she did yours—traitor.

“How’s the Californian sun?”

“Golden,” she answers readily, a grin apparent in her voice. “Better than New York’s, that’s for certain. Though, not quite like home.” Keys clicking in the background float to your ear. “I looked over the documents—“

You straighten, lifting your thumb to bite your skin. “And?”

She hesitates, clothes rustle and she takes in a deep breath that you try not to read into. “It’s all legit.” Fuck. “Usually, we can exploit mistakes or loopholes, but your aunt was completely thorough with her agreement.” Your head hits the wooden door. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear.”

“It’s fine.”

“Look, I have a thousand dollars saved up right now—“ You’re quick to stop her by calling her name, but she won’t allow you to interrupt her. “And I could probably get another $500 soon—“

You clench your eyes closed. “You don’t have to do that, Sel. I could always get another loan from the bank and--“

“Will you shut up and let me finish? I know your pride won’t let you accept my money for free.” You slide down the door, head hanging as you listen to her. “You can always pay me back, at your terms. Ten, twenty a month, a year, fuck, I don’t care. Whatever makes you feel better. But I’m not going to let you take out another loan! You’re still paying off your mom’s hospital bill and that dumb loan you got for Esmeralda’s school fees!”

“Selena, you really don’t have to—“

“I know I don’t have to,” she snaps harshly, voice full of tough love. “I want to. You and your family helped me through a tough time and I want to help you guys too. I’m in a place where I can help, and if you won’t accept my help, then fuck you, I’ll tell your sister and I’ll send her the money.”

You choke back a sob.

“Listen,” she starts, her voice soft as you hold back sniffles, “1500 isn’t a lot, or even half of the money your aunt is demanding, but it’s a start. And I have a plan, okay? I asked Camille and Jason to whip up a new contract, using the 1500 as a down payment of sorts. I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but we’re going to negotiate with her, fight for it. It’s not over yet.”

“God, what would I do without you?”

Her voice cracks as she scoffs a laugh. “Good thing you don’t have to find out, huh?”

The music fades into the background, loud laughter cuts through the noise. Cassandra’s voice rings out loudly, announcing last call. “I feel so hopeless, Sel,” you admit to her, words laden with grief and exhaustion, and in some ways guilt. Guilt that you can’t do more for your family. Guilt that you didn’t do more to stop JC from leaving. Guilt that you’re such a horrible daughter and sister.

“Oh, darl’...”

“The hospital bills, Esme’s school, even the bare necessities—it was hard to scrape by, and now this? I just—why can’t we catch a break? Esme doesn’t deserve this. Fuck, Mom doesn’t deserve this!” Maybe if you had fought harder—tried harder, none of this would be happening.

“You don’t either.”

She might be right, but it does nothing to ease the guilt that’s slowly starting to grow in your chest. “I’m sorry, Selena. I should let you go. I’ve asked enough of you already.“

“Hey! None of that, okay? I should be the one apologizing for not being there to hand you tissues and force feed you those ice lollies you like so much.” You let out a wet snort that she mimics. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that even if I'm miles away, I’m always here for you if you ever need me. No matter what.”

You rub the heel of your hand against your eye. “I know. Thank you, Sel.”

“You’re welcome.”

With whispered goodbyes and cheesy “I love you’s” you hang up. Curling up, you cover your face with your hands, shuddering breath escaping your lungs as you will yourself not to cry.

“Ma’am?” It’s soft, careful and almost stern like, kind of like Captain America from the hospital. “Are you—are you all right?” No, not kind of. It is Captain America from the hospital!

Your eyes snap up, heat licking your skin at the embarrassment of having been caught crying twice by—eyebrows knead together as they take in the blonde costumer with the black card that can certainly not be your Captain America… right?

Rogers. Rogers… Roge—fucking shit. Wait a minute! He’s the real Captain America? You’ve been caught crying by Captain fucking America? Not once, but twice? That’s fucking worse! “It’s you… you’re really… Captain America?”

He smiles, it’s kind and sweet—warmth. “You remember me.”

Of course you remember him! You just can’t believe he’s the real Captain America, history book figure, war hero Steve Rogers. You feel like an absolute idiot for not having noticed!

“Kind of hard to forget when you caught me ugly sobbing in a hospital courtyard,” you find yourself quipping back as you make to stand, quickly rubbing away your tears. “Thank you for the handkerchief, by the way. I didn’t bring it with me—“ Not that you were expecting to see him again, anyway, but you had been carrying it around just in case.

“Don’t worry about it. I told you I have more at home.” Heat crawls up your neck—because of course he does. He’s Steven Rogers, Captain America. An Avenger. A loaded Avenger in every sense of the word. He chuckles, ducking his head, but then he sobers up, smile replaced by a small frown. “Are you okay—I heard—I heard,” he pauses to swallow and you realize that he’s heard more than your crying. Fuck. “Crying. I heard you crying. Again,” he adds the last bit like a second thought.

He’s a shit liar, but you still appreciate his effort. “Fine. I’m fine, thank you for worrying about me,” you tell him softly, trying to push a smile forward. Probably looks more like a grimace. “You probably have a lot more important things to worry about than me.”

Just as you have more important things to worry about.

Peggy Lee’s voice fills the hallway with her soft, haunting crooning—“I was always a fool for my Johnny,” she sings and it jerks you. For just a moment you forget where you are; you’re suddenly eight years old again, watching your mom teach your brother how to play the guitar as your dad records them with the handheld camera.

Your mom looks at you and asks you to sing along with them, but you refuse, embarrassed that she’d even suggest you should sing! You can’t sing! But she and your teasing dad somehow coax you to screech the lyrics along with your brother’s playing, and by the end of it, you’re completely overheated and embarrassed that your dad got it all on tape, even your impromptu performance of dancing around the living room like a maniac.

But as soon as the memory comes, it’s gone. Fading to the deepest pit of your mind as you once more find yourself in the small hallway of your workplace, Steve Rogers’ frown growing deeper, lines making themselves at home on his forehead as he watches you contemplatively. “Do you—Would you like to exchange numbers?”

His request comes completely out of left field, it’s practically enough to shock whatever tears were still threatening to fall to dry up. It’s a welcome distraction. “Why?” falls from your parted lips.

He scratches the back of his head, ears turning pink as he turns away. “I just thought—uh—too forward?”

A little, you want to say, but your inner Cassandra and Selena are calling you an idiot, urging you to give him your number. Should you? You’re not going to lose anything by giving it to him. You’re probably not going to gain anything from it either. But how many times will you ever be able to say that an Avenger asked for your number? That Steve Rogers asked for your number? “Okay.”

His head snaps up and something within his eyes stir, you don’t know what it is or even come close to understanding it, but it sends a weird hum through your body that you try to ignore. Noticing your staring, his melts and gives way to his earlier softer look—kind and warm. “Here.” He gives you his phone after unlocking it and you take it, inputting your number and name before handing it back to him. He says your name aloud—and you physically resist the urge to react to him saying your name—and his lips tilt upward. “Nice to officially meet you.”

“Hey, Steve, we should—“ Steve moves his head to look over his shoulder as you lean to the side to find who you’ve come to the realization must be another Avenger—Falcon. His earthy eyes move between you and Steve, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

Your lips roll into your mouth to hide the grimace you’re mostly likely sporting. “Ah, no, we—I was just—thank you again, um, Cap? Steve?”

“Steve,” he tells you, smiling reassuringly in your direction before turning to Sam with a semi serious expression. “I’ll be there in a moment, Sam.“

“It’s fine,” you interject, moving your gaze from him and his friend to stare over their shoulders’ and out into the warm lit bar. “I need to get back to work, anyway.”

“Right, of course,” Steve says, stepping aside to let you through. You smile at him briefly but before you can pass by him, he stops you with a shy smile. “You wouldn’t mind if I call you?”

You falter slightly, taking you a moment to recover, but once your muscles relax, you flash him an unguarded smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #sugar daddy!steve rogers #sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader #reader insert

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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BTS Seoul mates: Dream couple.4

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: A little angst

Warning: If you are triggered by Finances, Poverty, mortgages and Disappointment. Please don’t read.

Summary: You saw him every night in your dreams since you were a child. He was funny, a great dancer, really close with his friends. The only problem was you couldn’t see his face. In dreams, every face you see is one you have seen in real life, so you knew you had never met him. That is until your friend shows you her favourite band.

Hoseok was happy to be home, he enjoyed the comfort and familiarity of his own room. Laying across his bed his mind reeling from their holiday in New Zealand. It was such a lovely experience. I hope Army enjoy the footage and they love our girls as much as we do. No one could hate my Dream. He grabbed his phone and sent you a message, telling you that he had arrived home safely.

Hoseok got the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in his own thoughts. Needing to speak with someone he walked to Namjoon’s room and knocked on the door. “Hey Namjoon, oh are you busy?” He saw his leader looking just as tired from the flights and car rides and holiday away from home. Yet he looked happy, his smile masking his low energy. He was face timing his soulmate.

“It’s all good you can talk, what’s wrong you look upset?”

“Well we have all found our soulmates and they are all planning to visit except for Y/n, she can’t afford it. She is working to pay for uni and support her parents and family” Hoseok said from the doorway.

“Namjoon I have the jumper that Jungkook borrowed- sorry Hobi Oppa did I interrupt?”

“I was just discussing how my soulmate can’t come to see me because she is working to support her family.

Beau leaned on the doorframe thinking quietly, waving at Namjoon’s soulmate through the phone. She hummed listening for a while before leaving abruptly, Hoseok raised an eyebrow and sighed “it can’t be helped and she won’t let me pay for anything. She doesn’t want it to appear like she is using me”

“I got an idea Oppa, follow me” Beau popped her head back from the hallway with a laptop and video camera in hand. She sat down and explained her plan to Hoseok before beginning a live stream on her channel. “Hello everyone it’s Beau, I am making a live stream for a young girl, who has a really rare soulmate link. She found her soulmate but is supporting her family and working to pay for her tuition. I am asking my fans and followers whether the leftover fund you had donated for me to find my soulmate can help her reach hers”

There were many Army who donated for you to visit Hoseok. Beau checked the time, it was the morning where you lived. Making a phone call from to your Parents, Hosoek and Beau explained what they wanted to do. They seemed on board with the idea. Though they had only spoken to Hoseok twice, they loved him dearly. Especially when he wanted her to finish her degree. The donation covered her University fees entirely with leftover for her to visit Korea if she wished.

Hoseok called you next and explained that they had paid for your tuition. You were so shocked and thankful. Sending a message to the fans with tears rolling down your face. “That means any money I make is my money to come see you” you sniffed the idea of being able to see your soulmate overwhelming.

Hoseok watched you happily but he yawned getting tired from jet lag, “We should sleep now love, I will see you in my dreams” The live stream ended and Hoseok felt better with what had happened and laid down on his bed drifting off until he appeared in your bedroom.

You were working out your bills with Uni fees now completely covered. You lived with your family so you didn’t exactly pay rent. You made on average two to five thousand dancing and at the cafe about eleven dollars an hour not including tips.

The nice young girl named Beau who was one of Hoseok’s friends’ soulmate asked for your bank details to transfer the donations and within the hour you had paid your fees and had money to spare. There was Twenty-four thousand leftover in your account, you had never felt this secure in your life. There were no worries of making it through the week, no budgeting, no skipping meals to pay for your father’s medicine. The moment the exams were finished you wanted to be on a flight to Seoul.

It was happening you were going to go see him, you grabbed your bag it was early in the morning but you were going to wait outside the post office until they opened to get some papers for a passport. And then you would book tickets plan what to pack.

As you stepped out of your room, you heard your parents talking at the dinner table, “thank gosh we don’t have to worry about her fees”

“Now it’s just the mortgage” your father sighed

“How much is left?”

“Last time I checked there was about thirty thousand” your father sighed rubbing his face looking wearily. “And then I can finally start saving to retire”

Your family were like the Weasleys so many people under one roof, the guilt set in and you looked at your bank balance on your phone. You leaned your head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. “Hoseok, I am sorry, I just can’t leave them like this.”

Sending the money to your families mortgage repayments. You had a plan, grabbing your work bag you went to the cafe early to wait tables.

As soon as your shift ended and you got a few tips which you were happy for. You drove across town to the club switching the work bags in the boot of your car.

Getting dolled up in the dressing room, you were going to work hard. You put on a bright neon purple piece that flowed under the black lights it was eye-catching. You needed eye-catching while other girls wore red, black and white all blending in and looking the same you wanted to draw attention. You headed out to the stage and wrote your name down for multiple dances, you were going to work hard.

Dragging your aching feet into the change rooms you showered removing the smell of alcohol and cigars from your skin. Pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, your face felt lighter now that it was free of makeup. Stashing away the tips you had made just over six thousand and you drove home stopping by a late-night ATM and transferring the money into the machine.

The lights were on in the house when you got home, you checked the time it was 4:30 your father must be getting ready for work. Sending the money from your bank to the mortgage it was fully paid off. Relief flooded through you. Not only does the money you make now go to you, the money your family makes got to them. You no longer felt guilty.

You father was getting ready to work sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a coffee and eating some toast. You had about three hours before you had to leave for uni you had to pack your dance bag and some lunch.

“y/n?” he called softly and you turned and walked over. He turned his laptop towards you and he sighed “I received an email saying that twenty-four thousand dollars was transferred into the mortgage account yesterday. You walked over and hit the refresh button watching as the numbers in the account went from owing to saved. “but that was money for you to go overseas people donated for you”

Another car pulled into the driveway and your father looked guilty and sick “I will go overseas now that I know everyone is able to live comfortably here debt-free. Look I am in love with Jung Hoseok and when I go over there it will kill me to have to leave, so there is a chance that I will live in South Korea for the rest of my life. I want to go over knowing that everyone and everything is okay right now”

Your mother walked in dropping her keys on the bench looking tired from the night shift at the hospital “how was your sleepover you look tired again y/n?”

“It was good” you smiled your father explained what you had done and your mother cried hugging you. She apologized that you had to sacrifice such an opportunity, that they had failed as parents for letting you pay it.

You knew this whole time Hoseok had been watching so you excused yourself to lay down in your room exhausted, “I’m sorry I really wanted to see you but I needed to do this first. I needed to settle this, so I could leave, because something tells me when I see you I won’t ever leave you so I need my family to be financially stable”

“My fund to come to see you is now at zero, but I will work hard, I promise” Hoseok touched your cheek and you smiled softly drifting off to sleep, you were so tired and he just wanted to hold you and tell you everything was okay and he understood.

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sunlitneon · 4 years ago

Text

The Ultimate End to Junk Mail

I am no longer my nearby place's best patron yet they continue to send me direct mail. I'm not inquisitive about double glazing, Custom Made Jewellery splendor packages or my new regions pizza parlour. Yet I become with coupon offers for own family sized pizza offers and spray tan programs.

It doesn't count how an awful lot green manipulate you have got at the inside of your house, unsolicited mail will discover its way to you.

Don't worry, you may considerably lessen it.

(To highlight you can't a hundred% forestall direct mail and I'll give an explanation for why further down.)

Firstly, you are probable thinking why I am talking approximately direct mail right?

In a nutshell, forests are reduce down and worked right into a water pulp mixture that when manipulation, creates the lovely factor we name paper.

The paper is then shipped to companies who print on it after which ship it to you.

Did you already know that Junk mail produces extra greenhouse fuel emissions than nine million vehicles?

HOW TO STOP RECEIVING JUNK MAIL

We all understand the significance that bushes should maintain our ecosystems and international temperature. If we forestall the call for for direct mail, we will lessen further environmental effect.

It is so smooth to pick out up the undesirable mail and throw it straight into the recycling bin.

Yes, it'll be recycled however the company who despatched the mail would not recognise you probably did no longer need to obtain it. And if they may be never advised their ability customers do now not want to acquire their mail, they may hold to ship it and retain to purpose environmental destruction.

First, you want to pick out the 2 sorts of direct mail you could receive, named and non-named.

Named mail is what comes thru your door addressed to a person in your own home.

And non-named, yes, you guessed it, are the letters that are not addressed to all people.

They likely kingdom something along the traces of 'To the Owner', 'To the brand new proprietor of a exceptional brief net company.'

HOW TO STOP RECEIVING NAMED MAIL

*Opt out of advertising lists

If you sign on for whatever that asks for your own home deal with, make sure you're taking out a magnifying glass and search for any statistics that explains the advertising phrases.

Usually, with out you confirming so, agencies and companies will upload you to their marketing mailing lists unless you country in any other case.

If you don't opt-out for advertising and marketing records, to procure your self a massive heap of direct mail. Imagine it like the scene from Harry Potter... "NO POST ON SUNDAYS."

*Register without cost with MPS (UK simplest)

MPS will get rid of your call and deal with from the UK enterprise lists of income promotions, marketing and direct advertising.

Take notice, it is able to absorb to 4 months till you note a discount in any undesirable named mail.

*Contact your nearby electoral roll register office

Ask you nearby register workplace to take away you from the open check in.

The open sign up includes your complete name and deal with and can be purchased by using a member of the public, businesses and advertising administrators.

*Swap all of your paper billing to online

A simple piece of recommendation, however you will be surprised at how often that is neglected.

*Contact the sender at once

Contact the sender through e-mail or cellphone and inform them you want to now not obtain any mail from them with on the spot effect.

*Return the junk mail without delay to the sender

Cross out your cope with and write 'junk mail, please return to sender' on the envelope.

You don't ought to pay any postage for the return, but the sender might get hold of a return price.

The return fee makes it much more likely that motion will be taken to dispose of you from their advertising and marketing listing.

HOW TO STOP RECEIVING NON-NAMED MAIL

Have you ever puzzled how direct mail not addressed to anyone in your home falls through your letterbox?

E.G Domino's commercials and your local window glazing enterprise?

*Notify Royal Mail

Thanks to Royal mail, they have got the job of delivering leaflets to every residence.

You can opt out via sending them an e-mail that informs them you no longer want to get hold of advertising mail.

They will send you a letter which you need to sign and ship again to them.

Take word, it could take in to 6 weeks before you noticed a discount within the marketing non-named mail and the opt-out carrier simplest lasts for 2 years.

*Make a signal or a poster

Get innovative and make a poster that states you do not need to receive junk mail.

Stick it in your letterbox, make sure it's especially close to the doorway of the letter container. (Not everyone will notice the sign inside the backside nook of a window.)

*State precisely what mail you do not want to acquire.

Not all people will think their commercials for their newly opened beauty salon is taken into consideration junk mail to your household.

Remember- Try to make your own poster earlier than you print one.

*Contact the sender directly

Contact the sender by way of electronic mail or phone, inform them you wish to no longer receive any mail from them with on the spot effect.

*Return the unsolicited mail immediately to the sender

Cross out your address and write 'direct mail, please return to sender' at the envelope.

You do not should pay any postage for the go back, however the sender would acquire a go back fee.

The go back charge makes it much more likely that motion may be taken to do away with you from their advertising and marketing listing.

BUT, I'M STILL GETTING JUNK MAIL?

Okay, so let's consider you're nevertheless getting junk mail.

Unfortunately, humans (especially those who are spreading the phrase approximately their nearby commercial enterprise) will forget about your no direct mail poster.

Don't worry, there are approaches to reuse your unsolicited mail earlier than you positioned it on your recycling bin.

Here are some thoughts to get your brain juice going.

Note-paper - Use the returned of direct mail letters as word paper

Card layout - Reuse the designs to make Celebration playing cards and gift tags

Compost - Add brown envelopes and white non-glossy paper in your compost pile.

Remove - Any plastic home windows and tacky glue strips first

Recycle - Add the paper to your recycling bin

Stuff things with it - You could make draught excluders and pin cushions in case you package the paper tightly and overlay a thick cloth

Animal bedding - Hamsters and gerbils need bedding, save yourself a few pennies by means of shredding your junk mail

Paper mache - Get innovative and build structures along with your kids of for yourself

Paper baskets - You can fold and coil paper strips to make baskets or any length you fancy

Jewellery - Just as above, you may coil the paper into any form you need and put on it as an excellent looking piece of jewellery.

Seed pots - You can make a container and use that as an opportunity to plastic plant pots. Better yet, the self-made seed pot can be positioned immediately into the floor.

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julia-brookes · 5 years ago

Text

Rhys x Reader (My Inner Demons)

Synopsis: You are a university student who is majoring in Computer Science. Not wanting to deal with the hassle of renting a dorm, you become roommates with Ava. You're pretty content with your life... until a handsome demon named Rhys sweeps you off your feet.

Word count: 2760

The college life was not at all like you expected it to be. That glamorous illusion of nightlife and party life was shattered as soon as you arrived to your first class. Sure, you've been to fraternity and sorority parties here and there, but that was only on the rare occasions that you had no assignments to worry about. Your time was quickly dictated by the immense amounts of homework and projects your professors assigned you.

You heaved a sigh, scanning your Introduction to Computer Science; Volume 7 textbook. It would be yet another all-nighter for you. Cans of Red Bull were sprawled out throughout the kitchen table and floor. Your professor decided to give you yet another ten page homework assignment. Good grief, how does the professor have time to grade all these papers? you thought to yourself. A yawn escaped your mouth as you peered at your computer's clock. Oh boy, 3am! Sarcasm dripped from your remark as you typed a stream of code into your program. You were almost done, just another page to go and you would be free from the clutches of the monster-sized homework assignment.

It was hard enough that your professors expected their students to have no social life, but you also had to deal with a handful of quite lovely demons. The sarcasm was strong -- perhaps you should have majored in sarcasm instead of Computer Science. Of course, some of the demons were less trouble than others. Pierce, for instance, never caused trouble. He wasn't a demon of many words and you often welcomed his company whenever you studied for exams. Asch and Leif were another story. Oh boy, did they make you want to tear your hair out -- even more so than your professors. You didn't mind Noi's company, only when he wasn't crying over Johnny.

Rhys, on the other hand, was is different story. He, in many ways, was like your equal. His willingness to learn about both the material you were studying, and you as a person was a breath of fresh air compared to the cliquiness of the university students and the rest of the demons. Rhys was a good man -- er, demon.

4:25 am: you were finally done! You saved two copies of your papers and turned it in. A massive weight was lifted from your chest, and in a blaze of glory, you left your computer and books on the tables and crashed onto your bed.

The morning sun peeked through your curtains, shining directly onto your face. Bloody he-, you almost cursed, turning to face away from the windows. Today was a Saturday, one of your only two days off, and you were going to take advantage of this.

Just as you drifted back to sleep, a loud shriek echoed throughout the apartment. You groaned in agony, not on your day off! Fine, if the universe didn't want you to relax, might as well use this time to be productive. Lugging yourself off the warmth of the mattress, you made your way into the living room. And of course the demons just had to lounge in the living room. Just what you needed on your day off: a circus. It wasn't long before Ava bursted through the bathroom doors, fury burning in her eyes. Something inside you warned you not to ask about earlier.

"Listen up! If I'm going to be your prisoner, then we're gonna have to lay down some ground rules!" Ava turned to each of the demons. Asch was the first to respond.

"As a prisoner, you don't get to MAKE rules." He asserted, leaning into Ava's face. This was going to take a while...

The door rang. Ava turned to you. "(y/n), would you please get that?" You nodded, heading to the door.

You came face-to-face with Mrs. Oats."O-oh! Mrs. Oats!" you greeted her.

"Oh (y/n), I've been so worried about you!" The elderly lady smiled.

"Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Oats! I'll be fine once finals season e-" Mrs. Oats cut you off.

"Oh, no, dear! I heard you screaming all weekend! I was especially worried when I heard you screaming for three hours straight!" You blinked in confusion, only to nod along to her story. "I almost forgot! Do you think you could bring this to your grandson for me? You always deliver things on time and I appreciate it so much." She held up a finely wrapped gift box, you laughed awkwardly in response.

"Sure, I can do that." You took the box from Mrs. Oats.

"Oh thank you, darling! Now, what were you screaming about last night?" She questioned you.

"Oh! you heard? I'm so sorry!" This was awkward. You knew that the professor's homework would often cause you to scream and pull your hair out, but you never knew that you were that loud... "My professors have been assigning a lot of work recently an-"

"(Y/n) look! I figured out how to put clothes on!" Rhys lifted his arms out to a t-pose position, motioning to the sleeves on his shirt. Pierce was not far behind him, with a perplexed look on his face.

"No one saw him do it and he won't tell us." Pierce remarked. As much as their company was appreciated, or tolerated, now was not the time. You did not want anyone to get the wrong idea. But Rhys continued/

"That's because it was a test from the sorceress and I passed again." A smug look washed over Rhys's face. Oh, you really wanted to smack them right now.

"Shoo! Not now!" Your brow instinctively furrowed in annoyance as they turned the corner, leaving your sight. You turned to face Mrs. Oats. "ahaha, yeah..." Something glistened in Mrs. Oats's eyes.

"Oooohhh, I see what's going on here," She winked at you. and of course, she got the wrong impression.

"N-no, really! It's just from my homewo-" Mrs. Oats winked at you again.

"ah, I was young once too. I'm glad to see you're in good hands!" She smiled.

"Prisoner!" You heard an authoritative voice behind you. "Get over here now!" Asch ordered. ohno.ohno.ohno.ohno. Thoughts wurred in your head.

"I'm sorry, gotta go!!!" you slammed the door shut, only to hear 'I was wild once too, no shame if you've got game!' fading into the distance. "Bloody hell!" You ran into your shared bedroom. The last thing you needed was for your classmates to start thinking you were a nerdy girl with a wild side. All you wanted to do was to get your damned degree.

You returned to the living room; the first thing you witnessed was Ava hugging her knee in pain. Your attention was turned to a cat, one you've never seen before... Rhys was the first to break the silence, suggesting that the other demons learn how to put on their human clothes. You spoke next.

"Er, right... I have to put mine on. I have something for Jake..." You trailed off before returning to the bedroom as Ava followed you. You debated whether or not to tell Ava about Mrs. Oats before letting it all out. It needed to be said. Ava was sympathetic and patted your back while comforting you from your embarrassment, after all, Mrs. Oats had a tendency to... spread the word around to anyone who would listen. You heaved a sigh before getting dressed and heading out to the living room.

"All right guys, here's what's going to happen." Ava clapped her hands. "Rhys, you're going to come with (y/n) to deliver this present since you were the one to figure out human clothes the fastest." You stared at his figure, and wow, was he well dressed. Perhaps you never realized it, but his human clothes suit him well. They were classy enough for even the preppiest of college students, but also contoured his muscles beautifully.

The others let out low groans as you made eye contact with the brunette demon. You flashed him a small smile before you heard a subtle 'not fair' from Pierce. You couldn't help but giggle at his jealousy.

"Don't worry, Pierce, I enjoy your company just as much as I enjoy Rhys's." You winked at him flirtatiously. When did you get this confident? Only the universe knows.

Before you knew it, you and Rhys were off into the city. You were eager to make the visit quick, you wanted to cherish the time you had with Rhys. "come on, Rhys, let's go before Mrs. Oats's grandson gets any ideas." You motioned to him to follow you. Rhys squinted for a second before asking for you to elaborate.

"Ideas? What do you mean?" You stopped in your tracks before turning to him, wondering how in the world you were going to explain what you were implying without making the conversation awkward. The clock was ticking, and you scrambled for an explanation before settling on changing the subject. To your luck, The Ice cream truck was right there, calling your name.

"ICE CREAM!!!" Your outburst came as a surprise to Rhys, who stood there on the sidewalk, watching you knock some kid over to order the goods. Oh boy, and were you out of breath, perhaps you were not in the best of shape, but you were too laser focused on the task at hand: order ice cream.

"Ah, (Y/n)," the truck keeper smiled, turning towards you. You slammed a ten dollar bill onto the table. "Can I get my usual please?" The man laughed as he turned to fetch your order. "actually make that two, I deserve it after those dang professors decided to torture me with--" you shuddered "-- math, ew..."

The clerk turned around with your ice cream. He took note of the male behind you before excitedly remarking: "oh, it's for a friend! Then it's on the house!" You blinked in confusion and turned around only to plant your face into Rhys's chest. Damn, he may not look it, but he's ripped! It was almost enough to distract you from the clerk's remark. Though mildly offending, you couldn't deny free ice cream. You thanked him before handing Rhys his ice cream.

"Come on, let's go eat." You motioned him to follow you again as you led him to an empty table-for-two in he park.

You never realized how graceful Rhys was. The way he carried himself was one of a dignified nature but there was something comforting about his aura. You felt as if you could let his guard down around him, to completely expose yourself to him. The two of you talked for what seemed like hours about human culture. Rhys nodded his head, taking in this new information. Every minute you spent with him felt like seconds...

Your eyes met Rhys's for a moment. He was squinting again; it was a quirk of his that you noticed. He would often do the same when you explained the concepts that he questioned when scanning the Computer Science textbooks. You couldn't help but giggle. Rhys looked up from his ice cream, shooting you a questioning look.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, tilting his head to the side -- another quirk that you noticed when he didn't understand something. It took you a moment to think of what to say.

"Sorry," your eyes soften, "I couldn't help it. I noticed that you squint a lot when you take in concepts." You could have stopped there, but before you could stop yourself, out came the words: "I think it's cute." Shi- I really just said that out loud huh? Oh well, might as well own it, right?

"Why, thank you, (y/n)." He flashed a smile. "There are still many things I still don't understand about humans and their culture..." Rhys continued. You smiled.

"Well then, I'd be happy to answer your questions.... But first: try the ice cream, it's melting." You pointed to his hand. Rhys took a bite out of his ice cream. His eyes lit up immediately.

"This is amazing!" Rhys's eyes widened before finishing the whole thing. To be frank, you were quite taken aback by how fast he finished. You finished yours soon after.

"Let's go, I want to make sure the others aren't giving Ava a hard time." Rhys stood up from his seat, offering you a hand up. Muttering a small "thank you", you took his hand and helped yourself up.

As the two of you were about to leave the park, an idea flew into your head. You wanted to spend more time with him, some alone time; you wanted to get to know him better. Perhaps out of nowhere, you had the urge to call out to him, to ask him to spend some time with you... you called out to him, "Rhys, let's take a detour..." you smiled up at him. "May I have your arm?" Rhys squinted again.

"Yes, but, why?" He cocked his head to the side in confusion as he offered you his arm. You simply winked and wrapped your arms around his. It was then you realized just how muscular he was. His toned arms held your own stuck-like arms stable against his. It was a comforting sensation, you felt safe in his arms...

Meanwhile, Rhys was realizing many things on his own as well.... Your touch sent a shiver down Rhys's spine. It was a rather odd sensation, one that he hasn't felt in a long time. He attempted to my no mind to the feeling, but something about this just felt right. The demon tried to logically access this situation, wondering what would have caused this feeling, and why.

"Where I'm taking you is a secret, one for me to know, and you to find out." you said, escorting him further into the park. It didn't take long to reach your destination: the fountain. Rhys looked at you in confusion as you detached yourself from his arm. "This is a fountain, I'm sure you've had something similar to this in Daemos..." you reached into your pocket for two quarters. "I wanted to teach you another lesson about human culture before we returned home." You cast him a somewhat bittersweet smile before placing the coin into the palm of his hand. "Now, I want you to think of a wish... something you want to come true..." Rhys closed his eyes and mused in silence before fluttering his eyelids open. "Did you make a wish?"

"I did," he replied. "What do I do now"?" He questioned you, staring at the silver quarter in his hand.

"Throw it into the water, like this..." you closed your eyes, focusing your thoughts on your desires. Perhaps you weren't happy with your major? Or perhaps you wanted a certain someone to come into your life? There were so many things to wish for. But for now, you focused on one wish and one alone.... you opened your eyes, giving your quarter a determined smile and tossed it into the base of the fountain. The silver coin skidded across for a few bounces before landing in a spot, creating a rather large, for a coin, ripple.

Rhys studied your actions before trying it on his own. He threw his coin into the water, creating a splash. He was still rather confused. You sensed this, and began: "Humans throw coins into wells or fountains and make a wish. Legends say that if you're lucky enough, your wish will come true." You tried your best to explain to him a rather childish concept. Thankfully, Rhys understood.

"What did you wish for?" Rhys asked, perhaps out of curiosity.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Your wish won't come true if you tell it to others..." you quickly explained, offering him a lukewarm smile. Rhys's curiosity seemed to peek.

"Then will my wish ever come true?" You couldn't help but giggle. His questions were similar to those of a child's, and it was adorable.

"Someday... maybe all our wishes will come true...." You contemplated your wish before turning your attention back to the fountain. "We should go, Rhys."

"You're right, (y/n)," Rhys offered you his arm to escort you home. Heat rose to your cheeks as you gracefully accepted his arm.

You were unsure of what the future would hold, or where your friendship with Rhys would go, but one thing was for sure, you would cherish this memory.... this day off...

#My Inner Demons Aphmau #rhys x reader #Aphmau My Inner Demons #Aphmau Mystreet #Mincecraft Diaries #Aphmau Pierce #Aphmau Asch #Aphmau Noi #Aphmau Pierce x Reader #Aphmau Rhys x Reader #Aphmau roleplay #Aphmau Minecraft Diaries

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