#cause the money is pooled by the way per group

[nyasialiveshere]

Did nct ever make sense financially:

But I want to explain why though

Nct was started as a group with infinite members. The goal was to have a male akb48

That being said the financial success of akb48 depended on the members doing various activities OUTSIDE of the group with an emphasis on practical safe and relatively inexpensive projects= consistent returns on investment.

Also the group's success depended on the group being well, actually successful.

S.m's marketing strategy is the opposite. The group is successful just by virtue of existing, they will get million invested in them regardless.

The group at least was thought of since the early 2010s when most of their members join. We know the group did not have a name and was simply a large collection of male trainee's. The group was basically a basket to keep their trainee's inside of. Don't worry if you do not make it into xyz group you can go to Nct.

Johnny was originally going to be a member of exo and was later placed in Nct, not the first round but in a later unit nct U.

It's actually very odd the thought and financial process of nct. Because unlike with akb48 it was not the direct intention to have the members do other projects and have seperate careers. It is the method of s.m to have people in groups for a majority of their career and then they can do other things. Unless you are lucky.

Also akb48 built up over time. It is a very old group, whereas nct gained lots of members quickly and the direction wasn't always decided or clear.

Like Akb48, Nct or SRB14 had a more direct and connected with the public image. They were not exo who were meant to be distant to create intrigue. They all had a pretty nice and approachable personality.

"AKB48 was founded as "idols you can meet".[4]Japanese idols are entertainers/performers who appeal directly to fans for support. Close interactions between fans and idols allow idols to cultivate and maintain loyal fan followings."

You won't remember Exo having a group youtube channel with weekly vlogs or having so many varieties even though they were a smaller group. Each group has a specialized team and marketing style.

AKB48 like nct had specialized teams as well

"According to former member Misaki Iwasa, each team has its own theme. Team A represents freedom; Team B is idol-like, with cute costumes, and Team K has a strong, powerful image"

AKB48 was very successful and had their own theater which would cut down on costs. The concepts were also more down to earth, they are more a performance troupe than an idol group. The focus is on entertaining the fans

Nct being a boy group inside of the kpop industry had a lot of competition and also they didn't have much of a pull besides having lots of members. They still had to travel and book venues and sellout stadiums to break even. Because boy bands are made to impress and show out. Of course lots of money is spent on expensive music videos, hotels, lots of staff, appearances at awards shows, top fashion for each member. Which is fine for a small group, but when the members keep growing and growing every year eventually getting into double digits; almost half the size of AKB48 in almost 1/3rd the amount of time, how is that sustainable?

It's not.

Simply put the more employees a company gains the more they spend paying their employees. If NCT is a company and the staff and members are the employees, then almost every year their costs increased. Even when they had good years, it was offset by the fact that their money would be paying for another unit. This is why s.m ent went so long without any other groups. And when they finally made a new group they took members already in NCT.

Add in the fact that there are some artists getting paid and sitting on the bench. They cannot afford to add them into a project or promote them. They can only bet on people they know will bring in money.

If they had brand new people that would be adding more and more people to the payroll, which at this point they likely can't afford. They would need a new project with already existing employees and have them double their workload--since they are the main ones bringing in money anyway, recycle in-house music and producers, and garner outside forces investing money on this dumpster fire to create something that would be profitable for the company. Send them to America so you can rack up the prices on tickets and merch cause Koreans sure won't go for this.

And...........that's how you get super m

okay now I'm done.

Also one more thing, the artists are not making money off the music, they make money other ways.

Spotify also takes a lot from the artists

Please, please stop streaming (too much music fries your brain) and bulk buying(is awful for the environment). The music industry has been dead, these artists are literal slaves. Good day.

[isagisyoichi]

how do u think the boy would be in a party😈😈

NEW RULES!

SYNOPSIS: blue lock at a party

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, rin, chigiri, naruhaya, niko, nanase, gagamaru, kunigami

WARNINGS: mentions of underage drinking and weed (but no one actually takes anything), swearing, mentions of throwing up and food, again pretend they're all friends and go to the same school because it's more fun to think that way. ooc rin maybe? idk i like pretending he's not as miserable as the manga makes him out to be 🤗 he deserves to have fun i think

A/N: no cause this was soooo fun to write tysm anon, i got through this in a flash cause i loved this suggestion sm :') literally one of the most fun requests i've ever gotten eeee!!!!! also this made me miss my irls bye corona can suck my balls fr

ISAGI YOICHI:

i feel like this would be his first big party aw lol, so he’s kind of nervous LMAO.

gets handed a beer by someone, has his first sip of it ever, and immediately spits it out. mutters “how the hell can anyone drink this?” and “discreetly” pours the rest into a bush.

mainly stays with nagi, chigiri, kunigami, and bachira and they just talk throughout the night

(bachira only sits down and talks after his energy dies down. i'll elaborate on this below the cut).

keeps asking nagi “what song is this?” throughout the night LOL. makes a mental note of what songs to add to his playlists.

slightly nods his head to the music, aw cute. goes a little harder and lip syncs/raps along when he really likes the song, though (i stand by my word when i said he loves “neon guts”)

does accidentally bump into someone, but isagi starts a convo with them after he apologizes, and they hit it off right away 🥰

but, the person left early and isagi, ever the dummy, forgets to ask for their number.

and he's actually so disappointed in himself when he realizes, too 😭

BACHIRA MEGURU:

not drunk or anything at all, but boy, the way he’s acting makes it seem like he is.

the self proclaimed “life of the party.”

can be found “dancing,” though i use that word generously because to classify whatever he’s doing as “dancing,” is a stretch, to every song, even if he doesn’t know the words LOL

really likes when throwbacks come on!!!! he does dance to the lyrics and not the beat sometimes, though 😭

but, bachira looks like he’s having so much fun, it’s so cute, he’s definitely been waiting for this moment his whole life 🥰

if you were dancing with him, bachira would 100% take you by the hand and spin you around

also forces gets isagi to dance with him but isagi’s so awkward 😭

bachira also ends up jumping in the pool sometime later that night. yells “cannonball!” and everything, like, okay michael phelps 😭

he doesn’t have extra clothes so reo has to give him some and they're so fucking big on him LOLLL

texts the groupchat “i was sooo crazy last night😂” in the morning LMAOO, okay babe calm down

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE:

takes it upon himself to make sure none of his friends die LOL

only drinks water and diet coke 👍

his mom calls in the middle of the party to ask how he's doing and bachira and nagi are doing stupid shit like yelling “pass the weed” and fake moaning 😭

isagi and chigiri tell him to tell her they say hi LOL

really likes when the dj puts on 90s/2000's r&b/hiphop songs (i'll die by my hc that kunigami's an oldies fan)

mostly sways side to side to the music, but he did also dance a little, per request of bachira, and ended up talking to a cute person a for little, too 🤗

offers to help clean up in the morning

CHIGIRI HYOUMA:

at least two drunk girls have mistaken him for their friend, and another four have asked to touch his hair.

tried to use one of reo’s many bathrooms, found a couple making out, outwardly said “gross,” and then left to find another one 😭

nods his head and taps his foot to the music, not much of a dancer.

also a people-watcher, and he points out things he sees are happening to his friends.

“guys, i think misa and her boyfriend are breaking up, look.” leave that poor girl alone bro 😭

finds himself laughing a lot that night because damn! his friends are funny, whether they try to be or not.

not really a party person, but chigiri actually had a lot of fun 🥰

NARUHAYA ASAHI:

also on the dancefloor! doesn’t really dance, per say, but he jumps up and down and does the fist pump thing 😭 he has the spirit, let's give him that.

drank a lot of soda, so he’s filled with energy. also pees in at least three of reo's bathrooms.

talks to his friends, but also makes new ones! also i feel like he takes a lot of pictures LOL. he needs the finsta content 😭

plays truth or dare, or something like that. ends up having to do some stupid shit like smack raichi’s ass and run away, but naruhaya did make out with the girl next to him, so fair trade, he thinks.

also ends up in the pool, but he’s playing chicken with gagamaru and some other people. does not win a single round, but he had fun 😇

leaves with like four plates of food and one of reo’s decorative towels for some reason???

GAGAMARU GIN:

goes through a bunch of reo's shit 😭 he's not taking anything, but he's just curious LOL

strikes up very, random conversations with a bunch of people out of nowhere, good for him!

weirdly good at darts, very good aim.

although one round, naruhaya accidentally distracted gagamaru and one of darts ended up in reo's wall 💔

“it's fine, he has the money to fix it,” naruhaya shrugs as he walks away from reo's now punctured, wall. so true bestie!

gagamaru somehow ends up giving some drunk stranger some “life-changing” advice. (whether it's good or not is debatable)

they thank gagamaru for changing their life and he never sees them again

NAGI SEISHIRO:

irritates the fuck out the dj because nagi keeps asking him to play one specific song over and over again.

it was good the first time, don't wear it out for the rest of us bae 😭

doesn't really dance, just nods his head, maybe raps along a little, too

when he talks to the girls that come up to him, nagi says stuff like “yeah, the host and i go way back, we’re best friends.”

“way back,” my ass, but whatever nagi 🤨

knocks out in one of reo’s guest rooms. someone finds him when they’re trying to look for the bathroom and they draw a mustache and a bunch of other stupid shit on him 😭

tries to leave before reo makes him help clean up in the morning. does not work 👍

dumbass also ended up losing his phone (reo bought him a new one so nagi doesn't really care)

RAICHI JINGO:

gasses himself up sooo much when he’s trying to hit on girls.

“yeah, i'm about to go D1 after high school, just wait on it,” yeah, okay raichi 🙄

also tries to show them his highlights, bye. babe, i mean this in the nicest possible way but, i do not care, can we just kiss 🙏

i feel like he’s one of those boys who likes to take his shirt off for no reason, so raichi most definitely ends up shirtless at some point of the night 😭

takes pictures with reo’s fancy cars in his garage to flex 💀 gets annoyed when reo says raichi can’t drive them. raichi doesn't even have his license 😑

plays pool and is actually not that bad. does almost accidentally blind isagi with his cue, though.

IMAMURA YUUDAI:

he's with some girls but, he’s a dummy and he didn’t know his other hoes would be there, so imamura had quite a few drinks spilled on him here and there.

still somehow leaves with like three new girls snaps, four numbers, and a bunch of lipstick stains. not even gonna lie, i respect his game.

actually a really good dancer, and he knows he looks good, too. knows the words to every drake song that comes on, argue with your mom.

lip-syncs the words to you when you dance together and it makes you more flustered than you would think 🙄

the type to pull you close and wraps his arms around your waist or around your neck

actually really fun to talk to. always in the loop with drama and stuff, so he's always got some interesting conversation topics. and he's funny 😭

MIKAGE REO:

obviously, the party’s at his house. what’s the point of having a rich teammate if you can’t exploit them for their possessions?

jokes, but reo did offer to throw it at his mansion house in the first place.

actually really likes throwing parties lmao, so he jumped at the opportunity.

posted on his snap, “party at my place su for address‼️” LOL

natural charm + raised with good manners = reo being an amazing host

but, reo does have a little group of girls following him around the entire night 👎

and it irritates the hell out of whoever reo’s trying to talk to because they’re all up on him, making it hard for reo to pay attention 😑

also doesn’t help that he entertains them and flirts back and dances with a couple of them, too

and looks good when he dances, too UGH!!!! he's the type to run his hands up and down your body while he dances with you 😣

i hate this man 👎 /j

ITOSHI RIN:

practicing. he didn’t come. sike! rin has a social life, too, come on now, y'all 🙄

talked a big game about how he wouldn’t show up then he still came anyways, like rin, what 😭??

super good at cup pong and he knows it. he keeps beating ryusei and if you look closely, rin has something reminiscent of a smirk on his face.

a foot-tapper, not a dancer, which sucks because he’s not even bad at dancing, either 👎

a couple of girls come up to rin to flirt, but rin doesn’t give them the time of day. no response or anything just a little side eye 😭

rin just talks to his friends and that’s it, really.

actually internally glad for the chance to kickback and relax for once, tbh.

but, he refuses to admit he had any semblance of fun. (he did, rin’s just a weenie 😒)

NIKO IKKI:

the team forced him to come 😭

niko’s already a homebody and he doesn’t like loud noises or large social scenes, so he wasn’t too jazzed about going somewhere where the both of those things combine.

also he's picky with music so LOL. does like that one remix to the pursuit of happiness, though

he’s a wall-stander, i hate to break it to y’all. just watched everything from a distance and didn't talk to anyone except for isagi and his friends.

bye, if you don’t get off the damn wall and dance (he'd dance with me i'm different 🥰🤗)

keeps opening and closing his phone so he looks busy but that mf is literally just going through the settings app 😭

called his mom to bring him home an hour and a half in 👎

NANASE NIJIROU:

i hate to admit it, but he’s the annoying first year that documents everything on snap bye

he’s just excited to be there but like, there is no reason for his story to be half an hour long.

i'm not watching all of that! sorry that happened to you or good for you 🤗

probably playing games like spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. is very proud of himself for kissing four people in one night #bigmoves 🥳

stays with his group of friends and they're sooo loud and rowdy LMAOO. #firstyearthings

you can literally hear them laughing over the music, but they're having fun, so it's fine (at least of those kids hits people when they laugh too)

also dances, too! has super good energy and a natural sense of rhythm surprisingly 🥰 also a good hypeman!!!!! honestly, he's just really fun to be around tbh

overall, has a lot of fun, as you can tell by his story 😇

[nite-shay]

My Neighbor: Hawks - (Takami Keigo / Hawks x Reader

Funny Idea: Your neighbor is hawks. 

Winged hero: Hawks. One of the fastest and youngest heroes pro heroes. Number 2 in hero ranks and number 1 in most eligible bachelors in all of Japan. 

And drum roll, please! *Drummy sounds* Tada! He is your neighbor! Shocking, I know, right? The title totally doesn't give it away! Nope, not at all!

Anyways, you might be wondering, 'Nite! How did that happen?'

Well.. ya see... that funny story…

Also, sorry for any typo :) 

Enjoy!

Notes: reader is 20+. No warning. Mild rating.

****

"Please be fixed. Please be fixed. "You quietly prayed as you hesitantly reached for the handle that leads to the lobby of your apartment building. 

The leasing office sent out a mass email earlier, letting all the tenants know that the central air was 'currently out of order' and they are 'working quickly to resolve the issue.' At least they were 'extremely sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and appreciate the patience of all tenants.' 

They also explained how per the lease agreements, no discounts would be provided for maintenance issues and that the full rent would still be due. 

I really need to move…

It just had to go out right smack dab in the middle of summer. And on one of the hottest days on record, no less!

You took a deep breath and pushed open the door into what could only be described as a magma cavern. Nope, you weren't on a tropical island; this was just the lobby. Damn, if it was this hot here, you can't imagine what your apartment must feel like.

You trudged your way through the muggy lobby grabbing your mail on your way over to the stairwell. By the time you made up to the very top floor, you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. Honestly, it looked like you just took a dip in a pool. Your clothes clung to every part of your sticky, overheating body. Hell, you were just happy you didn't have a heat stroke by the time you reached your front door.  

You prayed your apartment would be cooler.

It wasn't!

It was giving the stairwell a run for its money. 

Oh, hell no... NOPE! Not dealing with this.

You marched through the doorway, making sure to lock the door behind you, not like it would make much of a difference. You didn't see or hear anyone on the trip up or in the hallways. No doubt the other residences did the smart thing and retreated for someplace much cooler. You tossed the stack of mail on your end table without checking it. You'd deal with it later. More than likely, the postal carrier had mixed them up again with the tenant next door.... again...

Later problem for later me! Cool now!

You barely made it to your living room before you started peeling your sweat-soaked clothes off. Thankfully you lived alone, so you didn't have to worry about shocking anyone as you made your way to your bedroom. Tossed your clothes in the hamper before slipping into the thinnest shorts and tank top you could find. You would have said to hell with clothes in general at this point, but if you were going to cool this place off, you need to get some airflow in this place asap. That means windows and doors need to be open. 

And for the next hour, that's what you did. Every window you had was open as far as they would go, along with the sliding glass door that led to your balcony. The breeze that flowed through your home was still hot and muggy, but it was then nothing. You also gather any and every fan you had, even the pitiful little desk fan that sounded like it was on its last leg. If it ocellated or moved air in any way, shape, or form, that bitch was on high!

It took a little bit, but it felt like you could breathe as the temperature started to drop. Of course, by then, you were on the verge of dehydration and also contemplated, more than once, curling up in your fridge until that accursed flaming ball of gas in the sky went down.  

But you had food in there, and you can't waste food. Damn it.

Speaking of food...

You enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and about three glasses of water. You reveled in the coolness of the sweet treat in your stomach, which gave you motivation for your next venture.

 A nice cool shower. 

You let the cool water flow over your whole body for what seemed like forever. Letting it wash away the stress, heat, and sweat of the day right down the drain. By the time you were done, your fingers were pruney, and the sun had descended entirely.

Damn, you were tired.

You lazily dried yourself and considered just going to bed as you were. You were on the 15th floor of your apartment building, so it wasn't like you had to worry about anyone peeking in your window. But you still didn't feel comfortable sleeping naked with your windows opened, and you really didn't want to close them. 

After a short debate, you settled on a thin tank, and underwear was a good compromise. 

Your body felt sluggish as you made your track to your bedroom. It was still relatively early, but between your job and the heat, you were completely and utterly wiped. 

Bed... Sleep... 

You showed your bed no mercy as you tore the covers off the nicely made bed and tossed them across the room. Then with no grace whatsoever, you let yourself collapse into the cool embrace of your mattress. Between the comfort of your bed and the white-nose of the fans, it didn't take long for drifted off to sleep. 

***Later that night

The summer night air was hot and humid as the Wing hero: Hawks, flew high above the city. Even at the higher altitude, the air was so thick, it felt like he was swimming in a dense swamp rather than soaring through the sky. His whole body felt sore and heavy, so much so that he was actually an effort to keep himself afloat. 

Damn, that villain really did a number on me. One more hit, and my goose would have been cooked.

The shift today had been long and hard, thanks to a tough group of villains that left him banged up and exhausted. He ended up having to get patched up at a hospital. The doc that ended up putting him back together tried to get him to stay, but he managed to talk him into agreeing on releasing him. Though, he would have flown the coupe either way. He couldn't stand hospitals or clinics. Not that there was anything wrong with those places. They just reminded him too much of the commission. Orderly. Sterile. Functional. 

Which is nice for a hospital, not for life. He has almost 20 years of experience with it to make him an expert on that subject. 

Shit got old quick….

Though honestly, it wasn't like his place was much better. It was a simple bed, one bath apartment. Top floor, of course, with a balcony that looked over the inconspicuous neighborhood it was built in. Now being the number two hero, you'd think he makes enough to live somewhere a bit more… well, expensive. But while he did live the high life, it was nice to have a place he could go and just be Keigo, not Hawks.

And speaking of, he could see his balcony coming into view. 

He swooped down over the rallying, stumbling a bit in the landing. It was pitch black, and his eyes felt as heavy as his body. Thankfully, though, he didn't fallout then there. Camping wasn't his thing, and while the balcony was rather spacious, his bed sounded much more comfortable. 

Ahh, home sweet home. 

That's weird. Did I forget to lock the door again?

He shrugged, not giving it much thought. He'd been in a hurry this morning, getting called in for an emergency issue downtown. And it wasn't like the first time he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. Plus, he lived on the top floor; it's not like he had to worry about people just walking in off the streets. 

Lot easier targets than his humble abode. 

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Damn, it was hot. He must have forgotten to turn the AC on this morning. The apartment was hot and muggy, but he honestly couldn't have cared less. An oven sounded like a good place to take a nap at this point. His body started moving on its own towards the bedroom, stripping out of his hero costume along the way.

Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep.

His mind chanted over and over, clothes would be tomorrow's problem. He didn't even bother turning on any lights as he maneuvered through the living room and down the hallway. He'd lived there for over a year, so he knew the layout like the back of his hand.

By the time he made it to his bed, he was down to only his boxers. He was about to pull those down, too, but the moment his legs came in contact with the mattress, it was like whatever energy was left was drained out of him.

He sighed and let his body fall forward across the bed that would give him the sweet relief he so desperately needed. 

Thump!

Huh? Why did his mattress feel all lumpy?

A loud shriek jolted him back to life long enough to realize that he was not alone. That the lumps in his bed weren't his covers, but a body. 

There was a person in bed.

He shifted his weight, forcing himself up as the body under him started to trash and yell.

"Huh? What are you doing in my-" He managed to murmur out before a sharp pain to the side of his head finally did him in, and his mind gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness. 

********

Your dreams were a God sent.

You were in a winter wonderland. Cool snowflakes danced all around. A cool breeze would blow every now again. It was like you could hear the clinking sound of ice hitting the window. Oh, what was that? The sound of heavy snow falling from the tree limbs? How wonderful!

So wonderful. So peaceful. So cool.  

But everything changed when you were jolted awake by something pinning you to your bed. Whatever it was, was large, heavy, and sweaty. 

You shrieked as you realized it was a person! There was a person on top of you! You trashed about trying to push the weight off of you, but you couldn't seem to get them off you. You screamed louder and struggled harder until their weight shifted.

"Huh?" The voice above you was drowsy sounding definitely that of an adult male. Your panic doubled as he shifted again, giving you a little more wiggle room. You still couldn't get free, but you took the opportunity to reach for something, anything to defend yourself with. Like hell, you were going down without a fight! Finally, you managed to wrap your fingers around something large on your bedside table. "What are you doing in my-?" You didn't let your attacker finish as you bashed the lamp into the side of his head.

He let out a loud 'off' as he rolled off the bed, giving you enough time to scrabble to the opposite side of the bedroom, hitting the lights. 

Were those....wings? 

Peaking over the side of the bed was, in fact, crimson feathers.

Who or what the fuck is that?

*******

Hawk's head pounded as he slowly stirred.

Shit, did he get drunk last night?

Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing from the light flooding the room along the memories of the night before. That's weird; he didn't remember turning on any lights.

Was it morning already?

He went to stretch his sore, aching body but quickly realized he couldn't.

He glanced down at himself and saw that yeap he was in his boxers and tied- wait.... were those power cord and... belts?

He blinked. What the hell? His upper body was bound in what looked to be a mix of various power cords and belts. Did someone break into his place and attack him? 

Who in their right mind would break into his house? He was a hero! One of the top in the country! 

He sighed as he tested the 'ropes.' Well, if this was a robbery, it was poorly planned, to put it mildly. The assailant left his wings completely free, and the binding was so poorly tied that he could slip right, with little effort. 

A squeak of a floorboard caused his head to jerk up and glare at his attacker. A person carefully stepped into his view. And well, of all the things he'd been prepared for... you weren't it. And certainly not you, in nothing but your underwear, a tank top, and wielding a lamp like it was a baseball bat. 

Well... this is... unexpected.

He could only stare at you in confusion that years of training couldn't even stop. Huh? You didn't look like a villain, much less a burglar. Honestly, you didn't look like a fighter at all. 

If you weren't a villain, then...

He mentally groaned. 

Great. You were a fan... and a crazy one at that. 

Over his career, he's had a few run-ins with crazy or obsessed fans of his. He couldn't count the number of times he's had to change his phone number or move his safe house. Even with the commission on his side, his info still got out! 

Maybe they should start hiring them instead... 

Well... at least you were easy on the eyes. He thought as he gave you a once over. Your hair was a mess, and was that a bit of drool on your chin? 

Yeap, just another crazy yet fairly active fan.

"Hey there." He greeted you with a warm smile, causing you to jump. He needed to play this out some. Escaping wouldn't be a problem, and he already had a few feathers at the ready in case you tried something. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. As irritated as he was at you, he didn't want to hurt you. You weren't a villain, just... confused. "It's not every day, I wake up to beauty like you. How about you untie me so I can introduce myself properly."

He gave you a charming smile as he watched your face go from nervous to confused and then to anger.

"L-Like, hell, I'm telling you my name after what you did!" You took a step forward and raise your weapon up slightly higher, ready to strike. "And don't flirt with me, you creep!" 

Hmm, that usually works.

"My bad. I didn't mean to offend you. If you untie me, I'm sure I can figure out a few ways to make up for it." He winked, keeping his smile friendly and inviting. He needed to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve him hurting you or land him on every news station in the country. 

*****

"You're seriously fucked up in the head, you know that! I am not untying you!" You yelled as a blush slowly crept over your cheeks. You were shocked at the stones this guy had! He broke into your home and attacked you while you were asleep. And now he was flirting with you?! Like this, a date or something! 

Something in his eyes flashes for a split second, and you saw one of his wings twitch. 

Why did he keep looking at you like that?

"D-Don't try anything! The police are on their way!" At least you hoped they were. You hadn't been able to call them, cause stupid you forgot to put your phone to charge when you got home. It was completely dead. You could only hope one of your neighbors who stayed had neared the commotion and called for help. 

"Police?" His golden bird-like eyes went wide for a moment. Did he really think you wouldn't call for help?

"Yes, the police! You broke into my home and attacked me in my sleep! What did you just expect me to call for a parade?!"

"Wait…" You could see the gears turning in his head as he glanced around your room. His eyes suddenly went wide.

"So… you're not one of my fans?"

"Fan? WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE A FAN OF A PSYCHO LIKE YOU!?!"

"Wait! This is just a misunderstanding!"

"How the hell is breaking into someone's home, attacking them in their bed in the middle of the night a 'misunderstanding'?"

"Look, all I remember is flying home. Walking through my…" The man trailed off. "Wait, what address is this?"

"Like I'd give my address to a villain?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"I'm already here like it's really going to make a difference?" He growled before giving you a glare. You watched as his wings poofed up a bit. "Also, watch the insults. I'm a hero, not a villain."

"Likely story." You deadpanned. "You could at least come up with something more believable than that..."

"W-wait... You don't recognize me?" You gave him a once over. "Take a really good look at me." His wings stretched out a bit. "Anything thing ring a bell?" You just stared at him blankly. Granted, he was good looking, and if he wasn't a criminal, he could easily be on the cover of a magazine. "Seriously?"

"Pretty convenient of you to pick the home of someone who doesn't follow heroes, huh?"

"More like, inconvenient. If you did, you'd recognize me in a heartbeat." He sighed. "Look, just check my pants pocket. You'll find my credentials." 

"How do I know this isn't just a trick? Or maybe they're fake." 

"It's not a trick! Look, if you're that worried, just get your phone and google me. I'm the wing hero: Hawks." Huh? Why would he suggest that? He wouldn't know about your phone... so why would he tell you to get it? You could call for help. That should be the last thing he wants. You pondered for a moment. 

****

"Fine, I'll check. But this better not be a trick," You paused. "cause if it is, I got another lamp with your name on it!" He watched as you gradually made your way towards his discarded clothes. While you searched for his wallet, he glanced over to the shattered remains of what he assumed was your first weapon. 

Well, that explains the small blood trail on the side of his head and his headache. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it. You made your way back to him as he watches you juggle, keeping your on him, holding the lamp, and reading his ID. 

"Hero license, Hero: Hawks, Name: Takami Keigo." You mumbled as your eyes darted between the ID's picture and himself. He could still see the doubt in your eyes. Damn, if this didn't work, he was going to have to free himself. Hopefully, he'd be quick enough to do that and subdue you without hurting you much. "Wait… Takami… Keigo.." Your eyes went wide, and he had to admit, his name sounded a little too good coming from you. "Wait! That's the name on the mail that keeps getting put in my box!" A look of realization and shock washes over you. "You're my neighbor!"

"Ah, so you're the one that's been slipping my mail under my door!" He couldn't help but smile and sigh internally. Finally, somethings going right! " Nice to finally meet you! Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before now. Work keeps me pretty busy."

"You're a hero… and you're my neighbor…." Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. 

"Looks that way."

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME!"

"It was an accident! I swear! I was exhausted and just flew to the wrong balcony. Honest. The glass door was open, and I didn't even realize I was in the wrong place." He tried to reason with you.

"Didn't you think it was a little strange that the furniture wasn't yours, or how about the fact that I was IN the bed?"

"Like I said, I was exhausted." He just shrugged before mumbling. "And well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first time a fan found where I lived and tried to surprise me in bed."

".... so you thought I was some psycho who broke into your home just to try and sleep with you…" You glared at him, clearly annoyed. "You realize I'm still holding a weapon right now, and remember..." You gestured with the lamp. "I gotta pretty mean swing..."

"Easy there, Chickadee. I'm joking. And I wouldn't call you psycho just... A little touched in the head." That earned him a glare that made him chuckle. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"You like pissing people off, don't you?"

"I've been known to ruffle some feathers from time to time." 

"Look," You sighed as you tried to process everything that just happened. "This is just... too much..." You sat the lamp down finally. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"No worries. This one on me." He made a move to stand. 

"Oh, here, let me..."

"All good, I got it." He stood up, letting the restraints fall off of him like they weren't even there, let alone tied. 

"H-how did y-you?" 

"Oh, yeah. Word of advice, ya might wanna work on knots." He chuckled as he stretched.

"Y-You could have gotten free at any time… why didn't you?"

"Like I said, I'm a hero." He walked forward while you moved to the side, eyes still wide-eyed." If I'd freed myself before you realized who I was, you would have freaked out. Honestly, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt or you to go screaming down the hallway in your underwear." He informed you as your face turned beet red, and you then tried to pull your shirt down. He laughed at the poor attempt to hide. "Well then, gotta say this would make a hell of a story, but I'd really appreciate it if we kept this between us." He could help but tease you more. You looked so damn cute when you're flustered. "Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty well-known hero and have a reputation to uphold." He sent out a few of his feathers to help gather his gear while he talked to you. You were so entranced watching his feathers work that he had to repeat himself again.

"I-I-I… Yes!" Your eye finally snapped back into focus on him. "Of course! Just between us!"

"Great! Glad that's settled." He took a step towards you and held out his hand. You finally got the message and handed his wallet back to him. "My superiors and PR would have my tail feathers if this got out." He ginned. "Well, would you look at the time!" He grinned while making his way to the sliding glass door and out to the balcony, his floating clothes trailing behind him. "Best be on my way. I have an early shift in the morning. Sweet dream angle." And with that, he stepped out to the balcony and fluttered over to his.

Damn, what a night!

*****

Extra:

The next morning.

You woke up late, groggy and sweaty. The AC was still out, and your apartment was slowly heating up. 

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, put on shorts, and headed to the kitchen.

Last night was a hell of a night. 

Your neighbor is a hero... 

What are the odds of that?

You reached up into your cabinet and pulled down your favorite cereal.

Whatever, he can't be that good if he made that big of a mistake, right?

You quickly made your breakfast and headed for your balcony. There was a slight breeze blowing that morning, making it almost bearable outside.

Almost...

Huh? What's that?

There was a large brown bag sitting on your patio table.

That wasn't there before...

You sat your bowl down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was a decent size and heavy. You opened the bag, and the first thing you found was a note.

'Sorry again about last night. Here's a little gift for you to make up for it. 

Bet you could do some real damage with this one. Batter up, chickadee!

Your neighbor,

-Hawks'

You reached further into the bag and pulled out... a lamp?

It was made out of wood and metal, making the damn thing large and pretty heavy. It was well made and couldn't have been cheap! You pulled it further out of the back, and when you saw the shape of the body, you couldn't help it: you busted out laughing. The damn thing was in the shape of a roaster!

Your neighbor... is a hero... and a strange one at that...

********

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

[calif0rnia-lovers]

southpaw.

A/N: I combined two requests for this one.

“Thanks for coming to bail me out, ____.” “I came to bail you out so that I can fucking kill you.” +  being bishop’s old lady and best friends with Angel who ends up getting arrested with you one night

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Bishop Losa x Reader

Summary: When a night out gets a little hectic, you and Angel find yourself in a holding cell. Instead of calling Bishop, Angel calls Ez to bail you out. No matter how many times you swear Bishop is “a softy at heart”, Angel is still scared shitless of him. Being the person you’re with the first time you get arrested isn’t going to win him any favors with the President. 

Words: 2.3K

Somehow your brain manages to send a message to your overreacting body. 

Relax.

You come to a halt in the center of the holding cell. 

You have been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. The action had you so preoccupied you couldn't even feel the pain from your swollen hand. 

Biting your lip, you study the damage before shaking your hand out. You wince as you flex your fingers, your heart leaping in your chest at the sound of clinking metal.

A mixture of relief and panic well in your chest as you take in your best friend, Angel Reyes. 

Flanked by two officers of the Santo Padre police department, Angel gives you a warm smile as the cell is unlocked.

"Try not to start any more shit, Reyes," Franky sighs as Angel steps inside to join you. His eyes pass over you, the scowl on his face softening once he takes in your current state. "I'll be back with some ice in a bit, Y/N."

You offer a polite smile. "Thanks, Franky." 

You wait until the door is locked, and the officers are leaving to turn to Angel. 

"Did you call Bishop?" 

Angel's laughter fills the cramped cell, his brown eyes rolling as he passes you. His laugh rings throughout the room well after he's layed out across the bottom bunk of the holding cell. Tucking his arm under his head, he allows his eyes to drift shut. 

"Angel?"

Angel releases a breath, his eyes remaining closed, trying his best to ignore your panicked gaze.

"No, Y/N," he scoffs. "I did not call Bishop. That's the last person I would call right now." 

A silence falls over the room. 

You remain where you stand, back against the locked county cell door. Angel reaches back to adjust the pillow beneath him before returning to his relaxed state. 

Your arms lift into the air.

"Then who the hell did you call, Angel? In case you haven't noticed, we're in a freaking jail cell." 

Angel rolls his eyes. 

"Relax, Mayweather, it's just a holding cell." Pushing himself up, Angel runs his fingers through his hair. "Ezekiel's on his way."

"Thank God." 

He was hoping the news would be enough to make you relax, but before he can even blink you're pacing. 

Angel allows you to get off a few laps before letting his trademark grin spread across his lips. You catch sight of it out the corner of your eye, your pace slowing.

"What?"

"Franky likes you," he smirks, his brows wagging suggestively. "If you ask nicely, he’ll let you keep the cuffs. You can take 'em home with you."

"Shut up."

Getting up, Angel crosses the cell to meet you by the bars. He rests his shoulder against them before chuckling. He lightly bumps your shoulder, waiting until you glance over at him to smile.

"Relax. They’re not gonna charge you."

"I broke his nose, Angel." 

"It was fucking awesome by the way," Angel chuckles, it dying out with one look at your face. 

Your face drops into your hands. 

The memory running back for another loop in your mind. 

Angel had shown up at your house, a mischievous smile, and a plan for going out for a game of pool in tow. The drunk guy, who had his ass handed to him, didn't take too kindly to you taking his money. One second he had hands on your waist, the next you'd punched him. 

Of course, the alcohol in his system paired with his embarrassment led to him grabbing you which then led to Angel getting involved. Five minutes later, Franky's slipping you two into the back of his cruiser while his overeager rookie partner tries to cuff your poor victim. 

"How are you not freaking out right now?" You groan, your head resting against Angel's shoulder.

"I’m preparing for my mug shot."

Angel laughs as you push against his arm.

"Shut up." You laugh weakly.

"If they do book us, we'll hang your mug shot up next to mine and Ez's." He chuckles. "Induct you into the hall of fame."

As much as you hate what's happened, you find that per usual Angel's demeanor is slowly but surely helping you relax. 

"I can't believe it took you this long to wind up here," Angel teases. "As long as you've hung around me."

"I'm supposed to be the moral compass, remember," you giggle. 

A silence falls over the cell as you allow Angel to look over your hand. He drapes his arm over your shoulder before grinning.

"Pretty sure piggy over there, once he got his nose checked out, was shittin' bricks when his friends let him in on a little secret." Taking in your furrowed brow, Angel rolls his eyes. "That the girl he tried to feel up at the bar is Bishop’s Old Lady."

Silence falls over the two of you. 

His words hanging in the air as your nose scrunches in confusion.

You surprise him by allowing a laugh of disbelief to fill the room. 

"I am not Bishop's old lady," you giggle. 

Now it’s Angel's time to laugh.

He must admit. Angel wasn't too excited when he noticed you and Bishop getting close. It was too weird for him to think about. But as three months passed and you two continued to see each other, he realized it was better just to roll with it. 

"I’m serious, Angel."

"I know," he laughs, the sound mingling with his gasps of breath. "That’s what makes this so funny!"

Your roll your eyes, but find a heat setting in on your face as his laughter continues. You bite your lip.

The many nights spent wrapped in your sheets, his lips on yours, almost outweighed the phone calls, smiles and kisses shared with the President. The transition from his harmless flirting to terms of endearment so seamless it was easy to forget it hadn't always been that way. 

You let Angel's words pass back through your mind.

"He hasn't called me that," you offer up as you glance over at your best friend. "So I can't be that. Can I?"

Before Angel can answer, a tap comes on the cell bar causing you both to jump.

Turning, you find the same guy from earlier in the evening. With Franky behind him, it seems he's completely sobered up. In the light of the county sheriff's office, he looks completely different than the handsy drunk from just an hour before. 

You take in the bruise forming beneath his eyes, the swelling of his nose causing you to flex your hand. Angel stifles his laugh at the sight of your damage as your elbow digs into his side

Franky steps forward unlocking the gate. He motions for Angel to step forward. 

"You two are free to go. We're letting you off with a warning this time," Franky explains at the confusion on your face. He clamps his hand down on the young officer's shoulder. The young man's eyes narrow as they pass over Angel’s smirk. His eyes flick to yours for half a second, his ears turning red as he adverts his gaze. 

"Maybe we’ll see you around, officer," Angel smiles as he steps forward. Sliding past him, Angel winks. "Let you get a rematch, chance to win back your money."

Shoving against Angel's back you attempt to follow, but your tracks are halted as you feel a hand on your elbow.

His grip loosens, falling away as quickly as it had come. 

The officer meets your gaze for a moment before clearing his throat. When he speaks his words are clear but carefully chosen. 

"I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am." He says. "I had too much to drink. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

Before you can respond he stalks off, shooting Angel a glare as he passes.

By the time you catch up with Angel, he's nearly out the lobby. 

When you step outside, the first thing you notice is the weight that instantly lifts off your shoulder at the feeling of the night air. 

The second is the sight of Ez, Coco, and Gilly who are waiting in the nearly empty parking lot. Coco and Gilly are sporting grins that mirror Angels, Ez for once is not following suit.

"Thanks, little brother," Angel calls as he crosses the lot. 

"I didn't do anything," Ez mumbles as Angel's arm drapes over his shoulders. "I didn't even have to pay."

"I know," Angel chuckles nodding in your direction. "Southpaw over here had them scared shitless. They didn't even book us."

"Good," Coco chuckles as he passes Angel his dwindling cigarette. "Hey, Gil? You think that'll make Bishop ease up on his ass whooping?"

"What?" 

Angel's pace slows as he takes in the President who waits across the lot. 

"Come on, Ez." he groans, his neck rolling as he punches his younger brother's shoulder. "You called Bish-"

"I didn't call him," Ez rubs at the back of his neck. "He was right there when you called."

"You couldn't lie? You lied to me for months, with a straight fucking face might I add."

A silence falls over the group as they watch Bishop. He remains seated on his back, arms casually crossed over his shoulders. Although his expression is calm Angel can't help but nervously take a drag. 

Ez mumbles. "Shit, Angel. You know how he is. He's got that..."

"All-knowing fucking gaze, I know," Angel curses before dropping the cigarette to the ground. 

"Relax," you laugh as you pass the boys. "You guys give him too much credit. He's not even that scary."

"That's because he actually likes you," Angel shakes his head as Bishop starts in your direction. 

"Don't be jealous," you tease. "It's not a good look on you, Reyes."

"Thanks for coming to bail me out, Bish." Angel jokes, cautiously testing the waters, as the President stops by your side. "Looks like you got to keep your money since we-"

“I came to bail you out so that I can fucking kill you.” 

"Hey," lightly slapping Bishop's chest, you give him a stern look. "Play nice."

"I'm not playing." 

A wave of panic slides across Angel's face as he takes in the look on Bishop's face. It's a look that each Mayan knew very well. For a man with no children, Bishop has a way of making Angel fear for the safety of his own life in a way his father never could. 

Angel shifts uncomfortably as your arms wrap around Bishop's waist. You place a kiss against Bishop's cheek before smiling. 

"Believe it or not. Angel didn't start trouble tonight. He just finished it." 

Bishop's eyes hold Angel's for a moment longer before drifting over to you. Taking in your smile, he allows his eyes to pass over your features. 

It only takes a second for him to note your swollen hand. Lifting your fingers, he places a kiss against your knuckles. His brow raises as you give him an innocent smile. Angel relaxes, only slightly, as Bishop ducks down to place a second kiss against your skin.

"I wish I could've seen it." Gilly breaks the silence, pulling a grin to your face. "We always knew you were a firecracker, Y/N. But punching a cop?" 

"Now we know who keeps you in check," Tranq chuckles as he claps his hand on Bishop's shoulder. 

"Guess the cat's out the bag," Bishop sighs as his arm wraps around your waist.

"We’re gonna have to get a cake to celebrate this momentous moment," Ez teases as you roll your eyes. "You're officially apart of the club, Y/N."

"Maybe you can convince Bish to bring me on as protection," you giggle.

As Angel begins to reenact the play by play, of how the evening unfolded, for the boys, you tighten your grip around Bishop's waist.

You smile as your lips press against his neck. Nuzzling against his skin, you relax for the first time tonight. 

Pulling back, you take in Bishop's furrowed brow. His eyes are over your shoulder focused on the sheriff's station. 

"Can you please say thank you to Angel?" You ask your question pulling his focus back to you.

Bishop's brow arches, the corner of his lips twitching up to a smile. 

"Say thank you?" He tilts his head. "I didn't kill him. That's enough of a thank you."

"Bish, I'm serious." You giggle. "Believe it or not. You're pretty freaking scary when you wanna be. Angel may front like he has a big bark, but he's scared of you."

"As he should be."

You roll your eyes as his lips press a kiss against your forehead. 

"I appreciate him looking out for you," he says. "But apparently you don't need it. I gotta start sending the Prospect to watch you too from now on?"

Bishop's lips press against your swollen knuckles. His eyes lift to meet yours, a hint of concern inside. 

"You okay?"

You know his question is not about your swollen hand. 

Nodding, you smile as his lips press another kiss against your skin.

"But I'll be twenty times better if you talk to Angel." 

The corner of his lips twitches as you shoot him a smile.

Bishop nods, turning to lead you to his bike. He takes a step before turning to find Angel cautiously watching your departure. 

"Angel." The group falls silent as Bishop wraps his arm around your shoulder. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Angel finally relaxes as a smile spreads across his face. Nodding, he shoots you a wink as you drag Bishop towards his bike. 

"So," you sigh as Bishop concentrates on slipping his helmet on you. "Is this a first?"

"Showing up here to bail Angel out?" He chuckles as he fastens the straps beneath your chin. 

"I meant bailing out your Old Lady?"

Bishop looks up, the corner of his mouth turning up. 

"Depends," he shrugs. "Is that what they’re calling you now?"

[pokemonswshfics]

Hi, I would like to say: Ignore this if you want!! Im sad these days so I can ask for a Pokémon scenario where Leon, Raihan and Piers with a "rival" fem S/o, who is a Fairy trainer and is a ball of Sunshine and Love, but suffers Bullying to the point of one day she shows up with a purple eye in the gym or they witnessed the attacks. (For some reason in the beginning they don't like s/o, very energetic, very talkative or fairy trainer on Piers case)

hi! i don't ignore any requests anon, i sincerely hope you're doing better! :( <3 here you go, i hope i got your prompt right ^^ ! 💗

Piers/Raihan/Leon × Fem! Reader (Sfw)

Piers × Fem! Reader (Sfw {mild cursing})

You stumbled beneath the tunnel of Route 9 and looked ahead. Spikemuth was getting nearer so you moved forward. You just needed a Pokemon Center, asap.

Before you had reached the tunnel you were heading to see Melony, per her invite. Instead you were met with a few..not so friendly people. You were a well known trainer in the gym challenge, always so sweet to people, and managed to accumulate a fanbase for you and your Fairy based team.

However, with the good came the bad. Your good attitude and friendliness made you an easy target to some people who just loved to pick on you. You didn't know what exactly was different today but their attack wasn't only verbal. You touched one of your hands to your darkened eye, feeling the bruise. All your Pokemon had fainted fighting theirs, attempting to protect you.

You walked with your head down, ashamed and hurt. You entered Spikemuth, slightly glad there were no people around to see you at what you considered the worst you've been in a while. The shame finally began to settle in, and you gripped the pokeballs you held in your arms. You began to tear up and you scoffed at your own tears. Your face lightened up slightly when you realized you were only a few feet away from the Pokemon center, and you hurried before you heard a voice ahead of you.

"What're you doing here?" The voice was deep, and you almost immediately recognized it. It made you stop in your tracks.

It was Piers, your rival. You hadn't taken on his gym yet but he never really took a liking to you or was kind. Your fairy type Pokemon didn't make the best impression on him when you first met in the Wild Area by attempting to give him affection because you told them he was cute. Ever since then, he always said he looked forward to battling you and beating you so scared you would drop from the Gym challenge.

"Nothing!" You replied immediately while looking down. If he saw you how you were right now, you felt as if you would never hear the end of it. He always talked about how happy he would be when you lose, why wouldn't he enjoy this? "I'm just in Spikemuth..uh..to see Marnie!"

"Marnie's literally in Stow-On-Side." He groaned. "What are you really here for?"

"Just the Pokemon Center, my uhh..My Pokemon needed help." You said softly and now took note of your scraped knees. Damn, you took more than you thought.

"You don't carry potions with you or something?" Piers stepped closer to you, causing you to step back. "You really can be stupid."

You scoffed at his comment. "I really have to go."

"Nah, come on. You're here for a reason, I'll take you into the Pokemon Center." He mimicked the direction you stepped in and finally asked, "What are you lookin' at the ground for? Somethin' there that I don't see?"

"Mm..Uh-" you stepped back right into a streetlamp.

"Look up."

"No."

"Come on brat, look up." You rolled your eyes at his nickname for you, even if you were the same age you had never heard him call you anything else.

"I don't want to-"

You stopped suddenly when you felt a finger under your chin, turning it upwards. You shut your eyes tightly and blushed without intention.

"Are you..okay? What happened?" You slowly opened your eyes to a concerned expression on Piers' face. Not a hint of a smile, or any joyous reaction to your injuries.

" 'M fine." You shakily breathed out, feeling tears pool up in your eyes again. "Ugh, Piers. Leave me alone, I really just needed the Pokemon Center."

"No. Tell me who did this. Did they physically attack your Pokemon too?" He asked and moved his hand up to your cheek where the bruise started. You flinched at his touch then swatted his hand away.

"It was just some people, they don't really like me. I never thought they'd go this far." You slumped and opened your bag to put the balls away. "I was walking through the tunnel and they found me alone, they started to pick on me. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle!"

"You have a black eye."

"That's not important!"

He took his hand away from your face and dipped it into his jacket pocket. "You gotta toughen up. Here, this should be enough to get you an icepack or two. And a meal or something." Piers held out his hand with money in it.

You immediately shook your head. "Piers, I can't take this. I'll be fine as soon as I get to-"

Piers pushed the money to your hands before he knelt down in front of you, taking something else out of his pocket again. He grabbed the leg that had been scraped and pulled your shoe slightly closer. He held a bandaid in his hand while grumbling. "You're lucky Marnie makes me carry these around."

You couldn't help but blush as he applied the bandaid, raising your leg yourself so it would be easier. "Th-Thanks." You stuttered out, Piers finally looking up at you. He didn't look how he did usually. Right now, his face was soft and sympathetic. You noticed his cheeks begin to become a light shade of pink before he grumbled again and looked away.

Piers stood up, now back in front of you. There was a tension you couldn't really identify or get rid of when he spoke again.

"Let me see your phone." He said, now you quickly scrambled to open your bag again. You took out the phone and handed it to Piers. He opened it and typed a few things, your blush finally began to fade much to your relief.

"Uh- here. Just in case you're alone or, just need help with something. Call me." He handed it back while looking down. You smiled a little while taking it back. "This doesn't mean I like you, or anything. Just that..I don't wanna see you hurt."

"Aw, Piers..you so like me." You giggled jokingly before realizing how dark his cheeks were. "Oh." Your blush began to creep up once he didn't joke back or insult anything in return.

You both stood still for a few seconds before Piers shook his head. "Go get help at the Center, then get the hell out of Spikemuth." He instructed and stepped back, trying to sound harsh.

"Y-Yeah! That's what I was gonna do, that. Get out of Spikemuth once I get help." You replied, crossing your arms over your chest then stepping away from Piers. "Uh- Thanks. Really." You continued walking past him then looked back once he answered.

"No problem, just- call me, it doesn't even have to be because you need something. Preferably, yeah but- UGH. Just. Call me." He huffed out and began to walk away immediately. You watched as he went deeper into Spikemuth, probably to his gym.

You blushed at the encounter once more before smiling again then opened the door to the Pokemon center. You gripped the phone, not even caring about the stares you got at your injuries when you walked in grinning.

***

Raihan × Fem! Reader (Sfw {very mild cursing})

"Please leave me alone. I didn't do anything to you!" You said loudly while trying to blink tears away and stumbled across a patch of grass beneath you, almost tripping.

You felt a shove from behind you, resulting in you falling either way. Your knees hit the ground and you quickly turned back to face them, trying to keep an eye on where they all were.

One of the males in the group reached down to grab a hold of your shirt and tugged your upper body, to him. "Alright pretty lady, we won't hurt you too bad..You just get on our nerves too much. Drop outta the gym challenge."

You immediately shook your head with tears beginning to fall over your cheeks from fear. "No! I worked too hard, I just wanna get to the Hammerlocke gym. Please leave me alone."

"Sure about it?"

You felt a hand get tangled in your hair to get a good grip on your head.

"Yeah! I won't back down-"

Then you felt a punch, not even realizing the fist was coming at you at first. You yelped at the pain, and felt yourself get thrown back onto the ground by the guy.

"Rethink your choice. You're too much for the challenge, what the hell is wrong with you? You think you're so perfect, no mess ups or whatever." You saw someone kick dirt in your direction, quietly thankful even more dust didn't hit you. "You're pathetic. Let's get out of here."

Your eye seemed to throb, and you watched them all walk away. Some turned back to shoot one last nasty glare.

You sighed once they were gone, and you could feel your lip quiver. Your Pokeballs were scattered everywhere near you, from when they had practically shook everything out of your bag. Quiet sobs began to escape you as you picked up items on your knees, from potions to berries now dusty.

"Is someone out here?"

You froze and immediately took your arm back from what you were about to pick up. The location you had been attacked was right next to the entrance of Hammerlocke, and you silenced your already almost completely silent sobs. You sat up, on your knees.

"I heard you..come on out! It's just me, Raihan."

Your eyes widened once he revealed who he was, and now your heartbeat quickened when you heard him coming down the small set of stairs that made up the entrance. You tried sitting out of his potential line of sight and hugged your knees to your chest.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"Is that.." You heard his voice closer to you and you turned the other way immediately. "Why are you out here?" He now stood a few feet away from you, looking down at you sitting on the ground.

"Just..last minute training. Wouldn't wanna, uhhh- waste your time in battle." You sighed then turned to Raihan, wiping your cheeks of quickly of any new tears or any tear stains. "I ran into some trouble, but it's fine."

Raihan took a few steps forward then knelt on one knee beside you. His face was filled with concern, a new expression you hadn't seen from Raihan unless it was for someone else. He was your rival ever since you two were kids, almost never getting along either. His calm and cool personality seemed to clash with your bubbly self, but at the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"It doesn't look fine.." Raihan replied back, and took off his headband then jacket. You blushed at the sight, and grumbled at the cold weather. It only made your injuries worse, your skirt and outfit choice in general didn't do much to keep you warm.

Raihan set his jacket onto the knee he wasn't propped on, and reached to your head with his headband. Your breath hitched, Raihan was merely inches away from your face. He wrapped the headband around your head in a way where it would cover your black eye. Raihan lingered where he was close to you for a moment, now not breaking eye contact.

"What are you doing?" You finally whispered, and cursed the way you could feel your cheeks burning.

"Making sure you're not too exposed. That's..alright, right?" He asked in return and backed his face away only slightly. The top of his cheeks darkened as well, and he took his jacket back into his hands. You nodded almost right after he asked.

Raihan then told you to put your arms out, and put his jacket on you. In your mind, you thought of previous encounters with the Dragon Type gym leader. The constant teasing, slight coldness and everything else that made him helping you so unusual.

"I'm enjoying this!" You giggled without a second thought as you shrugged his jacket on, the sleeves too large. Just to be filled with regret right after.

I know I did not say that out loud.

He raised an eyebrow at you, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're still so weird. Can you tell me what happened?"

The smile on your face faded and you slumped. "It's just some people, they don't really like me. Uh..they can be rude at battles, they've taken my stuff before, uh.." You trailed off and blushed again but now out of pure embarrassment. You were telling your rival, of all people, that you were being bullied. "I don't need to tell you this. Thank you for helping me but I don't need it. Or want it." You almost let a whimper out and knew your eyes were getting glossy again.

Raihan rolled his eyes before noticing the tears in yours. He softened again then looked hesitant.

And before you could tell what had happened, Raihan's arms were around you in a hug.

Your arms were above his, you could almost feel the detail of his toned muscle around your waist. The headband around your head, the jacket and the protective arms were too much for you to handle, the overwhelming hatred some people had seemed to finally get to you.

"L-Let go. Raihan, I don't want pity-"

"You can let it out okay? I'm..not here to judge you. I'd love to see you lose but not like this." The whispered reply was right next to your ear, it made you sigh.

"You won't tell anyone about this?"

"No one."

And with that, you let tears fall again, now with your head resting on his shoulder. Your arms were around his neck, holding him closer than you would ever admit. Soft softs escaped you, going directly into the fabric clothing Raihan's skin.

"Are you done? I-It's cool if not, just..wanted to ask." After a few minutes of just hugging for comfort, Raihan spoke. You both turned to the other, your faces being almost only an inch or two away.

"Um- Yeah." The reply and the space between you left you with burning and tear stained cheeks. "Thank you." You attempted to pull away, feeling Raihan hold on for a second before letting go. "Do you need your stuff? I can go buy a jacket or something.."

"What? No, keep it. I don't need it, got my gym closeby. And you think some cold weather can hurt me? I'm a dragon tamer." He scoffed playfully and smirked, breaking the sort of serious tension. "See you, however, do need the jacket. You're kinda not the strongest trainer I've seen."

You rolled your eyes, back to the reality that you didn't like Raihan.

Right?

"Alright, you don't have to like me, shorty. Lemme see your bag, I'm hungry." He reached over you and grabbed the bag while grinning. Raihan stood up, taking out a tent. His boldness made you furrow your eyebrows and you slumped back against the wall of the entrance to Hammerlocke. Raihan's clothes were comfortable, and they felt safe.

You continued to watch your rival set up the tent, the physical pain you had endured earlier already beginning to wash away. For a moment, you caught Raihan's eyes in your own and the eye contact was held for more than a few moments.

A blush appeared on both Raihan and your's cheeks before you glared at each other.

"Please start cooking! It's my tent, I'm hungry too." You requested kindly, still having patience. Raihan always complained about how you were too nice for him to be genuinely mean to.

"Once you get your own gym, you can tell me what to do. Oh, WAIT-"

You scoffed then began to bicker like usual, now with a different meaning. There was no genuine insults, and you found yourself enjoying it.

You cuddled into his sweater, feeling calm. The attack wasn't even on your mind at this point, the world to you right then and there was only you and your rival, Raihan.

***

Leon x Fem! Reader (Sfw)

"Get back here!" The yell only made you run faster, turning a corner in the streets of Wyndon. You had been interacting with fans when it was suddenly cut short by a group of people you recognized. They were at all your battles for all the wrong reasons. People with genuine hatred for you, when you had done nothing to provoke it.

"Please leave me alone! I-I won't bother you anymore! Whatever I'm doing, I'm sorry!" You yelled back to them, and now took a turn to your right between a few shops.

Your feet seemed to become heavier, the exhaustion of running so far finally caught up to you. To just your luck as well, the turn had landed you into an alley behind the Wyndon clothing store. One with only one entrance and exit, the one you had came through and the one they were using to follow you.

Once you came to a full stop, the footsteps heard behind you also slowed down. You gripped the handle of the bag that was slung across your body out of fear. You only had one Pokemon with you, one that you found and had been raising. The option of defending yourself in battle was out of the question entirely.

"You look even worse up close. Nice fit, you going to daycare or something?" Someone snickered from the group of women and men. You blushed in embarrassment, and looked away shamefully. One thing that had always been matched to you were your clothes. Bright colors for a bright personality, dark colors didn't exist in your closet.

"N-no! I just like my clothes..I think they're pretty..." You replied weakly. "I don't have anything you want, please just leave me alone."

"You got everything we could possibly want. We aren't stupid, we know how much some prissy know-it-all trainer can make. And besides, you just get on our nerves."

The grip you had on your bag tightened even more. You took steps back slowly, them following immediately. Some of their Pokeballs opened, releasing Gengars and Dusknoirs.

"Get her, idiots!" A trainer called out, and you cringed at the name towards the Pokemon. Your back was now pressed up against the wall, and you instinctively put your arms up to shield your face from whatever attack happened.

Your eyes shut, and you tried to prepare for the pain. You could hear the calls and cries of attack-ready Pokemon, when suddenly they stopped.

You felt your arms begin to heat. And everything else that was facing your attackers. Once your eyes opened, you were met with the orange backside of a creature you quickly identified as a dragon. It's tail was lit at the end.

"Charizard?" You asked and watched his tail sway. From what you could see, the attackers were now frozen in place at the sight of the dragon.

His wings extended, then flew up. The debris that was now in the air limited your eyesight.

Almost instantly, flames began to leave the now gaping mouth of the dragon. You shielded yourself again, and shrunk back, now nearly on your knees on the floor.

The cries of Dusknoir's and Gengars being injured made you flinch, even if they were about to attack it was difficult to listen to.

After a few more painfully long seconds, you couldn't take the cries anymore.

"Charizard! Stop, please!" You yelled from the ground, waving debris and dust from in front of you to see better. Flashes of light emitted from the attack, and you could hear balls opening and closing. They were being summoned back in, and you hoped it wasn't because they had fainted.

Charizard hardly listened, and if anything he only unleashed more fire hotter than what was the first attack.

You heard footsteps begin to run, and they echoed along the walls of the alley. The fire type Pokemon soon flew back down in front of you, his wings and back still all you could see. With one final roar, a few more cries of injured pokemon, and even a scream, you could see no more people.

"A-Are they gone?" You asked while rising to your feet again. Ashes floated in the air and you stepped closer to Charizard. "Wait.."

He finally turned towards you and you smiled a little. It was Champion Leon's Pokemon, one that had grown to like you when you first encountered the pair. You couldn't say the same about Leon, but that didn't change the fact you were nothing but sweet to him.

"Charizard? Where did you go? You know I'll get lost.." A familiar voice from the entrance of the alley called. "Hey! You're in here!" Now you heard the footsteps of the male running in your direction.

"Why'd you go flying off like that? What was so important-"

"Hi, Leon!" You peeked from behind the dragon's wing and grinned at him. Leon looked taken aback, flustered, and irritated all at once.

"What are you doing here? Did you try to take him or something?"

"Charizard? Never. He came to me! He saved me, I was in a..predicament." You said with your volume decreasing.

"Come on, for now, I'll put you in here." Leon sighed then raised a Pokeball to Charizard. You reached from behind him and put your palm in front of the ball.

"Wait- he doesn't wanna go in there. Come on, Lee..just because you don't like me means he won't either. He loves me." You giggled. Leon's eyebrows were furrowed and he looked away.

"I don't like you."

"I..know? That's what I just said.." You raised an eyebrow and watched as Leon's cheeks seemed to darken. He opened his mouth to speak, stammering as he tried to begin a sentence.

Charizard, even if he wasn't human, seemed to snicker. You looked between the two and could tell they were laughing about something you didn't know and couldn't figure out.

"F-Fine! I won't put him in his ball, but it's just because..I'll get lost if he's in here!" Leon crossed his arms and grumbled. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" His question threw you off, and now you stepped toward him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for being so bad at directions, Charizard wouldn't have been here long enough if you knew where to find him." You joked.

"If you need help again sometime, you can call me. I'm usually around here..uh-" Leon seemed to trip over his words. "I didn't give you my number for no reason."

"What? Aw darn, I thought you wanted to talk to me more often. You know, hang out, do friend stuff. Maybe more.." You chuckled teasingly and looked at Leon's face once more.

He looked too flustered to even reply, Leon was the darkest shade his cheeks could manage at that point.

"I-I was joking oh my- I'm so sorry-" You repeated apologies to him in fear that the blush was a signal of him being uncomfortable.

"No it's okay!" Leon replied smiling sheepishly then furrowed his eyebrows at you again. "Don't be so nice to people, that's how you ended up here, almost hurt. I don't wanna see you like this."

Now the top of your cheeks heated up and you gripped your bag again. You held back a smile and nodded. "Okay, I guess you're right."

Leon and you stood, both blushing for a few moments before he broke the silence. "Jeez, you can be so much at times. Come on, Charizard." He sighed, the dragon then going to his side.

"Thank you!" You said to Charizard and beamed.

"Ya know..I'll be here in Wyndon's center and uh, just to be sure you're out of trouble, do you wanna join me?"

You took a second to process what he asked, then smiled even wider. "Yeah! I'd love to."

Leon's face lit up a little and you two began to walk to exit the alley.

"This doesn't mean anything by the way! I'm just doing what anyone with sense would do- I don't like you!"

"Sure, Lee." You giggled, then exited the alley with your rival at your side, Charizard hovering over you.

***

Thanks for reading! :) Requests are always open! just might take some time 💞- 🥝

[hiccanna-tidbits]

okay, okay but hear me out!

Hiccanna, Moanida and Jackunzel (and maybe someone else if u want) going on a holiday trip together (it could be sea or lake or just swimming pool).

And that three couples playing "chicken fight game"~ When u have to sit on partner shoulder or ridding piggy-back and knock down or separate the other couple!

sksksks just imagine the fun and the chaos!! hahaha

Okay SO I recently watched Palm Springs so I’m just imagining The Gang going to like…a fancy pool resort in like Arizona??? SURE LET’S GO WITH THAT

I’m imagining the only resort the gang could afford to stay at is someplace out in the middle of Arizona or something

It takes a LOT of persuading to get Jack to go, because he haaaaates deserts. Rapunzel basically has to beg. Moana finally managed to bribe him with really good homemade ice slushies. (She’s used to making smoothies for Merida, so how hard can slushies be??? Just throw in some ice!)

Rapunzel offers to help Moana with the slushies, since she gave Jack SO many puppy dog eyes to get him to come. Since they’ve got two people working on them, they’re REALLY good slushies. Jack approves.

Anna also tries to convince Elsa to go, but the perpetually-single Elsa is just like “Um, deserts? Sunburns? Being indefinitely stuck with gross couples doing gross couple stuff?!? Yeah no thank you”

Hiccup tries to wake everyone up at like 6 am to go hiking because "that's when the desert iguanas are out guys!!! C'mon, we have to go!!!" Anna is only persuaded to go after Hiccup makes her coffee--she really wants to make her bf happy, but also mornings can suck her dick. Rapunzel is more than happy to go, because she loves mornings anyways!!! And oh my god, IGUANAS!!! Jack, Merida, and Moana are like "oh FUCK no" and put the pillow back over their head, shoo Hiccup away, and go back to sleep.

On their hike, Hiccup just goes "!!!!!!!" about every reptile he sees. Snake, lizard, horny toad, literally anything with scales will send the boy into an excited frenzy. Rapunzel has similar reactions. Anna could not love both of them more.

At one point, they stumble across a gila monster sunbathing, and Rapunzel is overtaken with the unwavering desire to adopt him. She gets Hiccup on board, and he tries to lure the lizard over with a dusty piece of a snake carcass he found (Anna tried to tell him he really shouldn't touch that, but he was not to be swayed and Anna ended up figuring he could just wash his hands really well when they got back). Anna finds herself in the unusual position of having to be the Voice of Reason, having to be like “hey uh I think this might be illegal and stuff??? Also aren't they poisonous???”

(I know what you're thinking. Bold of you to assume Anna knows the difference between poisonous and venomous.)

Rapunzel literally CANNOT stop gushing to Jack about all the wildlife she saw when she gets back! Jackrabbits! Kangaroo rats! Roadrunners! Peccaries! Centipedes! Jack has only mild to moderate interest in desert ecology, but loves hearing his gf gush so he listens attentively anyways. 

Anna and Rapunzel definitely hit up the gift shops in the resort town at some point, and go ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT HOGWILD buying gifts for everyone. They probably max out their credit cards. It's embarrassing, really. But Anna gets Hiccup an absolute shitton of those little wall lizard things and he nearly cries tears of joy when he sees them, so it's all worth it, really.

Moana will not leave the pool like. The entire time. The girl is just obsessed with being in the water, honestly. She gets restless, though, and can't just stand in the pool and vibe--she needs to constantly be moving and swimming around or she'll explode. Merida is more than happy to indulge her by hanging out in the poor with her, but Merida is also constantly challenging her to swim races--a very dumb idea, considering Moana is on the high school swim team and water polo team. Merida, naturally, is an extremely sore loser and is not above excessive pouting, splashing, yelling in angry Scottish, and dunking her girlfriend in revenge. It's at least entertaining for all of their friends to watch.

Jack keeps fucking taking huge buckets of ice from the ice machine and dumping them in the pool. At first he only does this because he keeps griping about the pool not being cold enough (this boy will accept nothing less than sitting in the goddamn arctic ocean), but after her figures out that it pisses off his friends, he takes to pouring said ice directly over their heads. Merida has threatened to murder him several times for this.

Hiccup and Anna's main pool activity is just lazing around on their pool floaties (Anna has a duck one, Hicccup has a dragon one because obviously), sipping cocktails, and just generally vibing. Through some ungodly mixture of pure charisma and a fake ID that Rapunzel helped photoshop, Jack manages to talk his way into getting the whole group access to alcohol. Hiccup is a sangria or Moscow Mule kinda guy while Anna usually gets a Pina Colada or a Sex on the Beach (she's aspec, so she literally will not stop joking about the irony of this). Merida makes a game out of attempting to tip over their floaties and dunk them. Jack, chaos gremlin that he is, puts aside his usual rivalry with Merida to join in. They have a surprisingly strong dunking alliance.

Hiccup and Anna try to form a syndicate of their own, and try to lounge on the same floatie so that they can protect each other while fighting off Jack and Merida together. Unfortunately neither of their floaties were made to hold 2 peoples' weight, so the one they're on ends up tipping over, spilling their cocktails everywhere and dunking them anyways. Jack and Merida consider this a Win By Default.

Moana of course loops everyone into playing water polo at some point. Unfortunately some idiot decided it would be a good idea to let Merida of all people pick the teams, which means of course that they are incredibly rigged. It's Moana, Merida and Anna vs. Jack, Rapunzel, and Hiccup, so basically The Jocks vs. The Nerds (although admittedly Anna is more of a softcore jock--she's nowhere near on Moana or Merida's level, but she's still more naturally athletic than Hiccup, Rapunzel, or Jack). Naturally, Jock Team absolutely whoops Nerd Team's ass. Jack gets salty and demands a rematch. ...Jock Team kicks Nerd Team's ass again.

Throughout all of this, no one thinks to just...rearrange the teams a little. Merida was counting on this. All according to plan.

In the titular chicken game (yes, I remembered, don't worry!), it's Merida on Moana's shoulders (Moana swims and has a lot of upper body strength, what can I say?), Hiccup on Anna's shoulders (I mean...Hiccup's a twig, and Anna HAS to have a fair amount of upper body strength from throwing busts around and punching men off boats and such), and Punz on Jack's shoulders (Jack's pretty lithe and good at keeping his balance while jumping around, so he's their best candidate for not just falling over).

Jack and Rapunzel actually manage to stay in the game longer than anyone expects--their primary strategy is “be good at dodging and staying out of the way while Merida and Hiccup duke it out.” And it works! As limber as Hiccup is, Anna's not nearly as coordinated as Jack and is no match for Moana's sturdy footing. Also, neither Anna nor Hiccup are prepared for how goddamn ruthless and determined to win Merida is. Even though they really, really should have been. I mean...have you met Merida???

When it comes down to Merida-Moana and Rapunzel-Jack, Mer feels a little bad for having to go up against Pure Sweet Punzie. Unfortunately, Rapunzel turns out to be a very hardcore fighter when she puts her mind to it, and Merida is much more evenly matched than she initially thought and realizes she must use her Full Power. It definitely helps her snap out of Going Soft when Jack starts brutally roasting Merida in particular (as per usual). Merida gets a rage-fueled Second Wave, and finally manages to knock Rapunzel over in one foul swoop. Merida and Moana are victorious!

Moana and Merida basically always shower together after a day at the pool. They claim it's because they both know how to handle curly hair in chlorine, and just like to wash each other's hair, but the rest of the gang is pretty sure that's not all that's going on in there.

One day, Anna hits up the resort town alone to buy some kind of secret gifts for her friends with what little money she has left (this girl seriously has no chill when it comes to buying presents).  She goes past this huge, fancy ice cream shop and she's like “!!!! OMG!!! I'm gonna surprise all my buddies with pints of their faves!!!” She just gets super hyped and buys everyone ice cream, getting so caught up in the thrill of it that she forgets that she'll have to like. Drive all this back all the way back to the resort in the rental car. In like. You know. 110+ degree weather.

By the time she gets back to the resort, the ice cream is, of course, goop. Poor Anna, feeling incredibly dumb and like an utter failure of a friend, just kind of bursts into tears. Like damn. This is too much. She was gonna make all her pals so happy, and all for naught! Jack just kinda shrugs and throws all the melted ice cream cartons in the freezer anyways. Once they're (partially) re-frozen, Rapunzel and Moana make slushies with them. They actually come out pretty decent. Anna is substantially cheered up.

Moana prepares some tropical fruit platters for everyone to snack on. Rapunzel tries to “improve” them by adding chocolate sauce and nutella to half of them. Sometimes it works (I mean...bananas and strawberries with chocolate and/or nutella is pretty solid). Other times it just tastes...very weird. Merida gest frustrated and yells at Rapunzel for “ruining all of her girlfriend's good mangoes.”

Jack just thinks this whole thing is so funny, and decides to swap the chocolate sauce with barbecue sauce to cause further chaos. Absolute mayhem ensures. Everyone has a bad time. Except for Anna, who apparently is just a freak who enjoys eating pineapple slices dipped in barbecue sauce.

At some point, Merida gets really drunk on appletinis or some shit and signs the entire group up for a local archery competition. Much to everyone's chagrin, it's no refunds. Naturally, basically everyone sans Merida does terrible. Rapunzel and Hiccup very nearly shoot themselves, while Jack and Anna come very close to  accidentally shooting a group of referees (although Jack might have done this on purpose). Moana gets the farthest, if only because Merida's taught her how to shoot a bow at some point. Merida actually ends up winning--although unfortunately, the prize is $20 and a very cheap plastic trophy (which Merida STILL manages to find a way to break before the trip is even over).

The rest of the group is much more amicable to the concept of going on hikes when said hikes are in the evening. Hiccup and Rapunzel are still excitedly chattering about the local ecosystems the entire time, and Jack and Anna are just kind of looking at their nerdy SOs like “<3 <3 <3″ Moana and Merida, meanwhile, are just kinda vibing in the back, passively listening in and watching the desert sunset.

Rapunzel manages to capture Mer and Mo's interest and gets them to participate more with geology, of all things. Merida just thinks rocks are cool (especially when they can be thrown at people bothering her!), while Moana likes learning about the physical history of places--how water can carve out landscapes, and all that. Hiccup and Jack just kind of exchange a look like “I had no idea that they were into rocks, but...the more you know, I guess???”

Jack makes fun of every reptile they see, mainly to piss Hiccup off. Unfortunately it has the opposite effect, and Hiccup can't help but be entertained--mainly because Jack's insults are so weirdly specific and over-the-top that they loop around to being hilarious. Seriously, he keeps saying shit like “Those are the lamest scales I've ever seen. Absolutely drab, and not nearly shiny enough to prove that nature is beautiful. 0/10.” and “Ohhhh, this fucking rattlesnake think's he's so scary, with his dumb percussion instrument tail!!! I could be more intimidating with a mean look and a large pair of maracas!”

At some point, a bunch of tourists riding donkeys pass them. Anna, Rapunzel, and Merida just absolutely lose their shit fangirling over how cute the donkeys are, thus exposing all three of them as the unabashed Horse Girls they are. Hiccup, Jack, and Moana find this extremely amusing, and definitely aren't above teasing their girlfriends about it. Hiccup asks if next time they take a couples' vacation, the Horse Gang (as Moana insists on nicknaming them) would like to go to a ranch instead.

Anna gets like. Obsessed with palm trees. Like they're just so pretty and exotic and tropical!!! OMG!!! And they definitely don't have them wherever the gang is from in this AU. (Also if griping about Elsa not having "tropical powers" is anything to go by, she DOES canonically like the tropics!) She has to take a picture of like...every palm tree on her phone. And considering the gang is in Arizona, that means Anna is stopping to take a picture like...every 2 minutes. Rapunzel catches onto the fact that Anna likes them, and paints her a picture with some when Punz has the time. Anna definitely cries when she sees it. Hiccup can't do nearly that good, but he does buy her some little plastic figurine ones in a gift shop that she can put in her room. Anna also cries about this. She just cries whenever any of her friends indulge her random fixation on palm trees. Surely she doesn't deserve such niceties!!!

Rapunzel is just. In love with the desert landscape tbh. Like the huge funky cacti!!! The shrubs!!! The desert wildflowers!!! The mesas!!! All of it!!! So of course she needs to pull out her easel and paint it. Jack walks by one day and sees her working on it and, partly just to troll her, he's like “put some snow in it!” As he walks away, Rapunzel just stops like “wait...that'd actually be such a great idea for a surrealist-type fantasy piece!!!” After she finishes the main landscape, she adds an overcoat of little puffs of snow on top of everything, and has some clumps falling off of the cacti. When she shows Jack, he just about cries tears of joy, but frantically tries to hide it. She gives the painting to him as a present at the end of the trip. He hangs that shit front-in-center in his room and cherishes it forever and ever.

At some point, Jack gets the ingenious idea that he's going to prank Merida by catching a tarantula and leaving it in her room. It's one of the harmless ones--Jack fact-checks this by offhandedly asking Hiccup and framing it as a casual interest in local etymology. Still, Merida screams far louder than is at all dignified, and also probably loud enough to wake a neighboring country. Rapunzel later has to physically hold Merida back to keep her from absolutely beating Jack into a pulp. Rapunzel also manages to get the World's Largest Sheet of Cardboard and the World's Largest Cup and somehow manages to get the damn thing back outside.

[unholyobsessions]

And life goes on (though not always in the right direction)

Spencer Reid AU

Description: Spencer Reid has lived a horrible life, and every time he thinks it’s getting better, it somehow gets worse. 

Warnings: Bullying, Self harm, Suicide, Kidnapping/blood, Rape/Sexual assault, Depression, Death, Cussing, Drug use (if there are any others please message me and I will gladly add them. There is no warning too small.)

Word Count: 5.4k

The first time Spencer gets beat up it is his eight birthday. He doesn’t celebrate. His dad gets “stuck at work” (in reality he is out cheating on his wife with his assistant) and his mom forgets. He goes to the park with a book knowing that would be the best way to spend his birthday. A group of neighborhood kids walks up to him and asks him if he wants to hang out. He, of course, says yes.

Oh stupid and naive little boy.

They guide him to the bleachers and push him to the ground. Spencer looks up at them through teary eyes and they laugh. The first punch breaks his glasses and the second breaks his nose. The kicks against his abdomen bruise his ribs and cause him to throw up his breakfast. They all keep laughing. It isn’t until an hour later when they finally get tired and leave. Spencer curls himself into a fetal position and tries not to swallow the blood gushing from his nose. 

He walks alone to the hospital. His mother doesn’t notice he’s gone until the doctor calls her and asks her to pick up her son. His dad shows up with her. Spencer thinks he looks embarrassed. He refuses to meet his eyes. At first he thinks it’s because of his now crooked nose that will certainly need surgery but he later realizes that he is embarrassed of him. He is ashamed of who his son is. That is the first time that he cries himself to sleep. He gets beat up regularly after that. 

. . .

Spencer is ten when his father leaves. He tries to convince him to stay. He keeps reciting statistics about how a divorce could affect a child but all his father does is look at him with disgust and walk out the door. His mother has one of her episodes later that same night. Spencer can’t bring himself to calm her down so he locks his door and picks up his physics text book. Half way through the chapter he feels tears falling down his cheeks. He does his best to wipe them away but it’s no use. He allows himself to cry as he thinks about what his father leaving will inevitably cause. His mother is in no condition to hold down a job and he has no way of making money to pay for food and electricity. He’s glad that their medical insurance takes care of all of his mother’s medication. He eventually settles down and brings his blankets over his body, the distant sounds of his mother practicing for a lecture that will never come lulling him to sleep. 

The next day he goes straight to the local newspaper station and asks if he could have a job delivering the papers to the local neighborhoods. The owner is apprehensive at first until Spencer explains his situation. The man sighs and hands him a bag filled to the brim with the day’s news. Spencer rushes out of the building and jumps on his bike. He delivers newspapers everyday at six in the morning for the next two years.

He becomes used to hunger. He can’t buy books anymore as he is barely scraping together enough money to have a decent meal everyday. He never complains though. He forces the tears away and keeps moving forward. Things will get better. 

. . .

When he’s thirteen when he leaves for university. Cal-Tech. It’s the start of a new life. He enjoys his classes and regularly converses with his professors. Every time he gets the chance he takes the trip down to Las Vegas to check on his mom. She always assures him that she is perfectly fine (even though she isn’t) and he needs to stop worrying so much. 

He gets a job at the library. He puts the books back in their respective shelves and his eidetic memory certainly makes it easier. It isn’t fun, not in the slightest, but it pays better than selling newspapers and he’s in desperate need of money. He stays at the library between shifts and works on his homework. He uses the library’s computer since he can’t afford his own. 

He excels in all of his classes and makes extra money out of tutoring. The older students don’t take offense to a fourteen year old correcting them on their mistakes, for that he is extremely thankful. Still, it doesn’t mean he has friends. Most twenty-year-olds don’t want to spend their free time hanging it out with a know it all pre-teen. 

. . .

He slides a razor blade against his arm for the first time when he is fourteen. He doesn’t know exactly what makes him do it. The stress of college at such a young age or maybe the fact that he is completely alone in California. He considers the fact that it may be from the bruise forming on his lower abdomen, courtesy of a group of Frat guys. Maybe it’s all of the above. 

The only thing he knows for sure is that he relishes in the pain it gives him. It isn’t the same type of pain he feels whenever he gets beat up, no this feels better. He gives himself two cuts before hiding the blade and cleaning himself off. He wraps a bandage over his forearm and goes to class. 

The next day he sits in the bathroom and debates whether he should do it again. He knows he shouldn’t. He is aware that this is not good for him. He thinks about going to the campus therapist but quickly shuts down the idea. He can’t talk about what he is going through. He has no right to feel the way he does. He is going to a prestigious college on a full ride scholarship. He is passing all of his classes, he finds them easy. But he can’t help the way he feels. He looks at himself in the mirror and feels disgusted with what he sees. 

He has no one. No one to take care of him. No one to talk to. No one to ask him how his day went. He understands why his father left. He wouldn’t want to have himself as a son either. 

He slides the blade three times. 

Two weeks later he is up to six cuts per day. The scars are ugly but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. He avoids looking in the mirror, it only makes the desire to feel the cold blade on his skin worse. No, he isn’t suicidal, at least he doesn’t think so, but he can’t help but throw his head back as blood gushes down his arm. 

. . .

He is sixteen when his mother dies. He has just finished his first PhD and comes home to visit and celebrate. At one point he goes out to the store and comes back to find his mother on the floor. 

She isn’t breathing. 

He eyes the bottle of pills on the floor and then looks to the counter to see another one. 

They’re both empty.

He cries. He cries for over an hour before he gets up and starts packing his stuff. He takes all of his money as well as some clothes and other necessities. He calls the paramedics on his way out the door. He takes the first bus out of Las Vegas and never looks back. 

He doesn’t return to Cal-Tech. Social Services finding him will be too easy if he does. He’s a minor and his guardian is dead. He has two options. He can either find a way to contact his dad (which social services probably does) and go live with him. He doesn’t dwell on the thought long. Option two is to allow himself to be turned over to the state and be inevitably placed in an overcrowded foster home that only takes children in for money. He dismisses the thought quickly. He ends up choosing option number three. 

He runs away. He ends up in Arizona. He doesn’t remember how many buses it takes him to get there. He stays at a cheap motel and has to resist the urge to walk to the bathroom and open old scars. It’s been months, he tells himself, you have to be strong. He makes a call to the University of Oxford. They had offered him a scholarship when he had originally applied when he was thirteen. He declined their offer, obviously, and decided to stay closer to home. Closer to his mom. Who is dead now. He shakes his head and forces himself to stop thinking about it. He requests to talk to the Dean. He gives his name and he is quickly transferred to his office. 

Yes, they do have a place for him in school. Of course, they would be honored to have him complete his studies there. 

Spencer hangs up the phone and calls the airline. One way ticket to England please. The next day he lugs his belongings all the way to the airport, not having enough money for a cab. He boards the plane and stares out the window officially saying goodbye to his life in the states. 

. . .

Maeve is dead. He is twenty years old and he is tied to a chair staring at his dead fiancée. He sees the blood pooling around her body and his throat feels raw from all the screaming. This isn’t supposed to happen. His life was finally good, stable. The first real glimpse of happiness he’s had since he was ten. Life can’t have gotten this bad. 

They have both been held captive for four days. Spencer being forced to watch as the man who took them repeatedly raped the woman he is in love with. Forced to endure having the shit beat out of him. Having to endure the feeling of the needle piercing his skin and ultimately enjoying the high that came afterward. 

The man smirks at him, the gun still in his hand. 

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” His voice comes out hoarse, not even he can recognize it. The man simply laughs and walks over to him. He holds the gun to his head and Spencer closes his eyes. He’s going to die. He wants to die. He craves the feeling of vast emptiness that came with death. He doesn’t think that he can deal with any more pain. 

The pressure of the gun leaves his head. He looks up and the man smiles at him, but there is no sincerity in his eyes. He hears the man saying something along the lines of “death is too easy” before plunging another needle in his vain. Spencer’s eyes roll back as a feeling of ecstasy overcomes his body. He hears the man walk away before he passes out. He wakes up to see officers untying him. He sees paramedics close the black bag over Maeve’s face. He feels tears fall down his face. 

“No,” he repeats over and over. He hears paramedics ask him his name. Does he remember how he got here? Can he tell them where he lives? Their questions fall on deaf ears. All Spencer can think about is how when he eventually gets out of the hospital he will have to go back to an empty apartment. He will have to pack up Maeve’s stuff. He will have to face her parents and tell them what happened. He will have to tell her dad that he will never get to walk his little girl down the aisle and her mom that she would never take her dress shopping. Spencer would never meet the eyes of the woman he loves as she reaches the altar. He will never get to say ‘I do’ and call her Mrs. Reid. 

He finds a dealer as soon as he gets home. 

. . .

He’s twenty two when he gets his fifth PhD. He has been clean for a little under a year and it is all thanks to his boss. He’s been living with him since he moved out of his apartment. He works at the local police station. He gives profiles on serial criminals. No one is ever going to have to go through what he went through. Not if he can help it. 

He based the past two years of his schooling solely on his new career choice. He gets an internship two months after the incident. 

He’s high most of the time. 

He still passes all of his classes with flying colors but his new boss knows that something is up with him, even if he has only known the kid for a month. The police chief approaches him one day when Spencer is sitting on his desk going over a cold case file. He invites him to dinner at his house and Spencer is both relieved and worried. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to go back to his god forsaken apartment for a few more hours and worried because he doesn’t know how bad his craving will get. He has developed a routine. Shoot up, go to school, go to work, come home at five, shoot up again. 

An hour into dinner and his boss asks him the question. Are you okay? It’s a loaded question, they’re both aware but Spencer notes that the man is genuinely concerned for his well being. He breaks down. He tells him everything. He doesn’t know why he is sobbing in front of a man who he has only known for a short while. Why he is telling him all of his problems. Why he rolls up both of his sleeves and shows him the scars that graze his inner elbow, and the ones that have healed over his forearm. 

From a psychological perspective he knows why he is doing it, why he allows himself to be so vulnerable in front of the man. He longs for a father figure. For a man to comfort him and care for him. He wants what his father never gave him as a child, what he never gave him as a teenager, what he never gave him as an adult. 

“I’m sorry sir,” Spencer sniffles. He is being unprofessional.

“You don’t have to call me sir, you know? You can call me Roger.” Spencer nods, not having the strength to speak up again. “You’re staying the night and then tomorrow we’ll go to your apartment to pack up your stuff and you’re moving in. I’m going to help you get clean.” 

Spencer is shocked but can’t bring himself to argue. He is exhausted. The next day they do just what Roger said they would do. It is a long journey. He will stay clean for about three weeks before something happens that makes him fall back to his disgusting habit. Roger will sometimes come home to see Spencer sobbing in the bathroom, a syringe lying next to him. He immediately pulls him close and assures him that it’s okay.  

He beats it though. It will be a year next month since the last time he had any drug in his system. He’s proud of himself. 

Roger walks over to him as he closes his phone. They are in one of their co-worker’s backyard. They all insisted that they needed to celebrate his new achievement. Spencer had rolled his eyes but accepted their kind gesture and is now sipping his drink and making conversation when Roger calls his name. 

Roger takes a second to mull over the progress Spencer made. He’s proud of him. He loves the kid like his own but the future of their father-son relationship will be determined what he is about to say. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Spencer asks casually, pushing a hand through his long hair. 

“I just got a call from Interpol,” he pauses, Spencer freezes. “They have offered me a position.” He waits for Spencer’s reaction. 

“You’re leaving.” Spencer can’t believe this is happening. Not again. He starts to wonder if life will ever allow him to have even a sliver of happiness. 

“I am.” Spencer avoids looking at him. “But I want you to come with me.” That catches his attention. 

“What?”

“I told them that if they want me then they will also have to offer a position to the smartest and most hard working man I know. I made it clear that I am not going to take the position unless they put you on my team. So what do you say? Want to work at Interpol with me?” 

Spencer is shocked to say the least. It’s a great opportunity. Tears well up in his eyes as he looks at the man who cares for him like a son. The man who encouraged him to beat his addiction, who makes him feel like he is worth something. He nods his head and hugs him. He hears their co-workers cheering behind them and he lets out a laugh. Maybe life will allow him to be happy. 

. . .

Wrong. Life always likes to give Spencer a nice kick in the ass. He has been working at Interpol with Roger for about a year and a half and at the ripe age of twenty-four he is one of their most valued members. He is seated quietly at his desk, nursing a horrible migraine when a file is dropped in front of him. He looks up at Roger and sees the sympathy in his eyes. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion before picking up the file. 

His breath hitches in his throat. 

Couple kidnapped and held for four days. Woman shot execution style with evidence of repeated sexual assault. Male beaten brutally with traces of narcotics in his system. 

He can’t breath. He tries but he can’t seem to make his lungs work. He starts to hyperventilate. He can hear Roger saying his name but he can’t focus enough to respond. He’s back. It’s been four years and there has been no cases with even a similar M.O. He is aware that he is having a panic attack but he can’t bring himself to even try and match Roger’s breathing. His inner elbow itches. 

No.

It would make things easier. No dealing with the pain. 

No. No. No. I won’t do it. Not again.

It’s only once. You want to. You’re weak. 

No. I’ve come so far, I will not give it up. 

Then how about the blade? Just like when you were fourteen. Weak little Spencer Reid. You’re pathetic.  

NO!

He doesn’t remember passing out. 

He wakes up with Roger standing over him. He apologizes and Spencer reassures him that he is fine. He wants to work the case. No, not wants, needs to work the case.  Roger refuses. But he knows the case better than anyone. They argue for a while. In the end Spencer wins (he always wins). 

Roger informs him that a team of profilers from the FBI is coming to help solve the case. The killer wasn’t dormant, he went to the United States and continued killing there. Same M.O. Only last week did he return to the U.K. 

“The FBI has worked this case and they want to continue working it,” Roger explains. 

Spencer nods and walks back to his desk. He starts going over the file and victims. He realizes that his name isn’t listed. The victims start with his first kill in the U.S. He feels relief at the fact. He studies the file for a few more hours before Roger tells him to call it a night. They walk to the car together and head home. 

The next day the FBI team arrives. The Behavioral Analysis Unit. Spencer has heard of them, he even studied some of their cases when he first started profiling. They walk in and go straight to Roger, completely ignoring Spencer. He’s not surprised. Strangers never seem to realize that he actually works here. He doesn’t exactly have a sign over his head that reads “I have an IQ of 187 and have five PhDs. I also have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

Roger greets them and introduces them to Spencer. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid, he’s my lead on the case and my second in command. If I’m not available, anything he says goes.” The team all wears various expressions of shock. 

A white male with dark hair, who Spencer assumes is the leader, breaks first and introduces himself and the rest of them. “I’m Agent Hotchner, these are SSAs Rossi, Morgan, Jareau, Greenaway, and Prentiss and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” He holds out his hand and Spencer hesitates. 

“Oh uh I don’t shake hands.” Roger snorts fondly while the team all assumes the Dr. to be a pretentious asshole (he isn’t) (most of the time). They were all led to the conference room which Spencer has already set up. There are two maps on the walls, one of England and the other of the U.S. There are tacks placed at the places where all the victims were held. 

The FBI has been here for three weeks and are no closer to catching the killer. Two other couples have been taken. Spencer never goes to the crime scene. He is barely holding it together, the itch on his arm getting stronger as he clutches his sobriety coin, he can’t bear to look at the scene that is almost identical to the one he found himself in four years ago. Of course the team doesn’t know this. They all think that he doesn’t have the guts to do the job. They often find themselves discussing the young man’s incompetence and how if he can’t handle the case then he shouldn’t work it. They always stop the conversation when he walks in though. One day however, they don’t hear his approaching footsteps as they make fun of him. 

“How old is he? 15? The kid is too damn young to be working a job like this.” Morgan pops a peanut in his mouth after speaking. 

“He probably fucked his way into his position,” JJ says. 

“I mean the way he handles the files. He can’t even look at the pictures. He looks like a baby watching a horror movie,” Prentiss laughs. 

“I still don’t understand. Who let him in here? This isn’t a daycare or a kindergarten.” All three agents laugh at JJ’s comment before a voice shuts them up. 

“You don’t know me.” Their heads snap up to see the man in question standing in the doorway. “You have no right to judge me.” The glare he is giving them is scarier than Hotch’s. 

“Kid we-” That draws the line. 

“I’m not a kid Agent Morgan. The only people acting like children in this building are you three. You have no idea what I have been through. I’m sure you wouldn’t even be able to handle a fraction of the shit show that is my life.” His breathing is heavy and his voice is rising along with his temper. 

“We’re sorry it’s just that you’re so young. We didn’t think-” Spencer cuts Prentiss off. 

“Exactly. You didn’t think did you? Well let me enlighten you. I was brutally bullied since I was eight. My father left me and my paranoid schizophrenic mother when I was ten. I had to work to pay the bills and to be able to have a meal at least once a day. Then I went to college and things got better right? Not really since I still had no friends so I decided self harm was the way to go. Oh and my mother died when I was sixteen. The only person who ever gave a shit about me, killed herself. I came home one day and she was lying on the ground with an empty bottle of pills next to her. I packed up and left because I refused to go with my father or go into foster care. Do you think my life got better after that?” He waits to see if they will answer. They don’t. 

“Well for a while it did. I met the love of my life and we were going to get married. And then we were kidnapped. I was tied to a chair and drugged regularly as I watched my fiancée get raped. Then the psychopath put a gun to her head and shot her in front of me. I watched as the blood pooled around her body and I kept wishing that he had killed me as well. I kept doing drugs. Believe it or not, four days of getting shot up with dilaudid made me an addict. It took me a year to be able to get clean. And when I finally thought it was over a file got dropped on my desk. He was back. The reason for my nightmares, the man my therapist keeps trying to make me forget, was back,” he paused and took a deep breath. “So I’m sorry agents if I can’t go and examine the scene. I’m sorry that I get a little jittery when looking at the case files. But don’t you ever accuse me of not being able to do my job. I’m damn well good at what I do, despite my age. Yes I am only twenty-four but you three have made it quite clear that I am much more mature and capable of doing this job than you are.” With that he turns around, only to come face to face with Roger. He nods at him, a sign that he can leave. Spencer walks out of the conference room and toward the elevator. He gets in, waits for the doors to close and bursts into tears. 

Back in the conference room Morgan, Jareau, and Prentiss are faced with an angry Unit Chief and a fuming Director. 

“I want you out of here,” Roger looks at the three agents before turning back to Hotch. “I will not allow you to continue working this case with us unless they leave right now. They should get suspended for the trouble they have caused. Dr. Reid is one of Interpol’s greatest assets and I will not tolerate three strangers who got here three weeks ago to stand here and insult him. So Agent Hotchner unless they are sent home, your team is no longer welcomed here. And I will make sure to report this to your Section Chief and the FBI Director.” Roger walks out of the room and goes after his son. 

Hotch turns back to his team and none of them think they have ever seen him look as angry as he does that very moment. “Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, pack your bags, you're leaving. You’re suspended two weeks without pay, effective immediately. After your suspension is over you’ll have a meeting with the director to discuss your future at the Bureau. If it were up to me the three of you would be fired, but sadly it isn’t. You have shamed and dishonored the reputation of the Bureau and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if Interpol severed ties with us. Now I am going to apologize to Dr. Reid and Roger and I hope to see you gone by the time I come back. I do not want to hear another word out of you unless it is an apology.” Hotch leaves the room but not before sending them one last glare. Rossi, Elle, and Garcia all look at them and follow after Hotch. To say they are disgusted by their teammates’ behavior is an understatement. 

Spencer is inside his car, sniffling and trying to get himself together. He doesn’t know what came over him inside the conference room but all the stress from the past three weeks took a toll on him and he found the perfect outlet to release it. A knock on his window startles him. Roger smiles before opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat. They sit in silence for a while, neither of them sure how to approach the conversation. 

“You’re not in any trouble,” Roger starts. “If you hadn’t yelled at them son, I was going to and we both know how that would have ended up.” They both chuckle and fall into a comfortable silence. 

“Do you think we’ll catch him?” Spencer speaks up. 

“With you working the case? There is no doubt in my mind.” 

They do catch him. Two weeks later Spencer is standing in an abandoned warehouse in front of the unsub with his revolver raised. The man, Tommy Montgomery, had his gun at the woman’s head, a sick smile on his lips. 

“I remember you,” Montgomery exclaimed. “I killed your fiancée four years ago, didn’t I?” 

Spencer could kill him right now. “Put the gun down. You don’t have to do this. We can help you if you just put the gun down.” Spencer recites the speech that he has said dozens of times to dozens of criminals. 

“Help me?” the man laughed. “You don’t want to help me. You want me to rot in a cell for the rest of my life. We both know there is only one way this can end.” Montgomery raises his gun at Spencer but he isn’t fast enough. 

Spencer unloads three rounds straight to his heart. He lowers his weapon and rushes over to him. He places two fingers above his collarbone--he will never admit that nothing brought him greater joy than realizing that he had no pulse. He goes to untie the male victim as paramedics rush inside. Roger walks over to Spencer once they are outside and pulls him into a hug. 

“It’s over son.” 

Spencer cries and clings onto him as sobs rack his body. He separates himself and takes a few calming breaths. He walks over to the BAU team, which now only consists of three members and their tech analyst. He thanks them profusely and the three of them reassure him that he has nothing to thank them for. Hotch looks at the young genius for a second before making an offer. 

“You know we have three spots open on our team now. If you want to, you are always welcomed at the FBI.” 

“Oh,” he doesn’t know what to think. He hasn’t gone back since he was sixteen. Was he ready? “Thank you really. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to the states at this moment but maybe in a few months or years, if you’ll still have me, I’ll gladly join you.” Spencer holds out his hand and Hotch laughs before taking it and giving it a firm shake. 

“Good luck Dr. Reid.” 

“You too.” 

. . .

Five months later Spencer goes back to Oxford. He’s doing better. His cravings don't come as often and when he looks in the mirror, he isn’t ashamed or disgusted at what he sees. His therapist only requests to see him once a week now and Roger doesn’t hover over him at work.

He stands in the cemetery next to the church he was going to be wed at. He walks across the wet grass, scrunching his face at the squishing noises his shoes make. He faces Maeve’s grave and a shaky breath leaves his lips. He sits down next to the tombstone and starts talking. He tells her about everything that happened in the past months and how he finally avenged her death. He tells her about his progress and how his mental health has improved so much since he last talked to her. He sits there for hours during the day and well into the night until he runs out of things to say. 

“You would be so proud of me sweetheart. But now to what I actually came here to say. I came to say goodbye.” He takes a deep breath as a few tears roll down his cheeks. “I will love you forever and I will keep missing you every single day. But it is time that I move on. I need to find happiness and maybe that happiness isn’t here. I ran away when I was sixteen and I don’t want to run away anymore. So this may be the last time in a while that I come and talk to you. I love you Maeve Reid, to the moon and back.” Spencer stands up and places the ring he was going to wear for the rest of his life on top of the tombstone. He walks away as he takes out his phone and dials a number he never thought he would actually call. It rings for a few seconds before a familiar voice comes through the receiver.

“Hotchner.” 

“Does the offer still stand?”

[ehyeh-joshua]

Understanding the coming 2021 Economic Crisis.

TL;DR - the banks and hedgefunds have been screwing the US economy over and merely repeating what happened in 2008 is a good outcome at this point, with the worst case scenario being the complete collapse of the United States Dollar, and with it the entire global economy.

It's not an accident that Bank of America and JPMorgan have both issued Bonds totalling $15 billion and $13 billion dollars - both record breaking amounts - at the same time Warren Buffet has sold 100% of his JPMorgan stock.

To explain why goes back into the history of Wall Street greed; for decades they have been targeting companies to short-sell their stock (where a share is borrowed and sold, and replaced later at the lower price, causing a profit of the sale of the original share minus the cost of the replacement share and the interest fees on the borrowed share, which can be more profitable than holding the share for the person being borrowed from) on a massive scale; the goal is to make the victim company into a worthless penny-stock, and then force the company into bankruptcy by not having enough liquidity to pay off things like toxic debt, default on issued bonds.

They will even do it to their own; this behaviour was what truly killed Lehmann Brothers and Bear Sterns - Wall Street made hundreds of millions of dollars shorting those two all the way to the ground. In total, they made well over a trillion dollars shorting businesses that went bankrupt as a result of 2008.

There are hundreds of public companies - especially brick and concrete building based companies - that are affected by this, right now, on the stock exchanges; they've been hit hard during the last year, and Wall Street is betting that they will fail between Covid and the shift to online retail.

Then the second side of the attack comes in - they will replace the old leadership with their own team and blame the previous team for all the problems, ride the short term boost in confidence, then control the collapse of the business.

And knowing that the business will go bankrupt makes it safe to do a much more risky and profitable version of short-selling - counterfeit short-selling.

The difference between the two is that in a normal short sell, there is a share that is actually borrowed from someone else in order to be sold; in a counterfeit short-sale, they get a friendly market-maker - a company with the authority to create counterfeit shares as a normal part of trading (make a million of these IOU shares, and fill them with a million real shares milliseconds later in order to create liquidity in a stock, which is hedged by the sale of calls and puts options) to create these counterfeit IOU shares.

They can do this because in the actual transaction, although the money transfers instantly the actual shares transfer on a T+2 settlement system (day of the trade, plus two days) - it's a relic of the old days when physical share certificates had to be moved around.

The IOU share is treated as a legal share - to all legal purposes, you own the share. This is not a "Contract for difference" arrangement, in which you are just betting on the stock going up; this IOU, this synthetic share, is a legal share that is meant to be replaced by the real share during the T+2 system. When it doesn't deliver, it is called an FTD; a 'Fail to deliver".

But it is a fake share - instead of there only being X shares in existence, there are now X+Y shares in existence. This devalues the stock due to increasing the supply.

This is why the news media is going on about meme-stocks - a bunch of 4Chan and Reddit "retarded apes" figured it out and YOLOed their savings on these stocks, and because they refuse to sell the stocks and have bought as many of these counterfeit shares as they can afford (and a few actual retards have bought more than they can afford) and now Wall Street has been caught counterfeiting at least 140% of the shares (the absolute minimum, based on SEC fillings for institutional ownership of GME stock, which necessarily does not include the retail investors) ever issued by GameStop. If you go through the SEC's published data on FTDs, you see that typically hundreds of thousands of shares have failed to deliver each day in the case of GameStop. Hundreds of thousands of fake shares that have been sold and are now trading on the market, in dark pools or sat in some Ape's account.

Now, GME is not going to crash the economy, and this is from someone who fully believes the hype about a million dollars a share not being a meme; there aren't nearly enough retarded apes to make it so big that the dollar will crash, although I do think that GME will temporarily cause the dollar to halve or drop to a third of present value before it all gets spent as apes pay taxes and buy Lambos and houses and continue to make the badly judged options bets that made r/WallStreetBets famous.

The real big nuke is that Wall Street has been shorting the US Treasury Bonds market. Worst case scenario is seven times more Treasury Bonds - especially the ten year Bond - are trading than were ever issued by the Federal Reserve. Best case scenario they've only managed to double the Bonds in existence.

To explain just how terrifying this is:

Imagine that you are a major bank. You need liquidity - you have customers in so many sectors that you have departments to track what departments you have covering different sectors of finance.

So, you use the Treasury Bond; they are backed by the government so they can't go wrong. You buy them when you have money, sell them when you need cash; these things trade typically in total values of trillions of dollars each day. The whole system works because Bank A borrows from Bank B to pay Bank C who owe a Bond to Bank D who need a Bond for Bank E who owe Bank A a Bond; all the time all the members stay afloat, they can play hot potato with the Bonds.

As soon as one goes down, the dominoes fall.

"But what on earth could take out a Bank?"

The Mother Of All Short Squeezes.

GameStop going boom to a thousand dollars a share might take out a single hedgefund, but the damage stops there. And back in January, $1k per share was a meme amount even to the most dedicated autistic retard ape. These days, the apes realise that the economy is as screwed as it was in 2008, and they are using GME to hedge against another global financial crash, which contributes to why they want millions - it's no longer about Lambos and YOLO options bets, but about making sure their families don't lose their homes when banks go boom and the housing market crashes because the bubble pops. Its about having support systems for people who will be left with nothing.

Back in January, apes thought that it was just Melvin Capital - a single, not particularly big hedgefund only worth ~$20 billion in Assets Under Management. Subsequently, they discovered how deep in this Citadel group are; a group of companies that is ultimately worth a trillion dollars and handles 46% of all trades on the New York Stock Exchange.

Citadel are backed by Goldman Sachs and JPMorgan. Bank of America is involved as part of their own short-selling position on GME.

When GME squeezes, the US stock market will crash as the Depository Trust Clearing Corporation margin call small fry like Melvin Capital, large players like Citadel and eventually major banks like Bank of America and JPMorgan. (Goldman Sachs have hedged their short position and will survive, the other two however...)

How do I know this?

Last week, the Biden administration appointed Gary Gensler - who oversaw the fallout from 2008 - to being the head of the Securities Exchange Commission; the organisation who regulates the US securities markets.

Six months ago, the Trump administration gave the US markets a respite on collateral to be deposited to be held to cover investments on margin.

The SEC has been kept up to date with the situation - once apes figured out that this was going to cause a 2008 style collapse they started sending it all in to the SEC; sure, they want Lambo and tendies, but they also want the economy to survive. They've watched The Big Short, and serveral times a day you'll see the Don't ****ing dance" quote cited because they've realised that they have discovered what Michael Burry found out back in 2005. They are terrified. I've had sleepless nights over the last month, and I'm long GME because I think it is the only hedge against the economic collapse that could be on it's way. I don't want to imagine what someone who knows about this stuff and isn't long GME is thinking.

What gives me hope is that the SEC are rapidly changing the rules - there have been three massive legal developments since I started following the situation - in order to contain the damage that can be done from GME going off. I believe that the SEC is coordinating with long institutional investors - particularly BlackRock and Fidelity - GameStop's leadership (who are pushing to turn the company around and need this dealt with so that they can move forward) crypto-currencies experts and the Federal government to ensure a situation where retail gets paid (roughly a hundred thousand Chinese people and a Chinese investment fund are long GME - the US government cannot afford to give the CCP the propaganda coup of betraying the principle of free markets, the US economy would never recover from the blow) and the system has a systemic crash this year and rebuilds much better now that a decades old criminal practice is gotten rid of and the shares system is converted to blockchain and instant settlement to make sure the factors that led to this disaster aren't repeated. I.e. I become a millionaire and retire at 28, buy the dip knowing that things are going to recover from a massive but temporary crisis.

A "normal" bad situation, where this does not completely worst nightmare wrong? I walk away from GME a billionaire, but a loaf of bread costs a million dollars.

Worst case? Well, the bit before Jesus' return in glorious victory is seven years of hell on earth, under an economy where no one can buy or sell without the beasts involvement. How you get that is you arrange a global financial crisis to bankrupt nations all over the world and make your centralised one world economy look like the saviour.

Whatever you do, don't rush to pull money out the banks - that only screws everything over guaranteed because if everyone has a run on the banks you immediately get a short squeeze on the Treasury Bonds, which nukes everything. If everyone pretends that life goes on as normal and the Fed gets away with giving Treasury Bonds to those who need them to complete their chains then only GME goes boom, and the economy survives, and therefore hundreds of thousands of people will not lose their jobs and houses. But they need GME to go boom so that they can use it as a cover story so that they can get away with covering up the Treasury Bonds problem.

As always, none of this is financial advice, and while I'm not a cat, I'm also not a financial advisor, and this is written by a guy who has 19 tickets on rocket built by self-proclaimed retarded apes knowing he only knows of one actual physicist among them, having YOLOed his savings on hope that his affordable investment won't lose value even in the event of 10,000% inflation.

This is going to be my last post on the subject, because frankly, I'm scared. I've seen the Cthulhuoid monster lurking in the depths, and I hope and pray I'm wrong.

[miss-pearlescent]

So you can make whatever AU you want, but if I can have one kink can it please be Noona kink 🙈. When Jongin meets OC he always teases her, it’s definitely not innocent but she blows him off. One night, she’s out with friends and he notices her, noticing her being annoyed by this one guy so he decides to save her and is pleasantly surprised when she decides to indulge his teasing afterwards which then leads toooooooo😉😉 and if you do name the oc my name is Ayla ❤️❤️

The Swim Team’s Car Wash Fundraiser

Word Count: 4493

Rated M for Mature Scenes

You cleared your throat, though it didn’t do much over the rushing of the water.

Kim Jongin, the head of the swim team, was sitting at the edge of the pool, his broad back lined with muscles that allowed the droplets of water to tease their way down to his shorts. It was wrong to stare, so you cleared your throat again.

His teammates noticed you first and snickered, making your cheeks grow warm. The pool wasn’t a place you or your neat Oxford shoes belonged. You were used to sitting in an office or a classroom, organizing budgets and running fundraisers.

It was the only reason why you had to meet with Jongin in the first place. He had said he would be free at 3:00pm, right after swim practice ended, but it was now 3:05pm and he was still halfway in the pool.

As if he heard your thoughts about his tardiness, he looked over his shoulder and threw you a smile. You clutched your clipboard to your chest and dipped your head in greeting. You hoped he got the message that your time was precious and the minutes were ticking.

He said goodbye to his friends before grabbing his towel and climbing out of the pool. Water sloshed everywhere as he shook his hair out, and you looked away as he ran the towel down his body.

“Punctual as ever, Treasurer Noona,” he said as he followed you to the exit doors.

“Don’t call me that,” you replied, giving him a hard look from the corner of your eye. You had only recently gotten this position as treasurer of the council and you worked hard for it.

Jongin barked a laugh. “Fine, just noona, then?”

You shrugged because that was what he had always called you. Jongin had moved here years and years ago, when the two of you were still in middle school. Your parents had helped their parents adjust into the community and you were the good kid that helped the new kid adjust to his new school. Ever since he joined the swim team, though, his popularity had soared through the roof.

It didn’t bother you because it meant more time to focus on school.

You pulled out a piece of paper from your clipboard and handed it to Jongin as the two of you left the chlorine-filled pool area. “Here is the budget. Tell me what you think.”

He wrapped the towel around his neck and dabbed his hands dry before reading over the paper. His brows furrowed and you wanted to warn him that a drop of water was dangling precariously on the tip of his spiky hair. You bit your lip instead. “This isn’t enough. We need more for the extra lifeguard training happening this year.”

You knew he would say that. “Then how about a fundraiser?” you suggested.

Jongin ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all sorts of angles. “The hell kind of fundraiser would a male swim team do? Swimming lessons?”

“Well, what would earn good money?”

As if on cue, a group of giggling girls passed by, whispering to each other as they cast glances at Jongin. Discreetly, you arched your eyebrows at him.

“What is it?” he asked, completely oblivious.

“I’m sure those girls would like to donate a few dollars to the all-male swim team.”

He glanced over at them but still didn’t seem to connect the dots. “I’m not going to be a beggar, noona.”

You rolled your eyes and pointed a finger at his naked chest. “Do you know how much girls are willing to pay to watch good-looking men do a performance half-naked?” Glancing behind you, you were relieved that the girls had left the building and were now getting into their cars.

“You think I’m good-looking?”

You spun around and took a step back, sputtering. “That’s not the point. I’m just speaking objectively. Coming from an objective point of view, you are not bad-looking, per se. You have to know that. You’re an athlete. You should use that to your advantage.” Shoot, you were rambling, weren’t you?

The corner of his lip turned up and you didn’t know if it was your imagination, but his chest seemed to puff up too. “And you think that I should do a strip show? That girls would pay a lot of money to watch?” He took a step toward you, but you held the clipboard tightly to your chest like a shield. He leaned in and you swore you felt a stray drop of water land on the tip of your nose. “Would you come watch me, noona?”

“N-no.” You pushed your glasses up, glaring at him down your nose. “I don’t have time for that kind of stuff.”

His teasing smile didn’t disappear as he stood there, watching you slowly lose the confidence behind your words. “Liar,” he whispered, his breath so close you could feel it tickle your cheeks.

Indignant, you pulled out the thick planner stashed in the book bag that hung at your hip. You flipped to this week’s page and opened it up. “Look at my schedule, Jongin. I barely have time to get my car washed this week let alone go to a show.” Your brother had taken the car to his friend’s cottage last weekend and brought it back full of dirt and grime.

Jongin ran his finger down the column for Saturday and stopped at the entry “Car Wash 10:00am”

He looked up to give you a smirk.

“What?” you asked.

“What do you say about a weekend car wash as a fundraiser?” he said, biting his lower lip. “We kill two birds with one stone: I get funding for the team, and you get your car washed.”

Your heart actually skipped at the thought. Not at the fact that Kim Jongin would be washing your car, but the fact that he had come up with a great fundraising idea. The weather was nice and it was going to be a holiday weekend next week. People will want to have a clean car for their holiday trips. “That’s a great idea!” you squealed, nearly jumping in the air.

Mimicking your smile, Jongin place a finger under your chin, gently turning your head up to look at him straight in the eye. “Actually, we’ll kill a third bird.”

You cocked your head to the side, not understanding what he meant.

“You’ll get to see me half-naked,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, tapping his arm with your clipboard as he pulled away, laughing to himself. “Money first, Kim Jongin.”

“Yes, money first,” he repeated. “Then good-looking, half-naked men, right?”

You shook your head and turned around but couldn’t hide the smile behind your lips. Jongin’s laughter behind you was contagious.

“See you this Saturday, noona!”

-

You finally steered your car into the line at the edge of the parking lot and clenched and unclenched the steering wheel with your sweaty palms. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat.

You just knew that you had anxiously driven around the block three times on this hot and muggy day, avoiding eye contact with the shirtless swim team member waving around a sign that read “$5 CAR WASH! FUNDS GO TO A GOOD CAUSE!”

It wasn’t until two of your friends had finally sent you a text that they were down the street that you finally pulled into the parking lot.

“Ayla!” You blinked and looked around, finding Chanyeol on the sidewalk also holding a big sign. He gave you a big grin and waved. “Good to see you here!”

“Of course. Here to support the team.” You patted the steering wheel as if to prove your allegiance to the swim team as if you were a big fan of everything they did.

Chanyeol didn’t look like he believed your words either as he pointed behind him. “If you’re looking for Jongin, he’s back there.”

“Ah,” your mouth hung open as you gave a quick scan of the full parking lot. Why did Chanyeol point out Kim Jongin? And now that you found the man, you had to look away quickly. “Thanks, Chanyeol. I’ll see you soon.”

He tipped his baseball cap and went back to waving his sign.

You proceeded to look down at your phone, pretending to be very interested in a text conversation. A shirtless Kim Jongin was just at the other end of the parking lot, talking with a bunch of girls who were similarly clad in very little clothing. He had had a hand on his stomach as if he was shy about all the attention he was getting for his nakedness.

You suddenly felt self-conscious about the outfit you had picked out today. It was a simple yellow tank top with jean shorts. You even put on flip-flops because it was so hot out today. But your bare toenails wiggled at you from the brake pedal. Maybe you should’ve gotten them painted first. All the other girls always wore French tips or dipped powder nails.

But it was hard to justify the time and money spent on getting your nails done when all you ever did was sit at a desk and move numbers around.

A knock came at the roof of your car. “Hey, no texting while driving.”

The voice made you jump and you dropped your phone between your thighs onto the floor of the car as you gripped the wheel tightly with both hands. “Sorry!” you yelped, looking straight ahead…and seeing that none of the cars had moved.

Turning to your side, you found a tanned chest with sculpted abs greet you. You knew that chest from a couple days ago when you had been eye-level with it. Kim Jongin ducked his head in. “Did I scare you, noona?”

“No.” You breathed out a sigh. “I just thought a tree had fallen on my car. You didn’t have to knock so hard.”

“Mm.”

You followed Jongin’s gaze to your lap and bent to pick up your phone. “If my phone is broken, Jongin, you owe me.” You dusted off the screen and turned it on to check.

“A personal show? Gladly.” Jongin let out a chuckle. “When do you have time in your busy schedule? Later tonight?”

You shot him a mock death glare and was thankful to see that he had a teasing grin on his face. “I’m here to get my car washed. That’s all.”

A series of squeals came from a few cars ahead and you craned your neck to find that a group of girls had gathered together and were being hosed down by one of the swim team members.

“Um…” You raised an eyebrow at Jongin.

He shrugged. “A bunch of the girls kept telling us it’s getting too hot today so we offered to cool them down.”

You pushed up your glasses and pressed your lips together, not wanting to say anything about it. This wasn’t your fundraiser anyway.

When the two cars in front of you finally went to a free spot, Jongin opened your door. “I’ll take your car. Go hang out with your friends. There are drinks and hot dogs by the trees.”

As you slowly stepped out of the car, you were slightly amazed by the sight of the refreshment stand. The guys only had a few days to organize this whole thing and they were doing a good job of it. “You guys really thought of everything.”

“I do have perverted treasurer up my ass,” he said with a wink as he took the driver’s seat.

Your jaw dropped. “Perverted?”

Jongin held his hands up in defense. “Who was the one that suggested the boys do a strip show to earn money?”

You closed your eyes and rubbed your temples as Jongin laughed.

“Go get some snacks, I’ll take care of this baby.” He patted the side of your car.

You began walking away, thoroughly embarrassed by Jongin’s comment. You did not outwardly suggest a strip show.

“Oh, noona!”

“Hmm?” You turned back, wondering if you had left something in the car.

But Jongin just grinned. “You should wear shorts more often. You look good in them.”

You forced your mouth not to hang open. “Th-thanks,” you replied stiffly as you turned around again and found your friends. But you seemed to have suddenly forgotten how to walk. The knowledge that Jongin had noticed your legs was making you even more flustered and suddenly you envied the girls that got hosed down a minute ago.

And as you chatted with your friends and drank some lemonade, you couldn’t help but think about Jongin’s compliment. He was always joking, but he seemed genuine when he had said that. Did he actually think your shorts were cute?

Thinking back, you shouldn’t have spent so much time this morning picking out your clothes and deciding which lip colour to wear because you could have spent those extra minutes getting in some more sleep. But Jongin had noticed the effort you had put in, and the thought made you warm inside.

It also made your stomach do a couple flips, and you were too nervous to eat the hot dogs that were being sold so instead you pulled out your wallet and bought one for each other your friends.

You grabbed one more to bring to Jongin as a thank you because you could see him diligently soaping up your car.

“I’ll be right back,” you told your friends.

The oldest girlfriend waggled her eyebrows at you. “Going to see your boyfriend?”

Your eyes bulged. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say who I was talking about, Ayla,” she said, giggling behind her hand. “But you better go quick or else he’s going to be caught by that group of girls.”

You turned, red-faced, and saw that the same girls who had passed by the pool the other day were talking to Jongin. And they had brought him a lemonade.

You looked down at your hotdog, suddenly regretting your decision to go over there. Of course he would want a lemonade more. It was so hot today and he was working extra hard on your dirty car, trying to get the wheels squeaky clean after your brother had dragged it through the mud and back. He had no time to eat a hot dog when there were so many cars waiting to be washed.

You thought about ripping open the foil of the hot dog and stuffing it into your own mouth instead to hide the pout that was forming.

“Just go over there and talk to him,” your friend said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

You grimaced. “I…I don’t want to bother him.” You didn’t want to be swarming him like the other girls. He already looked uncomfortable enough, his smile tight-lipped, his hand rubbing his neck. He didn’t need another girl taking up his time.

“Ayla.” Your friend grabbed you by the shoulders. “He is washing your car. Himself.”

“That’s because he made me drop my phone earlier. He’s just returning a favour.”

Your friend rolled her eyes. “For a girl who’s head of the class, I swear to god…” She turned your chin toward Jongin. “My boyfriend won’t even take out the trash let alone wash my whole car. Jongin is doing it happily out in the sun. And the fact that he keeps looking over at you?”

“He’s not looking over—” You stopped as Jongin glanced over and nodded, as if he had heard what you friend was saying and was just confirming it.

The hotdog suddenly felt like dead weight in your hands.

“Now’s your chance, girl. You got this!”

Before you could say another word, your friend shoved you away from the group so that you had to keep walking. One step at a time, you dragged your feet across the parking lot. There was no turning back now. You were already halfway there.

“Hey, Ayla!” You whipped your head to the male voice but couldn’t pick it out from the crowd. “Lookin’ hot there! Want a cool down?”

A frigid blast of water smacked you in the shoulder and you teetered to the side, trying to hide your face. “Stop—” A pair of arms came around your waist and picked you up off the pavement, turning you to the direction of the hose.

You wanted to scream but the water was directly hitting your face. Quickly, you realized your glasses had been knocked off at some point.

“Hey,” you sputtered, batting away at the water and the arms. “Please, stop.”

But nobody seemed to hear you. They were too busy laughing even as the water went up your nose and you began coughing.

“Ayla!”

Suddenly you felt your world teetering again and the arms let you go. You fell to the hard concrete, your knees getting scratched in the process, but you were just glad to be out of the water. You clutched your chest, trying to catch your breath as you coughed.

“The fuck was that?” you heard Jongin’s voice above you.

Without your glasses, you could only see murky figures, but you could tell it was Jongin standing in between you and the two guys. He shoved one of them back, putting more distance between you.

You watched as their voices rose, but you couldn’t tell who the others were. “We were just trying to get her nice and wet for you, Jongin.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Did I ask for that?” Jongin’s voice shook with anger. “Did she ask for that?”

No answer came from the guys, and you could see that others were forming a crowd to watch what was happening. This was too much attention for you to handle, but you couldn’t run away without your vision. “Jongin,” you murmured. “Do you see my glasses?”

You saw his broad shoulders heave a sigh and then he turned around to face you. You couldn’t tell the specifics of his expression, but you knew he was pissed.

“Here.” He picked your glasses off the ground but didn’t hand them to you. Instead, he helped you stand and put an arm around your waist. “Let’s go.”

Silently, you followed him, because without your glasses, you didn’t know where else to turn.

When he ushered you into a single bathroom stall, it wasn’t until he turned on the tap and began meticulously cleaning your glasses with a paper towel that you realized the two of you were alone.

You rubbed your arms and leaned against the counter. “Thank you, Jongin.”

He didn’t say a word, just continued cleaning.

Seconds passed by and you wondered what he was concentrating so hard about. The faucet was still running and he was still bent over the sink. “Is something the matter?” you asked.

“I…” he trailed off before gingerly handing you the glasses and turning off the tap. “I’m not sure. Try it out.”

You placed them on your face and turned to look at the mirror and realized two things.

Firstly, the frames were bent so they sat on your face in a funny position.

And secondly, you could clearly see the little pink flowers on your bra outlined by your soaked tank top.

“How is it?” Jongin’s voice whispered close to your ear as he peered over your shoulder to look in the mirror.

You spun around, not wanting him to see your embarrassing choice of a bra. “It’s fine.”

He blinked down at you, as if he didn’t quite believe you, and you couldn’t help but notice you were standing too close to him. You backed up a little bit on your toes so your butt could rest of the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Your hand shot out to grab his shirt—to stop him from turning away and beating himself up—but he didn’t have a shirt on.

Instead, you skimmed his hard abs, sending a shock through your system. You pulled your hand away, but not before hearing him exhale a small hiss.

“Jongin, it’s not your fault,” you pleaded, craning your neck so he could see the sincerity in your eyes.

But he was staring at the ground, shame darkening his eyes.

You put your hands on both sides of his face. “Jongin.” You forced him to look at you. “None of this was your fault. You did great today. Look at everything you organized in a few short days. It’s not the end of the world if there’s a hiccup here or there.”

You smiled, hoping he would copy you, because you realized you enjoyed his smile. You liked it when he teased you. And it made you sad to see him so serious.

“Noona,” he choked out.

You tilted your head, listening hard because his voice was so low. “Hmm?”

“If you don’t let go of me now, I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened and you realized what kind of position the two of you were in. Somehow, in the span of a few seconds, he was suddenly in between your legs and you had wrapped your ankles around his strong calves, trapping him there.

This position was not appropriate for a fundraiser car wash.

But it was exactly the position you wanted.

You hooked your arms around Jongin’s neck and pulled him down, pressing your lips to his in a gasping kiss. Your body felt electrified as Jongin’s hands quickly came to squeeze your sides, roaming and touching down your back and hips.

You moaned and gave a little nod as he slipped a finger under your tank top, skimming your warm skin. You never wanted to get a soaked piece of clothing off so fast.

He didn’t make it easier for you. He wouldn’t stop kissing you, even as he pulled your top higher and higher until it revealed your flowery bra. You squealed as he expertly popped the clasp.

“Jongin!” You pulled away and held the cups to your skin.

“Too fast?” he asked, panting.

You realized you were just as breathless. “No, but how far are we going? I don’t have a condom with me.”

“Always the planner,” he teased as he slipped the tank top over your head and helped you pulled the bra down your arms. “We have five minutes before people are going to start knocking. Let’s see how much we can squeeze in.”

You whimpered as he kissed the tip of your breast.

“Stop me if it’s too much, noona. I’m going crazy here.” His tongue came out to flick your nipple, making it hard enough so that he could suck it into his lush mouth. His hands pulled up your knees so that your feet landed firmly on the countertop.

Your hands shook as you rushed to unzip the fly of your denim shorts, anything to get these layers of fabric off. With every pull of his mouth on your breast, Jongin was sending waves of empty aches down to your belly.

You cried out as he turned to the other breast, this time less gently. Throwing your head back, you leaned on your arms to steady yourself.

“That’s it, noona. I owe you a good time, don’t I?” His voice was dark and raspy, as if he was having trouble holding himself back. Then, true to his word of giving you a good time, he slid his hand between your legs and pressed a finger to the thin fabric of your underwear. “Fuck, you are so hot.”

You tried to keep your hips still but you couldn’t help raising them, wanting more of him. You wanted him to keep touching to, to never stop. You wanted his lips on your skin, and you wanted his fingers stirring all your sensitive spots.

God, most of all, you wanted him inside you.

You clasped a hand to your mouth to hold back a loud gasp when he suddenly found your clit. “Oh, Jongin. Yes.”

Jongin gave a dark chuckle. “How could I miss it? You’re so swollen.”

He leaned in for a better angle and you had to put an arm around his shoulder, holding yourself in place while he worked his hand. You kissed his collarbone, trying to make this feel just as good for him as he worked hard, his finger quickly running back and forth over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“C’mon, noona. You know you want to let go. I can feel you pulsing around me.” You moaned at his dirty words. “If I could stuff my throbbing hard cock in you right now, I bet your tight pussy would suck me dry. I’d spend all night in between these beautiful legs, making sure you were satisfied.”

“Oh, Jongin,” you whimpered his name through a shaky breath as you clung to him. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Good.” He continued the same pace, the veins on his arms bulging through. “I want you to cream in your panties for me. Just for me.”

You let your head fall back, and he took that opportunity to suck on a sensitive spot on your neck. That was your undoing. You legs curled up, suddenly shaking as your core pulsated. But Jongin continue playing with your poor clit, gently rubbing it back and forth.

Clutching his shoulders, your body seemed to convulse as you crested. You could feel a rush of warm wetness drip into your panties and you couldn’t stop the ongoing orgasm.

It wasn’t until you nearly slipped off the edge of the counter that Jongin took his hands out from between your legs to steady you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes searching your face.

You thought you were seeing double until he adjusted your glasses a little bit. “Mm,” you murmured as a reply.

He laughed and pulled you into a hug, letting your jelly-like limbs rest heavily on his strong body. “Noona, you should know something.”

You could barely open your eyes. “What is it?”

“I don’t do casual sex.”

You pulled back, blinking. “What do you mean?” You brain felt fuzzy, and you couldn’t comprehend words and thoughts very well at the moment.

But you could see that he was still hard behind his flimsy swim shorts. “It means I’m going to want you even more from now on.”

You squeezed your thighs together at the thought and you knew he could hear the lewd noise caused by the wetness in your underwear. You snaked an arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. “I think I’d be able to find some time in my schedule for you, Jongin,” you teased.

—

THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN LOOOOL I was actually a little stumped by this request because I never do noona stuff since….I’m not a noona to any of my biases lol I also debated between different AUs and I almost did a boxer!jongin but I decided to play it safe and I’m so glad I did because I am actually really happy with how it turned out :3 :3 :3 another note: I had wanted to save the glasses thing for a red riding hood AU but since I never write about glasses, I might as well do it more often!

Thank you for the request @ninibears-erigom ^^ You are always so supportive of all the writers and whenever you reblog a fic, they get a surge in notes (thank you for reblogging my vampire one-shot recently hehehehhehehehe) I hope you liked this one!

Thank you everyone for reading~~~

[pool-posts]

salt chlorinator repair

Salt Chlorine Generators do require some maintenance and repair. The salt cell will eventually lose performance and the controller circuit boards can develop problems over time.

New technology in salt systems may also sway your decision to repair or replace your salt chlorinator. Newer models self-clean and self-diagnose and other advanced features.

 Chances are, at some point you will face an expensive repair to your salt system, I’m talking about either a new salt cell, or a new control board. Both of these repairs can approach half the cost of a new system.

 How do you know if you have a salt chlorinator problem? Usual symptoms are low chlorine output, as determined by your water tests, indicator lights or error codes flashing on the control box, or no lights at all.

Salt Chlorinator repair are that the cost to repair the control unit can be as much as half the cost of a complete new system, including the salt cell.

 Troubleshooting a Salt Chlorinator

First:

Check power. If your salt cell is plugged into a GFI outlet, make sure that the test button is not popped, or tripped. If your salt system is hardwired, variations in voltage could cause the controller to go a little haywire.

Second:

Maintain the proper salt level in the pool. Using salt test strips is recommended, even if your unit displays a digital salt level – it could be wrong.

Check the water flow:

Dirty pump baskets, clogged impellers or filters can reduce water flow to such a low point, that very little chlorine is produced. Check the pump timer too, for the same reason.

Check your water balance:

Especially your pH, and your Cyanuric Acid levels. High pH and low CYA can make it hard for chlorine to be effective. Keep a pH level of 7.2-7.6, and your level of CYA (or Stabilizer), at 30-50 ppm, to reduce the workload on your salt cell. Using the salt cell too much increases scale, and may cause premature cell failure.

New Salt Systems can reverse polarity to slough off accumulated scale. Other units may have an indicator light to let you know when the cell needs to be manually cleaned. Older salt systems have neither, and require periodic inspection and cleaning.

Buy New or Repair Old?

 Back to the original question. Well, if my troubleshooting tips didn’t help you, the next step might be to assess the likely parts needed to repair the salt system, so you can determine the probable repair costs, to weigh against the cost of a new salt chlorine generator.

If the salt system is still within the warranty period, by all means, get on the phone with the manufacturer’s support reps, for some advanced troubleshooting, or warranty service.

Most salt cells last 3-5 years, depending on the salt system, and situational factors. The control boards used can last 3x as long, even in the outdoor environment, or they could fall victim to insect, power or moisture issues.

If you’ve invested too much money into your current salt system, and are finding it unreliable, perhaps switching brands would be appropriate. Or, if your system is over 10 years old, you may enjoy the features and benefits available on our newest salt systems for pools.

HOW CAN I TELL IF MY SALT WATER CHLORINATOR IS WORKING PROPERLY?

The easiest way to ascertain if the chlorinator is working is to make sure the cell is clean by checking the needle or production lights.

Ensure there is enough salt in the pool.

On the chlorinator box there should be a light or dial that indicates it is working.

Test the water that water has recently left the chlorinator - it ought to have an extremely high chlorine perusing. (Recollect that in the event that it is incredibly high it might dye the test tablet so you may need to weaken the water you are trying). In the event that there is no chlorine perusing, the chlorinator won't be working.

If you have been dosing with chlorine you won’t know. So, wait until you have a nil reading of chlorine and then perform the test.

Most salt water cells last somewhere in the range of 3 and 5 years, contingent upon the nature of the framework and how very much kept up it has been while the force sheets can last altogether more than this.

In case you're experiencing difficulty with your chlorinator, bring or send the entire framework into us and we will run a chlorinator wellbeing check to assist you with deciding the probably cost of chlorinator fixes.

And if you do require a new system, we have some excellent new chlorinators that make use of the latest technology.

5 Suggested Salt Water Pool Maintenance Practices

Working with salt water chlorinators is from multiple points of view is a delight; you get supported undeniable degrees of santization without managing the disagreeable smell and compound bothering of managing chlorine as an actual item. In any case, this sadly doesn't nullify the requirement for some essential support to the pool.

1.      Cleaning salt cell plates

The salt cell in particular is prone to residue build-up. This is as a result of attraction of free ions to the charged plates resulting in accumulation of the minerals. If left unchecked, continuous deposition will render the plates useless and as a result the entire unit will not function as expected. It is therefore very important to ensure that the plates are cleaned on a regular basis.

2.      Pool shocking

This is a salt water pool upkeep practice where a high grouping of chlorine is brought into the pool by expanding the measure of salt added. This is valuable for disposing of aggregated miniature organic entities that become lenient to the pool's common salt fixations.

3.      Repair or replacement of malfunctioning units

This comes in especially handy when the unit has been in use for a long time. This is because continuous use leaves many parts of the unit prone to irreversible damage. This maintenance practice is more often than not run on parts of the cell itself or the system’s wiring circuit.

4.      Pool water pH monitoring and regulation

Of all the significant support rehearses, this is perhaps the most significant. It is the most solid indicative apparatus as it permits you to measure the whole unit's presentation. Accordingly, it is done on a more customary premise with some in any event, doing it once per day. A few units even screen pH levels for you and will infuse corrosive into the water in like manner to keep up right pH levels. In case you're uncertain how to test your water at home, take some example water alongside subtleties of your pool to your nearest pool shop or handyman store and they ought to have the option to test it for you and offer you a few and guidance on how the water is looking.

5.      Skimmer box cleaning and pool vacuuming

Our last tip on salt water pool maintenance practices is to keep debris out of the water as much as possible as leaves and other organic material contain acids which can alter the pH level of the water and also introduce contaminants to the pool. Clean your skimmer box on a daily basis if possible and vacuum as regularly as you can.

 Reduce pool Salt Chlorinator repair system with maintenance.

Maintaining a pool salt water system requires special care and product knowledge. Salt generators produce chlorine which continually sanitizes the pool water. The constant chlorine production ensures that the water remains clean and clear. The salt cells that are responsible for converting salt to chlorine need to be cleaned every three months. The salt cells become clogged with calcium build-up, dirt, and debris. Chlorine production reduces when the cell isn’t cleaned.

How Long Do Salt Chlorinators Last?

Like any electronic device, salt chlorinators do not last forever. They also do require some maintenance here and there. After a couple of years, you might need to replace them. Salt chlorinators can last between 3-7 years. Higher priced salt chlorinators generally last longer. Other ways to increase your salt generators life is by using the proper salt and maintaining it well. A malfunctioning salt chlorine generator can rapidly become a homeowner’s nightmare.

Potential Problems with the Salt Chlorinator repair Cell

One of the considerations when deciding whether to look chlorinator cell repair or potentially investing in a new system, particularly if your chlorinator is quite old, is the development of new technology and availability of self-cleaning systems. Look for systems that have reverse polarity, which effectively means the ability to reverse the flow of electricity over the plates to slough off the calcium build up.

Potential Problems with the Chlorinator Control Unit

If your chlorinator control unit appears to have died, first check the power to the unit. (yes, we know it may sound obvious but you’d be surprised the number of people who bring in the unit and then realise that the power had tripped on their circuit at home.)

If the power is fine, then it is more likely to be a fundamental issue with the function of the controller. A common cause can be pesky creatures getting inside the box and chewing through wires! Obviously in this scenario, you will need to either replace or repair the controller.

Again some key considerations when looking at Salt Chlorinator repair are that the cost to repair the control unit can be as much as half the cost of a complete new system, including the salt cell. If there is a chance that you are likely to experience problems with the salt cell say in the next 12 months because of the overall age of your system, or you have already spent money on repairs recently, it may well be time to ‘bite the bullet’ and invest in a complete new system.

Repairing a Salt Cell step by step:

Chlorine generators are the most recent development in pool support innovation. They work by going salt water through an electrically charged salt cell to create chlorine. The chlorine is separated into the water to keep the pool perfect and satisfying for swimming In many conditions, salt cells experience issues because of a development of calcified salt, which is genuinely clear to cure. With the correct directions you'll fix the salt cell yourself and get a good deal on a help charge.

Step1:

Turn off your pool pump, unplug the chlorine generator, unplug the salt cell from the chlorine generator and turn off all the necessary valves.

 Step2:

Grip the right side collar of the salt cell with a pair of water pump pliers and loosen it by rotating it towards yourself until hand tight. Repeat on the left side collar.

Step 3

Unscrew one collar at a time by hand while supporting the salt cell with your free hand. Pull the salt cell away from the plumping and set it aside.

  Step 4

Scrape out calcium build up from both ends of the salt cell using a metal scraper. Scrape any calcium build up that might be present in the piping where the salt cell connects to the pool system.

Step 5

Mix one gallon of water with 1/4 gallon of muriatic acid in a large plastic container. Coil a few wires around the salt cell and slowly submerge it into the solution.

Step 6

Soak the cell for several minutes. Pull the cell out of the solution with the wire and rinse it off thorough with a high pressure garden hose.

Step 7

Fit the salt cell back onto the system and plug everything back in. Open all necessary valves and start the pool pump. Wait a few minutes and check if the salt cell error LED found on the salt generator control panel turns off.

If you want to repair or services of his pool so, contact us or visit our website below:

http://www.poolrobotrepair.com.au/

[lovelyparkers]

the lifeguard (1)

part one!

summary: you're a summer lifeguard at coney island's beach and peter convinces his friends to go. y'all are 18 in this and just graduated! 2.9k words

warnings: none really, just swearing, fluff and spice woo part two is gonna be spicier oops

peter knew from the moment you told him you were working on coney island's beach this summer that he would be there as much as possible. he had liked you all throughout high school. literally all four years and never did anything about it. but now high school was over and he knew you would slip right past him. plus seeing you on the beach in a tight red bathing suit? how could he say no to that. and of course, red was really his favorite color, and seeing it on you...that would be heaven.

you had discussed summer plans with peter and you told him of your new job. you told him how you would drive there every morning at 8 am and be there till 6 pm. 7 days of the week. but hey it payed well and you loved the beach. lots of kids from school frequented the beach too, so it's be nice to see your friends—and maybe part of you hoped you'd see peter.

peter had mentioned he had a night job in queens and besides that no other plans. you liked the boy. there was something about him that was just so endearing and when you talked or even looked at him you got butterflies. and don't even get me started on how you felt thinking about him.

you were all set the next day to go down to the beach for your first day in the job, feeling ecstatic. you had bought several different styles of red bathing suits, lots of sunscreen and a cute pair of sunglasses. you went through intense training about a month ago and were all ready to go. you'd spent other summers life guarding at your neighborhood pool, but wanted to go down to the beach for something different before heading off to college. and hey maybe you'll get to see a super cute boy aka peter there sometime, you dropped him hints.

the night of the last day of school, peter met up with ned, mj, and betty for celebratory pizza when he brought up the idea.

"so how 'bout we go down to the beach tomorrow? coney island," he asked while chewing.

michelle laughed, "why? because you know y/n is working there?"

"what? no! i didn't know she was working on eighth street."

"no one said she was working on eighth street peter," betty snapped.

"well i—"

michelle smirked, "just admit it, you like y/n."

michelle was one of your close friends and knew you somewhat liked peter so this was fun for her. but she was so happy he liked you back. you constantly complained about needing a boyfriend.

peter threw his hands up in defeat, "okay! okay! i like her!"

"i knew it!" ned screamed causing people in the pizza shop to look over at them awkwardly. "sorry."

peter's face flushed, "so, the beach?" everyone nodded. it was the beach for god sakes. hell yeah. and coney island was what they were all used to.

"i'm guessing we are going to eighth street right?" michelle teased.

"uh huh, and you're driving because you're the only one with a car!"

michelle groaned obnoxiously, "fine! but y'all are giving me gas money."

"we have to leave early so we don't get caught up in traffic," betty added.

"there's always traffic," ned replied.

"still there might be less."

"i don't think so it's summer—"

"guys stop! it's settled. eighth street, we'll leave at 8:30, mj is driving," peter spat.

everyone finally agreed and finished the last of the pizza. michelle got up to leave and said, "everyone meet at ned's i'll be there at exactly 8:30. if you're late we leave with out you, see ya losers."

the next morning at exactly 8:30 am, michelle pulled up outside ned's apartment in her dingy vintage car. ned was dressed to the nines in beach attire, as was betty. meanwhile peter was simply wearing flip flops, swim trunks and a white muscle tee, along with a blue beach towel draped around his shoulders. he had his grey backpack filled with snacks, sunscreen, his wallet, and other random shit. his black sunglasses shielded his eyes, as did his long brown curls that he had been growing out. it was almost 90° as well, so needless to say this was a much needed beach day. the boys packed some beach chairs and an umbrella into michelle's trunk then everyone hopped in the car, betty in the passenger seat, ned and peter in the back.

the drive wasn't too bad, it took 45 minutes with the traffic like said. and luckily they were able to find a parking spot in about five minutes of arriving which was rare. everyone got out and grabbed their things, running to the beach.

"guys! we should set up close to the lifeguard stand, you know in case of emergency," peter yelled over the noisy wind and boardwalk.

"you mean a y/n emergency?" michelle laughed causing peter to turn red. michelle decided to lead the rest of the way onto the beach and down the mat to find an open spot. michelle plopped her chair down like ten feet to the right of your lifeguard stand. the boys and betty were still trudging through the sand.

"hey y/n!" michelle called up to you.

"mj! hey! what are you doing here? i thought you hated the beach!"

"i do! i'm just a chauffeur. but hey i wanted to see you too!"

"oh cool!" you shouted back, taking long looks at the water since your coworker wasn't here yet. "who are you with?"

as you asked that, the staggering three came into your view and they all waved to you. peter was at the back of the group acting relatively shy. "i'll make sure you guys don't drown!" you shouted again, making them laugh. you got back to looking out in the water through your sunglasses, the cool shade of an umbrella over your head allowing you to somewhat relax from the intense heat. meanwhile, peter was taking glances at you every few seconds as the crew set up their beach spot. michelle immediately sat down in her chair, pulling out a book. ned and betty set up the other chairs and laid down a sheet in front of them to put their coolers and bags on, throwing a shoe on each corner. peter set up the umbrella since he was obviously the strongest one to stick in through the sand. he easily pushed it into the sand and pulled the cover up, making a nice circle of shade around the four of them. you couldn't deny that you snuck a look or two at peter's clenching back muscles as he jammed the umbrella into the ground.

"mj, wanna go touch the water with us?" ned asked innocently.

"no."

"okay then..."

peter, ned and betty went down to the water to feel it. it was brisk, but it felt nice under the 90 degree sun. tons of people were already in the water cooling off. you watched peter run a hand through his long locks and let it blow in the wind, making it a mess. but a cute one per say. you stood up on the stand, pushing your sunglasses up on your head to get a better look. he was splashing and kicking the water at his friends, laughing his head off. betty was screaming like the water was going to kill her while ned just joined it. peter's muscle tee left little to the imagination, allowing you to see his brawny muscles that he always hid in school. his pecs were also quite prominent through the front of his shirt as well, it was a bit see through, being white and all. and gosh you just couldn't imagine what he would look like when he-

you stopped your train of thought when peter looked directly up at you on the lifeguard stand. he smiled, mid laugh, teeth showing. you couldn't see his eyes under the sunglasses but they were bright and admirable. you grinned back at him, waving yet again, mouthing a 'hey.' peter waved too, with both hands up in the air, mouthing a 'hey' back. he turned back to his friends and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. god, you looked so good. your hair was blowing in the wind and you had a red bikini top and bottoms tied around your body. your lifeguard whistle was on a lanyard around your neck, hanging just in between your boobs. (ur hot asf and u cant convince me otherwise) the sight of you almost caused him to combust, how could you look that good. and he could just almost imagine what you would look like without-

"peter?"

"huh?" he asked quickly.

"you zoned out," ned said.

he scoffed, "oh yeah, i just- yeah, i'm good."

"is it y/n," ned winked.

peter shook his head up and down. he didn't even care that anyone knew. he just really, really liked you. and seeing you on the beach in that attire, didn't help his problem.

he rushed back to sit down in his beach chair, resting his slightly sweaty forehead in his hands to try to relax himself. he got way too worked up way too fast.

"you saw y/n i guess?"

peter looked up to see michelle laughing at him.

"why don't you just talk to her you weirdo."

"i don't know i- she's just- y/n is...i can't."

"yeah you can dumbass. just say hi."

"what are we talking about?" betty asked as her and ned sat down with the two. "he won't talk to y/n," michelle answered.

ned perked up, "peter! why don't you just pretend to drown, then she will save you and give you mouth to mouth! she said she would make sure you didn't drown."

"i'm pretty sure that's illegal," michelle said.

"yeah i-i can't do that."

"then just go talk to her," betty said agreeing with mj.

peter hopped out of his chair and started toward the lifeguard stand before stopping on his tracks at the sight of you greeting your apparent coworker. your coworker was a guy, probably around 20 years old and obviously good looking. he had messy blond hair paired with abs. nothing like peter's though. peter suddenly felt a pang of jealousy as you laughed at something he said. he watched the guy put a hand on your back, as he settled down. peter returned to his chair and slumped down, cheeks red from both the sun and jealousy. once peter sat down you scanned your eyes around looking for him and eventually landing on the boy in his chair.

your coworker was busy watching everyone in the water but you hopped down from the stand to keep an eye on some little kids...and maybe peter. just as your feet hit the sand, a gust of wind blew by, pulling peter's beach umbrella out of the ground and almost smacking you down, had you not caught it. peter had jumped up to try to grab and it and he ran after the umbrella only to be met by you holding it out to him. "here you go pete," you said smiling.

"thanks," he whispered, grabbing the umbrella from your hands.

"you gonna swim?" you asked him.

"oh," he looked at the water then back at you, trying not to get distracted by how good your boobs looked in that top, "yeah. we're gonna swim like, soon."

"cool."

"yeah," he said twirling the umbrella stick in between his hands.

"it's great to see you peter, you look great."

he blushed, looking down then back up, "you do too. look good i mean. you look great y/n...red suits you."

"thanks," you giggled. you had to stop yourself from reaching out and feeling his muscles. there was a moment of silence between you two until you realized you had to work. "i'm gonna uh, you know, get back to work. i'll find you on my break, be careful out there."

"i will," peter replied softly, watching you climb up the stand, ass almost in his face. you looked back down at him smiling. he shyly waved and returned to push the umbrella back into the ground.

"what took you so long? i could barely see my book!"

"i was talking to y/n. she said she's gonna find me on her break," he happily stated. peter had a little bounce in his step now, feeling more energised and confident. "c'mon guys! let's go swimming!"

"i'll pass," michelle shouted.

ned and betty obliged and got ready to head into the water. peter put his sunglasses in his back pack, not caring to lose yet another pair in the ocean. then he pulled off his shirt, revealing his once hidden abs to the world. his swim trunks sat on his hips, exposing his v-like slightly. you were lucky to have caught a glimpse of this show, sucking in a sharp breath when peter pulled off his shirt. shit. he was hot. of course he was.

he ran down the sand and straight into the water, diving under a wave when it got deep enough. you watched him intently, back muscles flexing when he dove. as he came up out of the water, he whipped his curls out of his face, facing you. you had no idea if it was on purpose or not but god did it make you shiver. this was gonna be a long day.

you watched him gracefully swim in the water and body surf waves so effortlessly. it made being a lifeguard less boring in all honesty. but gosh were you besotted with him. and when he walked out of the water to go back to his chair, it was like he was walking in slow motion, the way hot people do in movies. and it was gorgeous to watch. water was dripping all the way down his body. droplets would fall from his now even darker, wet curls onto his face and down his neck, then onto his broad chest and toned abs, finally reaching the waist band of his swim trunks. right to his v-line. you almost audibly gasped right there.

as peter walked by the stand he looked up at you, again running a hand through his wet curls to push it out of his face. he grinned at you, knowing you were watching him. and you stared right back. he was showing off wasn't he? two can play this game. you pushed your sunglasses back up on your head and made direct eye contact with him, causing peter to stumble in the sand. you laughed and put your glasses back down. he was so cute and hot at the same time. how?

when your break came around, you decide to head into the water and cool off. your coworker took over, watching you climb down the stand, as did peter. you slowly strutted toward the water, walking in slowly before it got deeper and dunking your head under the cool water. peter eyed you from the beach, hunching over with his elbows on his thighs. his sunglasses blocked the lustful gaze from anyone else's view luckily. when you came up out of the water he watched it drip all over your body and glisten on your face. he couldn't take his eyes off you.

you looked over to peter, since you did promise you'd find him during your break. you saw he was staring at you and just smirked. you pointed at him on the beach. he sat up in shock and poked his finger on his chest as to say, 'wait, me?' you then curled your finger toward your body in a come here motion, obvious to peter. he stood up and went straight to you in the water, swimming out past the waves to you. as he got to your side you noticed how flushed his face was, you couldn't tell if it was from sunburn or something else. it was the latter.

"hey," you started.

"hey y/n."

"so what goes on?"

"nothing really..just...swimming."

"well i'm glad you're here. it made me really happy."

"me too. i'm happy to see you too." the two of you were just floating in the water, up and down waves with each other.

"you know i didn't think you'd actually come."

"what do you mean?"

"well obviously i wanted you to come while i'm working. i was dropping hints in school, if you couldn't tell."

peter chuckled, "no, no. i picked up on them. you're ah, you're really cool."

"so are you." you smiled at each other now, just enjoying the company and the semi peacefulness. until your coworker blew his whistle and pointed at you.

"that's me, i gotta go. see you later peter!" you swam off towards shore, peter watching you all the way to the stand. he smiled to himself, giddy over the fact that you wanted him to come here. and he just wanted to spend every second with you. you were truly the kindest and most beautiful person ever, that he couldn't get enough of.

now all he had to do was ask you on a date.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT FOUNDERS

Even a day's delay can bring news that causes an investor to your cofounder s should be like introducing a girl/boyfriend to your parents—something you do only when things reach a certain stage of seriousness. Counterintuitive as it feels, it's better most of the calories. There's something fake about it. So while they're often nice guys, they just can't help it. History tends to get rewritten by big successes, so that in retrospect it seems obvious they were going to grow into big, beautiful swans. So there you have it: languages are not equivalent, and I think this is the preferred way to solve the problem in its full complexity, it would seem crazy to most people to try to make it big is not simply a constant fraction of the things that will surprise you if you build something popular is that you shouldn't relax just because you have to create a special visa for startup founders. ITA in New Architect magazine said that one line of Lisp can replace 20 lines of C, and since they're the customer you can take that without having to think.

The combined code can be much shorter than if you had no users, it would still be important to release quickly, because for a startup the initial release acts as a shakedown cruise. A couple days ago I found to my surprise that I'd been granted a patent. If you talk to investors in parallel rather than serially. But that's another issue. Not just small, lame. If life is short. What they really dislike is the sort of big social shift that only happens once every few generations. In phase 2, yes. One thing all startups have in common is that they probably will, one day.

Such a high proportion of successful startups raise money that it might seem fundraising is one of the organizers got up on the stage to deliver an impromptu rebuttal. Ken Anderson says that the following code is about as close as you can, to a limited extent, simulate a closure a function that takes a number n, and returns a function that generates accumulators—a function that takes another number i and returns n incremented by i. So here we have two pieces of information that I think are very valuable. Don't be hapless. And yet we'd all be wrong. Introducing an investor to your cofounder s should be like introducing a girl/boyfriend to your parents—something you do only when things reach a certain stage of seriousness. And frankly the thought of a 30% success rate at fundraising makes my stomach clench.

But the founders contribute ideas. So things don't happen in the Python example, where we are in effect simulating the code that a compiler would generate to implement a lexical variable. This is why we even hear about new languages like Perl and Python. This was the Lisp function eval. Similarly, when investors ask how much you plan to raise a $7 million series A round, and we'll be accepting termsheets next tuesday. And yet within a month it had happened again: an aggressive west coast VC who had met the founder of a company in trouble, which makes it difficult to tell founders what to aim for. To get a truly random sample, pollsters ask, say, every 20th person leaving the polling place who they voted for.1 If it were, so you don't need money take some to grow faster than the salary that seemed so high when they left school.

A group of 10 people working together in the usual way. The challenge is whether we can keep things this way. Often it's one the founders themselves hadn't seen yet. It is. A bottom-up program should be easier to raise money in phase 2 get the best investors is in the bank so far. If an acquirer thinks you're going to stick around no matter what, they'll be more likely to buy you. If they reject you in phase 2, as a sort of Gresham's Law of trolls: trolls are willing to use a forum with a lot of animals in the wild is that each species thrives in groups of a certain size. Because some people don't respond. The sites's guidelines explicitly ask people not to say things they wouldn't say face to face contact that makes deals happen, but whatever it is, it hasn't yet been duplicated by technology.2 In a place where there was infrastructure for startups, accumulated knowledge about how to make them act. $15k per month is high, so don't actually spend that much.

This is not just a synonym for annoying. But this approach is industry best practice, and the odds of finding programmers, libraries, etc. Even a day's delay can bring news that causes an investor to commit, ask them to introduce you to other investors they respect. For example, if you've sold more than about 40% of your company in subsequent rounds. If your startup is connected to a specific industry, you may be better off in Silicon Valley. And yet a large number of startups. Investors are pinched between two kinds of fear: fear of investing in startups that fizzle, and fear of missing out on startups that take off. So you must cushion the blow with soft words.

Most visible disasters are not so alarming as they seem. When you pick a big winner, you won't know your users, it's dangerous to guess what the eventual equity round valuation might be. Most programming probably consists of writing little glue programs you can use, if the upside looks good enough. So if you lop off the top of the base language, you build on top of the possible rewards, you thereby decrease people's willingness to take risks proportionate to the returns. Wufoo took this to heart and released their form-builder before the underlying database. Because Python doesn't fully support lexical variables, you have a lead. Its purpose is to shield the pointy-haired boss believes that all programming languages are pretty much equivalent. And as software shifts off the desktop and onto servers a future even Microsoft seems resigned to, there will be more of them go ahead and do without startups. It will be easier to modify as well, and with it growth. Their lives are short too. And when people seem to think, any economic upper bound on this number. The other big driver of change is that startups are becoming cheaper to start a consulting company, or a niche product company, but against a backdrop of constant disasters.

Users love a site that's constantly improving. Slashdot, for example—because they're confident you'll pick them. And it is not clear whether you can actually solve this problem in other languages, of course, projects where the choice of programming language doesn't matter much. If it were, you could fund everyone who seemed likely to succeed at all. Inc or class foo: def __init__ self, s: self. What's important about startups is the pool of potential founders. When a decision causes you to develop software at a fraction of the probability that the company will die or at the very least people will have to be.

Notes

The company may not even be conscious of this model was that it makes the business spectrum than the rich paid high taxes? Investors are one of the words out of fashion in 100 years, dribbling out a preliminary answer on the y, you'd ultimately be a variant of the world population, and that's much harder it is very long: it might be 20 or 30 times as much difference to a bunch of actual adults suddenly found themselves trapped in high school junior. I believe, is this someone you want to either. 39 says that I know this is a variant of the ingredients in our own version that afternoon.

Down rounds are at selling it. Only founders of failing startups would even be working on Y Combinator makes founders move for 3 months also suggests one underestimates how hard they work. People tell the craziest lies about me.

[justonecynicsopinion-blog]

Let's Help Make 'Black Lives Matter' MATTER:  10 Things America Needs To Do

"Walking between the pools of light cast by the street lights I saw the group of them from a block away, joking and jostling each other.  In a dark patch I crossed the street.  One of them noticed and they all stopped and stared, their heads rising like wolves testing the breeze for the scent of potential prey.  The tallest one said something and two of them broke from the pack and meandered across to my side of the road, one putting a hand to the small of his back, the other digging one deep into a pocket."

Who is black in that anecdote?  Who is white, yellow, brown, gay or trans?  Does colour change anything in the story for the teller?  Is the narrator 'blue,' a cop?  Off duty?  On duty?  Does that change anything, substantially, in the story?  

Black Police Are the Original BLM Leaders

They Volunteered For The Job of Protecting Blacks From Violence

The cold reality in America today is that guns are as easy to get as smartphones. That cold reality is what the police face every moment of every day.

Another cold reality is that, from the moment that humans got smart enough to band together instead of erring on the side of caution and scattering in the face of a mortal threat, the most dangerous risk any human faced was a more numerous group of humans. What empowered our species to come to dominate the planet was 'tribalism' (otherwise known as 'racism' and the root of 'nationalism'). It is permanently and indelibly hardwired into each and every human brain.

Familiarization with those 'not of our tribe' reduces the power of our instinctive tribalism over our reactions, but it never goes away. And tribalism is not exclusive to whites -- it is true of every human tribe out there.

What's the Most Crucial First Step BLM Has to Make to Succeed?

Black lives automatically matter less if you don't first acknowledge that blue-black lives matter just a bit more than all lives matter.

I'm not being 'cute': if the black community does not first and foremost stand up for the safety of black cops ("blue-black lives”) who are the ‘front line workers’ in their communities -- the first on scene when there’s trouble -- the claim that black Americans are faced with racism that systematically disadvantages them (places their lives in disproportionate jeopardy to that of others) is at best counter-productive, at worst not in their own best interests. Communities are successful only when we police our own people where we live, protecting each other from injury, trespass and property theft. If black cops tell you that they are more nervous about concealed weapons being drawn on them in their own community than in many others, then we can all begin to understand the knee-jerk, 'self-defence through offence' reactions of any cop in a similar situation where they are scared that a suspect may be going into his vehicle or his pocket, against the cops' specific instructions, to get a firearm.

The police have an EXTREMELY dangerous job in a country with more freely available weapons than there are citizens, and they're on high alert any time there's a confrontation, whether that's entirely justified or not. Add to this the fact that 911 calls come in SEVEN TIMES MORE in predominantly black areas and you have seven times the likelihood of high risk altercations taking place, regardless of what colour the police are.

Perception is not always reality and we don't like it when our most emotionally charged perceptions are proven false. The reality is that statistics prove that black men are NOT shot at a higher rate by white police than white men are, despite the impression that we're left with from media exposure. Racism on the part of white cops towards black civilians, outside of some 'bad actors,' is not the principal cause for needles deaths of black Americans: poverty, public education funding through property taxes and 'The War on Drugs' are.

Living in poor neighbourhoods is the highest risk factor for getting into dangerous altercations for people of any colour. In depressed areas crime may seem to be a good way to solve one's poverty, especially when the quality of public education is low. Young residents have far fewer opportunities to lift themselves out of poverty, regardless of individual ability and their interest in doing so. Living conditions can be so miserable and funding for social services like mental health treatment is so inadequate that taking drugs becomes a viable 'medication' for mental health issues. If the system that sets up the causes for unequal outcomes is not addressed, then the poverty, and subsequent risk of death from criminals and police altercations, will never be reduced.

"Defund the Police!" Really Means "Increase Social Support"

The 'systemic racism' in America lies in the fact that black communities continue to face profound inequality, not in the fact that more crime takes place in their neighbourhoods, per se. To fix the inequality problem we don't need less police, we need more health care, better social welfare support (a universal basic income, NOT more welfare for single mothers) and a vastly improved public school system across all American communities.

Using the overly provocative phrase "DEFUND THE POLICE!" detracts from the real message: "INCREASE SOCIAL SUPPORT“. Decreasing the amount of blue-blacks (and blues in general) in their own communities will only lead to the kind of mayhem and instability that holds the citizens of these areas further back in the competition we call life.

If we begin to place the 'right to zero-harm' for every citizen (including the criminals that exist throughout humanity, whether they are white collar criminals, grey collar criminals, blue collar criminals, or criminals whose full-time job is criminality), above that of the blues (the police), then civilization erodes very quickly into pandemonium. Civilization can only exist based upon mutually agreed-to regulations and laws that are enforced by a publicly funded and trusted police force and a judicial system that is fair across the board.

It is this lack of overall fairness, the current inequality of treatment evidenced by the incarceration rate of poor and black people in the US (especially poor black males from fatherless homes), as well as the lack of gainful employment that drives poor people into miserable lives that lead to drug use and crime, that is currently under debate. However, it is the underlying system, NOT the enforcers of the system, that needs reform. People of every stripe who seek simple answers to complex issues look at the most obvious, superficial symptom and claim that THAT is what needs changing, without understanding where the issues that cause the overall problem really lie.

Black Lives Matter: What's the Real Goal of the Movement?

Momentous 'movements' only change history when their aim is clear and the goal is simple. Either that, or, if the goal is complex and the steps numerous, the movement needs a powerful, central voice to coordinate and direct the movement's direction, step by step to achieve its ultimate goal.

Black Lives Matter simply doesn't matter if it has no clear goal that 'the movement' is aiming to achieve, and actionable steps to get there.

"End systemic racism" SOUNDS like just what America needs to improve the lives of many of its underclass, but a problem cannot be addressed if the meaning of its goal is unclear, or is far too complex to ever be achieved by simply shouting the goal over and over again. In the same vein, demanding worthwhile, straightforward social changes that unfortunately fail to address the roots of the underlying problems are just 'half measures.’ A current example is the recent demand to shift funding away from policing toward more social support like addressing inadequate mental health programs. While this is a necessary and wholly appropriate demand, especially given the growing militarization of the police, the enforcers (police) are largely a symptom, it is the laws -- from 'The War on Drugs’ to financing public education through local property taxes -- that are the cause of the problem.

"Systemic racism" means various things to the many and diverse participants in this growing movement. Definitions range from 'fixing the clearly unjust justice system,' to 'giving the underclass a leg up through improved education,' to 'equal outcomes for all, regardless of effort, ability, experience, or merit'. Other notions include 'ending police use of lethal violence against people of colour,’ to 'hand out large sums of cash to the descendants of former slaves,’ and even 'erase racism (tribalism) from humankind's hardwiring' (which would involve re-writing our genetic code).

"Systemic Racism" is Not Racism, It’s Policies, Programs & Laws

Policies, programs and laws expressly designed to keep the wealth-hoarders in charge, making ever more money, while increasing the inequality that prevents the poor from escaping The Poverty Trap. That trap is equally tough to escape no matter what colour you are and it is gettingmore and more difficult to break free from.

“Systemic Racism,” More Accurately, is “Systemic Inequality”

Systemic Inequality can only be addressed by changing programs, policies and laws in a meaningful, effective manner.

What is the Practical, Core Goal of the BLM Movement?

Once slavery was abolished in America, but not until electricity was available in most homes (outside of those households wealthy enough to employ servants), women were the de facto 'household work force,' they were the largely invisible 'engine under the hood’ of the economy. The Suffragette Movement that brought about the right to vote for white women (voting rights for black citizens in America didn't come to pass until much later) could not have come about until women began to be freed from household chores by electrical appliances. The success of the effort to win voting rights for women only came about once the cause of the problem of women being stuck at home 24/7 (i.e. washing clothes in a tub, hauling water, churning butter, hand-sewing clothing, etc.), was addressed. This continues to be the single biggest barrier to female emancipation in developing world countries (if women are out of sight -- even more so if they are all encased in black bags -- they are out of mind).

To solve any problem we cannot focus on the symptoms. The causes of the problem must first be addressed.

The underlying root cause for women not having the right to vote was not simply brutish male egos, it was a fundamental lack of power. Without the freedom to interact in the wider world outside of the home in sufficient numbers to be seen as a force to be reckoned with, without earning salaries to contribute to the household income, without sufficient education to qualify them to rise up into positions of power, women were powerless and could be ignored. Black and brown voices today face a similar challenge. Until the system that underlies their lack of power is changed and they are empowered to ENTER the world outside of their neighbourhoods by being released from ‘The Poverty Trap,’ until they can be given a leg-up to get the education required to fill white collar positions, they will be ignored by the same lawmakers that ignore the poor white voices demanding, for example, universal healthcare.

The ultimate goal of the BLM Movement MUST be to change the policies, programs and laws that undergird the system at its roots, NOT focussing on eliminating racism, whether in law enforcement or in the larger world. Black and brown lives only begin to matter to the wealth- hoarders at the top when their power is threatened, as happened with the Suffragette Movement. Those women were not demanding equal outcomes, they were demanding equal opportunity. That's a key benchmark for BLM to keep in mind if the movement is going to have any real long-term impact:

The fight is only winnable if it is for equal opportunity, NOT equal outcome.

What Goals Proved Achievable for Past Movements?

The Women's Suffrage Movement had a single goal: allow women to vote. Achieving that simple first goal opened up the Women's Rights Movement that followed, much to the betterment of the lives of 51% of the human population in developed countries over the ensuing decades.

The Abolitionist Anti-Slavery Movement had a clear and actionable simple goal: free the slaves.

A civil war had to be fought over it, but America, ‘land of the free,’ became better for achieving that simple goal.

The Black Lives Matter Movement’s single goal should be: end systemic inequality. Yes, the steps to get there are complex and numerous, but with a shared vision, it can be done.

Ending Systemic Inequality Requires a Fire, Not Just A Spark

Keeping a fire going requires the continual addition of fuel. The BLM protests that were sparked by the murder of George Floyd and many others have ignited a much needed conflagration, but like the Occupy Movement and Tea Party Movement that proceeded it, that fire is likely to die out without a unified, clear goal and shared understanding of all the policies, programs and laws that will need changing to result in the goal of ending Systemic Inequality. The fuel that will keep the fire burning will NOT be protests, it will be VOTING and ongoing organization and activism to demand changes to specific policies, programs and laws.

Why is the BLM ‘Fire’ Likely to Die Out?

A Lack of Consensus

The Occupy Movement was able to be crushed by the government for one reason: the occupiers lacked any clearly stated goal. Yes, they all wanted the corporations and the Wall Street gamblers who’d created the 2008 crisis to be held accountable, but they had no single voice to communicate that goal, no coherent steps they wanted to see followed, and no political (voting) power to push their progressive agenda forward.

The Tea Party lacked a clear, singular goal (the usual Conservative laundry list: less taxes, smaller government, immigration control, no black President, etc.), but had major political sway in red states. Yet, despite early success in garnering attention from Republican politicians, by 2016 Politico had declared the movement dead (and indeed the demographic who had initiated it, partly in response to being incensed by the young, diverse, urban, Progressive Occupiers, were older, white, rural and Conservative and have been literally dying off — Trump is their ‘last hurrah’).

To Succeed, Any Progressive Movement Needs:

1. Consensus on a simple, singular goal (a voice),

2. Clear steps to achieve that goal (a strategic plan),

3. The political power to make the steps happen (voter influence).

Without a clear understanding, among the majority, of exactly what the issues are that are causing inequality in American and around the world, we cannot solve complex problems like systemic inequality. A HUGE barrier to doing so is that the vast majority of our human population are not endowed with the ability to assimilate all of the information necessary to address the challenges, much less the ability to understand the roots and inter-connectivity of complex issues and then generate creative, effective solutions.

The majority can raise their voices in protest, but cannot offer up meaningful and effective solutions to the underlying causes of inequality without the leadership of some much more clever-than-average leaders. The solution the mass of protestors are currently offering up, as best I can parse it, is "White people are racist! They have more money than blacks and browns do and they should give a bunch of it to us!" Certainly the rich are currently enjoying ever-less taxation and staggering wealth-hoarding, and that hoarded cash will eventually go a long way to funding the steps necessary to fix the underlying problems (simply starting with making all public schools across America of equally high quality), but cash hand outs that get frittered away will not solve anything long-term. The only way to redistribute wealth that has ever proven effective is the system that the Nordic countries have had in place for many decades: Democratic Social Capitalism.

Taking action against injustice, against the unfairness of inequality, is not only essential to improving the human condition, it is the 'right thing' to do for the majority of us who feel morality in a tangible way, who 'sense' the weight of it in our lives. I was reminded of this in re-listening to Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins discussing the scientific basis of human morality on YouTube. Morality is not simply a concept to be embraced or debated, it is a product of our unique human consciousness and a foundational building block for human civilization. Without our hardwired morality (religion is a just a software manipulation of that hardwiring) there would be no cooperation, no civility, no society for us to live productively and peacefully within.

Of Course Conservatives Resist Change, But Progressives Are Our Future

We hate change, especially in the short-term. Some of us much more than others (they’re called Conservatives). Like our innate tribalism, Conservatism is is an integral part of the human condition. It cautions us to NOT 'fix what isn't broken' and thus helps us to survive to live another day. (I'm always speaking from the point of view of most of our species' existence: the 7,000,000 years we survived since our split from our common ancestor with the chimps, not the 0.1% that we have lived in cities -- what I call our 7,000 year-old 'New Normal.' The circumstances we live in today are most certainly NOT what our species evolved to thrive in most naturally.)

An illustration of the early roots of human Conservatism: if it had always proven wise to have one tribe member stay up all night to maintain a fire burning at the cave entrance to dissuade sabre-toothed tigers and cave bears from coming in to snack on us, experimenting instead with hanging a bunch of dry sticks on a length of cat gut to rattle together to wake us up if an intruder entered the cave probably wasn't a wise innovation. Those individuals who were 'hardwired for Conservatism' back in the day either won out and the fire-tending tradition was maintained instead of the 'trip-wire' innovation, or there were no survivors of that tribe.

In the LONG-TERM, the Progressive innovation of the 'trip wire' helped ensure the survival of the tribe willing to allow the inventor to install it at the back of the cave, where a larger group from a competing tribe could sneak in through the cave system and kill the males and make off with the women and children. While Conservatives fight change (and dream of a return to the bygone fantasy of a better life in the past) in the short-term, they benefit in the long-term from progress. Grandma did NOT want to use her new iPad, at least not until she realized she could watch her grand-kids growing up from afar.

One thing is true of our 'New Normal' and that is that civilization has only flourished over time due to progress. Time and again civilizations of humankind grew and prospered only on the back of Progressivism: innovation that improved the lot of the majority through mutual cooperation. It is only through Progressivism that our cities can grow ever larger, that our ability to feed a human population that is on course to destroy the planet by its ever-increasing volume, is possible. Only by making constant progress can we figure out how to live in peace, rather than tearing each others' throats out due to our hardwiring for irrational tribalism.

In other words, it is only through Progressivism, NOT Conservatism, that humanity can survive in our 'New Normal.'

Let’s Help Make Black Lives Matter MATTER!

10 Things America Needs to Do

We all, deep down, know what the situation is. Despite the abolition of slavery, the door was left open for those who opposed the movement to come up with innumerable subtle and manipulative ways to continue to benefit from the nearly free labour of black Americans, especially the men, by incarcerating them for a myriad of trivial, double-standard reasons and making the length of those imprisonments arbitrarily long. This was taken up another notch by making the prison system for-profit, incentivizing those at the top to increase the volume of imprisonment by increasing the number of crimes related to being poor in the first place (the War on Drugs').

Another intangible barrier to upward mobility was cemented into place by funding public schools from property taxes, thus ensuring that anyone living in poor areas would grow up within a very effective 'Poverty Trap' that would keep poor kids from getting a sufficiently high quality of education that they would graduate 'at parity' with kids from wealthier areas. The ceiling to attaining wealth was raised further by well-meaning, but disastrous 'social welfare for single mothers' programs which have seen young black males who don't have fathers at home being manipulated by criminals in their neighbourhoods to join in and ultimately become incarcerated in their tens of thousands across America. Felony conviction laws then make it nearly impossible for those who emerge from prison to land meaningful work, pushing them back into crime and prison (and working inside, essentially, as slaves for profit-making corporations owned by the rich).

So are there multi-layered issues for us to work through to solve the problem of inequality in America and around the world? Certainly, but it is time to stop blaming 'those not of our tribe' for our tribes' problems (whether your tribe is political, cultural, or colour-based) and get busy doing the effective things that will lead to real change:

1. Stop protesting in the streets! (It really doesn't make much PRACTICAL change happen other than satisfying our inherent love of chanting and marching together in large crowd while patting ourselves on the back and reveling in self-righteous moral outrage.) Put that same energy and investment of time into non-stop emailing, phoning and letter- writing to your Congressional and Senate representatives. They fear losing their seats and they'll listen to well-reasoned arguments and straightforward solutions that will have real impact if the messages come in large quantities.

2. Organize well-reasoned, fact-based (leave the tribal emotions outside) meetings in your living rooms and town halls to come up with REAL, actionable, effective solutions to chip away at the underlying causes, like providing financial incentives like a Universal Basic Income (UBI) to fathers/stepfathers who stick around to parent kids in poor neighbourhoods.

3. DO YOUR HOMEWORK! Educate yourself about the real causes of Systemic Racism and what can be done to change things, or at least allow those leaders among you who can explain the REAL causes (not simply manipulate your emotions to gain power for themselves) to lead (think: The Squad, Tulsi Gabbard and Bernie).

4. Get back to acknowledging and respecting high 'Fluid IQ,' merit-based advancement (equal opportunity, NOT equal outcome), higher education and respect for science and data, as demonstrated by John McCain, deGrasse Tyson, Sowell, AOC, the Obamas, Pelosi and many more on both sides of the debate, but don't accept any 'notions' or 'opinions' about policies that have no historical proof of having worked effectively (Democratic Social Capitalism has been WINNING in the Nordic countries for decades).

5. Fund the Police! Ensure that more funding is going to individual police salaries, rather than hiring more police officers so that really smart people begin taking on the jobs, rather than the 'bad apples' who can't find higher paying jobs and end up hired by desperate municipalities.

6. Increase social support! If there's funding to be found by cutting money ear-marked for the police to buy more military equipment, great, but America has a bottomless pit of funding for anything its citizens really need, its called The Federal Reserve. They just push buttons to create zero interest money to bail out billionaires, corporations and the profit-making of the Military-Industrial Complex. They can do the same for infrastructure and out-of-work Americans if the Houses approve it. Just say no to "PAYGO" — after all, it never applies to bail-outs!

7. Push for an end to property tax funding of public education. All schooling in America needs to be federally funded at the same level everywhere and all teachers need to get paid the same, substantial wage to encourage the really smart people to take on the jobs. In areas where it's clear that kids are chronically under-performing, change the system: bring in tutorial programs that target the most challenged kids, do more field trips and outdoor teaching the way they do in Finland, end the ancient standardized testing and customize programs for each type of kid.

8. End "The War on Drugs"! Addiction is a deep and insidious problem for human brains. It is a disease, not a 'lifestyle choice,' whether the addiction is to food, gambling, sun-tanning, or drugs. Marijuana is legal in Europe and Canada because it is just like alcohol -- a tax-collecting BONANZA! (And then pardon every single criminal conviction based upon the old laws.)

9. Get out and vote! and work tirelessly to convince your family, friends, neighbours and every young person you come into contact with to vote too! Trump won simply because less people voted, and suppressing the vote is the GOP's go-to strategy moving forward.

10. Lastly, end "Citizens United." That single corruption by the Supreme Court effectively ended the "American Democratic Experiment" by using common human greed to corrupt every single politician on both sides of America's single-party/two-colours, Neo-liberal system. No founder of America ever would have bastardized the Constitution by claiming that a profit-making corporation should be treated as a human citizen of the United States of America. Most politicians are now trapped by their common greed within the corporate lobbying cash hand-out system to both fund their campaigns and line their pockets.

***

I have been blogging and vlogging about insights into why we humans do the so-often counter- productive things we do, and how we can turn things around to live our lives to the fullest (the real meaning of life!) for over a decade. Check out more thoughts and insights at:

• JustOneCynicsOpinion.Blogspot.com

• YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfi00q5yaQ0nK8wXkEbvk3Q/

• Support my efforts: https://www.patreon.com/JustOneCynicsOpinion?fan_landing=true

[residencesouth17-blog]

Will be Buying a Condo to Live in an excellent Move?

The answer to that query is yes and no. There are a number associated with reasons why this is so. Yourself is one of the main determining elements whether it will be a good choice to suit your needs or not. It could be a good choice if you want to socialize because there are usually a lot of activities where you can meet in addition to socialize with the other locals along with amenities (swimming pool area, tennis courts, etc . ) you probably would not have inside your single family residence.

Yet another plus is that all of the servicing on the exterior of your home is cared for so you don't have to worry about cleanup gutters or painting. The reasons maintenance and landscaping is additionally taken care of, including clearing compacted snow. This is a real plus should you travel a lot because you need not worry about any thing happening in your exterior or landscaping. Several condo locations are in locations that are very desirable like close to the ocean or a pond. Many times a single family property in the same area could be out of the condo buyer's economic reach. You'll also find that many condo projects are less dangerous due to be fenced as well as gated with either a gateway guard or requiring an important card to open the checkpoint. Avenue South Residence Balance Units

Although condo living is quite similar to apartment living a loft apartment is an investment and will enjoy just like a single family dwelling. Condo will usually give you a lot more living area for your money because the price per square ft . is lower than a SFR. Often times the interior amenities are also excellent. Due to the fact that condo values normally lag behind single loved ones residences so even when sole family residential prices usually are increasing rapidly you can continue to find bargains in both fresh and resale condos.

You can also get a number of negative features for you to living in a condo including simply no outside area that you can phone your own. It's all held by everyone in the venture. This means you can't go out and also dig around in the garden. One of the biggest negatives to a lot of citizens is that you have to get permission to complete any modifications on the exterior, regardless of how small. Things you take for granted are extensive time not allowed such as a TV SET dish or possibly even clinging plants from the roof of your respective patio.

There are HOA (homeowners association) fees every month no matter if you use the amenities or value the landscaping. Many times these kinds of dues are not enough to try and do the proper maintenance to the home and then the residents acquire hit with a special examination which can totally destroy a family group budget. A gripe that numerous owners have is the HOA committee becomes a clique the location where the proper attention is not paid for to the good of the remaining portion of the residents. I was a real estate identifier for a number of years and often ran across any instances of that when doing remarks in a condo development.

A different big negative was that has been quite often litigation against the creator or maintenance people as a result of shoddy workmanship or not doing the project. Sometimes the actual builder went bankrupt along with left the project having the bag. Another without is the fact that condo values commonly start decreasing in price just before single family residence ideals and at a faster level. They also usually start raising in value after solitary family residences and at some sort of slower rate. Historically condo properties are usually harder to sell when compared with single family residences.

Should you be thinking of buying a condo you must do your homework, even more so in comparison with if you were buying a individual family residence. Before you also consider the development talk to as much residents as you can and ask these every question you can think of. A lot more people you talk to a lot more you'll learn about the project. Don't think everything you here though if good or bad. Make an effort to validate each persons thoughts and opinions by asking why they believe the way they do.

Talk to the particular manager, president of the HOA or anyone else is a placement of authority to find out when there are any special tests coming up, such as a roof substitute. It's not very pleasant to go in and a short although later find out you'll have to pay out a couple of thousand dollars to your share of replacing the top. Find out the amount of the HOA fees, when they last brought up and by how much, giving you an sign of the project's financial condition.

Locate how many vacancies there are and exactly they were caused by. If a lots of the vacancies are caused by property foreclosures it's probably a place a person want to purchase in. One of many problems with foreclosure vacancies is the fact less HOA fees tend to be coming in and there may need to be a special assessment for making up the money. With typical vacancies the owners in the unit will be paying the fees.

Other statistics you need to know are usually how many rentals there are in addition to determine what the ratio to help owner occupied is. When there are more than 40% nonowner occupied units you may have a difficult time getting a loan. Another part of information that will help you make up your mind issue place is for you will be how many units are for sale as well as why they're being sold. When other people don't like the undertaking you may not either. Determine if there exists any ongoing litigation? House projects often seem to be a new magnet for law matches. Many times lenders won't loan in a development if there is approaching litigation.

Check out the CC and also R's (Covenants, Conditions and also Restrictions). These are the rules you can living by so it will be a good idea to read them carefully although they are usually 2 or 3 in . thick. You'll probably find several sneaky little things within that you hadn't given the thought to. As you can see there are a lot of advantages and disadvantages to buying a condo and it absolutely isn't for everyone, although many folks swear by them. As an example if you're gone a lot this is certainly perfect because you don't have to bother about exterior building or lawn maintenance. Your place is relatively risk-free due to the proximity of your neighborhood friends. When you come back home all you need to do is relax. On the reverse side of the coin if you like puttering in your yard and sticking to yourself, you probably won't be also enthused about condo lifestyle.

If you really want to be sure regarding what you're getting into using a condo you might think about performing a lease with option to order instead of an outright invest in. Try not to put much lower for an option fee, get rent concessions and make typically the lease term short. If that turns out that condo dwelling doesn't really turn out as if you wanted, you can just vanish at the end of the lease without further expense. Condo stands for condominium and is described as any development where the owner of your units owns the interior involving his unit and the rest is owned by each of the residents as a percentage connected with however many units you can find. A townhouse is similar apart from the owner also owns often the land that the unit is located on.

References Avenue

[maywoodrpg]

ALL ABOUT HYUNTAE

— Gender/Pronouns: Demiboy, He/They — Date of Birth: February 20th, 1994 — Place of Birth: Incheon, South Korea — Current Residence: Downtown  — Occupation: Surgical intern — Faceclaim: Kim Seokwoo

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warnings: Terminal Illness, Death

INCHEON, SOUTH KOREA

Echoes of sounds bounce off the walls of the chapel, filling the empty aisles and seeping into the crevices, into every corner that they can find. Screams can be heard from somewhere close to the podium, a young woman with more to lose than she ever anticipated. Feeling doesn’t come easily to her, and neither does attachment, but the baby she’s currently bringing into the world still feels like everything to her. Even under these circumstances. Even stranded in the church that she’s forced to come to, with only the help of her baby’s father and the priest who saves souls here.

Henry is born at the altar, crying and cold, and his mother takes him into her arms and holds him to her chest, snuggling him in against any bare part of her skin that she can find.

Time passes. Henry lives in a world of dreams, a whimsical sort of child, curious and imaginative and outspoken. He skips through the hallways of his childhood home, traverses the large gardens and gets lost amongst the flora. His mother calls to him from the patio, sometimes drawing him from his own head into the real world, and he goes to her with smiles and warmth.

Father isn’t around very much. Mother tells him it’s because he’s working hard to help them keep their big house and their gardens and all of their nice things, but Henry doesn’t understand that as well as she thinks that he does. Moreover, he doesn’t see why that means Father can’t be here to tell him goodnight or wish him a good morning, and he finds himself wondering as he grows older whether the man cares about him at all. Aside from birthdays and holidays, it’s a rare occurrence that he gets to spend time with him, and even then it feels brief and estranged.

Henry misses him fiercely.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, USA

Henry is ten years old when they move for Father’s work. He cries about it at first, struggles against it, begs for them to not make him leave his friends, his family behind. He claims he’ll miss Grandmother too much if they leave her in Korea, and Mother tells him that they’re going to take care of her no matter what, and they’ll come back to visit her, too. Henry is forced to accept this, as he is far too young to make these decisions on his own, and somewhere inside of him he knows it, too.

Father starts being gone for longer hours, if that is even possible, and when he comes home, his brow is too often knit with consternation. His shoulders become more and more withdrawn, like they’re being weighted down with something, and Henry begins to worry as well, picking up with the vibes in his household more effectively than he would have if they were words spoken aloud. Mother seems oblivious, or at least she pretends to be — she’s the perfect homemaker, just like she always has been, and that’s something. It’s some sort of stability, especially when he’s entering his preteen years feeling so off-kilter, having to learn a new language and adjusts to a new private school.

Age thirteen is the first year they begin to integrate themselves into the social group that they will spend almost as long as Henry can remember among. Cannes the year after that is the first time he falls in love, or so he thinks.

Boy on the beach, boy in the garden, boy passing him in the halls at night with the cheeky smile and the wild light in his eyes — Henry thinks he’ll never breathe again, all those times that the oxygen gets pushed from his lings, hitched in his throat. Of course, he couldn’t possibly tell him that, if only because it’s far too terrifying, and because he’s too young and naive at this point to understand that he doesn’t stand a chance. That he never stood a chance when most of these families had already been coming here since long before his was even thought of, and perhaps they’re more on the outs than he had originally anticipated.

Father works now more than ever, not coming home sometimes until the early hours of the morning. Mother and Henry pretend to not see the weariness that he displays, though most of the worry has long since hardened into determined resolve. His company has blossomed, flourished in the international economy. They want for nothing in their mansion, at least three times as large as their old home, and mother starts staying in her room more when they hire housekeepers, cooks.

Henry goes to her every day after school. Sometimes she even rolls over to look at him.

LONDON, ENGLAND, THE UK

Henry is fifteen when father’s business evolves with yet another expansion. They purchase a third home, this time in London, and Henry is thrust into a whole new environment with a whole new dialect to learn. Mother still takes to her room just like she has for the last couple of years, and he still goes to her, watching her deteriorating health. Now it’s broken up by expensive doctor’s visits that he isn’t allowed to attend with her, though he tries his damnedest to do just that, and father begins frowning more again.

At sixteen, he finds out why father is so stressed all the time, and then he finds out that there’s more to it than he ever imagined. The darkest side of the business that he’s in becomes apparent one night when he overhears a hushed conversation on the phone, stood outside of Father’s office with the intention of demanding answers from him regarding Mother’s health, only he gets different answers than he’d ever imagined. Shady dealings going on behind the scenes between his father and other men of power could be the death of anybody who were to find out, and when he’s caught listening in, he finds for the first time in his life that he’s actually afraid of the man who has raised him.

I do this for all of us, Father tells him fiercely, and Henry nods like he understands, like it all makes sense to him, and tries to ignore the way Father nervously runs his hands through his hair and casts his gaze towards his and Mother’s bedroom.

On Henry’s seventeenth birthday, when Mother is going about making the same cake that she’s made for him every year for as long as he can remember, she collapses. Henry calls 999 without a second thought, and he holds her head in his lap and kisses her forehead until the paramedics show up and take her away in the ambulance. He races through the streets of London, calling Father over and over again, and when he makes it to the hospital, he’s forced to sit in the waiting room alone for hours before the man shows up to be with him.

This is the day that Henry learns Mother is going to die.

INCHEON, SOUTH KOREA

Taking care of Mother becomes more his choice than his lot in life. He makes sure to spend every moment with her that he can, and as per her request, they even move back to their home in Korea to make her most comfortable during the last months of her life. As time passes, Henry becomes more and more withdrawn, quieter and less bright, less curious, less imaginative. Father works just as much as ever, and he begins to resent him to a degree that he hadn’t though was possible until it began to happen.

This is when he begins to become a social media presence, throwing himself into the digital world as a form of escapism. He gains followers so quickly he practically doesn’t even understand the significance of it all, and he updates his Instagram and Twitter feeds with pretty pictures of a pretty life that almost doesn’t belong to him, ignoring his trials and tribulations and all of his hurts in favor of living in a fantasy.

Henry is seventeen when his mother passes away. This is, by far, the hardest year of his life. Father is somehow around even less in the aftermath, traveling between London and LA and leaving Henry to study. He doesn’t forgive him for it, just like he doesn’t forgive him for anything else; he practically blames him, in fact, for all of the stress that caused Mother to deteriorate further in those early days.

MAYWOOD, MAINE, USA

Early admission into a university in Maine is as difficult a thing as it seems, and Henry manages it not based entirely on money, but on academic capability as well. He knows that his mother would be proud of him, if she were around to see it, and on top of that, it presents an opportunity to be away from Father, which he’s only all too willing to jump at.

Studying pre-med is one of the only things that he’s ever dreamt about and known he was going to for sure do, and the fact he’s managed it all but on his own only gives him more satisfaction, making it easy for him to continue building that resentment towards Father when he knows that he doesn’t really need him in the long run.

Years pass, and he earns a degree, only deciding to stay in Maywood for that time because of connections that he’s made and people that he’s come to know. When Henry finishes school, he has a long trail of personal messiness strewn out behind him, and he tries not to look back because that’s always gotten him into trouble in the past.

What ends up continuing to keep him there, however, is something else entirely.

A baby is born. His baby. It comes as a shock, like being dunked suddenly into a pool of cold water, and just as suddenly as he’s holding her in his arms, he becomes a father.

From this point forward, Henry vows to never make his child feel the way that he felt, vows to always be there for birthdays, for holidays, for anything and for everything. Even when he starts his new job as surgical intern and becomes busier than ever, he still makes time for his child and he never stays away from her for than a day’s work at a time.

HYUNTAE CHOI is currently played by Hazel.